Very Interesting And Fascinating To Me That Even After Doing So Much 5D Chess And The Novel Being His

his sanctuary

Petitions - UK Government and Parliament

Petition: Do not stop transgender people from receiving care in mainstream hospital wards

The previous government proposed changes to the NHS constitution which would mean transgender hospital patients in England may not be treate

Well fucks? Get to it!

I am suddenly very interested in reading someone’s fanfiction in which:

Kim Dokja’s Fourth Wall goes into overdrive when he has a panic attack, blurring him so much that he’s either entirely invisible or only a hazy distortion in the air

He endures this a couple of times alone when no one is looking for him

When he panics during an important moment, though, the others notice his absence and look for him

And one of two things happens: either 1) KimCom finds him and is able to protect him well enough for him to come back and be loved on, or 2) only Han Sooyoung finds him, and she uses her writer’s mind to comfort him, tie him back to reality, and help him reconnect with his sense of self rather than dissociating by describing what he looks like, piece by piece, painting a picture of him with her words as if he were a character (just like he tries to be when he copes alone), until he’s there, on his knees in front of her, tear tracks staining the corners of his eyes

I think it’s pretty clear which of those two scenarios I find more compelling, but I think the other could be fleshed out enough to hit pretty hard, too

Basically I want Kim Dokja to feel seen and real and like a meaningful part of the physical world

Folks, backup your Tumblrs, for real this time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KDJ!! ORV dump 👊👊👊

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

In a world where the scenarios never happened, a different kind of calamity plagues Seoul. Doppelgängers roam the streets, and have done for decades, forcing the world to adopt strict security measures- or risk your flesh being stolen, in more ways than one. Doormen are tasked with putting themselves on the front line to protect ordinary citizens from this threat, and Kim Dokja unwittingly finds himself as one such doorman.

It’s a thankless job, and when Dokja’s building welcomes two new residents, he finds his job only gets more complicated the further he becomes entwined within Yoo Joonghyuk’s life.

A story of hapless, stupid love, in an apocalyptic world that stubbornly refuses to fall.

✨Interest Check Results✨

Thank you everyone for helping us shape this zine!

Whumpril Day 1 - Hug

Also posted on ao3

Han Sooyoung lets out a sigh, looking at the mountain of notes she had spent the past day sorting through.

“All these notes, yet you can’t just stay alive, can you?” She wasn’t talking to anyone. The person she wanted to talk to was long gone. All that was left of him was his piles and piles of writing, on the scenarios, on constellations, on items. Nothing saying where he went or what could bring him home.

She had taken it upon herself to read through all of them, organising their leader’s scattered thoughts into something the rest of them could manage.

Grabbing her summary of what she went through, Han Sooyoung made to stand. Pushing her chair back, her vision went dark as she rose. How long had she been sat there?

Doubling over, she gripped the table. Her vision remained dark, her head rushing. She groaned at the sensations. She knew she had to get closer to the ground, then it would be less of a fall if she passed out.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Sooyoung-ssi? Are you alright in there?” Yoo Sangah’s gentle cadence came through the closed surface, a hint of concern in her tone.

Han Sooyoung tried to respond but the pounding doubled in strength, eyes seeing naught but waves of darkness. Another groan emerged from her throat.

“Is that you? I’m coming in,” and the door opened. Yoo Sangah’s gentle cadence was shrouded in what seemed like a halo of heavenly light, but Han Sooyoung knew it was just the too-bright lightbulb in the hallway shining into the poorly lit room.

Yoo Sangah let out a gasp when she saw Han Sooyoung. Her hair was matted, her eyes clamped shut with the eyebags beneath large and noticeable.

She rushed over and wrapped her arms around the writer, holding her close.

“Are you okay? I came to check on you because no one’s seen you all day,” Her concerned words were too loud for Han Sooyoung’s aching head, so she scrunched her eyes further closed and tightened her grip on the table.

When Yoo Sangah saw her do this, she tried to pull them both away from the table, and to the mattress that had been set up for when company members were having sleepless nights in the planning room.

Now speaking in a whisper, Yoo Sangah continued to try and comfort Han Sooyoung

“Do you want to just lay hear and cuddle? Let’s try and get some sleep,” The serene tone combined with the soft covers helped ease some of Han Sooyoung’s pain. She nodded her head, and Yoo Sangah slipped them both under the covers.

And so, as the night wore on, the two ladies slept in peace, leaving thoughts of what was to come aside.

A crossover no one asked for...

except me.