#wanted to try adding some variation

[milkbreadtoast]

Ham Ga-in design test... idk if I'd go with this design but I just tried to stay close to her ep 1 appearance + added freckles for some variation kdjfj...

edit: added some more doodles🥺 this design is growing on me aldjsldn🫣

[lucalicatteart]

A few silly little small sculptures that I made with some of the leftover clay from the main one I did recently

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

"Porridge is a real thing??" I shout at my British F/Os

"Goldilocks is BRITISH!?" I shout at them in an even higher pitch

[neverendingford]

.

[alexanderwales]

Spells are a non-renewable resource. One a spell has been cast, it can never be cast again.

But thankfully, what counts as a unique spell is permissive, and very early on in the history of wizardry, wizards found many ways to use the arcane language to specify a similar effect even if the wording was different.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

There are only so many ways to call forth a beam of lancing light, only a limited number of methods of purifying food to make it safe to eat. Soon it became necessary for the wizards to start casting spells that weren't quite what they wanted: a beam of light that arced to the left, a purifying spell that added a bitter taste, some changes cosmetic and others very functional.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

Wizardry was divided into ages by the historiographers. The First Age was the age of plenty, when wizards could make minor tweaks to the spells and cast as much as they liked. The Second Age was the age of modification, when wizards were jumping through hoops and using methods with side effects. But the Third Age was the age of decay, when so many spells had been used that only the oddballs were left. It was impossible to cast anything even remotely resembling a fireball, not even one that hooked to the left and exploded with sharp green shards.

It came to be that few wizards could produce a spell on their first attempt. They would try, only to discover that someone else had already taken their idea and the spell does not work. They would try again, only to discover that their second idea had also been taken. Wizard battles, which had once been glorious light shows, were reduced to two wizards standing in a field trying to be the first one to stumble upon a spell that had never been cast before.

~~~~

Here are some plot hooks:

Wizards jealously guard their knowledge, fearful that someone will learn of a "seam" of untapped spells, but they also write down every spell they know to have been cast, to reduce their search space. Obviously this trove of knowledge is highly valuable.

The existence of spell "seams", which are really just collections of spells that work off the same cluster of discrete variations, mean that wizards tend to be very specialized. The Sheep Wizard knows eight hundred ways of turning someone into a sheep, because he's studied that area of the arcane language extensively, as well as historical precedents that have been ruled out. The natural enemy of a Sheep Wizard is, of course, another Sheep Wizard.

During the Second Age, a group of wizards get together to deliberately reduce the spell-space, largely in the hopes of reducing the capacity of wizard-kind for making war. Their work largely consists of sitting around casting as many fireballs as they can, depleting all options for everyone else.

During the Third Age, a group of wizards gets together and in the spirit of mutual cooperation begins to define "spell blocks", a collection of spells that a single wizard is entitled to and all other wizards agree not to use. When you become a wizard, you're given a thousand spells which are thought to still be valid, and will lose your license to practice wizardry if you cast any spells that are outside your block. This is difficult to enforce, rife with accusations and suspicion, but is thought to be better than nothing.

During the Fourth Age, a group of "wizards" (none of whom have ever actually cast a spell) are working on the arcane language in the hopes of a revival. As the age of hoarded knowledge has mostly passed, they're able to get their hands on many books that weren't previously available. One day, they invent a new form of specification that allows hundreds of thousands of new spells, re-igniting wizardry.

[ipso-faculty]

There's now an Intersex Wiki! 🎉

So I got tired of the Sisyphean task of trying to make existing wikis like Wikipedia more informative about intersex. I also was feeling that there isn't really one central place for intersex content to get archived, especially if Tumblr goes down. It felt like it was time that we the intersex community had our own wiki.

And, it's live! You can find it at intersex.wiki!

It's still very young and under development, but we just passed the 100 article mark 🥳 and I thought I'd share! Here's our glossary page as a starting point:

It would be really lovely to get some more regular contributors to the wiki! If you have anything you'd like documented about your intersex variation, knowledge about intersex history, local intersex organizations, or intersex representation, it'd be appreciated! 💜

I've been mostly focusing on growing the number of articles, and which means that the main article on Intersex could really use some expansion and refinement. 💜

Proofreading is also appreciated. 💜

Please note that:

You will need to make an account and confirm your email before making any edits, because there is an intense amount of spam/vandalism directed at the wiki (sigh)

You must thoroughly cite all your sources. You can cite Wikipedia. You can cite Tumblr posts. You can even cite your own Tumblr posts. But you must cite your sources. This is an encyclopedia and others need to be able to verify the provenance of your arguments. We use Chicago-style citation.

Wiki content must have educational relevance to the intersex community, and also must be safe for work. (SFW is interpreted as including information about biology/anatomy provided it's in a style/tone suitable for a classroom.)

Note: we have a ban on biographies of living individuals.

The threshold for inclusion of neologisms and flags in the Wiki is: "is this actually used outside of coining posts, glossaries, and wiki entries?" If you want to make an article on a neologism, there needs to be at least one citation demonstrating literally anybody using this term in a naturalistic manner.

Given the wiki is subject to a lot of spam/vandalism, the first few edits you make to the wiki will be sent to a moderation queue and will need to be manually approved. Once you've demonstrated you're not a spammer, that you can cite sources, and not create articles that are outside the scope of the wiki, you'll be added to the list of users whose edits are automoderated.

If you have any difficulty in editing the wiki or getting started, or just wanna talk about the wiki, we have a Discord: https://discord.gg/BBvGUBWqnR

If you have any questions let me know! 💜

[kxsagi]

“𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧”

a/n: okay so… i have dante brainrot

(fanart found here)

you don’t know when it started – well, technically, you do. it was a saturday morning, the kind where the sky is grey and the coffee machine starts sputtering at the worst possible moment. you’d just slapped on your apron and were trying to wrestle a ketchup bottle back to life when he walked in. 

all tall, dark, and devastating. like he was in the wrong movie. like he was supposed to be fighting demons in hell or racing luxury cars across italian rooftops, not standing in your small local diner, blinking up at the specials board like he was decoding a program. 

“uh…hi,” you said, a little breathless. “just one?”

he smiled, and the air shifted like a song started playing just for you. 

“yeah,” he nodded, and then… then he really looked at you. “unless you’re off in twenty minutes. then two.” 

you’d laughed. it was polite. professional. you’d been hit on before. you were gorgeous, after all (and humble). but this guy, he looked like he meant it. like he’d follow you out of there and help you change a flat tire and write poetry about it. 

“booth or bar?” you asked, already leading the way. 

he took a booth. he took every booth after that. because that was the first time dante walked into the diner. and somehow, it was never the last. 

“let me guess,” you say now, pen hovering over your notepad. you were standing in the same spot, just three months later. “you’re going to order the other side of the menu today.” 

dante grins, the kind that could make your knees weak if you weren’t too busy leaning on the table like a girl in a romcom who still has three tables left to take care of. 

“how’d you know?” 

“because you circled the first half last week like you were doing SAT prep.” 

“that obvious, huh?” 

enzo, who is already sitting across from dante with the dead eyes of a man who has been dragged here nearly every wednesday and saturday for the last month, doesn’t even look up from the menu. “you’re pathetic.” 

“i’m learning about local culture,” dante retorts smoothly. “and it’s not pathetic if i’m in love.” 

enzo groans so loud it startles the old man in the corner booth. “again with the love.” 

you raise an eyebrow, flipping your pen between your fingers. “oh?” 

“don’t indulge him,” enzo mutters. 

but you do. because it’s funny. because it’s dante. because he’s got this way of talking like everything he says is a compliment in disguise. especially when it is. 

“so…what’s the order today, romeo?” 

dante’s eyes flicker down to the menu like it’s the first time he’s seeing it and not like he’s been aggressively trying every variation of breakfast sausage on god’s green earth just to talk to you. 

“i’ll take… the pancakes.” 

“the banana ones?” 

“surprise me.” 

enzo makes a strangled noise. “he’s trying to make that sound sexy. do you hear that? i’m not hallucinating.” 

you stifle a snort and turn away with a little smile. “you want bacon with that?” 

“only if you eat one with me.” 

enzo slams his head onto the table. 

but despite the old man’s warnings, you can’t help it – dante’s charming. 

not just flirty. charming. he says thank you like he means it. he helps old people with their coats at the door. he offers to fix the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom with his bare hands like he was born to. he even pulled a stray cat out from under your car last week and tried to name it after you (“look at her, she's got your attitude”). 

it would be easier if he was annoying. or weird. or just some guy with a terrible pickup line and an ego problem. but instead he’s funny. he’s sweet. and yeah, he’s tall. 

you just hadn’t expected his height to be his opening line today. 

“so,” he said casually, elbow on the table like he belonged in a cologne ad. “did i mention i’m six foot three?” 

you blinked. “… is that your order?” 

enzo dropped his head into his hands. “kill me.” 

“i just thought you should know,” dante went on, sipping his coffee like it was wine and he was at a gala. “for science.” 

“science?” 

“yeah. for… height-based compatibility purposes.” 

“wow,” you said dryly, scribbling on your notepad. “and here i was, trying to decide if you were a blueberry or a chocolate chip pancake kinda guy.” 

“i’m flexible,” dante said, all smooth as enzo was actively searching for exits at this point. “but i lean sweet.” 

the weeks go by. dante keeps showing up. he’s tried everything from the chili cheese fries to the tuna melt (“a bold move,” you told him, he looked proud). he tips generously (even though you can tell he has no extra pennies for himself). flirts even more generously. sometimes he brings enzo. sometimes he comes alone. and when he does, he sits at the bar and spins the little napkin dispenser like he’s trying to impress it. 

“you ever think about getting a job here?” you joke one afternoon while pouring him another soda. “you’re basically an unpaid intern at this point.” 

“only if i get to wear the same uniform,” he says, eyes dragging up your apron with a smirk. 

you roll your eyes. but you’re smiling. you always are when he’s around. 

enzo walks in late that day, takes one look at dante smiling like an idiot and you laughing like you’ve known him for years, and sighs the sigh of a man who has already drafted his best man speech out of spite. 

“don’t even,” dante warns before enzo can sit. “we’re having a moment.” 

“you’re having a delusion,” enzo corrects. “this is a restaurant, not a dating sim.” 

you just shake your head, grabbing their plates. “pancakes and existential dread, coming up.” 

enzo salutes you. dante grins proudly. 

and you? 

you’re starting to like the regulars. especially the tall one. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[fuckingrecipes]

Cooking question I'm too embarrassed to ask someone IRL: how easy or hard is it to accidentally poison yourself?

I know not to eat things that are too old (past the best-by date, changed color etc), I know not to eat things that were burned. I know to be careful about handling raw meat. I know how to store leftovers. I know to pay attention to instructions on the package and to check if the package is damaged etc.

But at the same time... well, a lot of cooking advice I've seen over the years includes some variation of "try things out, see what you like!" and I'd kind of like to do that. But if the results turn out inedible, I'd like them to be "inedible" as in "tastes very bad" and not "inedible" as in "going to upset your stomach" or "send you to the hospital"

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat?

What about lettuce? I'm aware it would probably taste bad, but would it be safe to try?

If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat? (Assuming all the components are edible by themself, I'm NOT talking about cleaning solutions or dish soap or whatever)

What might be some questions I don't even know I should check?

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat? If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat?

100% safe. There is a ZERO (0%) percent chance of accidentally creating a poison when cooking a safe-to-eat-raw food item.

You're not going to accidentally create a poison when you mix spices, sauces, or various edible ingredients together.

It's just not how chemistry works. With no exception I can think of, you can't take one safe-to-eat plant or animal and cook it or mix it with another in a way that will create a toxic substance.

Cooking lettuce to eat is safe. Cooking whole fruit is safe. Mixing a hundred sauces together is safe. Go for it.

I could take a sample of every single individually edible item in my fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet, blend it all into a big slurry, cook it & eat a portion of that concoction with confidence that I won't die from it. While it may be gross and taste bad, it won't actually harm me. It won't be a poison, no matter how many different types of food ingredients are tossed into the pot.

I cannot guarantee that you will never upset your stomach, because you could be sensitive to or allergic to an ingredient that I don't know about. It's not a poison to all humans, but it'd be uncomfortable to you. You can only learn about that through experience.

What CAN be dangerous:

Improper sterilization and improper technique can accidentally leave poison-producing bacteria or mold to breed when canning or fermenting foods.

Eating large amounts of a couple specific foods can be risky. There's not a lot of these, so here's a list of the big names to keep an eye on:

Cassia (common) cinnamon has a chemical that is toxic in larger quantities, but harmless in small quantities. If you eat 2 teaspoons a day, every day, you'll run into trouble. If you use Ceylon cinnamon instead, you can eat pretty much as much as you want.

Don't eat a whole nutmeg. It's wonderful when used sparingly, but can be poisonous in large amounts. Same rule as Cassia cinnamon: 2 teaspoons a day, every day, will get you into trouble. Eat less or less often.

Eating too much Liver (the organ) can cause copper toxicity and Vitamin A toxicity. It's great for you when added to a meal once a week, or a couple times a month, but shouldn't be eaten daily or in huge amounts.

Don't swallow cherry pits. They're generally harmless when swallowed whole, because they pass through digestion unscathed, but if they're crushed or cracked open first they release a compound that turns into cyanide when digested. Our body handles cyanide pretty well, but 4-5 cracked pits can become harmful. So: Don't chew them, and don't swallow them on purpose.

There are some foods which need special preparation to be made safe. They're safe COOKED, but not RAW.

Cooked beans & legumes are safe to eat. But if you're starting from a totally DRY bean or lentil (canned are pre-cooked) make sure to soak them in water for several hours and boil until they're FULLY COOKED before you eat. (Fully cooked is when you can crush them easily with a fork, with no gritty or hard center) Undercooked or uncooked beans & legumes can fuck up your guts real good. Very painful, horribly unpleasant, but probably won't kill you.

Cassava (the root vegetable that tapioca is made from) MUST be thoroughly cooked before eating. Raw cassava can be toxic. It's another cyanide bro.

Don't eat raw potatoes - always cook them. If your potatoes have sprouted, don't eat the sprouts & peel any green skin off. Tbh tho, an adult would need to eat at least a pound of green potatoes to get sick. Be reasonably cautious about it. Don't feed green potatoes to small children.

--

Note: This advice is intended for someone who shops at a grocery for their food, not someone who is foraging for ingredients or is growing their own. There's a lot more opportunities to poison yourself when working with whole plants in the wild, and not the prepared-for-sale ones at a store.

[honeytonedhottie]

what does less is more ACTUALLY mean?.ೃ࿔*:･🍨🎀

when talking about beauty tips, i noticed people always talk about the concept that less is MORE. but like, never really elaborated into that so i wanted to kind of give my two cents on the less is more tip…💬🎀

LESS IS ENHANCEMENT ;

when i first thought about the phrase "less is more" my mind immediately went to USING less. less makeup, less accessories, kind of a minimalistic approach to beauty. but as i sat with it more i've come to see that less doesn't mean to do nothing/not try, but instead its about enhancing ur features and not hiding them with too many products.

like, instead of layering on a million products, you keep ur lip combo a simple lip liner and gloss... or with lashes u go for a wispy hybrid look instead of a caterpillar lash (no hate to caterpillar lash girlies) when there are variations in the density and fullness of ur lashes, it gives it a more natural look and it elevates ur everyday makeup by like a billion percent. customize ur lashes to your eyes! dont just take them out of the container and slap em on.

so when you focus on like the big things for your day to day looks... like taking care of ur skin so u dont have to wear foundation everyday to feel pretty, lash clusters, a little bit of lipgloss. u dont like NEED so much every single day you know? less is more to me is about enhancing ur natural beauty and ur features with/without makeup.

another example, if u have moles and beauty marks... dont cover them up with concealer but instead highlight them with an eyeliner and wear them proudly. at the end of the day we wanna let our individuality shine and be celebrated, and with practice we can learn to accentuate and flatter our features. and the same is true for our bodies. media loves to show what an acceptable body is and isn't, like why cant we just accentuate our bodies and be comfortable and feel sexy in it? (thats an idea for another post) like how "being skinny" made a resurgence in the media and now the bbl body of the 2018 era is like gone. this just goes to show that when it comes to ur beauty don't bandwagon off of trends bcuz trends FLUCTUATE. and YOU shouldn't fluctuate with every single trend. just be you!

HOW I APPLY THE LESS IS MORE MANTRA ;

❤︎ my everyday makeup consists of a skin tint, some red blush, my nyx cold brew lip liner and some mascara.

i use red blush bcuz i was watching a victorias secret makeup tutorial and one of the makeup artists mentioned that red blush looks closest to our natural blush so by using a little bit, it's a lot less harsh and actually quite flattering on my skin. i use mascara on my top AND bottom lashes (bottom lashes make SUCH a difference) and ofc my lip liner and gloss and thats it…💬🎀

❤︎ i keep my skincare and bodycare SUPER simple. i dont overload on the products and i give my skin what it NEED.

my morning skincare is just turmeric and kojic acid bar soap, toner and my beauty of josen sunscreen. my evening skincare is my turmeric and kojic acid bar soap, niacinamide and the nivea SOFT moisturize. as for my evening bodycare i use my turmeric soap and slather with coconut oil and raw shea butter once im out. i use these at night instead of my regular vanilla scented wash routine bcuz thats more so to smell good and feel soft, this routine is to maintain my soft pretty skin…💬🎀

with all this being said, this is just a think piece and u dont have to make this ur whole life! like, i love being a doll and wearing dolly lashes and adding on tons and TONS of accessories. take this principle and apply it where u feel it resonates the most. u dont have to take it and apply it to everything cuz we're not all the same. like i personally absolutely canNOT do minimalistic fashion and decor because im EXTRA... but when it comes to my everyday makeup i think i look cuter when i wear a little less, and my skin responds better to less product. hope u enjoyed girlies 💕

[fnzktn]

bubble gum

danielle marsh x 6th member!reader

established relationship, fluff, slight angst, comfort

synopsis: ever since newjeans debuted, you have brought nothing but controversies. but god damn it, do they bring good publicity and more fans to the group.

but then one day, a certain company wanted to take advantage of that. 

contains: secret dating, mentions of h*be🤢, jiwoo of h2h, loser!r, gamer!r, (lmk if i should add more!)

word count: 7.4k

ador is actually in shambles right now. another unhinged sentence came out of your mouth during a live.

you were playing League of Legends (without your manager’s approval, by the way), the tripod was positioned in front of your torso, your phone streaming your computer screen. you were trying out a new strategy of doing an AD LeBlanc instead of the typical AP route.

needless to say, bunnies and your teammates were not happy with your choice. the moment your mouse hovered over the Trinity Force item, they were already spamming your chat, asking what the hell you were doing.

26 minutes into the game, you have 5 items in your inventory, 18 kills, and 0 deaths, they were not saying much anymore. except your team’s jungler, Nunu.

the enemy team was attacking the dragon. all 5 of them. his little monkey brain decided to go in and ult, expecting a penta kill. did he at least kill one of them or steal the dragon? no. he died within seconds of going in.

and of course, he decided to blame you. the one that was actually carrying the team. he was pinging your character, flaming you in chat with profanities that surely will get him banned.

[Team] Nunu & Willump: lb u piece of shit i literally get zero help

[Team] Nunu & Willump: we couldve gotten an ace but ur just standing there waiting for some kills to steal like a fukin npc

[All] Nunu & Willump: report lb for trolling pls

“what the hell is wrong with this guy?” you exclaimed, effortlessly killing 3 of the enemy team and even managing to steal the dragon. “not my fault you’re braindead. like, who in their mind would go in and expect something good despite being 2/7/4? you’re barely in your third item, you bozo!”

[Team] LeBlanc: aw gonna cry to mommy? tell her how lb hurts ur wee lil feelings? :(

you decided to hide the in-game chat, knowing that slurs and more profanities are going to be sent by Nunu because you provoked him. you’re already going to get in trouble for streaming a game without proper consent—you weren’t going to dig yourself a deeper grave by exposing bunnies to the toxic environment that is low elo gameplay.

instead, you shifted your whole focus on trying to win the game despite two of your teammates purposely dying. one of the turrets protecting the enemy team’s nexus was destroyed by you. you were alone, trying to finish the game early because you were tired of the dead weight that is your team. seeing this as an opportunity to finally give you your first death, all 5 of the enemy team jumped you. you killed them with ease, one by one, securing yourself a pentakill. i mean, would they even stand a chance against a full build 26/0/9 LeBlanc?

“I’M THE NEXT FUCKING FAKER! I’M SO GOOD THAT T1 IS GONNA OFFER ME A CONTRACT BECAUSE I'M THE GOAT!” you screamed, jumping behind the camera with your hands still on your keyboard and mouse. 

the last turret fell and the nexus was destroyed. a victory screen was in front of you and bunnies. the chat went crazy, praising you and saying different variations of ‘congratulations’ with some occasional: 

‘wow this woman really is crazyᄏᄏ’ 

‘no way she actually did it’

‘sybau y/n🥀’

just as you were about to take your phone off the tripod to show your face and talk to your fans, a text message from your manager saying ‘End the live. We need to talk. Right NOW.’ appeared on top of your screen.

you chuckled nervously, “i need to go now, bunnies! the game drained me and i’m tired. i’ll talk to you guys again soon! bye!” and with that, you quickly ended the live.

you were reprimanded. heavily. saying stuff about how they are very disappointed in you, and that they will not hesitate to put you on hiatus if the parties involved (Faker and T1) do not receive your words well.

danielle, who was watching your live from start to finish, knew that something was wrong when your farewell to bunnies was rushed. usually, you would yap for 20 minutes more despite already saying that you were going to leave soon.

she made her way to your room, knocking softly before opening the door. she didn’t wait for a response. didn’t have to. it was something you and danielle agreed upon when you first started dating.

there you were, sprawled on your bed with your head buried on the plushie that danielle won for you (she’ll never reveal to you how much money she lost trying to win that damn minion plush). your headset was tossed carelessly to the side, and the slight shaking of your shoulders told her more than enough.

“hey,” she started softly, rubbing your back, “what did they say?”

you groaned, not lifting your head. “that i should watch my mouth and i would be in a month-long hiatus if i didn’t.”

she let out a quiet hum and pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her hand never stopping its comforting strokes.

“do you want me to make you something?” she asked after a beat, voice low and careful, like she knew you’d only eaten cereal and coffee today. “or we could just order from that chinese place you like. the one with the angry dumplings.”

you let out a muffled laugh against the plush. “you mean the really spicy ones?”

“yes, but you always tear up and get all snotty eating them. so angry dumplings.”

“i’d like that,” you mumbled.

danielle chuckled and kissed your temple, then gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “okay, angry dumplings it is. but you’re cuddling with me while we wait, i missed you.”

you finally lifted your head just a bit to look at her. “you’re not mad?”

“at you? never.” her hand slid down to intertwine your fingers. “but if they really try to put you on hiatus, i’m giving them a piece of my mind.”

you grinned, putting a hand on your chest. “my hero.”

“always,” she whispered, and kissed the tip of your nose.

the explosion didn’t happen all at once.

at first, it was a quiet hum— couple of clips on twitter, few thousand views on tiktok, and a mid-level panic in the PR group chat.

but within twelve hours after your live, the ripple turned into a full-on wave.

a huge LoL related account had posted the clip of you declaring that you were the next Faker, captioning it, “this kpop girl just solo-carried, roasted her toxic jungler, AD LeBlanc, all while saying she’s the next faker”

and then the real chaos started.

because the official T1 twitter account saw it and quote-tweeted it.

@/T1LoL: sign the contract big girl, sign the contract

the post had over 100,000 likes in under six hours. (did they really have to quote mike tyson?) 

and if that wasn’t already a death sentence or a badge of honor (you couldn’t decide which), Faker himself went live later that night— and of course, chat spammed him with your name the second he turned his cam on.

“oh, y/n from newjeans?” he asked, amused. “yeah, i saw the clip.”

he smiled genuinely and added, “26/0/9? that’s not easy. not even in low elo. she’s actually decent. kind of aggressive, though.”

then, after a pause:

“but that AD build on LeBlanc… yeah, no. that was criminal, but somehow she managed to make it work. you’d need talent for that.”

“if i retire, please put y/n in our roster.”

ADOR’s PR team originally drafted a formal apology.

they had the whole thing ready — tight, polished, apologetic without being too apologetic — until someone on the social media team pointed out that most of the backlash had already turned into applause.

so instead of an apology, they rewrote the statement.

NewJeans’ Y/N recently shared an unscheduled but heartfelt gaming stream with fans. While we acknowledge the concerns about language and the importance of mindful online interaction, we ask for understanding. We also want to thank everyone—especially the League of Legends community—for the surprising and overwhelming support.

your merch sales reportedly spiked that week. huh.

you didn’t think much of it at first.

your schedule just said ‘internal sync meeting’ – three words that could mean anything from an updated media briefing to a light dressing down over your most recent quote trending on stan twitter. you showed up five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, hair still damp from the shower. you hadn’t even bothered to put on make up.

the room smelled like burnt coffee and unease.

a mix of too many overused essential oil diffusers, the dull hum of industrial-strength air conditioning, and the constant clicking of keyboards filled the sterile hybe conference room. two men in suits sat on one side of long black table, a third slightly off-center-someone from SM, you assumed, based on the lanyard he has around his neck.

you sat slowly, your iced americano suddenly tastes too sharp against your tongue. a thin gray folder in front of you, unopened. your nails picked at the edge of the manila cover. it had your name written on it. in sharpie.

beside you, your manager’s boss, had a tablet in front of her but hadn’t touched it since the meeting began. you were told she was here to “make sure you were okay”.  she hadn’t made eye contact with you once.

“thanks for coming in on short notice,” one of the SM reps said, hands folded on the table like this was a negotiation. beside him, a woman — someone you recognized from ador’s PR team — smiled like she’d rehearsed it.

Your own manager gave you a nod from the corner. you frowned.

“what’s this about?” you asked.

they didn’t answer right away. Instead, the rep tapped the screen of a tablet and slid it towards you.

on it: a media tracker. articles, tweets, graphs. your name. trending charts. Thumbnails from videos with titles like “4th gen it girl” “why y/n is the only interesting idol right now.” one had your freeze-frame from music bank with the caption, “NewJeans’ y/n - idol or menace?”

“you’ve been talked about a lot lately,” he said. “consistently.”

you glanced down, finding the condensation on the side of your iced coffee much more interesting than whatever this was. “i didn’t even do anything this week.”

“exactly,” the woman chimed in, her tone light. “that’s the point. you trend even when you don’t mean to. it’s something we think is��� useful.”

you blinked slowly. “useful for what?”

the SM rep smiled, folding his hands. “we’re launching a push for our rookie girl group – hearts2hearts. you know them?”

“kind of,” you muttered. you’d seen their debut on music core. clean choreo, pretty styling, stable vocals. their music video already had over 20 million views. that was good, especially for a rookie group.

“they’re doing well,” you added, cautiously.

“they are,” the woman said quickly, “but we’re aiming higher. aespa-level buzz. and to be completely honest, we’re missing the noise. we need a little unpredictability. we need people talking.”

“and that involves me how?”

“you’re the most talked about idol right now. it would benefit everyone involved.”

“what we’re saying is that we want to stage a casual meetup. between you and their leader, jiwoo.” the man said.

your brow furrowed.

“a staged hangout. something that can pass off as spontaneous. han river. picnic blanket. snacks. some walking, talking, laughing. maybe some matching accessories.”

you stared.

“matching–?”

“the point is to make it believable, not scandalous. just two young idols vibing on their day off. and if the public happens to like the chemistry…”

you put the coffee down slowly. “...you’d want a fake relationship,” you continued, voice flat.

“eventually, yes. but right now, friendship. and we want a mutually beneficial moment,” the PR woman corrected.

“and how is this beneficial to me?” you asked, leaning forward now.

there was a pause. not awkward — just rehearsed. like they’d been waiting for the question, unsure how to answer it without saying the quiet part out loud.

“well,” the ador rep started, carefully, “not everything needs to be transactional, right?”

you didn’t respond. didn’t blink. just watched as she shifted in her seat.

“sometimes it’s about… showing goodwill,” she added. “being a team player. stepping up for the industry. and truthfully, there aren’t many idols who could pull this off without it looking obvious.”

the sm rep nodded. “you have a certain… credibility. people believe whatever you do is real. that kind of authenticity can’t be manufactured.”

you tilted your head slightly. “but this is manufactured.”

“sure,” he said, as if that part didn’t matter. “but if you do it, it won’t feel like it.”

you could hear what wasn’t being said — that you didn’t need more fans, or buzz, or press. that the only thing you stood to gain was keeping the machine running, uninterrupted. that your ‘benefit’ was staying exactly where you were: talked about. watched. useful.

which, you realized, was just a nicer way of saying: you get nothing, but please make this look good anyway.

“so let me get this straight,” you said slowly. “your rookie group is doing objectively well — millions of views, good public response. and yet, that’s not enough.”

they hesitated.

you added, “you want aespa numbers.”

“aespa-level popularity, yes,” the woman admitted. “and to get there, we need a jolt. a shift in narrative. and right now, you are the narrative.”

you didn’t reply.

“just meet her once,” the SM rep added. “talk. feel it out. we’ll set a follow-up meeting with the two of you in the same room, and if you both agree, we’ll go ahead with planning the shoot.”

a pause. just long enough to be uncomfortable. 

“what if i say no?” you finally asked.

silence. then:

“then we remind you that your contract includes clauses regarding promotional obligations and collaborative projects,” the hybe rep said.

you didn’t respond. not because you agreed—hell no—but because you felt your own fury curling up behind your ribs, white-hot and petty. you’d say something sharp if you opened your mouth again. something too honest. something you’d regret later.

they wrapped the meeting shortly after. they didn’t need your input. just your face, your presence, your “controversial charm.”

you didn’t tell danielle that night.

you could have.

she made you dinner. sesame noodles with crisp vegetables and a soft-boiled egg, cut just the way you liked. she’d even remembered the seaweed. you sat together in the little kitchen corner where the late-night light came in warm and drowsy. the floor beneath you was cold but she kept pressing her knee into yours like it meant something, like the touch would anchor you there a little longer.

she was smiling when she talked about her day. not the big stuff—just little things. how hanni dropped her phone in the cereal. how minji sneezed seven times in a row and tried to claim it was a hidden talent. you were smiling too, or at least you thought you were.

but there was a hollow kind of sound to your laughter that didn’t sit quite right in your chest.

you curled into her later, both of you tucked under her favorite yellow blanket, her hand resting on your hip. she always slept warm. one of those people who radiated comfort, even when she was dreaming. her breath was slow and even, and you counted them like seconds until you fell asleep too.

you didn’t tell her.

not because you wanted to keep it from her.

but because saying it out loud felt like betraying something.

you had done fan service before. lived in it, actually — turned it into a second language, one that required no subtitles. so when you were told that today would be “natural,” you already knew what that meant: curated spontaneity. manufactured ease.

they picked the han river for a reason.

picturesque, but public. wide, open grass that caught the light perfectly. enough civilians walking by that it wouldn’t feel suspicious. enough distance that no one could hear what you were saying.

you were seated on a checkered blanket. picnic basket placed just right, snacks barely touched, drinks arranged with label sides forward. haerin would’ve rolled her eyes at the effort. hanni would've fixed the food to look prettier.

you tried not to think about them too much.

jiwoo sat across from you, knees tucked under her skirt, hands folded neatly in her lap. she looked calm, but you recognized the stillness — that media-trained tension in her shoulders, the constant awareness of where the invisible cameras might be. the two of you had been told Dispatch might be “in the area.” they weren’t subtle. they never were.

still, you both pretended you didn’t know they were watching.

“have you had anything to eat today?” jiwoo asked gently.

you shook your head. “no. i forgot.”

she pushed an onigiri towards you. “this is my favorite, try it.”

you took it, murmured a soft thanks. chewed slowly.

the conversation was light, intentionally forgettable. favorite drinks, training stories, pets. something about a dance move from a stage you couldn’t even remember doing. you tried to listen, really — but your mind kept drifting back to the meeting that started all this.

the breeze picked up. a paper napkin fluttered off the basket and you reached for it at the same time as jiwoo. your fingers brushed. instinctively, you pulled back.

you heard the faint click of a camera nearby.

dispatch was here.

jiwoo straightened, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled as if you’d just told her something funny. you laughed too — or mimicked the sound of it. not too loud. not too quiet. just enough to sell it.

you passed her a bottle of yogurt drink, and she took it like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“this feels weird,” you said under your breath.

“it is weird,” she replied, tone light. “but at least we look good.”

you looked at her, amused by the honesty. she smiled, a little apologetic, a little grateful.

“we only have to do this once, right?” you asked.

“hopefully,” she said.

for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, watching the water.

the blanket rustled under your weight as you leaned back, arms stretched behind you, face tilted toward the sky. you closed your eyes, breathed in the late afternoon air, and pretended you weren’t waiting for your phone to blow up.

when it did, later — when the “rumored meet-up” headlines hit, when the blurry but perfectly angled photos surfaced on twitter and forums and fan accounts — you were already back in the van. already watching the reactions roll in.

but that would come later.

for now, you tilted your head to jiwoo and asked, “how much longer do we need to stay?”

she glanced at her watch. “twenty minutes. max.”

you nodded. “let’s make it count.”

she grinned. “let’s give them something to talk about.”

it started like most dispatch drops did.

no warning. no statement. no teaser.

just a photo.

the han river glowing gold, a girl in beige pants and a soft blue sweatshirt, leaning back on her hands. another girl, legs tucked to the side, holding a yogurt drink, smiling at her like they’d shared the same inside joke. wind in their hair. effortless. soft. intentional.

the caption was simple.

“Hearts2Hearts’ Jiwoo and NewJeans’ Y/N spotted enjoying an afternoon together. Casual senior-junior hang out or something more?”

hashtags followed. speculations.

within minutes, it was trending.

within an hour, it was global.

‘omg????’

‘the duo we never knew we needed’

‘this looks staged lmao’

‘they look so good tgt omg power couple in the making???’

‘y/n better leave h2h alone, they’ve only been in the industry for 2 months PLEASE😭’

danielle wasn’t surprised when the article dropped.

she had known something was coming. you told her before you left for the shoot, your voice unsure but trying to sound casual, the way someone might explain that they accidentally knocked over a vase but everything was fine now. 

you didn’t downplay it, not really — you told her the truth. sm wanted you and jiwoo to stage a hangout. it was a publicity stunt, a photo opportunity. han river, a picnic setup, dispatch on standby. “they think it’ll bring attention to her group,” you said, fingers twisting at the hem of your sweatshirt. “it’s not a big deal. they said we just have to look like we’re having fun.”

 you didn’t ask her directly if it was okay, but danielle could feel the question wedged in every pause. still, she smiled, nodded, and offered an “i get it” that sounded steadier than it felt.

because what else was she supposed to do? say no? tell you to back out and risk making a mess of something your company clearly already agreed to?

so when the first photo appeared later that day — not through any official announcement, but through a now-familiar Dispatch-style drop — she wasn’t shocked. still, the moment she saw it, a strange ache bloomed in her chest. her thumb hovered over the image on her screen, heart beating a little too loud in her ears. 

you were there, exactly like you’d described. legs stretched out on a gingham blanket, soft blue sweater catching the breeze just enough to make the hem flutter. beside you, jiwoo leaned in close, holding a yogurt drink, smiling at you like the two of you had been friends for years. the kind of smile people could easily mistake as something more.

danielle’s first instinct wasn’t to panic or jump to conclusions. no, it was subtler than that. it was a weight behind her ribs, the kind of heaviness that made her blink too slowly. she studied the photo again, noticing the things other people might miss — how your eyes crinkled, how your hands were placed neatly in your lap, how the sunlight hit just right. and how none of it looked posed. it was natural. effortless. exactly what sm and hybe wanted.

she didn’t go running to you. she didn’t text you a storm of anxious questions. instead, she lay on her bed, one leg curled beneath her, the other swinging slightly off the edge, her phone still in her hand. she didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but the longer she stared at the image, the more it hurt. not because she doubted you, not because she thought anything happened — but because of how well you had to play pretend. how easy you made it look. and because everyone else was going to see that and think they knew something about you. something they didn’t.

she closed her phone, but that didn’t help. she opened it again ten seconds later. instagram, twitter, tiktok, a loop of checking and rechecking — like maybe one of those places would offer something that made it sting less. instead, all she found were screenshots, cropped photos, confused fans theorizing. some of them laughed about how staged it all looked. others pointed out how “comfortable” you and jiwoo seemed. the comments weren’t malicious, but they chipped away at her mood like water dripping on stone.

danielle put in her earbuds eventually. turned on something gentle — soft piano, slow vocals, nothing too dramatic. just enough to let her thoughts wander without completely drowning in them. she watched the ceiling for a while, then turned her head and let her cheek press into the pillow. the quiet filled the space around her, heavy and unmoving.

when you finally walked into the room later, the air shifted. you didn’t say anything right away, and neither did she. you just sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, pulling your sleeves over your hands, the way you always did when you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t ask if she saw it. of course she had.

danielle turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable at first. you looked tired — not just physically, but in the way your shoulders sagged a little more than usual. she could see it in your eyes, the guilt that lingered even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

still, she didn’t ask you to explain. didn’t demand reassurance. instead, she reached out and gently tapped her phone screen to pause the music. then, without a word, she passed you one of her earbuds.

you took it.

you leaned in, resting your head lightly on her thigh, like you weren’t sure you were allowed to. she let you. her fingers instinctively found your hair, combing through it slowly, like she’d done so many times before. the music resumed, soft and melancholy.

the silence stretched long between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

because she wasn’t angry. not really.

she just missed you. even with you right there.

danielle didn’t speak at first.

her fingers stayed in your hair, tracing slow, careful lines across your scalp. the kind of absentminded affection she only gave when she didn’t feel like putting anything into words yet. you let yourself melt into it, cheek warm against her thigh, eyes unfocused, staring past the comforter and into nothing at all.

you stayed like that for a while. the music hummed quietly in the background. it was a song you both liked, but neither of you were listening. not really.

“you looked happy in the photos,” danielle said eventually, so softly it almost didn’t feel real.

your throat tightened. “i didn’t mean to.”

“i know,” she sighed. not upset, not cold—just tired. “i just… noticed.”

you turned your face slightly, enough so you could see her from where you were lying. she didn’t look like she was joking, but she wasn’t bitter either. there was a calmness to her, a kind of weary acceptance that made your chest ache.

“i tried to tell them no at first,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “i told them hearts2hearts is already doing well. i told them their debut video has over twenty million views—like, they’re fine. they don’t need this.”

danielle nodded, like she already knew.

you shifted, pulling your hand from under the pillow to fidget with the end of your sleeve. “they said they want aespa-level attention. aespa-level noise.”

she gave a dry little laugh through her nose. “so they picked you.”

you didn’t know what to say to that.

she ran her thumb along your hairline. “i get why they did. you’ve been everywhere lately. people don’t stop talking about you.”

you flinched, but she caught it. her hand stilled for a moment.

“not your fault,” she added gently. “i know you didn’t ask for this stuff.”

you looked up at her, eyes glossy. “i didn’t want it to feel real.”

danielle’s expression softened even more—if that was possible. she leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long breath. “it didn’t. not to me.”

you let out a breath too, shaky and quiet. “really?”

“yeah.” she smiled a little, brushing a strand of your hair aside. “i know what you look like when you’re really happy. i know how you laugh when it’s real. and that… that wasn’t it.”

you swallowed, guilt thick in your throat. “it still sucks though.”

“it does,” she agreed, because she didn’t want to lie. “but we’re okay.”

you blinked. “are we?”

danielle didn’t hesitate. “yeah. we’re okay.”

you closed your eyes at that, pressing your face into her leg like you could hide there for a while. her fingers found your hair again, picking up where she left off. she didn’t rush you. didn’t ask for anything more.

just held you like she always did.

quietly. tenderly. like she knew this was just another part of the storm, and the two of you would ride it out together.

within a day, hearts2hearts saw a spike in their streaming numbers. fancams of jiwoo at past music shows resurfaced. clips from their debut showcase hit trending, especially those highlighting jiwoo’s stage presence and visuals. people wanted to know who this girl was. who was close enough to be seen with y/n — the y/n, the ‘problem child (lovingly)’ of newjeans, the center of every forum thread lately.

the sm execs were, reportedly, thrilled. insiders leaked that they’d been hoping for just this: buzz, speculation, google searches. even the doubt surrounding the authenticity of the meeting played into their hands. “controversy creates interest,” one staff member was quoted anonymously. “and interest builds momentum.”

you heard that SM gave a hefty amount to hybe and ador as thanks. kind of unfair that they didn’t give you a percentage of it, to be honest. you did most of the work after all.

you didn’t mean to write a song. not at first.

it started during one of those rare quiet weeks — a break between promotions, schedules light enough for the dorm to actually feel like a home again. late nights meant low music, acoustic strings, and you sitting on the floor with hanni’s guitar balanced comfortably in your lap. not borrowed this time. you’d asked, and she’d waved a hand, told you to take it like it already belonged to you.

you weren’t a beginner. you’d learned to play long before debut — enough to strum smoothly, build chords, mess around with melody when the mood struck. hanni was still leagues ahead of you, her playing effortless in a way you admired but didn’t try to chase. still, you could hold your own— enough to turn a passing thought into something real.

you weren’t trying to write lyrics that night. you were just playing, letting muscle memory carry you, repeating a soft loop that sounded warmer the longer it stretched. something sweet. something almost too light to hold onto.

danielle had been on your mind.

she’d always been on your mind lately. (when did she ever leave?)

especially now, when it felt like the rest of your world was being steered by other people’s decisions. meetings you hadn’t asked for. texts from your manager about follow-up “check-ins” with jiwoo, vague phrasing that left little room to decline. they’d never used the word “date”. not even once. but that’s exactly how it was starting to feel. manufactured intimacy, scheduled like it was any other content shoot. just this time, the cameras were from Dispatch, not the company. none of it your choice, not really. 

and somewhere between the third repetition and the quiet in your chest, the words started forming. not heavy ones. nothing about heartbreak or longing. just the soft things. how danielle’s voice made the air feel warmer. how her laugh was something you looked forward to. how being around her made you feel like your shoes had lifted half an inch off the ground.

you didn’t write it down that night. just hummed through it, fingers tracing the shape of the chorus on the strings.

a couple nights later, hanni passed your room, then doubled back. leaned on the doorframe, brow raised.

“what is that?”

you blinked. “what’s what?”

“that,” she nodded at the guitar, where your hands had just been moving. “you’ve been playing the same thing for the past twenty minutes.”

you hesitated. “just a thing i’m messing with.”

hanni padded in, plopped down cross-legged on your bed. “play it again.”

you did. sheepish. a little shy.

she listened. tilted her head. “you’ve got something there.”

and just like that, she was in. offering tweaks, pointing out where a melody could tighten. adding little touches to the instrumental as you mumbled potential lyrics under your breath. she never pried. never asked what — or who — it was about. just helped shape it. (i mean, who are we kidding? hanni definitely knows who it was about.)

when you played the demo for your team, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. maybe a polite head tilt. maybe it’s cute, but let’s shelf it for now.

instead, your ceo was grinning before it even hit the second chorus. “this is good,” she said. “really good. i want you to do more in the future.”

you nodded, stunned.

but even then — even with the green light, the credits, the polished version lined up neatly on the album — what stayed with you most was the way danielle had smiled when she first heard it.

soft. unreadable at first. then, slowly, unmistakably warm.

like she knew. even before anyone else. even before you said a word.

eventually, hanni’s name and yours both end up in the producer credits.

and the lyrics?

they weren’t dramatic. not poetic in the way people might expect. but they were yours.

you added how your heart beat a little faster every time she walked into a room. about the small thrill of getting ready to see her, despite living together. about the secret sort of joy that made you feel like you were floating — high up, like a balloon that couldn’t be pulled back down.

it was a song full of sugar and soft crushes and pink-tinted feelings. light as air. sticky, sweet, like the candy it was named after.

bubble gum.

by the time the comeback rolled out, fans were already curious. the moment the tracklist was posted and you were credited as the sole songwriter — with you and hanni also tagged as producers — theories spread like wildfire.

people analyzed every line. made lyric videos. pointed fingers. and of course, one name kept popping up: jiwoo.

some swore the song had to be about her. others said it was a clever misdirect. the debate carried on for days, louder than anything you’d expected. a mess you didn’t mean to make. (you just wanted to make a song about being utterly in love with your girlfriend, for god’s sake.)

“it has to be about jiwoo,” a fan had tweeted. “they had their little han river picnic era right when she would've been writing this. the timing adds up.”

“maybe it’s just about love in general?” another chimed in. “but y/n doesn’t do general. she always writes about something specific. this sounds like someone real.”

ador hadn’t said anything. sm didn’t say anything either. but the comments piled up. jiwoo’s name trended alongside yours. again. pictures of your recent ‘hangout’ at a cafe in hannam were being paired with bubble gum on tiktok. people made edits. made assumptions. built stories out of half-truths and blurry photos.

it was one of those sleek, polished interview sets — glossy table, soft white lighting, everyone in coordinating pastel outfits that made all of you look like you were dropped out of a spring daydream. newjeans had just wrapped up a music show stage, and now you were seated in a semicircle across from a seasoned interviewer, surrounded by cameras, staff, and publicists lurking just out of frame.

the questions started out light — the new ep, behind-the-scenes moments, favorite snacks. danielle answered one with her usual brightness, hanni made the room laugh with her dry timing, and you found yourself playing with the hem of your sleeve, listening.

but then the topic shifted.

“now, let’s talk about bubble gum,” the interviewer said, glancing down at their notes. “the response has been huge. but what’s really fascinating is that the song credits list only one lyricist — y/n — and one of the producers are her and hanni as well. can you walk us through that process?”

there was a beat of silence. you smiled softly, eyes flickering down to the floor for a second. you could feel the shape of danielle’s knee lightly brushing yours under the table — a casual touch that no one would see, but it grounded you.

“i wasn’t really planning to write anything for the album,” you said, voice calm, measured. “i just started... toying around with hanni unnie’s guitar one night. i didn’t think it’d go anywhere.”

“and the melody?” the interviewer asked.

hanni jumped in, grinning. “she kept borrowing my guitar. like, for weeks. we’d be in the dorm, and i’d hear the same chords over and over again from the living room and when i pass by her room. it got stuck in my head before the lyrics did.”

that earned a laugh from the group, and you ducked your head slightly, cheeks pink with quiet embarrassment. “it just... fit. i didn’t even realize it was turning into something until hanni unnie helped me lay out the chords properly. correctly.”

the interviewer nodded, clearly pleased, and then, like clockwork: “it’s a really tender song. very specific, very emotional. was there a particular inspiration behind it? someone you were thinking of?”

the room was still. the lights were just a little too bright. your fingers, hidden beneath the table, found danielle’s. a brush of fingertips. not quite a hold. but danielle’s hand shifted toward yours instinctively, a quiet answering touch that only the two of you noticed.

you didn’t look directly at her. just slightly to her side. enough.

“i think,” you started, voice calm and almost amused, “some songs don’t try to hide what they are.”

you rested your other hand in your lap, fingers brushing over your rings. “they’re not metaphors. they’re not abstract. they just… describe a feeling exactly as it happened. like how someone makes your heart race. or how getting ready to see them suddenly feels like the most important part of your day.”

danielle didn’t look at you either, but her cheeks were dusted pink, lips pressed together as if holding in a laugh or a secret. under the table, her thumb brushed over your knuckles once.

“bubble gum is like that,” you continued. “it’s made up of little things. tiny, honest moments. someone’s laugh, the way they speak, the way time starts feeling like it’s only yours when they’re around.”

you shrugged lightly, like the song hadn’t come from your own heart. “so maybe it’s not a mystery, you know? maybe it’s just what it sounds like.”

danielle didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, but under the table her pinky slipped to hook around yours—so quickly no one would notice.

the interviewer tilted their head, trying again. “so it’s safe to say it’s drawn from personal experience?”

“i’d say,” you said with a nod, “it’s drawn from memory. but mostly romance movies, though.”

the subject shifted after that, onto choreography challenges and trainee days, but the atmosphere had changed slightly. warmer. softer.

and when all of you stood to take post-interview photos, danielle reached for your hand — just briefly — while you waited for the photographer to count down.

“a moment,” danielle whispered under her breath, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “that’s how you described me?”

“you’re the gum part,” you whispered back. “sweet. sticks with me.”

danielle rolled her eyes, but her fingers never left yours until the flash went off.

the dorm was alive that night, full of the soft chaos that only came after an interview day and too many shared inside jokes. makeup off, pajamas on, the members had settled into their usual post-schedule routine — limbs tangled over the floor and couch, snack wrappers scattered across the coffee table, someone’s playlist humming faintly from a speaker in the corner.

“you’re actually insane,” hanni declared dramatically from across the room, “you held her hand under the table. that’s, like, the oldest ‘we’re secretly dating’ move ever!”

you groaned into the couch cushion. “we weren’t even holding hands—”

“we saw you,” minji interrupted, lying flat on the floor with a bowl of ice cream balanced on her stomach. “don’t even try to lie to us. the only way dani would smile like that is when she’s being all lovey-dovey with you.”

“the way you looked at her when you were asked if it’s about someone?” hyein chimed in from the kitchen, one eyebrow raised as she stirred honey into her tea. “oh my god.”

“i was being genuine!” you protested, your voice pitching upward in desperation. “that’s how normal people talk about their songs!”

“nah,” hanni said, leaning back and mimicking your expression during the interview — eyes half-lidded, lips parted just slightly, voice low and dreamy. “‘a feeling that lingers. that stays with you. one you don’t want to let go of’ — like be serious. i thought you were gonna propose to dani right then and there.”

“you guys are so dramatic,” you muttered, though your face was already burning.

“it’s embarrassing, really,” hanni added. “you sat there all dreamy-eyed, talking about feelings and moments and whatever. no wonder people still think you and jiwoo have a thing.”

minji licked her spoon slowly. “you really thought you were being vague, huh? sweetie, you folded so hard. you said ‘it’s not really about a person,’ and then stared directly at your girlfriend like you were reliving the entire demo session in your head. i’d be surprised if people are still going to talk about you and jiwoo when the interview comes out.”

you groaned again and flung the pillow across the room, where it landed harmlessly against the base of a chair. “i’m never writing another love song again.”

“sure,” haerin replied calmly, her tone utterly unconvinced. “until next comeback, when we find lyrics like ‘your voice is my sunrise’ and realize it’s about danielle ordering iced coffees for you.”

“that was one time!” you said, sitting up. “ we were trainees–we were young and she remembered my order— that’s just— that’s—”

“—so romantic,” a familiar voice teased behind you, light and airy.

you turned to see danielle walking in with two cups of tea, that ever-gentle smile on her face. she handed one to you and settled beside you on the couch, tucking her feet under her and leaning in just enough that her arm pressed against yours.

“thank you for immortalizing my coffee order in verse,” she added, taking a sip.

“i hate it here,” you grumbled, but you were already smiling. it was hard not to, especially when danielle’s eyes crinkled the way they did.

hanni screamed into a throw blanket. minji groaned loudly and rolled over. haerin just shook her head, amused.

“anyway,” hyein finally piped up from where she was curled in a chair, phone in hand. “if you really don’t want them to speculate, maybe don’t, like, write the sappiest song in our discography.”

“i was subtle!” you insisted weakly.

there was a pause. and then a chorus of groans.

“get out,” hanni muttered, tossing a pillow at you.

but no one meant it. it was all part of the rhythm of your group — the teasing, the closeness, the safe space to unravel. eventually, the conversation shifted to stage outfits and how brutal the next day’s rehearsals would be. but you and danielle stayed quiet in your corner of the couch, pressed together, content in the lull that followed the chaos.

the room around you buzzed in quiet tones, but your world felt slower — gentler — tucked into this moment with her.

you didn’t speak for a while. just sipped your tea, now slightly cooled, letting the silence wrap around you both. her hand rested on your knee, warm and steady. yours covered it after a while, fingers slotting into place like it was second nature.

danielle’s head tilted toward you, her voice soft. “you really wrote it for me?”

you glanced at her, at the way her expression held something unspoken. she already knew the answer — had known it from the moment you showed her the demo, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. but hearing it out loud, even just between you two, was different. it meant different.

your answer came not in words, but in the way your fingers gently squeezed hers. in the way your eyes didn’t waver when you looked at her. in the way your silence was filled with meaning.

she leaned in, resting her head on your shoulder, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

“write more,” she whispered, barely audible, a secret meant just for you. “even if no one hears it. even if it’s just us.”

you pressed a quick kiss on her head.

“i will.”

a/n: first fic, yay!

[silentcryracha]

1k special love week: 1. Bang chan

Pairing: bang chan x reader

Context: part one of eight for my Special Love Week in celebration of 1k followers (🤍). Drabble based on 3 prompts which are 'loves when + kink + sex position'.

Warnings: 18+ only, very minimum buildup, it's 99% smut, one shot, see prompts, fingering (f receiving), intercourse p in v, non protected (but they're married), talk of cum & its consequences (breeding kink hello?), pet names (baby, my love) , a couple uses of the word daddy

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: Bang Chan loves when you get needy + Dom/sub & Breeding Kink + missionary (+variations)

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan loves it when you're needy. Anytime, really. It may be sexual but it also can not be. Being needed is a love language to him. He loves to help, to be the person you go to when you need something. May be something silly like moving a piece of furniture (strenght kink hello?), something more serious like an advice.

Of course he's into it because he cares about you and he loves you, but let's be honest here, it also does feed his ego in some way. That especially comes into play when this neediness is paired with horniness. Then it's over, for both you and him.

You know he likes to be more dominant most of the times, but even then, at the end of the day, it's really you who has him wrapped around your finger.

"Channie are you busy?" you ask, maybe even with a slightly exaggerated whiny voice.

He turns his head a bit to look at you from his seat at the living room table where he'd been working on his laptop for hours.

"Kind of, why baby?" he answered back, promptly welcoming you with one arm as you walked up to him.

"I was wondering if you could give me a massage?" he smirked , squeezing the flesh of your waist sightly.

"Just out of the blue?"

"Actually I think I strained by back a bit from cleaning today" you chuckled, but his smiled dropped so fast it was almost comical. A mixture of worry and annoyance taking its place.

"Did you move the couch by yourself again?" he scolded, standing up and quickly closing the laptop's screen simultaneously. "You hurt yourself last time too. I told you to call me if you needed help"

His tone was becoming a bit intimidating, but you knew he just wanted to help, and especially for you not to get hurt.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, putting your doe eyes on to try and sweet talk yourself out of it.

"I didn't 'hurt' myself! I just got tired, alright? It happens" you shrugged, but you could tell he wasn't happy.

"It happens but if you did as i told you and asked me for help, it wouldn't have" he responded, then added "Now go lay down, I'm gonna get some aloe."

That's when dom/sub dynamic jumps out. When Chan gets annoyed, fake or to play, you automatically obey. It would be a lie to say that you didn't know where this whole situation was gonna go the second you started it.

"Yes" you tried your best to suppress a smile as you walked in your shared bedroom, turning on the warm colored night light.

Then you laid on the bed on your belly, arms hugging the pillow on which your head rested.

A couple of minutes later Chan walked in the room. You didn't quite see him, as your face was turned the opposite way, but you felt him climbing on the bed, straddling your legs.

"Take the sweater off, or it's gonna get sticky" he says. You get up enough to comply, placing it on your breasts, then laying back down.

"Warm it up a bit, please" you asked softly, knowing that the aloe was going to be super cool against your warm skin. It was the chilly autumn season, after all.

"Yeah" he reassured. You heard the sound of the bottle popping open and close, then being discarded to the side.

"I'll try my best" he spoke again, rubbing his palms together to warm up the gel, "But you didn't listen and hurt yourself, so you gotta handle a bit of cold. It'll feel better." His tone was pretty neutral, but the scolding was clear.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Do you want the massage or not?" He stopped his movements. You sighed.

"Sorry"

"That's more like it" it was subtle, but you knew him well enough to know he had a stupid smirk on his face. Unfortunately, you were so down bad, that it turned you on even more.

Suddenly his hands touched the skin of your shoulder blades, making you gasp a bit.

"Are they too cold, still?"

"No, it's good. I was just surprised" you chuckled. At that point he started the actual massage, skillfully using his thumbs and other fingers to put pressure.

"Relax, alright? Just tell me if it hurts" you nodded at the best of your abilities due to your position, without replying.

Chan kept working, starting from your upper back, then going back and forth between places. You were in fact so relaxed, your eyelids were almost falling shut. Until he got to your shoulders, which got you instantly back to earth, hissing.

"Tough spot?" He asked. You hummed in agreement, making the pressure of his fingers slightly less forceful but still going.

"I can tell" he paused, "How about here?" he moved his thumbs up, at the nape of your neck.

"Mmh, yes. Feels really good" you answered, feeling almost floaty. So much that you involuntarily started sighing softly.

"Does my baby feel better?" His buttery voice, just a tad bit condescending, sparked something in your stomach.

"Uh uh" he chuckled, now using his palms to caress you, all up and down your back, waist, sides.

"Good. 'Cause the gel is completely dry." And despite that, his movements didn't stop. They just changed the intention.

He lightly traced the tip of his fingers around, giving your goosebumps and sometimes eliciting a small giggle because of tickling.

"Are you sleepy?" He asked sweetly. You shook your head no, looking back at him. He was smiling, but his gaze sharpened as he looked at your face.

"Yes, you are" he teased. You tried to hide a cheeky smile, shaking your head again. You were just trying to be childish, shaking your whole body along with your head.

But your cute butt shaking like that right in front of his eyes and dangerously close to his crotch, kind of sealed the deal. He looked down, then back up at you.

Then, suddenly, slap!

You yelped in surprise as both of his hands came down to slap your ass. He laughed.

"No? Show me, then." He challenged. You didn't need to be told twice.

You managed to roll over on your back, with him still hovering over you. His eyes immediately went to your bare tits, but you didn't let him enjoy the view as you pulled him down towards you by his hoodie.

You started kissing, quite passionately right from the get go. But as much as Chan liked to make out, he wanted to get comfortable.

So he paused, taking off his hoodie quickly, as well as his tracksuit pants and boxers, all in one go. In the meantime, you also discarded your sweater, then taking off your own pants and panties.

When finally you were both naked, you immediately went back to kissing. Chan wrapped one arm around your torso, pulling you towards him, as he worked to get the sheets over you two.

You gave him a questioning look at first, not immediately understanding what he was doing.

"You got goosebumps all over" he explained, also getting between your legs.

"Thank you baby" you mumbled, kissing him again sweetly.

You spent several minutes humping each other and making out, with a little biting and sucking, both probably more tired than you cared to admit.

You properly started to lose it when Chan grabbed himself and slid the head of dick around your drenched pussy, including your sensitive clit.

"C-channie please" your finger pads pressed into his shoulders hard as you whined.

"Please, what?" He replied, voice low, eyes glassy and fixated on yours. Lips plump and slightly agape.

A few strands of his hair had started to get damp and stick to his forehead from the head of your bodies, the adrenaline, and probably also because of the heavy duvet.

He looked so fucking good, enough to make you go stupid.

"Please get inside me" you chocked out, "I need it so bad, please baby" desperation dripping from your words.

"Where does my baby need me? Here?" Two of his fingers slid right in your pussy, no resistance whatsoever by how completely wet you were all over.

You whined a bit, trying to get him closer with your arms.

"N-not enough" you sobbed, "I need your cock, please baby, please"

"Since my love asks so nicely..." He leaned down, placing his plush lips on yours in a sweet kiss, distracting you from the moment in which he actually did enter you.

You both sighed and moaned, in ecstasy. You both liked to get freaky, even a bit rough. But missionary, and all its variations to be honest, were your favorites.

In that position he was dominant, in charge of the work. And you were laying there, needy and desperate, like he wanted you. Not to mention the easy accessibility to your tits, waist, legs, ass.

But let's be real, the actual reason why you both loved that position so much it's because it's intense. Romantic, passionate, creates a close connection, and you have each other's faces right there to kiss. What's better than that?

Maybe the fact that he can go deep...like really deep. Especially when he gets into it and puts your legs over his shoulders, or just keeps them spread at his sides.

Not to mention...that the position itself adds greatly to Chan's whole (and obvious) breeding kink. Just the thought of him spilling his seed inside you, and possibly keeping it there as long as possible, just gets him gone.

Chan was keeping his hands on the side of your face as he went back and forth, inside you, at a fast and rough pace.

His mouth alternated in between giving you kisses and spurring you on with his dirty talk.

"How do you feel, my love?" He panted, "Does your Channie's cock make you feel good?" His voice was so erotic and full of tease, it drove you crazy.

"Mmh- y-yes...'so good daddy" you were so out of it you barely realized the word that slipped from your lips. It wasn't the first time, but it wasn't usual.

He chuckled faintly, still going hard on your abused pussy. He leaned down again, starting to kiss and lick the side of your neck, near your ear.

"Your daddy, uh?" He teased, whispering, "That's right. Daddy 'll take care of you"

All that teasing was getting your even more flushed and lightheaded than you already were, your pussy clenching in involuntarily agreement. Chan groaned at that, chuckling wickedly because he knew what he was doing.

"I..." You whined.

"Ssh, I know, it's alright. You close baby?" You nodded, nuzzling his shoulder with your face.

"Good, good girl" he kissed your head, "Come for me"

Didn't take anything more than that for you to reach your high, your hole clenching around his length, and you shivering from the aftermath and intensity.

Chan slowed down but didn't stop, allowing you to gently get off, except that you started grinding on his crotch.

"You wanna come again?" He smirked, short of breath. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for Chan.

"Say it" he ordered, "I wanna hear my little cum slut say that she wants to cum again"

"Ffuuck yes, I-i'm a little cum slut that wants to cum a-again" you exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated by the new chase to your second orgasm, to which you were already so close.

"Whose?"

"Yours! Your cum slut, your baby, your everything" you responded, desperately. Chan groaned at that, his pace getting faster.

"Yeah, that's fucking right, my love, my whole world" he mumbled, kissing your lips.

"Can I come with you, mmh? Can I, baby?" You nodded frantically, cupping his face in your hands.

"Yes, please come with me, I wan' it" you slur, "Want your cum inside me, fuck" you gasped as he hit a particularly good spot, just above your cervix.

"Fuck yes" he moans, "Want my cum? Wanna make me a real daddy? So everyone knows who you belong to?"

Your legs clenched around his waist, your heels pushing his butt further into you, if that was even possible.

"Yes" you answer, "Wanna be filled up, carry you around with me everywhere"

That was the last drop for you both to orgasm. Him for the first time, and you for your second. Chan groaned deeply, stilling inside you as his seed sprayed your warm walls. While your own pussy pulsated, wet and sticky.

You remained hugged for a good while, him softening inside you. His breath became so quiet and regular that for a moment you thought he had fallen asleep.

"Channie?" You whispered sweetly. He hummed back, making you smile. Your fingers started to lightly scratch his scalp and caress in between his short hair.

"Now, I'm sleepy" he mumbled, hugging your body tighter.

"You can rest, love" you reply.

"Gotta clean you up" he replied back. So at that point you moved delicately, hinting at him to get off of you. You got up, on slightly wobbly legs and almost jumped for how cold the floor was against your hot feet.

You went into your shared bathroom and grabbed a towel, wetting it a bit. You then came back, finding Chan laying on his side, his hand resting on where you should be, waiting.

"Get the covers back a bit, baby" you say, and he complies. You delicately clean his lower area, including his abs which were full off little droplets. Did you squirt a bit? You didn't even realize.

When you were done you went back in the bathroom, and cleaned some droplets of both your juices that had trickled down your thighs. Then discarded the towel, and peed before coming back into the bedroom.

You picked up all the clothes, putting back on the panties and the sweatshirt.

"Baby do you-?" You were asking if he wanted to get redressed, but his eyes were closed and his mouth pouty. He fell asleep. You smiled warmly, just picking up the boxers and putting away the rest of the clothes.

Then you climbed up on the bed, putting one foot then the other in each hole of the boxers, then trying your best to slide them up. Chan did wake up for a slight second, realizing what was happening, and promptly arched his hips to allow you to pull the fabric up all the way.

After that, you reached your arm to turn off the bed light, and then finally you were back hugging your husband, falling asleep quickly as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[leighsartworks216]

Dragon's Treasure

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

I have been SO SO SO excited for this chapter. I've had it written for so long and I've just been so excited to see y'all's reactions to it

Warnings: choking, fear, crying, blood, swearing, near death experience

Word Count: 1,697

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Jewel provided what few soft things he had to be added to your “hoard”. It didn’t amount to much, but a couple pillows already made for a massive improvement compared to the hard stone.

Dissatisfied with how small your hoard is, he said he would go find you more. “Feel free to explore,” he’d said. “If you find something you like, it’s yours.”

So with him gone and you with nothing to do, you decide to take him up on his offer.

You feel around from one pile to the next, trying to make sense of his organization system. It’s rather chaotic. The piles melt and blend into each other, with no proper barriers separating one from the next. Coins seem to wind their way through every stack. You almost feel bad for how clumsy you must be, bumbling about, displacing the treasure, but surely he already thought about that. If he hadn’t… well, that’s on him.

You pause with interest as your hands come across something delicate. Fine chains linked together with small dangling teardrops. The teardrops feel different from the metal of the chain. Smoother, somehow softer. From the rest of your time exploring, you figure they must be some sort of gem. You wonder what kind they are.

Beside it is another delicate treasure, and another and another. It seems you found the jewelry. You feel along the chain of the first. It doesn’t seem wide enough to slip on over your head, but- aha! A clasp! You carefully unhook the ends from one another and wrap it around your neck. It takes a few tries, and your arms ache from holding them up so long, but you finally manage to get it on. The teardrop gems rest on your collarbones and chest, tickling your skin with the strange sensation. You’d never worn anything like it before, but it’s so lightweight it doesn’t bother you at all. You run your fingers along it, trying to picture what it looks like. You wonder what Jewel would think of it.

Spurred on by sheer delight, you dig back into the pile. You find more necklaces, bracelets, rings - even things you don’t know the purpose of. You slip some of them on, giggling to yourself at the way they twirl and dance on your skin with your movements.

Suddenly, you feel something more solid. It’s got more surface area than the necklaces and bracelets you’ve found so far, and it’s much larger than any of the rings, though it’s shaped like one. The top edge has protrusions stemming from it. The inside is plain, with little variation, but the outside is set with gems galore.

You place it experimentally on your head. It’s not as light as the necklace, but it’s not heavy enough to weigh you down too much. It feels… powerful.

You’re about to move on to the next pile when you hear footsteps. But they’re different - they scrape along the floor, move too uncertainly, too quickly. This isn’t Jewel.

What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? Logically, you should be running to meet them, begging them to get you out of here. But you don’t. Besides, even if they did get you out, where would they take you? You can’t go back to the city. You don’t want to go back to the city.

Torn with indecision, you’ve only just stepped away from the pile of treasure when the footsteps echo around the cavern.

“Wha- Are you the dragon?” The voice is masculine, but lighter than Jewel’s. Despite that, it doesn’t sound too young.

You shake your head. Your heart is racing. “No, I’m not. I’m-”

The man gasps. “The oracle!”

Fuck, this guy must be from the city if he can recognize you so easily.

“Wearing… the dragon’s treasure.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hold your hands out placatingly. “Sir, please, allow me a chance to explain.”

“Explain?! You- You fucking traitor! No wonder you predicted doomsday, you’re working with the fucking dragon to bring it about!” His footsteps stomp roughly on the stone floor, approaching you quickly. Each thud sends a pang of fear straight to your heart. He kicks away treasure in his path, goblets and coins that clink against each other and thunk against the ground. You back away as fast as you can.

“I’m not a traitor! Astra predicted it!” You stumble on something. You don’t try to guess what, you just keep going. You can hear the man’s angry breaths, huffing out of him like a bellows. He’s much closer now. “Please, I didn’t do anything! I’m just a messenger!”

Large hands grab you by the shoulders and shove you to the ground. The air is forced from your lungs as your back collides with solid rock. Your head spins as it hits next, less than a second after. The crown on your head clinks as it bounces off, rolling away before it tips and rolls on its edge, over and over again in a rapidly increasing crescendo. Legs cage you in. Hands grip you hard enough to bruise. They jostle and shove you against the floor.

“You want us to die! You fucking monster! You- You want to kill us all!”

You gasp for air. Your lungs fight against it. You try shoving at the man’s chest. Try squirming and kicking him off. Try clawing at his hands to let you go. “I don’t-”

The echo of a smack reverberates in the large hall. Your head is tossed to the side with the impact. Pain ripples through your jaw. You think you bit your tongue for all the blood pooling in your mouth. “Shut up!”

You think you’re crying. You can’t tell. All you do know is the all-consuming fear rising in your chest, burning you from the inside out, choking you. You want to scream, but who would hear you? All you can do is try fighting back again, but your hits are sloppy and too weak to get the brute off of you. And all it earns you is another punch.

“Where’s your partner in crime, huh?!” he screams in your face. Spit splatters over your cheeks. You recoil in disgust. “Where’s the dragon, huh?!”

“He’s not here!” you scream. The words grate at your throat. You don’t think to worry about how awful it sounds, as the hands lift from your shoulders to grab your neck. They squeeze tightly. You thrash even more as you take one last gasp of air, cut off as your windpipe closes.

He jostles you, shakes you, digs his nails into your skin. You try shoving at his face, but he just shakes you off each time. “We trusted you! All of us! You were supposed to keep us safe! Tell us how to prosper! And all you did was predict death and ruin! Well, no longer! I won’t let you speak your cursed prophecies into existence anymore!”

You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe. Your mouth gapes open like a fish, but you can’t- Nothing is coming in. You can’t get anything out either. No cries, no pleas, no last prayers to Astra.

Your lungs ache. They scream. They burn in your chest alongside your fear.

Tears pour from your eyes with no resistance. Stream down your cheeks to the ground below. Drip onto loose coins. Gather on the man’s fingers as his thumbs dig into your pulse.

Your heart rampages against your ribcage. Pounds in your ears. Each beat sends a jolt of pain through your lungs as it begs for them to provide it oxygen.

Your head is fuzzy. Mind spinning. Sense becomes distant, blurring at the edges. Thinking becomes impossible. Only two words repeat themselves over and over as consciousness begins to falter:

Jewel…

Help…

Your hands fall limply to the ground. You can’t fight anymore. You can’t… can’t………

…

………

You see… a man. He’s dressed unusually. You can’t make out the surroundings, but you feel how warm and safe this place is. He looks like the fiend in your last prophecy. His hair is stark white. Eyes a bloody crimson. But he looks human.

Could it be…?

Air shocks back into your lungs. It hurts. You gasp desperately for oxygen, but you can’t get it inside of you quick enough. Can’t get enough in your lungs to satisfy your body’s needs. You choke on copper and spit. Something touches your shoulder, rolls you onto your side.

“Easy,” a familiar baritone soothes. You can make out the sharp ridges of a clawed hand holding your bicep. “You’re alright now.”

Splatters of blood and spit hit the floor as you cough. Your whole body shakes with the effort of breathing. Even once you manage to breathe normally once more, your throat hurts like hell and your head still spins.

“He-” You wince sharply. That one word alone was akin to scraping burning coals over the back of your throat, all the way down your esophagus and into your chest.

“Don’t speak,” Jewel says. Though, with the danger tinging his words, it sounds more like a command. “He’s dead. He won’t hurt you again.”

You reach out toward his voice. He helps you sit up. The world feels as though it’s tilting in an odd pattern on an ever-shifting axis. You grab onto him. You feel like your whole body is spinning, prone to falling into an abyss at any moment.

Jewel doesn’t complain, doesn’t pull back. Instead, he wraps a rough arm around your back to pull you against his chest. He’s firm and solid and here. His chest moves with steady breaths. Heart beats a rhythm like a war drum. It’s all you can focus on as your lungs relax, heart stablizes. All you care to think about as the pain in your neck persists, the ghosting weight of hands still threatening to press down and tighten once more.

Blood dribbles down your chin. Even more down your neck to your collarbones where the man’s nails dug in. It tickles. It stains the gold and gems you wear.

“That fool should know better than to touch a dragon’s treasure.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @leiakitty @loliesaregreat @seris-the-amious

[all-the-fish]

Oh, you know, just the usual internet browsing experience in the year of 2024

Some links and explanations since I figured it might be useful to some people, and writing down stuff is nice.

First of all, get Firefox. Yes, it has apps for Android/iOS too. It allows more extensions and customization (except the iOS version), it tracks less, the company has a less shitty attitude about things. Currently all the other alternatives are variations of Chromium, which means no matter how degoogled they supposedly are, Google has almost a monopoly on web browsing and that's not great. Basically they can introduce extremely user unfriendly updates and there's nothing forcing them to not do it, and nowhere for people to escape to. Current examples of their suggested updates are disabling/severly limiting adblocks in June 2024, and this great suggestion to force sites to verify "web environment integrity" ("oh you don't run a version of chromium we approve, such as the one that runs working adblocks? no web for you.").

uBlockOrigin - barely needs any explanation but yes, it works. You can whitelist whatever you want to support through displaying ads. You can also easily "adblock" site elements that annoy you. "Please log in" notice that won't go away? Important news tm sidebar that gives you sensory overload? Bye.

Dark Reader - a site you use has no dark mode? Now it has. Fairly customizable, also has some basic options for visually impaired people.

SponsorBlock for YouTube - highlights/skips (you choose) sponsored bits in the videos based on user submissions, and a few other things people often skip ("pls like and subscribe!"). A bit more controversial than normal adblock since the creators get some decent money from this, but also a lot of the big sponsors are kinda scummy and offer inferior product for superior price (or try to sell you a star jpg land ownership in Scotland to become a lord), so hearing an ad for that for the 20th time is kinda annoying. But also some creators make their sponsored segments hilarious.

Privacy Badger (and Ghostery I suppose) - I'm not actually sure how needed these are with uBlock and Firefox set to block any tracking it can, but that's basically what it does. Find someone more educated on this topic than me for more info.

Https Everywhere - I... can't actually find the extension anymore, also Firefox has this as an option in its settings now, so this is probably obsolete, whoops.

Facebook Container - also comes with Firefox by default I think. Keeps FB from snooping around outside of FB. It does that a lot, even if you don't have an account.

WebP / Avif image converter - have you ever saved an image and then discovered you can't view it, because it's WebP/Avif? You can now save it as a jpg.

YouTube Search Fixer - have you noticed that youtube search has been even worse than usual lately, with inserting all those unrelated videos into your search results? This fixes that. Also has an option to force shorts to play in the normal video window.

Consent-O-Matic - automatically rejects cookies/gdpr consent forms. While automated, you might still get a second or two of flashing popups being yeeted.

XKit Rewritten - current most up to date "variation "fork" of XKit I think? Has settings in extension settings instead of an extra tumblr button. As long as you get over the new dash layout current tumblr is kinda fine tbh, so this isn't as important as in the past, but still nice. I mostly use it to hide some visual bloat and mark posts on the dash I've already seen.

YouTube NonStop - do you want to punch youtube every time it pauses a video to check if you're still there? This saves your fists.

uBlacklist - blacklists sites from your search results. Obviously has a lot of different uses, but I use it to hide ai generated stuff from image search results. Here's a site list for that.

Redirect AMP to HTML - redirects links from their amp version to the normal version. Amp link is a version of a site made faster and more accessible for phones by Bing/Google. Good in theory, but lets search engines prefer some pages to others (that don't have an amp version), and afaik takes traffic from the original page too. Here's some more reading about why it's an issue, I don't think I can make a good tl;dr on this.

Also since I used this in the tags, here's some reading about enshittification and why the current mainstream internet/services kinda suck.

[radioactiverats]

i think 7.5 is definitely one of my favourite parts of this story! was the static starscream getting embarassed? what do you think would get his face glowing? huaahah

Thank you!!! I really enjoyed writing that one!!

Here is some crack... pure crack. I'M SORRYYYY

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (10/?)

Each bot carried a number of things in their subspace at all times. Ratchet carried an innumerable variation of medical tools, medical-grade energon, and indelible knowledge of what a spark felt like as it slipped through his servos. Starscream carried datapads, a specific type of energon jelly he knew you liked when rations allowed, and the insurmountable grief that accompanied the condemnation of being alone. Megatron, presumably, carried enough hatred to power the entire solar system and then some, but you wisely choose not to think too hard about that.

Now that Starscream was trying to cement your necessity to the Decepticon cause, you'd added a couple of important datapads to your subspace. In addition to bandages (you'd wanted to store the welder in your subspace, too, but Starscream vehemently disallowed it because it would unnecessarily weigh your frame down in flight. After some protesting on your part, he finally ex-vented and promised that he wouldn't get himself injured someplace you couldn't fix him), some energon jellies for after training (courtesy of Starscream), and... a crumpled poster.

You'd kept a memento from your time at the Academy - it was one of your most closely guarded secrets, because you'd perish on the spot from pure and utter embarrassment if anyone found out.

A poster of Starscream.

Back at the Academy, it would have been impossible to find a wall that hadn't fallen victim to the onslaught of posters - before the ones advertising the war effort against the Quintessons had taken over, the posters had been primarily motivational and featured high-profile seekers. Many of the cadets idolized Sunstorm - your roommate even had a wall full of stolen Sunstorm posters. His golden frame in flight, a glowing halo framing his helm. You agreed that Sunstorm was cool, but deep down, your idol was Starscream. There was no shortage of glossy Starscream posters around the Academy, and whoever ran the show had clearly poured a huge percentage of the budget into making new posters every semester. Many of them were illustrated, for reasons that had actually been explained before - Vosian illustrators tended to be trained in capturing the feeling of flight, rather than the appearance of it. You'd always been drawn to the posters of Starscream because of the emotions they sparked within you - Pride. Determination. Spark-lightening liberation. However, it was the final semester before the end of your first year when the publicity department had apparently decided they'd had enough of paintings, and it was time to try something new. Well, new. Ironically, it was a return to traditional photography.

When the new posters came out, you'd stared at it for so long that your roommate had come to drag you back before curfew, took one look at the poster and burst out laughing.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen. Starscream, hip cocked and a smug grin on his faceplate, pointing at the camera. SOAR HIGH! The poster enthused, in a garish font and colour that quite frankly hurt your optics. REACH FOR THE STARS!

You opened your intake, closed it. Reset your vocaliser twice. You were sure that your wings were vibrating at this point. To make matters worse... "Is Commander Starscream winking?" Your roommate wheezed, and a few cycles later, it was you who had to drag them back to your dorm instead other other way around before you were caught sneaking around after hours.

It was on the same day you'd all been given your celebratory allowance of high-grade jet fuel - amidst all the reveling, your roommate had elbowed their way through the crowd to you with a huge grin on their faceplate. "I have something for you," They said cheerily, and shoved a slightly crumpled roll of paper into your servos. Even without looking, you already knew what it was, and the garish pop of colour as soon as you unfurled it slightly only confirmed your suspicions. "Come on," You groan. "Couldn't you have stolen me one of the cooler ones?"

"I could have," They said. "But the look on your faceplate wouldn't be as hilarious." More laughter as you groan and bury your burning faceplate in your hands. "But," They continue thoughtfully, "don't you think this one kinda humanizes him a little?"

Huh. That night, you're still turning your roommate's words over in your processor. It's kind of endearing, in its own way. You'd never have imagined that Starscream would allow himself to be photographed in such a way, and it's kind of growing on you. You suppose it does break up the monotony of his previous posters somewhat. And that wink... Blushing furiously, you hide your face in your servos and thank your lucky stars that your roommate is sound asleep, so you don't get teased into the dirt.

That poster ended up being the only evidence that you had a roommate, because they didn't survive the attack. Not for lack of searching. You'd searched and searched, and found an arm. You stopped searching after that.

The poster had been stashed deep in your subspace for as long as you could remember. That was another thing you carried. Two things, actually. One, your guilt at being the only one left, and two, your embarrassing little crush on Starscream. Further guilt at allowing the two conflicting feelings to coexist may as well have been a third thing.

However, the years of war had more or less put a damper on dwelling on the past, because threats in the present were far more immediate. You decided it was a good thing that you'd been stuck in emotional limbo for a while now. Primus knows what would become of you if your emotions came back full force at this point.

It's a relatively quiet day when your little slip-up happens. Ever since you became entrusted with datapads needed for officers' meetings, you and Starscream had a brief routine in which you'd double-check that everything was accounted for before heading out. The only thing was that last night's recharge had been fraught with nightmares, and you couldn't deny the exhaustion that fogged your processor. As such, you were not functioning as well as you would have liked to be.

"Reports of the last mission?"

You place it in his outstretched servo. "Check."

"The one on Autobot activity."

"Check."

"Preliminary results of the Terran soil analysis."

Terran soil analysis? You dig around in your subspace. That sounded familiar. You definitely had it, but maybe you'd stashed it way back because you hadn't anticipated Megatron wanting to hear about soil samples. You frown, and dig a little further. Fingertips just managing to brush against something, and that must be it -

"Check," You quickly say, before Starscream can get impatient.

There's a few kliks of silence, which strikes you as strange, because Starscream normally carries a minimum of ten datapads into these meetings. You glance up at him, a question on your glossa - but as soon as you realise what he's looking at, your expression rapidly morphs to match his in one of utter mortification.

No.

Starscream's optic twitches. He holds the offending poster at arms' length - as if trying to put some distance between it and his frame.

It's that horrific poster of him. He'd fought tooth and nail not to have it published, because it was just so embarrassing. Unfortunately, he'd been overruled by the Academy's senior council, who for some Primus-forsaken reason absolutely loved it.

For the greater good! They'd said. The cadets look up to you, Starscream, it would do good to closen the distance between you, so they understand that they can one day be like you.

"Fine," Starscream had snarled, but was only too glad when they'd finally been removed.

Vorns later, he thought he was finally free of that - apparently not.

You can feel his accusing optics on you.

"Cadet."

"...Yes, sir."

"Care to tell me why this is in your possession?"

You gnaw at your lip plates.

"I'm waiting."

You shuffle your pedes. "Um," You mumble.

Why, indeed, had you kept it?

Defeated, you know you know the answer but have no chance of hiding it, because Starscream can absolutely tell when you're lying.

"I know it's one of the weirder ones," You mutter, thankfully missing the twitch of Starscream's optic, "but I liked your posters because of how they made me feel. Because of how you made me feel. Like I could do anything. Like as long as I worked hard, it would pay off, because you cared enough about us to see it happen."

You can't stop now that you've started. "If I had a choice, though, I would have picked the one where you're in your altmode at the edge of the stratosphere because that one was super cool, and I always wondered what it would be like to fly alongside you like that, as an equal. But it's okay because this poster makes me hope that we're not too far apart after all, it's kinda silly but it reminds me that you're my commander and hopefully you know that I really, really admire you -"

A choked crackle of static (mercifully) cuts your ramble off before you can embarrass yourself further.

"Sir?"

You chance a look at Starscream, and what you see renders you completely unable to retain fine motor control of your faceplate. This time, you really wish you could preserve his expression on a poster.

Starscream, former Air Commander of Vos, feared SIC of the Decpticons, is blushing.

You watch with rapt fascination as the blue blush of energon rises to settle prettily across his cheeks, only intensifying the more he stares at the poster. Now he's the one who's adamantly refusing to meet your optics.

"You -"

"Sorry, I misspoke, I shouldn't have-"

"No," Starscream cuts in. His voice is raspier than usual.

"It's... it's fine."

He glances once more at the rapidly fraying poster in his servos before shoving it back towards you.

"...But don't let me see that thing again."

You quickly roll it up and shove it back into your subspace. Now you definitely can't get rid of it.

Starscream still can't quite clear the static from his vocaliser, nor the blush on his faceplate. You take mercy on him and remain silent, lest his cooling fans kick on. It's probably for the best that he doesn't find out about the Commander Starscream Academy Fan Club.

"Now. Terran soil samples?"

Previous / Next

Edit: THE POSTER in all its technicolour glory by @bonkkix !!!!!

[doodlemcjazzhands]

Hi! My friend is a big fan of your art, and they asked me to ask you for tips on how you draw hair. I'm no artist, so I probably shouldn't be the one to ask these questions, but would you mind sharing a few suggestions? Any pointers about your character designs or your art style would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much, and hope you're having a good day! <3

Hiya!! I tried to breakdown my approach to drawing hair here, but these are by no means hard and fast rules! Hope this helps :)

1: The Hairline

I usually start with the hairline. I like to break it down into 4 main sections, that I can play around with:

I like to try to line up the temple section with the ridge of the side plane of the head

Try to have the hairline follow the natural flow and planes of the head

There's a gap between the hairline and the ear (often it gets covered up by longer strands of hair, but if you're drawing a short cut or pulled back hair, you'll probably see it)

2: The Silhouette

I like to draw out the silhouette next. Sometimes I'll use the lasso and fill tool, so I don't get wrapped up in extraneous details.

Try focusing on finding an appealing shape for the hair, and how it will frame the face

Consider how thick you want the hair to be and it's texture

(I find this is also a good time to flip the canvas to make sure the weight feels balanced)

Try to avoid having tangents with facial features, if you're drawing bangs or face framing pieces

Keep in mind how outside factors may affect the hair (like if there's a breeze, or if the character is lying down, or if they've tucked a piece behind their ear, ect.)

Try to keep shape variation in mind. A small shape next to a big shape is often more appealing than 2 medium shapes side by side

I also like to play with a lot of straight/curved line variations to make the shapes look interesting

3: Flow & Volumes

(I usually just visualize this step, rather than drawing it out like this)

Basically try breaking down your silhouette into big volumes, and know where the hair pieces coming from and where they're going.

^For example, the hair on top, is brushed froward, with no defined part, so the chunks that we can see start at a cowlick at the back of the head and spiral out from there. The hair on the bottom however starts at the part, shwoops up, and then cascade down in 2 layers.

^Another note: more layers usually means more volume wherever the layers are placed, longer hair pieces will weigh the hair down, meaning less volume.

4: Details

Once I have an idea of what the hair is doing, I draw out the chunks of hair, following the volumes and flow I've mapped out. Sometimes I'll do a little bit of hatching to indicate volume or texture.

I often like to choose 1 or 2 shapes for my clumps, based on the hair texture, and then repeat those shapes throughout:

Vairy the size of your clumps

Beware of overworking it at this stage, sometimes less is more yk? And too much detail near the face can be distracting

Make lines on the silhouette and lines closer to the front thicker (especially if it's overlapping another line)

You don't have to draw every strand. Sometimes I'll break up big clumps with a thinner inner line, but I try not to go overboard with this. You can also indicate strands by adding little cutouts to the silhouette, like this:

5: Rendering

My process for rendering hair is pretty much the same as it is for anything else. Base colour layer>shadow layer>highlight layer.

I like to use the lasso/fill tool here again for shadows, and then soften them up a bit by going over some of the harsh lines with a pencil brush

For shadows, I usually just do a multiply layer with a lowered opacity, clipped to the base colour layer and then use a bright red or purple colour

Highlights and shadows can also be used to indicate more hair clumps that you haven't drawn in

Try to think of the shadows as big graphic shapes, that fall where the light won't hit, and wrap around the forms of the hair

I personally don't like to go crazy on the highlights, but when I do, it's usually for dark hair, since shadows don't show up as well on darker hair

Shiny glossy hair, usually has brighter highlights with harsher edges

Also black hair isn't usually pure black unless it's a stylization thing or the lighting is reeeally dark

Sometimes once I fill in the hair, I'll look at it and go "ew why's it look dumb now?" Sometimes the warp or liquify tool can help with refining the proportions to rectify this and sometimes you just have to cut your loses and redraw stuff :P

Then as a final touch a may add a few stray strands of hair that break off from the main shape

Ok that's all! Hope your friend has fun drawing hair! Have a great day <33

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

-

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

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Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!