Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook
Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut/ implied smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU
Summary: D-Day finally arrives.
Word count: 10.6k
Tags/ warnings: Angst, minimal fluff, mentions of blood, harassment, hybrid mistreatment, throwing up, surgery (kind of), needles are briefly mentioned, briefly described panic attack/ disassociation, a lot of hurt but this is the last time (I think…), if i’ve missed anything let me know!
Notes: You’re allowed to get mad at me. I think a demon possessed me when writing this because the m/c doesn’t deserve any of this…
You had 30 minutes until midnight. 30 minutes, two quarters of an hour, three 10-minute intervals, 1800 second until your whole life could turn to shit.
THOSE FUCKERD DID WHAT??!! GOSH THEY ARE THE SICKEST FICTIONAL CHARACTER IVE EVER READ LIKE LITERALLY. OHMYGOD EVERY BLOOD IN MY VEINS HATE THEM. WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DOES THIS FUCKERS EVER THINK??? WAIT, MAYBE THEY DIDNT USE THEIR BRAIN SO THATS WHY THEY DID THAT DISGUSTING SHIT, BUT STILL DOESNT JUSTIFIED THEIR ACTION!! ACTUALLY WTV REASON THAT CAN BE A REASON DOESNT JUSTIFIED THIS. BEHAVIOUR. I. HATE THEM
and thank god sora!! ohmygod thank u and yessss GO HYERIN!!!!
If you’re feeling sad about the politics in 2020 just read Red White and Royal Blue by Casey Mcquiston for a much happier 2020 political situation or just a better 2020 in general
Time was, the moments before sleep were my most productive. Characters would surge out of the darkness, fully formed, and I could commit them to memory before they faded back into imagination. Puzzles would be solved. Problems would find their solutions.
Now it’s just rope. As my mind unwinds, the rope starts to fold in on itself, constructions folding around phantom limbs. They’re disembodied, attached to no one specific, but they bind them all the same. Knots forming around previously wound rope, finding the right pattern that will satisfy both my urge to tease and torture, while remaining proper bondage, depriving movement, restraining, controlling.
I imagine cruel bindings that cross the rope between the legs, force a little friction before wrapping back around wrists, so that every movement is like a butterfly effect; the slightest variation here, and the effects felt elsewhere would be dramatic. I think of how to wrap the rope around itself, form a solid ball, before slipping it between anonymous lips. Hearing the muffled, plaintive, satisfied moans.
Think about how to make the rope stronger, more complex, more intricate. How to make it beautiful, as well as restrictive. To move from function to form, and extol both at once. I dream of rope, before I’m even asleep.
