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#I may be the epitome of human error

cottoncandysex · 7 months

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The epitome of narcissism is where people like Mark try to write articles on able ism Able Lizum Ableism

you are able to hurt my technology, but once I find who you are I am able to take a knife and stab you over and over and over, but that’s not really my way of doing things and I like money a lot. I don’t like being abused you understand

I usually find a way to get what I want, and I want to see you guys killed, because I believe that’s a part of ableism. Jennifer Decker, you are able to be killed because you’re not well and my work is not yours so I am able to send your energy down to the bottom of hill and forget about you just like everybody else already has

Hell

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, Well, well well

well well well white cracker

they don’t know how to use punctuation, the whites

Everything that Mark is a joke, Everything that they mark is a joke

why do you work with people who have OCD Mark you’re not a good man and I can’t wait to see you die. I cannot wait to see you dead that is to say I don’t ever want to see your ugly fucking face again you micro cock piece of trash. Your brother is probably behind this technology abuse because he thinks that makes him smart. Why don’t you kill yourself please

The abuse game is the only way that Mark feels like he has an advantage, because if you are abusing, you must be so smart, that doesn’t make sense of course Your whole family probably has beef with me because I guarantee you all of you are mediocre narcissistic bags of shit

Well, Mark is a dead man …. I don’t even care which one of them gets killed.

I need to remember that you don’t have boundaries You’ve never had boundaries with people well Mark you’re gonna learn boundaries because you are gonna be killed I’m not sure yet I said to you not to be honest with you I really like I would almost kill you myself, but you are such a pathetic waste of human space she was right in someway to abuse that little girl Mark, because that little girl is a pathetic reminder of you now I know that you think I take myself too seriously because I’m actually intelligent and you’re not funny but you’re right way too seriously because I should have actually been a Doctor Who had already cut your face off, cut your face off Somebody please fix the errors. Mark is too retarded to understand all of those errors as intricate as they may seem to somebody as retarded as Mark. I need him killed actually no I guess I just need to use him and let you guys kill him. They already planned I’m cutting his dick off and letting him bleed out. You guys already saw it in the movie

what disease do you diagnose Mark with after his little game once you catch that that’s an interesting thing. Because there is always somebody chasing that. Because there is always somebody chasing that

Stephanie and Gey jay

gey, I am so sorry that you are constantly called homosexual

jay

I am so sorry that Americans are so jealous of you that they don’t even want me to say your name

Jay

i’m glad that you rape boys in the asshole, because when they decide to mess with my technology, I think it’s funny when they bleed out of the rectum to death

Mark and his daughter believe that they are part of some revolution, and they are actually not a part of any kind of revolution

The fact that you guys abuse technology… you’re already done. Mark, you don’t actually predict me all that well and further more. There are men with bigger brains than you, and they know how to spell the word furthermore. To be honest with you I need to just leave so I’m gonna stick with the original plan. I said gonna stick to the original plan and I’m gonna need you to drop me off in Mexico and then I need you to give me money and otherwise go to work, but I need to get away from you. You and your family are destroying this country. I am going to talk to Dennis about having you killed, also. I said I’m.

and I think a lot of my anger is just that you are such an ineffective human being that you deserve to be killed and I know it because nobody needs to put up with this abuse then you act like you’re innocent and then you blame that guy, but that guy already knows what you’re about, and when we decide to bury you alive, nobody finds you . but I’m glad that you were curious how I would elaborate since you already know somebody very similar to you is dead as they were caught being a paedophile, liking white supremacy paedophile pizza

don’t you guys fucking hate the way white people talk in America it’s disgusting and it is always borrowed or stolen. They don’t know how to capitalise shit here but they know how to steal. I said they know how to steal and Mark Saderholm do you like to brag like you’re really some smart guy, but you’re not a smart man I’m not scared for whatever danger you are in, but it’s like you must have really really hurt somebody so badly

Did Dennis sodomise you for being a shitty Republican or rather a shitty Democrat They’re all the same anyway, but the Democrats are far worse because they believe in paedophilia 100% of the goddamn time that’s why Mark is a slave so I need to get to the bottom of why he wants to enslave me. Also I want all of those people with Asperger’s syndrome if they are abusing technology, go ahead and put them inside of an oven

If Mark really is that horrible of a person, a doctor undoubtedly already killed his fucking family members, he probably isn’t lying about that and I’m not really sure if they are trying to figure out the next angle, but it makes him feel like a sociopath like a big star The only problem is, there are truly intelligent, gifted people out there who know better and he already knows that I don’t care about his angle because he’s not smart enough. I care about the angle of a good person because a good person is going to save the world a bad person is going to be counter-productive abuse technology and try to get under my skin just because you will never be me Mark Saderholm. We already understand that I am a lot smarter than you. I don’t wanna argue with you about it because I feel like you knew better when I was 15 years old. You are now in your geriatric years.

#medical networking to save lives #rebecca cooper #technology abuse #human trafficking #Asperger’s syndrome #Mark Saderholm having zero boundaries and getting killed

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saltyshe · 2 years

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analysis (…?) on chuuya and dazai’s character

this is my first bsd analysis so please don’t attack me HAVSJ

this is really mostly about how contrasting chuuya and dazai’s characters are to each other and about their morals and how “human” they really are. kind of psychoanalyzed them both

i also did this on a whim and im personally not a writer so there may be grammatical errors and such also it’s quite long that i surprised myself with how long it was and how long i’ve been typing

and feel free to add on your thoughts, i’d love to see what other people think!

chuuya taking off his hat whenever he’s told how many people died in his organization after battle is ad:jh/hsma

the fact that he’s MORE human than dazai will ever be. even though really, it should be the other way around. you can see his emotions all the time, he’s loud and expressive, bashful, he mourns and feels a sense of responsibility (especially in his past with the SHEEP), and genuinely feels regret. he wears his emotions on his sleeve and he has strong opinions and voices them. he has what some people might call a vibrant personality.

in terms of morality chuuya is a terrible person, he’s in the mafia for hells sake, he feels power over others when he fights and it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy totally crushing his enemy. he was fine with killing Q in that one basement scene, he stated that:

“when i look at this brat the sight of the body bags holding my subordinates who died from his curse starts dancing in front of my eyes. do it.”

disregarding what mori had ordered him to do which was to bring Q alive. which is sort of the dark side that we have as humans. we don’t forgive easily and a lot of the time we want revenge. now i don’t really see why dazai didn’t kill Q then and there, i do think that it might again connect to Oda and his orphans but i don’t necessarily think that its deep, dazai probably just didnt see a point.

but back to the point we have to understand that chuuya really isn’t human and he only does what he needs to do because that’s his job and that’s where he feels is his sense of belonging. he’s not changing for the sake of good any time soon because it’s hard to change, we see it all throughout history, people can’t change. especially if that’s what they’ve been raised and taught to do since you were young and chuuya’s just lived his whole life as an outcast and even if he did know how the mafia is wrong, which he probably does, it would probably be hard for him to change and why would he want to? why would he want to give up being a powerful mafia executive, nobody would in all honesty if you think about this rationally. this sort of selfishness and just stubbornness is one of the things that is so human and chuuya has those qualities in the way humans do much more than dazai does. dazai may act selfish and stubborn but it’s circumstantial and unlike humans. but if we think about how human chuuya is without looking at his morals he is so human

whereas dazai is literally the epitome of “i’m a very private person, you don’t ask i won’t tell”he puts on a facade because he doesn’t know what his identity is and with a lack of personality and much more trauma than is good for anyone you get dazai. even kunikida seemed to think that most, if not all of dazai’s emotions seemed like an act in the first light novel, Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam. his exact words were:

“For someone so full of eccentricities, there is something about his behavior that makes it seem as if he has an unobstructed view of the world. I don’t know exactly why, but all his emotions strike me as an act to some degree. Is he just playing dumb? Could there be more to him than he’s letting on, lurking behind his ambiguous mannerisms?”

**kunikida didnt say this to dazai’s face he was thinking it** this was when dazai was expressing how amazed he was that ranpo wasn’t actually an ability user but was actually deducing the case, kunikida was shocked that dazai acted so “taken aback” and he didn’t necessarily think it was real because he’s never seen this side of dazai and didn’t really think it fit him and what was dazai’s response when kunikida told him so you may ask?

“I guess. But you, Kunikida, I’ve got a good idea of who you are now, so nothing you do will ever surprise me. I mean, compared with me, you’re just a simple man with a simple mind, after all.”

“What did you just say?!”

“See? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t hide how you’re really feeling. It’s nice. You know what else is nice? Just knowing that you’re going to be worrying later to yourself, ‘Am I really that simple?’”

dazai literally said that it must be nice to have such a simple mind such as kunikida’s and that his emotions are all out and bare and HE THINKS ITS NICE BECAUSE HE’S INCAPABLE OF THOSE FEELINGS

anyways. people could say that dazai is very open and friendly but every move of his is calculated and thought out. and a lot of the time his personality reflects on what others around him are like. you get what you give around dazai. i think that’s part of the reason he loves to drive people like chuuya and kunikida up a wall because what do chuuya and kunikida have in common? they are both so expressive and loud and full of emotion. it’s probably so foreign for dazai because he rarely feels much if anything at all.

he didn’t leave the mafia because he thought it was morally wrong, he did it because the one friend he trusted had asked him to fight for what was good and for a person like dazai the change is easy (unlike my thoughts above on chuuya), he doesn’t have morals so all he needs is the drive and the push in the right direction which is what oda realized and acted out on. so yeah morally dazai is a much better person than chuuya because he’s trying, there have been so many opportunities that he could’ve gone back to the mafia and a lot of his actions are questionable (regarding the recent chapters) but in the end he’s doing it for the good of the ADA or the citizens or maybe to just live up to what oda wanted him to be

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missgeniality · 3 years

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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waterbenderkat · 4 years

Text

We need to talk about Korra slander.

I recently came across the above article, titled “Legend of Korra: 10 Worst Things Korra Ever Did”. Now, I thought society had progressed past the need for Korra slander (both the show at large and the character), but apparently we haven’t.

So let’s break down this bullshit.

Fair warning, if you’re someone who likes to hate on Korra I would suggest leaving now. It’s totally okay to have that opinion, but this post probably isn’t for you.

I. “Korra lost her past lives”

Yes, all of the precious Avatars were lost while Korra was the Avatar. It was a tremendous loss that will negatively impact every future avatar to come.

But Jesus Christ, the way people blame Korra for this you would think she voluntarily killed them herself.

Korra made an error in siding with Unlaq at first, but she turned against him THE MOMENT SHE REALIZED HIS TRUE COLORS. And that is very early in the season two. She’s only with Unalaq for... two episodes? Before he starts a Civil War and she realizes his intentions.

Korra did not lose Ravaa passively or willingly, she was taken from her. And Korra did not kill her past lives, Unalaq did.

Don’t blame Korra— a young woman— for what a grown ass man (her own blood no less) did.

Korra fought to to very end against the LITERAL EPITOME OF DARKNESS AND CHAOS. If Aang had gone up against Vatuu, I guarantee you that the same thing would have happened. Vatuu was a for more formidable opponent than ANY OTHER AVATAR EVER FACED.

So while this loss may have happened when Korra was the Avatar, she did not do it herself. Nor did she just sit by and let it happen.

You can see her fight— the pain she feels with every lash as Unalaq takes more of her last lives.

II. “Korra ran away from her friends”

I don’t say this lightly, but fuck this.

The implication that Korra “ran away from her friends” is not only factually untrue, it’s highly ableist bullshit. Korra was poisoned, nearly killed, and suffering from PTSD. She went off to heal at her home, with her parents.

She was disabled both physically and mentally— in a wheelchair, and battling mental illness.

To shame Korra for needing time to heal when she was LITERALLY CARRYING POISON AROUND IN HER FOR ALMOST THREE YEARS is to victim shame. Period. All of her loved ones helped her best they could, but the time Korra needed was the time Korra needed. I’ve been battling my own mental illness for ten years, and sometimes it seems I’ve barely made any progress. Recovery can be slow and that’s okay.

This is also particularly hilarious when these very same people worship Aang. Who ran away for 100 years as a war raged the world.

Now, I’m not here for Aang slander either. love Aang. But seeing a brown woman be shamed for something that, if anything, the light skinned male avatar before her is more guilty of does not sit with me. Even is Korra had run away, why does Aang get a pass but Korra be hated for it?

To me, it reeks of sexist and racist implications.

Aang ran away for 100 years because he felt the burden of being the Avatar on his shoulders. Understandable for 12, yes, but this is not REMOTELY on the same level as what Korra was dealing with.

Korra was poisoned to the brink of death and tortured— TORTURED.

And some of y’all want to shame her for needing a three year recovery period? Seriously.

So yeah. These were things done to Korra (by men), not things Korra did. Like every human, Korra has flaws. There are valid reasons to think she wasn’t the best Avatar— her hotheadedness, her stubbornness, her temper and more aggressive/ confrontational nature.

But neither of the things listed above are one of them.

And the fact that Korra— a brown woman— is shamed for the things done to her and the battles she lost while Aang is worshipped as a great Avatar and forgiven for his flaws/ mistakes does not sit well with me.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#waterbender meta #waterbenderkat #legend of korra #lok #avatar: the legend of korra #avatar the legend of korra #avatar: legend of korra #avatar legend of korra #avatar #korra #avatar korra

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

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How do you deal with the hate comments you get?? (Not that I think the last ask was particularly hate or anything) but I never see hate stuff on your blog or in your comment sections either. I feel like I see tend to get them a lot abd sometimes I don't know how to handle them :( love your work!!! Sorry if this is rude to ask...

Not rude at all - but there's a lot to unpack here, so I’m really sorry if I ramble or go off on a few tangents in my answer!

The short answer is: I don't deal with hate comments.

The medium answer is: It depends on the type of 'hate' that I’m receiving.

The longer answer is this:

I have been really lucky (I think) to have been able to grow a little community on this blog of similar, like-minded people who enjoy the same things that I do (Tsundere characters, characters that can help show more representation in the Alphabet Mafia community, dumb boys who deserve to just be dumb boys, etc). I've rarely received any hate comments since my time here on Tumblr, and I think there's a lot of reasons for this.

1.) If someone comes rearing into my Ask box just LOOKING for a fight (ie, random death threats from Anons, homophobic comments, an obvious attempt to bait me into some kind of long-winded debate, etc) I simply just do not deal with it. Those people (especially Anons) are just looking for a reaction out of you. They want you to get upset, to post some long rambling defense, to be snarky and rude back to them, that's what they want.

But at the end of the day, I don't owe any of them a response. Hell, I don't owe anyone a response if I don't want to answer something.

But I answer Asks because I like talking with people, and getting all amped up and excited over the same things, that's part of the fun of creating and sharing that creative work online and being an active part of the fandom. I LOVE hearing from the people that follow this blog (even if I don't always get the chance to respond to all of them) because I know that they're happy or excited enough to hit that Ask button and send me a message, and that makes me feel good to know that I was able to get them so pumped up!

But those Anons aren't looking for that kind of connection. Most of the time, they’re not even looking to have a mature discussion, even if that’s how they come across at first. They're looking to hurt. To ridicule and make fun of, to make me and my followers feel bad or low. And, most of the time, the people who are sending that hate are young. So young. Like... way younger than what you might be picturing in your head right now.

So when I get the really bad hate - the hate that makes your skin feel hot, the hate that spikes your blood pressure, the hate that makes you start typing in a blind rage because you want to hurt them just as much as they've just hurt you - then they've already won. And I'll be damned if I let myself be led by the hand right into a losing battle.

So I simply do not engage. I don't reply with some snarky comment thinking I'm oh-so clever, I don’t reply in a holier-than-thou manner because I think I’m just so much better than them, and I don't reply with a long rambling post about why they're wrong and why they're childish and why they're hateful because that in itself is a hateful act, and I have far more important things to be spending my time and my energy on than fighting with a random on the internet and fueling that (quite frankly, pointless) hatred.

When I don't respond, the anon grows bored. Why send hateful things into someone's Asks if they aren’t even going to showcase it to all of their loyal followers? The reason you don't see hate on this blog is because I simply do not allow them to sink their roots into this soil. I pull them out like weeds and refuse to let them grow here.

I also don't respond because, while I may be able to take a death threat or a homophobic slur with gritted teeth and a roll of the eyes and keep on going about my day, some of my followers may not be mentally or psychologically equipped to see such rude backlash. They range from pre-teens to adults, and when they choose to follow me and my blog, I see it as a responsibility on my end to shield them from that unnecessary hatred. There's no need for them to see such toxicity, and so I act as a stubborn guard blocking the front gates. This temple is for relaxation, for laughter and excitement and love, and I'll protect it until the day that I decide to send that last post and go off to do something else with my life.

2.) Another reason that I believe that I don’t get much hate on this blog is because I don’t cross-platform my content. Does this lower the visibility of my work? Sure. I don’t have a Twitter, or a Youtube, or a TikTok, or an Instagram. This blog is just that - this blog on Tumblr, with a link to my AO3 for my writing. And while that limits my audience and perhaps bottlenecks my views, the safeguard it brings from distancing from toxic mindsets that tend to leak into the more problematic social media sites is well worth it, in my opinion.

I don’t write these stories for kudos and hits. I don’t write these stories to push out as much content as possible, to gain a following as quickly as I can, to reach the entirety of the fandom. I don’t want that. I want to write stories to get better at writing, I want to write about the boys because I crave more gay representation and quite frankly I am obsessed with Bakugou as a character and how much fun it is to write from a Tsundere mindset.

If other people happen to find my work and they like it too, then that’s so awesome! But the extent of my dedication to this blog is just that, my own dedication to something I love and something that brings me joy.

3.) The final reason that I think why I don’t get a lot of hate comments or hurtful asks is because I put a lot of pride and effort into my fics. When I write a piece of work that contains heavy levels of smut, I work really hard to make them realistic, to make the characters motives and emotions clear and concise, to showcase a healthy depiction of what it means to be sexually attracted to and/or engage in sexual activity with someone that a person cares very deeply about.

I see a lot of smut centered around the bnha fandom, and there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, in my opinion, but sometimes I do see things that I personally feel are a little tactless. They’re not handled well, or they promote toxic behaviors, or it really is incredibly self-indulgent and sometimes grossly ignorant.

However, just like with the hate that I sporadically receive in my Asks, it’s of my own personal belief that if I see something I don’t like or don’t agree with on the internet, then I simply do not engage with it. I don’t give it the attention that it so desperately wants to get out of people, I don’t give it a platform to grow on, I refuse to allow it to think that it has the upper hand anywhere in the situation.

I am entirely in control of the things that I promote on this blog, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It’s why I refuse to reblog art if it’s so obviously not being posted by the original artist (there are SEVERAL kiribaku blogs I have seen gaining popularity recently that simply post art from other artists without any credits or any permission). I have even seen several of my own mutuals reblogging art from those particular blogs, and so I find it incredibly important to be diligent in which accounts I reblog art from.

That being said - I’m not perfect. I’m a human being behind this account, a singular entity the runs the entirety of this blog, ever growing and learning and working every day to be better than I was the day before, and sometimes I make mistakes.

Sometimes I reblog stolen art, and need a follower to nudge me in my inbox and let me know that it’s stolen and where to find the original art, so that I can take the responsibility of deleting the stolen post and reblogging the original content to show support for the original artist. Sometimes I write something in a fic that (to me, from my own experiences) I might not consider to be harmful or inappropriate, but that might be damaging in a way that I may have never considered before because I had grown so used to receiving that kind of treatment myself that I fail to see its toxicity on my own, and so when people come to me with genuinely helpful constructive criticism, I feel it is my duty as a writer to be level-headed and humble enough to admit that perhaps what I have grown so accustomed to is just that - behavior I’ve simply grown accustomed to - and to then take a good hard look at that example and make a decision about whether I want to change it or not.

The important thing to remember is that we’re all entitled to our own opinions and feelings, but that we’re also individually responsible for the way that we react to these types of circumstances.

Becoming defensive, becoming enraged, becoming aggressive, becoming jaded - these things don’t do anything but make a situation worse.

That’s why I love Bakugou so. fucking. much. He IS all of those things. Defensive. Easy to anger. Inherently aggressive. And Horikoshi is teaching him through many trials and errors why those types of behaviors will be his inevitable downfall, why falling into the pit of ‘you hurt me, so I must hurt you back’ leads only to repeated failure and internal anguish, why you will forever be forced to run in place and can never continue to grow and move forward if you’re so busy ignoring the reality that we are all humans, that we are all flawed, that we all experience the same emotions, even if we don’t agree with them or think that they’re justified.

The reason I love Bakugou’s character so much is because he is so deeply flawed, he is told time and time again that he is the epitome of a villain, and yet he refuses to accept that. He refuses to believe that he is anything other than the greatest hero-to-be, and he’ll push his bruised ego and damaged pride aside time and time again to relearn what has already been so solidly ingrained into his being, to continuously be watching and listening and learning while still whole-heartedly remaining unabashedly true to himself, to know that he came to this amazing hero school and is being taught by these incredible heroes “not to learn what he can do, but to learn what he can’t do.”

So, to wrap up this entirely incoherent rambling mess of a response that you no doubt didn’t care to read about, I deal with hate the same way that I deal with everything else; circumstantially, and with as much empathy as I can possibly muster.

If it’s random hate just looking for attention and wanting to hurt, I refuse to give them a stable platform to stand on or an audience to be subjected to. I force them to go somewhere else, cause it’s no fun to hit someone over and over again who refuses to ever hit back. If it’s in regards to my fics, I think I work really hard to provide healthy representation work for this fandom, to showcase the characters in not only challenging situations but also how they can realistically overcome them, and to create an environment where love can be seen as just that, love.

Whether it’s with Bakugou and Kirishima learning how to recognize their own weaknesses and become better people because of them, or whether it’s with Bakugou and Hikaru discovering that experiencing love and relenting in trust doesn’t make them weak but in fact makes them infinitely stronger than they will ever consciously realize, the end result is always the same. I just want to share stories, hopefully ones with positive messages, that make people feel things and maybe might teach them a lesson or two along the way.

I hope this somewhat answered your question anon! Sorry it’s so long and jumbled but is anyone really surprised anymore? When you ask me a question like this, just know I am always going to go off on a long tangent :,D

If you’re ever experiencing a situation where you feel harassed or unsafe or you want advice on how to properly handle a situation, please feel free to reach out to me, and we can work together to try and come up with a mature, responsible solution!

Happy reading!! xx

#dealing with hate #there I go rambling again oops sorry ahaha #personal #asks

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shatteredrose · 3 years

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Hi, this is my dumb psychoanalysis of Levi Ackerman. An important note throughout this whole thing is that I am not a therapist nor have I ever received formal education on psychology. However, I grew up in a similar situation as him and made many friends along the way who experienced the same. This post is purely for those who seek to write him and is entirely my own opinion.

Levi Ackerman is not some submissive femboy who doesn't know how to hold a conversation. A lot of writers tend to see him and think, 'Well, he has authority at work, so he must like to be controlled outside of work'. The problem with this is that many trauma victims don't react this way. As a glimpse into my past, I was raised by an extremely abusive mother who didn't even want to have me in the first place and her piece of shit husband who bullied children for pure satisfaction. I spent almost two years inside a single room only leaving to go to school and occasionally make a good public appearance. In that sort of isolated, life or death scenario, most people tend to cope by constructing mental blocks. In Levi's case, it was that you have to fight to survive. It's cannon that Levi has an issue with germs and as someone who developed the same issue for similar reasons, I can confidently say that his cleanliness is out of a sense of control. Growing up, he didn't have a say in what was around him. He couldn't do anything about that. He also never got the chance to worry about his looks, that never even crossed his mind. Instead, he was focused on who around him was holding a knife or how he would feed himself. Its true that later in life he may decide that he wants to take control of that element of his humanity, but he also may decide that because he developed the way he did that just isn't important to him.

This leads into my next point; Levi is most likely not self conscious. When you grow up in an environment where you have zero margin for error, you have to be perfect to survive. For me, it was being able to disassociate. I literally taught myself how to turn off my pain response and control the environment around me. Coming out of a situation where I no longer had to do that to survive was sooo liberating. Levi seems pretty strong. In fact, I doubt a blurry sense of self has ever even crossed his mind. He knows he's perfect because if he weren't he would be dead. This also means he's probably arrogant sometimes.

That being said, Levi is not some god. Levi isn't a superhero. He's a person just like everyone else. He has a complex sense of reality and a moral compass and he's human for goodness sakes. Its cannon that he understands that sometimes the right path isn't clear for him. I've seen so many fanfics where Levi is basically worshipped by everyone and he's the epitome of what society deems "a man", but the reality is that he's kind of an arrogant prick. In addition, being a product of abuse he's probably got some major scars. I would not he surprised at all if he developed bi polar disorder, major depressive disorder, or some form of psychosis. Please stop writing characters as one dimensional beings that only exist to please a single narrative. Levi deserves complexity.

Most important of all, please continue to write Levi as someone who would do anything for those he loves. That's probably the most common side effect of trauma: survivors have trouble making connections, but once they do they are loyal as hell. The representation of this that I've seen in media is *chef's kiss*.

As a parting note, keep up the good work. Fanfic writers on tumblr do be getting us through 2020 (wow i never thought I'd say that). Keep writing, you're doing great. I love you (eh love is kinda a funky concept but I appreciate the fact that you exist) and I wish you a good morning/afternoon/night.

#levi ackerman #writers #levi aot #aot #aot imagines #other good hashtag

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sterling-silvers · 3 years

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Star Wars: The High Republic #1 Review

In terms of the comic, the first issue is the definition of a C story – it is a 7 out of 10 because it is average. The simplicity and lack of depth is both the saving grace and condemning damnation of it.

The story follows a new, human Padawan called Keeve Trennis, who is revealed to be on the planet Shuraden, partaking in her final Jedi trial; result of which will be the deciding factor of whether she become a full fledge Jedi Knight. Chaperoning and assessing the trial is her Jedi Master, Sskeer – a Trandoshan – who is sporting one arm (more on that later on).

During said “final” trial, a swarm of giant alien insects – called Ridadi – pop out of nowhere and start stampeding toward a community of fairy like aliens, called Ximpi. Keeve makes an “audacious” choice to abandon her trial in order to save the village. One thing to note, is that she made a utilitarian decision during the course of her rescue, as did not attempt to save one Ximpi who was swallowed whole – she allowed the death of one to save the lives of many.

After relaying the situation those at Starlight Beacon’s, in particular Master Estala Maru, she is told to read the minds of the insects; in doing so, she gathers that these creatures normally using a magnetic homing beacon to guide their migration course – Starlight Beacon has thrown it off course and if Keeve were to fail to stop them here, they would eventually fly to the Beacon, itself.

Using a new lightsaber powered, Force attuned ship – a Vector – Keeve is able to steer the bugs back on course and off of the planet.

As she reconvenes and recounts with her master, he takes her the Starlight Beacon. Thinking she is about to be expelled from the Order for failing the trial, a new Jedi Master, Avar Kriss – who, via Grandmasters Veter and Yoda, most recently was christened as the new Marshall of Starlight Beacon, officially promotes Keeve to the rank of Knight. As her valediction ceremony takes place on the Beacon, itself, we see Keeve shedding an emotional tear of joy.

This is interesting as, I thought it was the padawan’s master that would knight them but, this seems not to be the case. Even more curiously, the Jedi do not exclaim “May the Force be with you” but, “For Light and Life”. At the conclusion of the comic, we see Sskeer alone in his chambers screaming “No!” at the top of his lungs.

As forementioned, this debut issue is the epitome of a C story and as so earns it’s 7 out of 10. This is my first introduction into Cavan Scott’s writing and, so far, it is subpar at best and candidly amateurish at it’s worse. The narrative was very telegraphed at times and makes mistakes that are unbecoming of a writer given this caliber of material to work with. Writers like Greg Wiseman, Kyle Higgins, and or David F. Walker would not be making these kinds of errors – Marvel might need to call them to take over.

In the same vein, Ario Anindito’s art is decent but, could be better. It’s not as crisp as I think it should be and looks like it needed another render. Artists like Dan Mora, Stefano Caselli, and especially Doc Shaner would have delivered an efficient job as opposed to the sufficient one Anindito is giving.

It’s vexing as honestly, there is something there in terms of Keeve Trennis in terms of both her character and design.

I am more than fine with a protagonist that doubts themselves because that is a manner in which we are able to learn with them, and there is definitely an avenue to explore with a newly dubbed Jedi Knight still working on finding her niche in the Order. Reviewers, like Thor Skywalker, are not so keen on her having these kind of thoughts and emotions but, it makes sense to me. One of the eventual downfalls of the Jedi was that they were trying to negate their emotions as opposed to controlling them. Keeve showing self-doubt illustrates her struggle to regulate her emotions but also that allows herself to feel the doubt work through it. Nonetheless, it seems as if we, the reader, have missed an arc and or development with this character – I think it would have been more apt to show her in the Order working her way to the trials as opposed to the last hour of her last trial AND her becoming a Jedi Knight; this is reinforced by the alleged rapport and pedestal she puts Sskeer on – it’s more tell than show and a comic book is meant to show.

In accordance with this self-doubt, she also has the quirk of cursing. This is interesting, albeit jarring because of the era she is in – the High Republic has been presented as the apex of the Order and as so, I thought that meant this would be the time where the Jedi would be the most dogmatic and adherent to their traditions and mentality.

Her design yields the same jarring aspects, once you go beyond the superficial facet. At first glance, it’s very attention-grabbing; young Black woman with half her head shaved on one side, utilizing two lightsabers – holstered on her chest – that she can combine into a dual-sided lightsaber. However, once again, this seems to be out of place given the time period and temperament of the era. Does it make sense for a Jedi in this era to be so bombastic in their look, particularly when it comes to her hair? Seems like a better fit for a time of REVIVING the Jedi Order as opposed to them being at their APEX.

In the Light of the Jedi novel, it is said that Keeve sees the Force as a tapestry – a massive piece of art that spreads across the universe. This is a really nice take on the Force and I hope it gets expanded on with her character in this series – it certainly could attest to aspects of her design, such as her hair. I haven’t really seen Star Wars characters interested in art aside from Sabine Wren, Grand Admiral Thrawn, and Alva Brenne; now we have a character who the Force IS art for her. Granted, this aspect of hers has not been seen and or mentioned in the comic and it SHOULD be as this is the formal DEBUT of this character for many people.

The issue gets some major points off, as well because:

1. Keeve’s uses her lightsaber to not only slow down descent but to stop the fall completely.

This is cardinal sin that follies in the mechanics and use of how lightsabers work. This happens nine pages in and broke my immersion within the issue - immediate red flag.

At best, an argument could be made that because this is set 200 years before the Skywalker Saga these sabers are weaker than their future counter parts and therefore not as potent in terms of lethality but, this is me – the fan – writing for the writer. Star Wars (or its content creators) simply do not get that luxury anymore. Plot holes are to be called out by the consumer and filled in/addressed by the writer; plain and simple.

2. There is a general lack of references and or footnotes to other material – particularly to the current books and comics – that would have given context to some of the events and tools used in the comic. Prime examples of missed opportunities to seed this world cohesively take form in Sskeer’s missing arm, the Ximpi themselves, and the Vectors.

The High Republic, as a whole, was marketed ongoing multimedia project and as so, interconnectivity should be the prime focal point of this serious. Continuity is key ESPECIALLY when they’ve thrown out the old canon and are new canon. The tools are there – USE THEM!!! The book – really Charles Soule in general – is doing the heavy lifting of world building and establishing many of the characters – the least Scott can do is alley oop these layups.

3. As mentioned earlier, Keeve uses a Vector to as the driving force to solve the problem but, there was no footnote and or reference to the fact that this was a special kind of ship. Moreover, the use of the Vector has already broken the canon that has JUST been established for it – Vectors are powered by the Jedi’s Lightsaber, the hub changes color to that of the lightsaber that activated it, it is steered by the user’s ability with Force, and there should be no autopilot and astromech droids there to guide it based on the fact that these innovations are rare within the galaxy in this era.

Why add these parameters if the creators that be are not going to adhere to them?

Ultimately, this issue threatened to be interesting. If this is the modus operandi of the series as a whole… making good on the threat will be the difference between triumph and downfall.

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mountphoenixrp · 3 years

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Hodr, the God of Winter, whose origins stem from Ancient Scandinavia. He is now the owner of Nysnö.

FC NAME/GROUP: Kim Jaejoong | JYJ/Soloist GOD NAME: Hodr PANTHEON: Norse OCCUPATION: Tailor, Owner of Nysnö HEIGHT: 1m80 DEFINING FEATURES:

- Porcelain complexion, very easy to get tanned or sunburnt

- Big, watery, and expressive eyes with natural eyebags

- Tattoos:

+ Two quotes on the left chest: Deferto Neminem (Accuse no man), Always keep the faith

+ A pyramid with an eye and a set of horns, with three dots above on the left wrist

PERSONALITY: Just like what the last season of a year would offer to the world, Hodr’s got that quiet yet immense power to free, to freeze, and to frighten.

More often than not, he is the literally coolest individual found in any place he’s been to, and his too-cool-for-you resting face with porcelain complexion won’t help. But no, he’s not just a walking ice statue, and yes, he knows how to socialize and even tell jokes – the ones that would help listeners not to try so hard for a pity laugh. He looks aloof and is aloof most of the time, until the situation calls for what he can contribute. Although he may not be the fastest to offer a hand, Hodr would only offer what he’s best at. And actually, after thousands of years of trial and error, the winter god is confident to say that he’s a well-qualified player in quite many different fields in life. And does that make him cocky, sassy, savage at times? Yes dear, all checked.

On the more serious note, this icy god would be often seen alone, being absorbed in a book, something on the screen, or just in his own thoughts. It doesn’t mean he’s unaware of his surroundings at those times; in fact, the reverse is true. Hodr has a keen eye for detail, which would make him the perfect go-to person if you want your new hair cut, new glasses, or even a tiny pimple near your hairline, to get some attention. The god likes to give honest compliments, moral support, physical support, basically what it takes to help others feel more confident in themselves. In some senses, he could be seen as an amateur life coach. And a great drink buddy. He himself isn’t really confident in his flirting skills, but if you’re looking for at-least-acceptable courtship, relationship, or situationship advice, Hodr can manage to give you some.

However, Hodr would take his sweet time to warm up to others, not because he needs to consider if they would worth his time, but the exact another way around. Despite his well-put-together demeanor, insecurity and fear of abandonment are some of the challenges he’s still striving to conquer. Also, Hodr’s developed this odd determination to make as few mistakes as possible, hence his over-meticulousness and indecision, also explains why he might take months to finish a suit. Yet, if one gives him enough patience and understanding, guarantee that they would get the best-customized suit on earth, and probably a (some sort of) friend in this Norse god of winter.

HISTORY:

Before Ragnarok

What was the fun of being the forgotten son of Odin? Nothing much - or should it be phrased almost nothing at all – except for the plethora of aloneness, which equaled to ultimate freedom in Hodr’s book.

The God of Winter was born with eyes that could only see the depth of his own soul and not one of the universe’. At first, it was a curse, then a blessing in disguise, for it gave him the privilege to stay away from the frenzied dance of life and death, of battles and romances, of wisdom and stupidity, those that most other Norse deities had always relished. Hodr preferred, almost thrived on, his blissful solitude. He loved it when he could turn not only one, but both blind eyes, to the surrounding chaos. And it was like a seed planted on barren land, the desire to be at the center of attention and adoration like his dear brother Baldur was. From the first day of existence, Hodr had already understood this. His brother was born to be loved, and he was born to be left alone.

In the serendipity sang by the winter breezes, Hodr had heard his final. Or finals, to be exact. That yes, he was born to with a cursed blessing like no others, that he could make use of it to keep trouble at least a winter away, but that wasn’t meant to last forever. Nothing supposed to last forever, especially when – no matter how different they were – all the Norse deities have been waiting for the Ragnarok since the beginning of their fate.

“I, too, shall die,” he informed one night at the gales caressing his porcelain cheeks. The gales, reminded of the anticipated farewell, hurled in despair. Hodr smiled, the warmest a god of winter could muster. “Behave yourself while I’m away, won’t you?” The winter gales laughed out their response.

And they kept wuthering. Their mighty roars got deafening the day Loki showed up with a mistletoe spear; the sound so deafening Hodr could not really hear what they were trying to say, but the spear had already been thrown away, aiming at a target even his wildest imagination could not let him to see.

When he knew was when it was too late to know. Baldur’s death came much faster than his belated realization. He abhorred Loki, with just one tenth the hatred he had dedicated to himself. Loki’s natural couldn’t outshine his exceptional gullibility; his wrongdoing couldn’t be anything else but a proof of foolishness.

The forgotten outcast was now the greatest sinner. Hodr melted into an epitome of guilt and agony.

The mighty Odin went berserk, of course he would. Hodr could tell what was coming – a decision, a revenge, exactly what he was expecting to. It was another blessing that he did not have to wait for long. One day after Baldur’s death, Vali was born. Just as great as their father, he had completed his sole duty of showing Hodr the way back to nothingness with utter ease. There was no sign of protest from Hodr.

But no one could rest in peace.

Winter did not keep its promise to its God. The freezing gales kept hurling their inconsolable anger. Ice and snow waged war against all gods and men, buried three summers under their thick white blood, and no living left undamaged.

That was how Fimbulwinter started, and how the world began to end.

After Ragnarok

Hodr couldn’t tell how long it had passed between his death and his resurrection. Probably a Ragnarok apart, or that was what he had heard from the survivors. How could he return to life? Why him and not some other much more deserved warriors? No one, including winter, could give him a convincing answer.

What he’d known was that Baldur had also come back to life – the best news Hodr heard since his existence. No blames, no cries, only understanding, and family bond were shared again between the two Odin’ sons, which, until now, still surprised Hodr somehow.

Asgard and the other eight worlds were quick to recover, teeming with life. The winter gales had stopped wuthering. Yet, there were still so many questions left, to which if he did not find the answers, no one - even his greatest of a father - could.

Is this all the reasons why I have been here on earth?

Is there anything else I should know? Learn? Master?

Is there any other place I should go? Anyone else I should meet?

Is there really something called ‘true love’? What is love though, anyway?

Hodr spent the next millennia on self-discovery and re-discovery. On learning and un-learning. On growing up, getting wiser, bolder. On figuring out that actually, his hands were actually much more skillful than they were thought to be. On being a god, then being a god in a human vessel. On falling in, then out of love.

It turned out that true love was real. Hodr felt lucky that unlike humans, whose single-use lives might be too short to find one or too long it was hard to tell it apart of the false ones, he was really deep in it a couple of times. All of the romances he got the chance to co-create, some faded into memories, some into scars, some into a holy mess. But Hodr had learned that just like everything else on this universe, true love wouldn’t last forever. At this point of his seemingly endless quest of knowledge and self-improvement, Hodr was pretty sure that he had raised an army of those who loved him, and an equal-size one of those who hated his guts.

Winter wasn’t meant to be adored by everyone, was it?

But now, let’s get back to a couple months ago, when Hodr was chilling with a long-term fellow god at a corner of a bustling bar. Both were in their newest human vessels, drinking cold beer and talking about what on earth they should try next for this human lifetime. At some points in their unplanned plans discussion, his friend raised a random question.

“Have you tried out Mount Phoenix?”

“What is a mount phoenix?”

“No, it’s the Mount Phoenix. A magical island of gods and their half-human kids. Some of your kids are there as well, I think. Go figure it out!”

So, in the next morning, Hodr woke up sober, packed his bags and himself, and cruised to the Mount Phoenix to figure it out, first and foremost for the thrill of new adventures. Soon, the universe once again showed him that there were still so many things in its pockets that he hadn’t even heard about just yet. Hodr was intrigued, so he chose to stick around the island probably a little longer to seriously figure things out.

He’s also been mastering the art of making suits, by the way.

POWERS:

Winter Manipulation: Able to induce the intensity of winter and that of other elements in its realm, including cold, death, and solitude to some extent.

Water Manipulation: Able to create, shape, manipulate water in solid, liquid, and gas states, also change water from one state to others. Able to create ice objects, including weaponry.

Cold Manipulation: Able to create, shape, and manipulate cold, making everything (including living things) colder with direct or close-ranged contact, ranging from mild coolness to freezing point.

Cold Immunity: Be immune and completely invulnerable to both cold’s direct and indirect effects.

Cold Empowerment: Will be quickly energized or become physically stronger, faster, more durable once in contact with cold.

STRENGTHS:

Hodr is an epitome of the phrase ‘aging like a fine wine.’

He’s very much open-minded, quick-witted, and is a diligent learner. Learn best by trial and error.

If one can withstand the cold, they would get a compassionate, reliable, and loyal companion in him.

He’s pretty much dexterous, and likes to make things with his hands and not his power.

He’s got good taste in fashion. Surprise, surprise!

WEAKNESSES:

He’s cursed with bad eyesight, no matter how good the condition of his vessel’s eyes is. Can’t live without medical glasses or contact lenses.

High heat is Hodr’s nemesis. He’ll rarely enjoy hot food or drinks, and will become noticeably lethargic during summers.

He’s quite slow to open up to new faces, may let his doubts misguide his mind, and can be frustratingly indecisive at times.

He’s still somewhat gullible to those he loves or considers to be trusted friends.

#kpop rp #krp #jyj #kim jaejoong #jyj jaejoong #mp; welcome

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septembersung · 5 years

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We may well ask how it is possible that such a nonsensical ideal, which radically contradicts all common sense, and which has never occurred before, had suddenly popped up. How to explain the seemingly universal enthusiasm — certainly not on the part of parents, but on the part of educators and school administrators — for sex education? To answer this, we must look at the two fundamental errors which have gained currency in our present epoch. The first is the fetishization of science; the second is the reporter mentality — which insists upon the total disclosure of literally everything. I have stressed time and again the fetishization of science. [...] To grasp the confusion in this approach, we only need realize that science, by its very nature, can never grant us an absolutely certain knowledge, but only a highly probable one. It develops constantly, former results are replaced by new ones. The Newtonian physics, which to a Kant seemed the epitome of certainty, is today replaced by other theories. Scientific knowledge is never absolute knowledge. On the contrary, religion — that is, the truth conveyed to us by revelation — is by its very essence absolute if the revelation is authentic. If the revelation is not God's word but simply a construction of the human mind, a mere myth, then we cannot say that it contains merely relative truth. Rather, it contains no truth at all. To make of natural science an absolute is a most unscientific and dilettante claim.

Dietrich von Hildebrand, Sex Education: The Basic Issues

#dietrich von hildebrand #catholic #sex education #faith and reason #faith and science

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theunwrittenones · 5 years

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Prompt 1: by Roland Kris

You have lived your whole life with a bracelet of solid material on your wrist. Any attempt to remove it has been unsuccessful, but you have had it as long as you can remember. Today, it fell off.

The dark dull walls of the room made a stark contrast to the shimmering bracelet, laying between her naked feet. With every passing second it seemed to dim. A dying organism deprived of its life source.

Nyx stared at it for several moments, unmoving, waiting, expecting. Finally the bracelet died.

Something stirred within her. Propelled itself into being. Like a crushing tide swallowing her whole, consciousness arrived, pulling her back into the messy ocean that was existence.

Where the fuck am I? - is the constant mantra that runs like a freight train through her mind, shaking her to the core.

Time fractured and tender knees hit solid ground. Sharp Pain induced by cold metal suddenly became awareness. Lungs denied their service, sweat started running down her neck.

The world blurred to an unfocused photograph. Then suddenly, it was over. The moment had passed.

Reality snapped into presents and brought with it a clearness she never before experienced. She got to her feet once more, drinking in her surrounding anew. A smile, small as it might have been, tucked on the corners of her mouth.

He never was the coffee kinda guy. Made the teeth go yellow faster than you could’ve said DNA three times in a row. Not to mention the breath one cultivated after coffee. That and tea all around just tasted better. So there he was, Asher Hill, executive scientist of the human resource R&D Team. Brewing tea, escaping boredom, fighting the good fight.

Yeah, right. You had to tell that to yourself time and again. That’s how you made the lie stick. Like some of those poor sods, down in the coffins, who cut themselves constantly. At first, your skin may heal, but eventually your body will just say, meh, to hell with it. A grim thought, for grim business.

Lately it was harder for him to work on the projects his oh-so-beloved employer burdened him with. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do.

A single touch on the smooth glass screen, embedded in the workspace in front of him, was all it took to activate the complex mechanism that ran the entire facility.

He lifted his gaze from the screen and looked straight ahead. 21, 22, 23. A hologram appeared, showing off the pleasant face of a random generated female. Slender, with high cheekbones, big radiant eyes, unaffected of course, by the faker than fake smile that was playing on rose petal shaped lips. An epitome of lifelessness. The color composition was, as always, lost in translation. We may live in the future, but when the time came for progress, boy let me tell you, some dude decided that the best possible color for holograms should be blue and blue alone. Thanks Star Trek, I guess.

“Asher Hill, intern verification: 0016, Human Resource.”

“Great. Can’t wait.”

“Aren’t you special?”

“Whoopdy fucking doo, same to you, Amarenthia.”

Several Monitors and Data-Tower-Blocks around his workspace sprang into action. The future was indeed breathtaking! Fucked up, but breathtaking.

Asher eyes found their way back to the screen embedded before him, and grew wide.

“Sweet mother of baby Jesus! Am!”

He felt compelled to say something but fought the urge.

“Why do I see three trillion error messages on my screen?!”

Eerie silence filled the room. It felt like a chasm had opened up in his stomach.

“Don’t you fucking <insufficient resources> me!”

Asher’s fingers flew over the digital key board. An audible thumb on the glass accompanied each figure or letter that was send to the digital abyss of his data screen. The power, according to the related time stamps, has been shut down for about three hours. Three hours! Almost everything could happen in three hours.

“Am. Open the shutters! I need to check something”

“Wrong moment, Am. Open the shutters or I will unplug you, cut you down to size and load you onto my MP3 player, for god’s sake!”

“Thanks for your input Am, really makes my day, you know.”

Once the Windows were fully drawn up, the only thing that stared back at him was his own reflection, encased in utter and complete blackness. His eyes appeared shaded, and the glasses he wore blocked out all the detail.

The mere sight left Asher with an uneasy feeling.

“Put on the lights, please”

A sharp smack brought the main lights to life, flooding the rooms around Asher’s control station, showing him an outcome only his worst nightmares could have produced.

“Don’t bother”

Defeated, Asher sank back into his seat.

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wisdomrays · 2 years

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QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What is the Islamic Perspective on Anticipation For the Messiah and the Mahdi?: Part 4

It Is Necessary To Watch Out for Abuses

Having been subject to abuses throughout the history, the belief in the Messiah and Mahdi might still be open to exploitation, while liars who claim to be prophets as well as imitators of the Mahdi and so-called shaykhs may well spring up. If a person can claim to be the Messiah, as Gulam Ahmad did, it is, then, necessary to study and analyze the issue in terms of the essentials of faith. What does he mean by such a claim? If he is trying to say that the Messiah has entered into him, as have some people attributed divinity to Jesus, and that he regards himself in this way, this is unbelief according to Muslim faith; the word "deviation" is too mild a term for such a situation. Yes, such a claim is blatant unbelief.

By this utterance and claim such a person may mean to say that he is on a spiritual journey in the orbit of Jesus the Messiah, and that those who observe him are able, in some way, to see a (kind of) Messiahhood through him, due to the level he has attained. If this is what is meant, it is a paradox, as a person who has actually reached that level would never make such a claim. In addition, claiming to be a person of such a spiritual rank is the height of vanity.

Abd al-Qadr al-Jilani may have really been a Mahdi, though he had never claimed such a thing. Likewise, Muhammad Bahauddin Naqshbandi might also have been a genuine Mahdi; yet, he had never associated himself with that rank. Though he equally deserves to be addressed as Mahdi in this sense, Imam Rabbani did not even consider himself to merit the quality of being human. To speak more frankly, those who belong to the horizon mentioned above are surely the ones who avoid claims and quests for high spiritual rank and status.

Perfect analysis is required for such claims: Is it a wrong association arising from sharing the same level of spirituality? Is it an error which stems from an overestimation by society? Is it the voicing of the confusion of that same society? Or is it rather that this person truly thinks that he is a chosen one? If they really believe so and claim to be the Mahdi, then this is an obvious sign of vanity, deviation, and a groundless claim that should be refuted. If, in the same way, they argue that they are the Messiah, then this is nothing less than the worst kind of unbelief. Nobody can claim "I am the Messiah," as Jesus the Messiah came, and took his leave of us, going as prophet. This being the case, anyone who claims to be the Messiah is without a doubt performing an action that is as grave as claiming to be a prophet, that is, they are blaspheming. If a person born of certain parents claims to be the Messiah, it means that they have been reincarnated as well, an idea that finds no place in Islamic belief, where such a claim is regarded as a deviation, or even unbelief. From this perspective, one would never attempt such an argument if following the way of Ahl al-Sunna and walking in the light of the Prophet.

As I have mentioned earlier, a scholar put forth the idea that If there is a need for Islam, the manifest religion, to express itself in various places in the world again, the Messiah will come back right away, even from the remotest corner of the other world. However, in order to shed light upon his general outlook, he interpreted the descent of Jesus as a spiritual personality. He further stated that the Messiah would be represented by a group or a section of the society. Yet, in this context, giving a particular name, or perceiving the personality of Jesus epitomized in another person, or declaring that a specific person is the Messiah, be he the great Conqueror Mehmed II, or Imam Rabbani, are all in essence unbelief. It is an evil claim that genuine believers are afraid to utter; rather they are on constant alert to avoid it.

Some naïve people might easily call those whom they overestimate as "the Mahdi." As we have tried to emphasize, however, even if the Messiah were to come and descend in person, he would not do so as a prophet. The fact that he will obey the current guide of Muslims in addition to the fact that the Messenger of God, Muhammad, was the last prophet, both indicate that he will neither descend as a prophet nor will his spirit pass into another. If he were to appear as spiritual personality, neither those involved in this spiritual personality nor the leading figure would never come up with such a claim. Similarly, the person in question, or rather the spiritual personality, who bears the attributes of the Mahdi, would not claim to be the Mahdi nor would they ever make such an assertion. Thus, even if they do not believe themselves to be the Messiah, if a person remains silent against the overestimation of others regarding him who proclaim him the Messiah or the Mahdi, this means that he is keeping silent against deviation or unbelief, depending on the gravity of the claim. Accordingly, such a person would deserve more to be called "a mute devil," based on the statements of God's Messenger.Indeed, if one is addressed as "the Messiah" but, on the other hand, remains silent purposefully, not attempting to warn others against making this deviation, then such a person is no less than a mute devil. If the person in question wanders around claiming that "I am the Mahdi," they indeed float on misery, and have gravely deviated from the path. It is out of the question that a Muslim would approve of any such claims.

This issue, which was destined to be abused throughout time, has unfortunately become a tool exploited by the enemies of the religion, used to defame sincere believers. Moreover, some other people are backed by certain powers to emerge with such claims to use against Muslims. Such cases may well come to the fore in the near or distant future, just as they did in the distant and recent past. In Turkey, people who have deviated, as well as those who do not believe at all, the ignorant with diplomas, and representatives of violence who rule over the fate of the Turkish nation or Muslim nations around the world might well take advantage of the expectation of the Mahdi-Messiah and exploit the meaning of such a on behalf of their plots. This will be done in the name of deceiving Muslims through the exploitation of Islamic concepts and by condemn sincere Muslims to annihilation. This is a particular danger during the current phase in which Muslims around the world are suffering under oppression; the masses are depressed. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that care and caution be adopted against such plots and against the exploitation of such concepts.

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taelicacy · 6 years

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Monochrome Season

Genre: Fluff, future smut, angst, mental health

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (not yet available)

Synopsis: (Y/N) is a very reserved kind of girl that has lots of trouble connecting with people and has unresolved issues with herself. Being forced on a group date who will she meet? And how could he possibly change her future prospects?

Word count: 3k

In my eyes I’ve always been able to classify people in two categories: those who dared to live their life at their fullest and those who simply were too afraid to step out of their comfort zone to do so. However, even if I myself viewed life this way it didn’t prevent me from being classified in the latter group, for various reasons I don't dare to confront.

Those kind of people who simply follow the tide paved by society, those who blindly believe what they were made to believe is good for them, those who won’t ever wonder if there’s something beyond what they’re told to do... I like believing I'm not one of them.

If somebody asked me how to describe myself I wouldn’t really know where to begin.

Actually, that’s a straight out lie, I perfectly know who I consider myself to be, it's just that my opinion on myself is not socially acceptable. Or rather unhealthy , I'd say?

"You must smile, be positive and accept your flaws!" is what everyone preaches from behind a filter, a flawless make up technique and a superiority complex. Meanwhile, even if I tried and blend with the rest with a fakery mask on, the truth is still floating in the back of my mind, like a seed of discord waiting to be watered by negativity and self-doubt.

The truth is that I’m a coward. Such a big coward that I prevented myself from growing because of it.

What is that? I don't know. I keep it caged in the back of my mind. It's not something I am willing to change. You should just ignore it, like I do. That way I can keep living.

This is how I begun my daily reflections as I let myself fall on my bed like a dead body, exhausted from yet another day of endless college classes and a flooded whatsapp group that made me wonder if it was even possible to feel more unattached to my friends, or any other human being for that matter.

Still, I had to push myself a bit further if I didn't want my existence to be forgotten. I couldn't let myself give in to my hermit tendencies.

I unlocked the phone. “Why do we always spend weeks without talking and then we suddenly have texting fits?” I reprimanded to no one in particular. After all I was living alone in an apartment by myself. Sounds fancy right? Not really, the smallest flat one could ever conceive.

Still, if it meant me being able to be alone it was more than enough for me. I was secretly thankful that my parents didn't oppose to the idea of me not having a flat mate. Not that they would like me being so antisocial.

The mobile phone's light blinded me a bit amidst the dark room. The group bombarding me with messages was the one that I shared with my closest friends.

My eyes quickly skimmed over the hundreds of messages.

Break-up, was the key word that caused such a ruckus.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I ran to get my bag.

Me and the girls were to meet up in the usual cafe, we would often go there to hang out from time to time when we managed to make our schedules match. I really liked that coffeplace. It was the perfect mixture of old and modern, isolated it was located in an alley next to a main street, bearing the perfect balance between noisy and quiet, modern and outdated.

I took a glimpse of them sitting in the furthest table from the entrance, our usual spot, with their respective favorite mixes of coffee and my usual Frapuccino waiting for me on the table, rather seducing me to quicken my pace towards them.

As I was approaching something actually put me out of the food craving trance I was in. Kara’s expression was a mix of “Oh, (Y/N) you’re gonna hate us”, and “I’m so sorry, we are doing this to you, but we are”.

Reflexively, I frowned as I sat in the seat reserved for me. “...So, what’s up? Please don’t scare me...”.

They both cracked a smile as if I had just nailed something, pity in Kara’s eyes, as she tended to be a very empathetic person. That was reason enough to make my mental emergency alarms go off.

Mira's expression went stern again. What the heck was going on? “...I’m just gonna be direct (Y/N)… I’ve broken with my boyfriend already...”.

Oh, Ape, Mira’s boyfriend. That’s actually how me and Kara called that guy, derogatorily. Nickname well deserved, he was a brainless man that had cheated on Mira more than once and who we wanted to punch fervently. Still, she seemed pained.

“Why now, after so much time after the cheating happened?” I asked sincerely.

“I may hold affection for him, but there's no love anymore since that happened. I guess now I’m finally free”.

As we pulled each other in a hug, we kept on pressing the issue to get her to vent the most she could to forget the bastard.

“Actually… It may seem too soon, but if I’ve been able to call this relationship off it’s because I am interested in a guy” Mira murmured hesitantly as if she were afraid to seem too shallow.

“I was hoping you’d help me by going to a...” tension built up while Mira stopped to breathe deeply, squinting her eyes she quickly muttered “...group date”.

OH. Okay, it makes sense that they’d plan to carefully throw this bomb to me, since it’s obvious that I’d say no, because hell NO. These kind of social conventions were the epitome of my social anxiety triggering situations. I mean, imagine the pressure of being set up with a guy you don’t even know, who won’t want you to be his pair and having to interact with a dude forced to talk to you for the whole afternoon. Oh, yes it sounds like a dream come true! I'm sure it won't be awkward at all and I won't want to flee and curl up like a worm into a safe position into the safety of my house! It sounded like a great idea, right? And---

“Wait (Y/N), I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t necessarily a triple date, it’s just us and his friends hanging out to have fun, and me trying to get closer to him while we are at it!”

"Well, there will also be as many guys as us girls, but hey, that doesn't mean anything!" snickered Kara.

“...That actually sounds reasonable… But--” I stopped as Kara actually made a pleading look to me. I had to be more reasonable. Mira had gone through a lot because of that Ape, and we didn’t want to see her like that ever again. Going could even help us see if this new guy was a threat Mira couldn’t spy, like it usually happened to her, since she tended to be too naive. Yes, maybe it was time to be less selfish and act for the sake of my friend.

Therefore, I ended up accepting and suspiciously being told the place and the date when it was happening, as if they had been planning it all along even before I accepted.

Will they were both very excited I had a gut feeling that something was gonna go really wrong.

It’s not a date, relax, understood? Understood. There is NO pressure, I don’t need to pretend to be more talkative and friendly than I am, understood? Understood. I’m just going there to make new friends and help my own, understood? Understood. Okay, then, WHY AM I STILL FREAKING OUT.

As you can probably guess I’m not a really a... people person, to put it lightly.

If there’s something that bothers me is the awkwardness associated to meeting new people. And not only because of my deficient social skills, but the weirdness of the situation itself. The shortest silence makes my brain freak out trying to find a topic that is smart enough to stop the excruciating silence, most of the time failing and not being able to join in the conversation. It's not nice, feeling out of place.

I’d just say I’ve learnt out of trial and error that the wisest course of action is to stay out of this situations the most I can. Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t have many friends. Or maybe the reason is because I’m plainly a strange and awkward person, who knows?

Who’d say that as a college student I’d keep having the same issues as I had when I went to elementary school?

The reflection was worthy, however, the time to leave was approaching. I had already been dressed hours ago and now I was getting urges to either change my whole outfit or just pick the phone and make a shitty excuse to not go altogether.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I didn’t choose anything special, just a casual outfit that I’d wear normally but that fit me and made me feel a little bit more safer and confident. The urges kept coming harder and the uneasiness growing steadily as I encouraged myself to just ignore them and crack the door open.

When I finally were approaching my all too familiar cafe, I got angry with Mira for making all of us meet there. I would probably always remember this awkward encounter everytime I went there again.

The door's bell tingled as if it was a sign that I could no longer back down from this. I noticed the usual excited salutation from Mira on our usual table, Kara timidly smiling on her right side and a guy who I suspected was Mira's interest on her left.

He gave off a warm and approachable vibe, with a smile so broad that I could tell right away why she was became interested in him in the first place.

His name was Namjoon and despite my inherent nervousness he was able to make me feel a bit more at peace as he hugged me in a brotherly hug after introducing himself.

"Oh, nice to meet you, my name is (Y/N)" I managed to blurt out thanks to being a bit calmer.

"You know, we were just talking about you" Namjoon said jokingly still with a soothing smile that pinpointed why Mira had her eyes on him. The guy gave off a warm vibe, that of an understanding person.

"Oh no, what did you tell him Mira!" my cool went out the window, my impulsiveness striking yet again.

"Oh Namjoon you're such a snitch!!" Mira exclaimed."We were talking about how late you always are..."

"... and how we - as foster mothers - will have to keep you on a leash to keep you from running away" Kara finished with a smile.

I could feel my cheeks grow redder by the second as I understood they exposed my more than obvious uneasiness in social situation. Maybe explaining why Namjoon so friendly?

"If my mothers have to be such a snitches maybe I should change families" I said as I averted my eyes and sat on a chair between Namjoon and Kara.

"...well, if it makes you feel any better at least you dared to come here. Jungkook-ah on the other hand blatantly refused to" said Namjoon with a disappointed look while I took a mental note to pat this guy’s head if I ever met him.

"And this other was just too lazy to come and that other one was just too busy cooking... well let's say that the ones we are missing are the leftovers. Expect them to be 2 hours late."

“...Wow, okay… I guess now we’re genuinely intrigued” we muttered in unison.

The conversation fluently went back and forth. And all throughout it I became aware of the amazing people skill the guy had. He knew perfectly how to joke around without awakening further than necessary my anxiety, nor did he try to make me ‘more outgoing’ like some people would try to do as soon as they'd realize how shy I am. Honestly, he was an interesting guy to talk to, specially how he managed to make me feel comfortable.

At some point, probably after almost an hour, just as Namjoon predicted, the bell rang muffled by the complainings of a pair of boys, which I supposed were the special cookies.

My heart raced at the thought, in a mix of expectancy and anxiety to meet them.

"I told you we should have used google maps!!"complained the shorter and blond one to his tag along.

"Aigo, shut up already, you were as lost as I was" answered with little guilt the other one, with a hint of a strikingly lower voice than the first.

The blond, despite his complaints, left me in awe with how flawless his complexion was. He had plump lips and enviable fair skin, that suddenly drove me self-aware of my own skin, rougher in comparison to his.

This one walked in front of his taller and deep-voiced friend, whom had a white cap that covered his face as he lazily approached the table.

"Hyung! It was Jimin-ah’s fault all along, you know how he's always a trillion years late when he goes to the bathroom" the white-cap guy told Namjoon with a hint of real annoyance in his joking overall tone.

Namjoon facepalmed at the situation.

"AH! What are you saying in front of them!" The blond guy apparently named Jimin whined.

Probably Namjoon’s statement reminded white-cap guy of our existence, since he let out a subtle “oh” as he turned his head in our direction, letting me finally see his face. “Oh, hello” he faintly smiled to us as he seemed to realize he had made a fool out of his friend.

His dark strands of hair messily peeked from under his cap covering his thick eyebrows, and despite his low voice I wouldn’t have been able to decide whether he had a childish face or a manly one. Somehow his smile stirred a certain uneasiness on my gut that not even I understood.

"Hey! My name is Mira, and I'm Namjoon's friend from uni" she started quickly with her trademark presentation. Always a spotless smile in her face. I was always amazed by how she and Kara managed to look so lovely and draw a flawless smile on their lips with little to no effort.

The nagging uneasiness kept on creeping, growing stronger every passing second as I watched everyone introducing themselves to the newcomers. I had no intention of being the one going next, but at one point it would be my turn right?

By the time Kara had already started her warm welcoming it was a countdown to me pulling myself together and acting like a normal human being.

Both Jimin and cap-guy looked as if they were from a different whole different dimension from me, even I couldn't avoid noticing how Mira and Kara measured up to those stylish guys. That realization only made me more displeased with the situation. It was a given that I would look out of place.

I could hear a faraway "Nice to meet you too" coming from the newcomers mouths. That was a signal that I was out of time and all the rushing thoughts came to a halt.

By the time they were already finished and it was my turn I had realized I had to pull myself together and stood up from my seat like the others, adrenaline rushing through my whole being. The nagging uneasiness never leaving. It was always better to ignore it in such situations since trying to address the elephant took more time than the few seconds I had left.

I was ready to mask my inner turmoil with a smile, the less crooked possible, when Namjoon grabbed me by my shoulders, and I could swear that for a millisecond his expression was trying to reassure me. He directed me towards the guys and joked again "Aaand this is my new friend (Y/N)."

At any other time I'd have had time to question why was he already calling me a friend despite just having met, but I was already mentally occupied with enough things as I got shoved in front of cap-guy.

Our eyes locked immediately. His pupils were the first thing mine could find as if Namjoon had purposely planned it that way. I was captured by the guy's eyes, fixated for a few seconds they were the only thing I could look at. As if I couldn’t fight how much his eyes pulled me in. His gaze seemed to dig a hole into my soul and back, yet for some reason I wanted to keep on looking at them regardless of my surroundings.

"Nice to meet you, my name's Taehyung!" his bubbly words, unfitting the mysterious vibes that I had been getting from his glance, burst the bubble that surrounded us. Or maybe that surrounded only me? Was it my imagination?

Still, he greeted me happily as he pulled a grin like no other I had ever seen before, adding an even new flavor to the mix of feelings I was already experimenting.

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luckybroker9 · 3 years

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Up Quotes Carl

Up Quotes Ellie And Carl

Carl From Up Quotes

Encouraging Quotes || Quotes to Live By || Love Quotes || Funny Quotes || Links || About Topics: A-B-BeingCa-Co-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K-LM-N-OPa-Pr-Q-RSa-Sk-T-U-V-W-X-Y-Z

Get ready to float away with the best quotes from Up.Filled with funny lines, memorable one-liners, a couple inspirational quotes, and talking dogs the 2009 Disney/Pixar movie was an instant classic thanks to lovable characters, the amazing action sequences, and the incredible animation. 11 Adorable Quotes from the Movie Up That Will Give You The Feels Up is a 2009 computer animated film that combines comedy with drama and adventure. It tells the tale of Carl Fredricksen, a widowed old man and his 9-year-old companion, Russell, who set of on a journey to South America, to keep a promise he made to his late wife, Ellie. “While we hear Carl Jung's jazzy humming and Nietzsche's dance steps intermittently during our musings, we can willingly tear down the spread of depression from all the gray zones around and allow the sun to shine and warm up the hearts' expectations. ('A handful of dust')” ― Erik Pevernagie. Today’s guest post by Jason Cuthbert features Carl Fredericksen from the 2009 movie Up, screenplay by Bob Peterson & Pete Docter, story by Pete Docter & Bob Peterson & Thomas McCarthy. At some point in our lives we all seem to have that creepy isolated elderly neighbor whose cranky cold facial expressions remain frozen, even in the summer.

May you find great value in these inspirational Carl Quotes from my large datebase of inspiring quotes and sayings.

Knowingyourowndarkness is the bestmethod for dealing with the darknesses of otherpeople. - Carl Jung

Related topics: LifeHuman-NaturePsychologyWisdom

The acceptance of oneself is the essence of the wholemoralproblem and the epitome of a whole outlookonlife. - Carl Jung

As far as we can discern, the solepurpose of humanexistence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. - Carl Jung

Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics. - Carl Jung

Please sign-up for my Free Inspirational Daily Email on the form below.

Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not. - Carl Jung

Where love reigns, there is no will to power; and where the will to power is paramount, love is lacking. The one is but the shadow of the other. - Carl Jung

We deem those happy, who from the experience of life have learnt to bear its ills without being overcome by them. - Carl Jung

There can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement without emotion. - Carl Jung

The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it. - Carl Jung

It all depends on how we look at things, and not how they are in themselves. - Carl Jung

Resistance to the organized mass can be effected only by the man who is as well organized in his individuality as the mass itself. - Carl Jung

Follow that will and that way which experience confirms to be your own. - Carl Jung Parsons fresno ca.

Great talents are the most lovely and often the most dangerous fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang upon the most slender twigs that are easily snapped off. - Carl Jung

The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable. - Carl Jung

Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. - Carl Jung

You are what you do, not what you say you'll do. - Carl Jung

Where wisdom reigns, there is no conflict between thinking and feeling. - Carl Jung

Knowledge rests not upon truth alone, but upon error also. - Carl Jung

We should not pretend to understand the world only by the intellect. The judgment of the intellect is only part of the truth. - Carl Jung

Who has fully realized that history is not contained in thick books but lives in our very blood? - Carl Jung

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. - Carl Jung

If you don't have confidence, you'll always find a way not to win. - Carl Lewis

When an inner situation is not made conscious, it appears outside as fate. - Carl Jung

Wholeness is not achieved by cutting off a portion of one's being, but by integration of the contraries. - Carl Jung

Children are educated by what the grown-up is and not by his talk. - Carl Jung

In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order. - Carl Jung

Nothing happens unless first a dream. - Carl Sandburg

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. - Carl Jung

If there is anything that we wish to change in the child, we should first examine it and see whether it is not something that could better be changed in ourselves. - Carl Jung

Plots buzon. All the works of man have their origin in creative fantasy. What right have we then to depreciate imagination. - Carl Jung

One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. - Carl Jung

The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves. - Carl Jung

The best political, social, and spiritual work we can do is to withdraw the projection of our shadow onto others. - Carl Jung

If one does not understand a person, one tends to regard him as a fool. - Carl Jung

What you resist, persists. - Carl Jung

Without this playing with fantasy, no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of the imagination is incalculable. - Carl Jung

We cannot change anything until we accept it. - Carl Jung

Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health. - Carl Jung

Naturally, every age thinks that all ages before it were prejudiced, and today we think this more than ever, and are just as wrong as all previous ages that thought so. How often have we not seen the truth condemned! It is sad but unfortunately true that man learns nothing from history. - Carl Jung

It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts. - Carl Jung

We should not pretend to understand the world only by the intellect; we apprehend it just as much by feeling. Therefore, the judgment of the intellect is, at best, only the half of truth, and must, if it be honest, also come to an understanding of its inadequacy. - Carl Jung

Life is like an onion: you peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep. - Carl Sandburg

The greatest and most important problems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved but only outgrown. - Carl Jung

There is no coming to consciousness without pain. - Carl Jung

It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how things are in themselves. The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it. - Carl Jung

Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism. - Carl Jung

Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain. - Carl Jung

The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong. - Carl Jung

Man's task is to become conscious of the contents that press upward from the unconscious. - Carl Jung

Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate. - Carl Jung

Our heart glows, and secret unrest gnaws at the root of our being. Dealing with the unconscious has become a question of life for us. - Carl Jung

Shrinking away from death is something unhealthy and abnormal - which robs the second half of life of its purpose. - Carl Jung

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. - Carl Jung

We cannot change anything until we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses. - Carl Jung

THE fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. - Carl Sandburg

A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them. - Carl Jung

I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become. - Carl Jung

The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases. - Carl Jung

One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child. - Carl Jung

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls. - Carl Jung

Show me a sane man, and I will cure him for you. - Carl Jung

Understanding does not cure evil, but it is a definite help, inasmuch as one can cope with a comprehensible darkness. - Carl Jung

Neurosis is always a substitute for legitimate suffering. - Carl Jung

Every human life contains a potential, if that potential is not fulfilled, then that life was wasted.. - Carl Jung

The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. - Carl Jung

Sometimes, indeed, there is such a discrepancy between the genius and his human qualities that one has to ask oneself whether a little less talent might not have been better. - Carl Jung

Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity. - Carl Jung

The word 'belief' is a difficult thing for me. I don't believe. I must have a reason for a certain hypothesis. Either I know a thing, and then I know it - I don't need to believe it. - Carl Jung

The man who promises everything, is sure to fulfill nothing, and everyone who promises too much is in danger of using evil means in order to carry out his promises, and is already on the road to perdition. - Carl Jung

Nobody, as long as he moves about among the chaotic currents of life, is without trouble. - Carl Jung

I have treated many hundreds of patients. Among those in the second half of life - that is to say, over 35 - there has not been one whose problem in the last resort was not that of finding a religious outlook on life. - Carl Jung

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fullvoidmoon · 6 years

Text

A “Little” Prank and a Soaked Tunic

Pairing/s: Thorin x (human!fem)reader

Setting/Timeline: The Quest to reclaim Erebor

Warning(s)/Genre(s): Fluff, implied smut

Word Count: 1,469

The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings, The Durins, Any of the Company, Gandalf the Grey(mentioned), and Radagast the Brown(mentioned) © J.R.R. Tolkien Context © me

Inquired by @justcallmecinammon via ask.

Based on my imagine.

A/N: After 10,000 years, I’ve finally written a drabble/one-shot based on this particular imagine. And since I wrote this in a sudden spur of the moment and ideas kept rushing in my mind, I just realized I overdid it with its length. So sorry if there are any errors or if it doesn’t live up to your liking.

Thank you also to @ineedcaffine for the white button-up shirt idea ;)

The Hobbit tag list: @igotanaddixon @fizzy-custard @fromthedeskoftheraven @deepestfirefun @evyiione @mrs-thorin-oakenshield @life-is-righteous @sdavid09 @dreamsofrivendell @epicallychrissy @petals-overdaisies

Thorin II Oakenshield tag list: @fab-notfat

Permanent tag list: @imagines-for-multiple-fandoms @thepoet1975 @cd1242 @thegreyberet

Masterlist: HERE

You are 100 percent sure you are about to murder someone.

And by someone you are pertaining to the two numskulls that call themselves the Princes of the Durin’s folk.

It has been months since you joined the Company of Thorin Oakenshield upon the recommendation - more likely upon the insistent - of Gandalf the Grey; proudly telling everyone you’ve been friends with the Grey Wizard and has been both his and Radagast the Brown’s apprentice, making you knowledgeable about Middle Earth more than anyone among the race of Men.

Though you were welcomed with a mix of hesitation and prejudice among some members of the Company, you being a child of Man and a woman to boot, it never really deters your confidence and determination to prove your worth; that you can also stand your ground against orcs, wargs, and trolls, and your vast knowledge and mastery in the arts of magic and healing.

“Are you alright Miss (Y/N)?” Ori, so sweet and thoughtful of him, asks as he hands you a towel to dry yourself, “oh I do hope you will not catch a cold.”

“I will be fine Ori,” you sigh, giving the youngest of the dwarves a reassuring smile while trying to dissipate the boiling irritation that currently runs through your veins.

Relief is definitely an understatement to what you felt when the Company’s leader and rightful heir to the throne of Thrór finally accepted you among their ranks. Not just because you are getting tired of being ignored and shunned, but you also feel hurt.

You would never tell to any living soul, probably except Gandalf and Bilbo, what your heart does to you whenever his eyes, the bluest you’ve ever seen, would turn its gaze on you; staring at your very soul as chills run up and down your spine.

“What exactly happened, Miss (Y/N),” Ori softly inquires, immediately regretting his inquiry as he sees you seething almost instantly.

“It was the two Princes,” Dori interjects as he grabs another towel to dry your hair, “pouring ice cold water to the poor lass, the nerve of them.”

But never would you expect the two conniving princes, with ‘a little’ help of the sneaky bastard Nori, would have any idea about your deep affections for their Uncle and would do something to this extent; pouring a bucket of freezing water from a stream who knows where and dumping it all over you before leaving camp to find some more firewood.

“I swear to the Valar I might murder those two once they step one foot in this camp.”

And a pair of sapphire eyes staring intently at your form after witnessing the whole ordeal; the bluest of eyes slowly turns into its darker shade like the midnight sky.

-----

Thorin could not really say if he should be exasperated towards his rambunctious nephews, or if he should be thankful to what their rambunctiousness did.

He may not outwardly admit it, and may seem to be too stoic and harsh towards the only female among the Company; he could never deny what (Y/N) does to his heart, mind, and soul.

But somehow his sister’s sons saw something in his secretive glances and subtle actions, making them see his growing affections towards her.

“I truly apologize to what my nephews did,” Thorin says, trying to keep his voice even after offering (Y/N) some assistance to dry herself at a nearby creek.

“It is fine,” she replies, sighing after realizing her favorite tunic is too drenched than expected, “I guess I never thought Fili and Kili could really pull off something as troublesome as dumping ice cold water at someone.”

No matter how hard he would ignore his adoration for her, always reminding himself that the quest should be prioritized before anything else, the King Under the Mountain knows that (Y/N), a budding woman and the epitome of grace and kindness but filled with fire, bravery, wit, and courage, is no mere apprentice of two of Middle Earth’s guardians.

“Such a sight to behold,” Thorin whispers, aware that his gaze would not be averted as he traces (Y/N)’s curves at her back.

What Fili and Kili did to her, as he could still see droplets of water cascading down her neck, her thick locks wet and framing her flushed cheeks, and her body shaking, made him realize he may not hold his hidden desires for her any longer.

And her white, button-up tunic that clings on her body, making him see the soft, smooth skin under the now see-through clothing, makes his desires increase tenfold.

“Did you say something Thorin?” (Y/N) asks, her flushed cheeks turning a darker shade of red as she tries to focus on getting herself dry.

Did he really say what she thinks he said?

Though (Y/N) couldn’t deny her wishful thinking of the Dwarvenking loving her in return, never in her wildest imagination would Thorin think of her in such suggestive ways; no matter how enticing it sounds like or how it forces that uncomfortable but pleasurable knot to tighten in her stomach down to her nether region.

(Y/N) would be lying if she continues to stubbornly tell herself it is just her wishful thinking playing such tricks; trying to deceive her that he truly said what she heard him said.

And Thorin couldn’t help but let the warmth of his love and adoration, and his growing desire, for (Y/N) envelope his heart and soul as he watches her struggling with her inner thoughts.

“What makes you think so deeply,” he whispers, making (Y/N) break her reverie and not realizing he had come close to her, “for you not to hear what I said?”

Thorin could feel (Y/N) shiver, goosebumps appearing on her skin as his warm, calloused fingers slowly tracing onto her arms; leaving feather-like but electrifying touches as its trails. If only (Y/N) knows how much he would love to have his lips grazing her smooth skin.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Thorin,” (Y/N) softly replies, trying hard not to give out a whimper as she feels his warm breath blowing at the exposed skin of her nape.

The small crack in her voice is evident enough for him to be aware of her doubts, her insecurities holding her back and eating the confidence she exudes whenever her aid is needed among the Company; one of the many qualities he first saw in her that made him realize her worth as his One and Queen.

Thorin, always straightforward, firm, and strong in his commands, gives out a gentle whisper to her ear as his arms slowly wrap around her waist, “you doubt that my love and adoration for you exist.”

(Y/N) doesn’t reply, fully aware that her voice would betray her in voicing out her fears. But she places her hand onto his arm, giving it a light squeeze as a sign of affirmation.

“I am truly sorry amrâlimê,” Thorin says, surprising her for never has she heard him apologize to anyone in the past months, “but please do not mind this fool of a dwarf.”

(Y/N) could feel his lips again grazing on her now heated skin, this time giving it soft kisses and light nips that makes her feel hot; making her forget the chills her soaked tunic is giving her and her desire to change into a dry one, making her ignore her rational mind screaming profanities at her to not succumb into her desires and wishes.

How could she ever resist such temptation when all she dreams every night is of Thorin’s rough hands running up and down her sides as he presses her firmly against him; hearing him whispering sweet nothings and suggestive notions to her ear as he grinds his hips on her.

“I have always wanted to do this,” (Y/N) hears Thorin’s husky voice behind her own whimpers, “hold you, caress you; shower you with love and adoration that only I could give.”

“You can,” she whispers back, turning around and looking at him with hooded eyes, “if only you know what I’ve been dreaming of every night.”

Thorin couldn’t help but give off a smile, not just because he can now hold (Y/N) with no inhibitions and doubts and show her how much he could love her.

“Then let me take care of you from this night until our very last,” his growl suddenly invades her hearing as she is slowly laid down on the ground, making her nether region moist; his beautiful sapphire eyes filled with love and lust as it turns as dark as the night sky.

But because it took him long enough to realize there is nothing for him to worry about.

And all that it took him to confess is a ‘little’ prank and a soaked tunic.

#FVMfanfics #FVM thorin fanfics #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x reader

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