#breezy's queue

[breezypunk]

A peaceful walk through cherry blossom market. A little rain never stopped their date nights.

Stunning art by @fiffidoublef!

[vultursvolans]

since i have a big day of big responsibilities at my big boring job tmr (not the frag one. never the frag one), when I come home from work today, the game plan is claps hand

clean the house bc there will be visitors tmr

fold my clean laundry

play the fuck out of wuwa

read (a book!) for an hour

SLEEP EARLIER THAN 3AM

[kindepilogue]

maybe i feel insane because i haven't finished a book in weeks

[sushiwrote]

Can we get more CB gifs?

Yes, I actually enjoyed making the gifs and posting the pictures of him BUT I’ve fallen off a little. I’ve been trying to do a million and one things, and fighting for my life with my mental health but I will be back in my content creator bag this week and going forward. I’ll post as much christopher content as I can up here— maybe queue something??? I’m revamping stuff again. I’m back y’all !

[vuulpecula]

@thefvrious

"Mm," what was an appropriate word for what was happening around them? It was so loud and the music was hideously offbeat, that it was hard to think of anything. "It is...unkind, here." The word she had been looking for was rude. Sure, most of the people who pushed or shoved or grabbed were so far off the planet that it was a surprise they were standing, but still. Did humans always have to act so much like animals? Could they not apologize or at least act a little sorry for spilling a drink or stepping on toes?

"I think I would need to be unable to hear in order for this band to sound anything other than bad." She smiled, twisting around the glass in her hand. Maybe they weren't always bad, maybe they had all just had too much to drink or had taken too much of something else to make the set a little more bearable. Either way, she wouldn't be looking them up after this to check and see. "I hope this does not offend you," she eyed him somewhat anxiously. Surely his work did not include managing one such band?

"Work," she sighed, looking around the room. "In this place. I must know, what it is you get done here?" Please do not let him say he manages the god-damned band.

vuulpecula‌:

      A sleepy smile stretched across her painted lips; red like all those movie stars she watched to gain a shred of their confidence. Though it made her feel clownish and too aware of every lip-print she had left behind, bread crumbs to find her way back to the bar. She had her suspicions that the more a person drank, the more water the bartender mixed into the alcohol – a cheap way to conserve their product when buyers were far too drunk to notice. 

      “I wanted to know what it was like,” with her own empty glass she indicated the room. “Is different here,” her broken English bubbled forth with the rise and fall of a heavy breath. “I am not sure I understand what is so appealing.” Out of sheer habit, she gave him a quick once-over, swallowing back details, making notes of any red-flags, any dangers that could be lurking beneath the clean-cut edges of this strange man. Was he some forgotten spirit from a time long since past or was he hiding something else beneath his pretty stitches? 

      “And you? This does not seem very much like your crowd, as you say.” Her attention returned to the poorly performing group on the low stage. “By the way your nose looks, you do not much enjoy this place.” 

He notes her foreign accent, and that causes him to lean in a little closer. He doesn’t often get to meet foreigners in the natural environment. Most interactions he’s had with Europeans, Asians, people from the Latinx community have been because of work, and, well, he’s tired of trying to explain something they’ll never understand to them for the sake of business.

“And what’s it like?” He asks, curious as he takes a sip of his drink. He needs to consume alcohol to deal with these spaces for too long. The more he’s bumped into, the more he’s spoken to, smashed against counters, and assaulted with the incessantly loud noises of the club, the more he needs to depress his central nervous system. “People like to get shit-faced, and, the idea is, when you’re shit-faced, everything’s more fun. So, this mediocre band…” He gestures to the people on the stage. “They’re fucking rockstars when everyone else is higher than the ceiling, you know?” He shrugs, he’s never been high like that, never been drunk like that. Usually, he’s left in his own head, and that’s a terrifying place to stay for too long.

“It’s not my crowd.” Roscoe continues, finishing off his drink before setting it on the counter and gesturing for a refill – the drinks are on the house tonight, courtesy of the Wolf King. “I’m here for work.”

[hellishjoel]

catching flights and snowflakes

616 words / pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog | seasons of life challenge masterlist

word: snow

warnings/information: established relationship, pure fluff

a/n: this is me re-writing my author's note because my queue failed me! so I'm just getting around to seeing this and properly posting my seasons of life challenge masterlist and my first post ((now a day late >:[)) - my banners are by @saradika-graphics <3 shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

“You’re going to freeze your ass off,” you warn your Florida-born and-raised boyfriend Frankie, whose half-packed suitcase consists of breezy button-ups and cargo shorts. 

His adorably confused expression glances from his open suitcase to your dubious look. “How cold can it be? Thirty degrees sounds like nothin’.” He sassily retorts, pinching your chin between his fingers and thumb as he angles your chin upward so that he can place a soft kiss on your lips. 

It’s his first Christmas visiting your side of the family. You were leaving palm trees behind for Castleton green pines, and his wardrobe was drastically underprepared. 

“Let’s see. Christmas in the Midwest will consist of thirty-degree temperatures, colder if there’s a windchill. You have no warm hat, gloves, or jeans without holes in the knees. The only type of boots you own are hiking boots, and those won’t keep you warm if we have to walk through the snow.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something mischievous and almost kid-like. “You think there’s gonna be snow? A white Christmas?” 

Frankie has always been devoted to the warmth that central Florida offers, never tempted to swap it for a colder climate. Snow is a rarity in his world—he's only experienced the occasional fleeting flurry. By the time those delicate flakes touched the ground, the warmth quickly melted them away, leaving no trace behind.

You didn’t promise him anything, especially with climate change and all, but as soon as your plane had touched down, fat white snowflakes passed by your airplane window with no agenda or intent. They were weightless, the reminder you needed to hold with you as the end of the year approached.  

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” you whisper to Frankie, interlocking your fingers with his as he joins you in staring out at the midnight blue velvet sky where snow begins to fall steadily. 

Your heart soars as your boyfriend’s gaze lingers on every window you pass, from deboarding the plane to the grand floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the planes landing and departing on the tarmac. He couldn’t resist the excitement of his first real snowfall. 

Having grown up with snow days that shut down schools and heavy flakes piling up inches at a time, you had almost forgotten how magical snow could be.

Frankie’s smile is unwavering, a grin stretched wide across his face as you exit the airport’s main entrance, scanning the lot for your dad’s truck.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his breath swirling in the icy air, visible like a fleeting ghost in front of his face. “I can finally do it, just like in the movies.” Frankie’s excitement spills over as he drops his duffel bag on the sidewalk with a thud, stepping boldly out from the shelter of the airport canopy into the falling snow. He tugs his jacket tighter around him, the cold air making his cheeks rosy. “We had snow once,” Frankie says, staring at the flakes. “Didn’t even stick. Mom made us cocoa just to celebrate.” He grins at the memory and looks down at you. “This? This is a whole other level.”

You giggle as Frankie sticks out his tongue and dives his head from side to side in search of a flake to land on his tongue. “You’re doin’ this with me,” He holds your hands and twirls you under the night sky, both of you chasing snowflakes and cheering when they eventually melt on your warm tongue. 

“We should build a snowman tomorrow. This is perfect packing snow,” you remark casually, pressing your shoe into the thick, powdery layer already blanketing the ground.

Frankie’s eyes damn near bulge out of his head. “We can build a fucking snowman?!”

[grenade-maid]

there's a lot of reasons more people aren't into yuri that are troubling to consider, but equally, I genuinely think it cannot be understated how much of it comes down to most yuri being boring as hell. Like truly. I've been reading the front page of Dynasty Scans like it was the newspaper for 15 years I am not exaggerating I can show you the download file data 15 years.

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers was back in 2009?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers is today in 2023?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

Don't get me wrong, Yuri has grown a LOT in that time, to the point that most people today wouldn't even understand a Maria-sama reference if it were dropped in front of them (thank God). It's expanded and evolved to encompass more stories about adult women, wider varieties of scenarios, a greater acknowledgement of real life lesbianism, and is more comfortable showing girls kissing with tongue and having sex.

Yuri Manga is maybe the best is it's ever been, and it's also getting the widest readership it's ever had in the English speaking world. The titles we carry at work are always on back order with long queues, and, when I've asked them, most weebs of all gender or sexualities report keeping up with at least a few Yuri series.

At large though? Most of it is still really boring. That's not a bad thing necessarily. I like it because it goes down easy. For the most part any series you pick is gonna be pretty chill. Even shit from Sal Jiang which is PRETTY EDGY for yuri is a pretty breezy read. More serious ones like How Do We Relationship? cover some pretty real subjects about how intimacy is actually quite difficult even when both of you love each other, but it's not like... Exciting. Yuri isn't where you go to pump your fist or get perched on the edge of your seat.

So when the comparison is made to yaoi, well, I mean, have you READ any yaoi? Even in some of the more restrained titles those boys are likely to be sucking and fucking balls and all within the first volume or two. There's gonna be drama, intrigue, shit is gonna get messy, passions are gonna get heated, clothes are gonna be ripped off, people are gonna get sold to One Direction, it's stuff you can sit down with a bowl of popcorn with you know? Stuff you can message your friend and gush Hey Can You BELIEVE? A lot of it is pretty trashy, but that's the appeal. The generic state of yaoi is torrid and exciting and sexy. Ultimately, as a species many of us like to see pretty people fuck. In yaoi you'll get that. In yuri you won't. Nothing wrong with that, but it is gonna be a major contributing factor to their relative popularity.

It's also worth making the comparison to hetero romance manga, which has undergone a renaissance of it's own in recent years. There's now a whole meta around crafting a handful of mean shitty grouchy dysfunctional bully women and flinging them at the protagonist of the day who, unlike in years past, may actually have a face and personality. Most of these are also very trashy and truly scrape the bottom of the bucket in terms of writing.

AND YET?

I would bet money on the fact that you'll have heard of these women and probably even have a good idea what they're like without ever having touched a page of their manga.

I'm sorry but the straights are whipping donuts around the yuri girls in terms of delivering a wide variety of weird compelling fucked up women. How many yuri leading ladies by comparison can you point to as standout recognizable characters even divorced from their story? There's definitely a few, but not many. I'm not talking quality or depth of writing, I'm talking straight up pure recognizability. There are many beautifully written women in yuri, now more than ever. I can't think of many who'd like, get a figure made or have their face splashed on merch, though.

I don't really have a conclusion here. I love Yuri a lot, but at the end of the day this is just kinda the state of things right now.

[bangtanej]

Description: As an aspiring stylist with hopes to one day work for Ateez. You find yourself struggling to navigate through life. The trajectory of your life takes a drastic turn when you decide you need to see them one last time.

Trigger warnings: mentions of stalking, suggestive themes, mental breakdowns and overthinking, foul language and harassment

Word count: 5069

Editors: Spike/mal & Breezy

Chapter III

Another week had spun by, each day a subtle shift in the salon's rhythm leading to this momentous occasion: your very own station. The previous night, the air in the salon had hummed with a quiet excitement. Minjun stayed long after closing to help you set up everything and celebrate your start as a stylist. He also gave a heartfelt wish of luck for the impending battle of the ticket sale to come the next morning.

From the moment you'd left the salon that night, a persistent tightness had settled in your chest, and a fluttering chaos erupted in your stomach. It was a cocktail of anxiety and anticipation, a feeling only those who had braved the digital trenches of a Ticketmaster war could truly comprehend. It was incredibly uneasy but also brought an excitement that was unmatched.

The entire night became a restless landscape of tossing and turning, Sannie's annoyed sighs and nudges a testament to your agitated slumber. Yet, as all fitful nights do, it eventually surrendered to the insistent ringing of your alarm. It was an hour before the ticket sale and two hours before you needed to be at work. You opened the tab for the queue while simultaneously applying a light layer of makeup. You had also ordered a coffee for yourself and Minjun, to pick up before work, as a small gesture of gratitude.

You wanted to thank him, truly thank him, for his support. Even though it was just a small gesture you still wanted to convey your appreciation and your…care. “You care for him?” The thought echoed in your mind, a soft whisper that widened your eyes in surprised self awareness. "Did I really just admit that to myself?” The internal questioning was abruptly shattered by a jolt of pure adrenaline. The digital gates had opened. The sale had begun.

Agonizing slow, the number of fans that were in line before you decreased and it was your turn to choose your seats. What felt like an intense battle that went on for hours ended in a few seconds. Moments later your screen lit up to congratulate you. “You got’em! Let the anticipation begin!” Section 2 Row 1 Seat 5

Front and center. You would see them again. The very reason your heart beat a little faster, the source of an unwavering joy, would be within arm's reach once more. They were truly your biggest reason to exist.

Minjun had just stepped out of his car, he paused for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the familiar storefront of the salon. He took a deliberate breath to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead. As he approached the salon, he could make out your small silhouette waiting patiently just outside the glass doors. As your eyes met his, your whole body seemed to light up, you couldn’t wait to tell him and thank him.

With an almost childlike skip in your step, you closed the distance between you and your hand outstretched to offer the coffee. It was an iced americano, a small detail you had carefully noted as the drink he most often ordered. The expression that bloomed on his face reminded you of a delighted puppy greeting its beloved owner. He accepted the coffee with a murmured word of thanks, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting moment, before gesturing with the cup towards the entrance of the salon.

Minjun: Let me take a wild guess. The coffee and child-like excitement is due to a certain ticket sale?

Y/n: I GOT THE TICKETS! And not just any tickets! Front row dead center!

Minjun’s lips curved into a teasing smirk, a playful roll of his eyes accompanied the gesture as he held the door open for you. Minjun understood your deep affection for them. He was a fan too but a more casual one. In all honesty you wouldn’t be a surprise if he was a more casual fan because he had a few idol friends. He had a massive following on social media and undeniable striking looks, he practically looked like an idol himself.

Minjun: Ok ok calm down. I’m very happy you got the tickets but you’re gonna have to…

His voice trailed off, his gaze abruptly fixed on something behind you. Minjun had froze… You stepped through the doorway, your attention still lingering on his expression, when the sharp, potent smell of bleach struck your nose. When your head turned to what had his attention you froze too. Your station had been tampered with. The beautiful white leather chair had what looked like hair dye splattered all over it. As you walked closer the products you had meticulously organized were scattered and were all missing their labels. The few that had clear bottles were nearly empty, their contents carelessly spilled. They were all brand new… Hesitantly you pulled open the drawers. The sight that greeted you sent despair through your body. Your tools were coated in a vial mixture of hair, dried dye, and crusty bleach. Every single one… your collection of combs, your hair pins, your new capes, your gloves, and even your hot tools were contaminated.

The weight of devastation crashed down on you. You crumbled to the floor, a silent scream trapped in your chest. Minjun, who had been standing behind you, instantly dropped beside you. His arms reaching out to steady your trembling body. When your gaze met his, the tears had already begun to pour from your eyes. You were supposed to start today and you already had a few appointments scheduled. It’ll take you all day to get this cleaned and you couldn’t afford to replace all of the products after splurging on your concert ticket.

While your thoughts raced, Minjun pulled you into his embrace. He had witnessed the very moment the light had extinguished from your eyes, leaving behind a hollow, vacant stare. Just moments later Yeona had stepped foot into the salon and the loud thud of her bag hitting the floor followed. You lifted your gaze over Minjun’s large frame, and through your tears saw Yeona running towards you.

Yeona: Holy fuck what happened here?!

Minjun: We just walked in here and found her station like this. I can promise you this is not how we left it last night. I helped her set everything up.

Yeona: Who was the last person in the salon?

Minjun: It was only us… She had helped everyone else clean up their stations so they could get home at a decent hour and I was the only one that stayed to help her.

Yeona: Ok I’ll look over the camera footage but I need you both to get this cleaned up. If someone from the state board walked in, there would be so many different violations against her license and the salon as a whole.

The silence that had clung to you throughout the ordeal was like a suffocating blanket woven from shock and disbelief. The emotions stirring inside of you had you shaking almost violently. You didn't know if it was the anger and frustration, or the overwhelming anxiety that came with the thought of the impending violations that could be on your license. It was only when you felt the ground underneath you disappear that a startled gasp finally escaped your lips. Minjun lifted you up and carried you towards the back. He carefully settled you into the soft chair, his movements tender and deliberate. Crouching before you, his gaze was filled with concern. His lips seemed to tremble slightly as he searched for the right words to comfort you.

Minjun: Take all the time you need in here, I’ll start cleaning up for you ok?

Words remained trapped in your throat, like an invisible barrier against the tide of emotions. All you could manage was a small nod. A comforting pat on your head from Minjun was a moment of solace before he returned to your station. Your mind suddenly hit that little trigger, the one that held the leash to all of your overwhelming thoughts. “I’m alone with my thoughts” The realization slammed into you. The insidious whispers began creeping into the forefront of your mind, each one sharp and cruel “Someone obviously doesn’t want you here” “I knew things were too good to be true” “I should have expected this, I know something always has to happen” “How the hell am I supposed to work now?”

The screaming in your head only got louder and louder. Each scream of self-doubt and despair threatened to consume you. It was only the delicate, sweet scent of cherry blossoms that cut through the noise like a lifeline in the storm. With her presence alone you were able to hear over your thoughts. Yeona enveloped you, her arms were a haven of warmth and security. Your hands clenched into fists, clinging onto her cardigan as the sobs you had desperately fought to suppress finally broke free, echoing through the salon.

Once the storm had subsided, Yeona gently guided you to her office to look over the footage. As the footage flickered to life on the screen, a tall figure cloaked in black entered the salon around 1am. You watched intently as you saw the figure begin to rave havoc on your station. The figure even stooped to gather discarded hair from the garbage bin, using it to further desecrate your workspace. Suddenly, Yeona paused the footage, her finger pointing to the screen, singling out the perpetrator in the darkness.

Yeona: I know it’s a stupid question but do you have any idea who this could be?

Y/n: I’m sorry, I don’t know.

Yeona: Don’t apologize, none of this is your fault. I just have to ask because this is technically a break in and vandalization of property. I’ll be submitting a police report and will need you to give a statement since you were the target.

Y/n: I just really don’t understand why?

Yeona: Was there anyone in school that didn’t like you or an ex that wants to get back at you?

Y/n: I don’t think so, I got along well with all of my classmates. Even if we didn’t talk much we were all nice to each other. And my ex doesn’t live in the area anymore, I find it hard to believe he would drive all the way here just to do this.

A knock on the door behind you interrupted, pulling you from the unsettling replay of the footage. Minjun's head appeared tentatively around the doorframe, his expression a mixture of concern and unease. He entered the office with hesitant steps, holding out a folded piece of paper that was found in the wreckage. A furrow of confusion creased Yeona's brow as she accepted the paper, her gaze flicking between the note and Minjun before both their eyes settled on you. Yeona gently slid the paper across the desk, placing it directly in front of you, you could swear your heart stopped. The numbers "1117" were the only inscription.

Y/n: That’s… That’s my address.

Yeona: Fuck that, I’m calling the cops right now. After you give your statement you’re calling a friend and staying with them or they stay with you. Do you have anyone to call?

Y/n: I could call my friend Sky but they’re working right now.

Yeona: When do they get off?

Y/n: They work as a chef and usually don't get off until the restaurant closes.

Minjun: I’ll take her for now.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yeona reached for her phone and dialed 911. It wasn’t long before uniformed officers filled the salon. While one officer listened intently as you recounted the horrifying discovery, another meticulously reviewed the security footage, his gaze sharp and analytical. A third carefully surveyed the scene of devastation at your station, his movements precise as he documented the damage. They had concluded there were no signs of forced entry and the alarm system was disabled. The chilling implication hung heavy in the air – someone with intimate knowledge of the salon, either a current or former employee, had likely aided the intruder.

The investigation necessitated a disruption to the salon's schedule. One by one, the stylists cleared their appointments as they underwent questioning by the officers. As soon as Minjun had completed his interview, his concern etched on his face and he gently guided you out of the salon. By the time you were seated in the passenger seat of his car, the familiar route towards home stretched before you. A profound mental exhaustion had taken hold of you. Your thoughts were a tangled mess and your energy completely depleted.

Minjun could read the weariness draped on your face and the unmistakable look of defeat clouding your eyes. As he parked the car in the familiar spot at your apartment complex, he reached into the back seat, retrieving a soft hoodie. He turned and offered it to you, his eyes urging you to put it on.

Y/n: I’m not cold but appreciate the thought-

Minjun: It’s not to keep you warm, it's to keep you safe. Anyone can technically look up the address to an apartment complex but that creep may not know what apartment you’re in yet.

The quiet thoughtfulness of his gesture resonated deeply with you. You knew Minjun possessed a kind and considerate nature, he was the type of person who would undoubtedly extend the same care to anyone in need. Yet, the fact that this small act of comfort was directed specifically towards you stirred something within your chest, a delicate flutter that made your heart do a curious little skip. The unspoken emotions left you speechless, so you accepted the offered hoodie, pulling it over your head with a quiet obedience.

The soft fabric enveloped you, carrying his scent like an invisible embrace. It was the distinct aroma of a fresh woodland after a rain shower, grounding and clean, with an underlying hint of something sweet and familiar. It was a smell you hadn’t realized you were getting accustomed to. As Minjun came around the car to open your door, you stepped out into the evening air. With a gentle hand, he reached up and pulled the hood over your brightly colored hair, then softly guided you towards your apartment.

Minjun: Do you get to your apartment the same way every time?

Y/n: Yes I do.

Minjun: Start going the opposite way. I can also start picking you up and dropping you off from work. I know it seems like much but I just don’t want anything to happen to you.

You led Minjun towards the quieter back entrance of the apartment complex. Then entered the elevator that ascended smoothly to the third floor. Your apartment, number 35, was nestled closer to the center of the hallway. As you walked, you couldn't help but notice Minjun's observant gaze, subtly scanning the hallway, his eyes lingering on the discreet placement of security cameras. Once you had gotten to the door and put in the passcode, Minjun gently stopped you before you could fully enter your haven. He turned his attention to the keypad, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began the process of resetting your entry code.

Y/n: What are you doing??

Minjun: Resetting your code.

Y/n: I can see that, but why?

Minjun: So they can’t guess your code.

Y/n: How would they guess it??

Minjun: Y/n you do realize that your floor mat is Halateez and anyone could guess their anniversary is your passcode.

Your silence said it all, he read you like a book and called you out at the same time. He reached for the keypad and reset the security code, anchoring your safety to the familiar date of his mother’s birthday – December 4th, a date effortlessly memorable by association to Jin of BTS’ birthday.

Stepping back into the safety of your apartment felt like a sudden release, yet the emotional residue of the day clung to you. The moment the door clicked shut, your legs seemed to give way, and you all but collapsed onto the soft cushions of the couch. You hadn’t done much work but being so emotional all day left you drained. Minjun's cheerful laughter bubbled through the quiet, followed by insistent, playful pokes. A groan escaped your lips, a protest against the intrusion. With monumental effort, fueled by a sliver of stubborn will, you pushed yourself upright. Your eyes, still clouded with the lingering weariness, fixed on Minjun with an intense glare.

Minjun: Look grumpy, I just want you to be able to shower or at least change so you’re comfortable before you lay down. I also need a blanket and pillow to sleep on.

Y/n: WHOA HOLD UP! You’re staying here?? I already texted Sky that I would like them to stay the night.

Minjun: Well it looks like we’re all having a sleepover. So what do you guys wanna watch? SkzCode? GoSe? Wanteez? Or should we go OG and watch Run BTS?

Y/n: I can’t stand you.

Minjun: Come take a seat then.

Minjun’s playful pat on his lap was a deliberate, teasing gesture, a spark that instantly ignited a blush that bloomed across your cheeks. The heat spread rapidly and with a sharp, wordless movement you practically stormed towards the bathroom. The click of the closing door was a desperate attempt to create a barrier between you and the unexpected intimacy of his flirtation. Even through the thick wood, his unrestrained laughter echoed. You had always been aware of Minjun’s lighthearted, occasionally suggestive nature, but this felt different, a step across an unspoken boundary.

Once you were in the shower, the warm cascade was a balm to your frayed nerves, each droplet a tiny messenger carrying away the day's anxieties and now, the lingering heat of Minjun's teasing. The faint vibration of your phone was swallowed by the rush of the water. It was likely just Sky, their usual message signaling the end of their shift and their soon arrival. You left it be for the time being until a series of sharp, insistent thuds shook the small apartment. You twisted the faucet, the sudden silence amplifying the frantic sounds. Hastily, wrapping a towel around your dripping body and bursting from the bathroom.

Nothing could have prepared you for the tableau that unfolded before your eyes.The apartment door stood wide open like an invitation to the chaos within. Minjun was laid across the floor while Sky loomed over him, their hand clenching on the fabric of his shirt collar. The air crackled with a raw, unspoken tension. The instant Sky’s gaze locked onto yours, their entire demeanor shifted. The aggressive energy that had radiated from them just moments before seemed to dissipate, replaced by a visible wave of embarrassment that washed over their features. Their grip on Minjun’s shirt loosened, and they straightened up, their eyes now wide with a mixture of surprise and somewhat guilt.

Sky: Uh my love… Why on earth would you have me come over when you seem to already have an appointment?

Y/n: Appointment?!

Your gaze snapped towards Minjun, who was awkwardly pushing himself up from the floor. Suddenly everything looked so much worse than it was. The scene before you warped, the innocent misunderstanding turned into something far more suggestive. Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented reality from Sky’s perspective. For starters, your best friend couldn’t open the door. They were always accustomed to walking in and out of your apartment like family. The one time they weren’t able to, a total stranger greeted them at your doorstep. A male stranger… Then, the final, bewildering piece of the puzzle: their best friend bursting out from the bathroom, with nothing but a towel. The situation couldn’t be more odd than this.

Driven by an urgent need to regain control, you rushed past a still dazed Minjun and slammed the apartment door shut. Pivoting sharply, you crossed the living room in a few swift strides, your hand instinctively reaching for Sky. You grasped their arm, pulling them not so gently towards your bedroom, and secured the lock behind you. As you fumbled for clothes in your closet, your voice a rushed torrent of explanation, you recounted the day’s escalating anxieties to Sky. You started with the unsettling discovery of your vandalized station, the chilling realization of a possible stalker lurking in the shadows. And finally, Minjun’s presence as a concerned friend offering a semblance of security. Throughout your hurried explanation, you fought your damned hardest to ignore the almost amused curve of Sky’s lips. A subtle smirk that hinted at a narrative far different from the one your panicked mind had constructed.

Sky: Soooo, you’re gonna tell me the hottie out there, is the same coworker you found attractive and the same guy going out of his way to make sure you’re ok?

Y/n: Sky don’t even start-

Sky: Oh but my love, you started this and your oblivious ass can’t seem to see it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s no Choi San, but definitely a big upgrade from what’s his face.

Y/n: Anyone is better than my ex in your eyes.

Sky: Well duh, but still he’s fucking hot and you know its rare that we both agree a man is hot. A man specifically.

Y/n: It’s a rare occasion because you're gay.

Sky: Not totally gay and you know that.

Y/n: Yeosang doesn’t count.

Sky: You know what, fuck you. Yes he does. You have a possible contender out there and you’re not gonna take the chance?

Minjun: You guys know I can hear you right?!

Minjun's voice, muffled yet clearly audible through the closed bedroom door, cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both of you to freeze. The shared look of “oh shit” was priceless, but the joke born of the bizarre circumstances that would remain locked within the confines of that room. Sky, who was slightly more composed, cautiously eased the bedroom door open and peered out into the living room. Minjun had already made himself comfortable on your couch, one arm draped casually over the cushions, while the other held his phone up to scroll, seemingly oblivious to the whirlwind of confusion he had created.

Sky: Mind your business.

Minjun: I AM the business apparently.

Sky: Says who?

Minjun: Says you?

Sky: No, I didn’t. Neither did she. So says you and that’s supposed to mean something to me?

Minjun: No need to gaslight me but I can play along if you ask nicely.

Sky dramatically gagged in response. While they might have acknowledged Minjun’s attractiveness in the privacy of your bedroom, the very notion of admitting it to his face was apparently a fate worse than death. You cautiously peeked into the living room, observing the escalating, yet seemingly lighthearted, bickering between Sky and Minjun. Their playful jabs and exaggerated sighs suggested a comfortable familiarity. Taking advantage of their distraction, you quietly slipped out of the bedroom and made your way towards the kitchen. The emotional rollercoaster of the day had left you with no appetite for anything. You were simply running off of the coffee you had that morning.

As you scanned your pantry for sustenance, a soft meow drew your attention. Sannie had made his way to the counter and was waiting for his food. It was well past his designated dinner time, and a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. A wave of apologetic affection washed over you as you nearly panicked and served his food with the speed of light.

Y/n: I’m so sorry my precious boy! Mom was so caught up in everything and forgot to feed you!

Sannie didn't even acknowledge your haste, his focus entirely on his food. Only once his bowl was empty did he lift his head, offering a soft nuzzle against your outstretched palm. You could sense a hint of his displeasure at the delayed meal, a subtle grumpiness that thankfully didn't outweigh his inherent need for affection. After all he was a love bug, but also a master manipulator who had even learned a repertoire of adorable tricks specifically designed to grab your attention.

Though, the sweet reverie of your bond with Sannie was abruptly shattered by the approaching presence behind you. Minjun was reaching over your shoulder, his large hand extended towards the counter, presumably to offer some belated attention to the little king himself. Under normal circumstances, anyone seeking the favor of your cherished cat would be welcomed. However, the cramped confines of your kitchen amplified the situation tenfold. Its narrow width could accommodate two people comfortably, but meaning literally shoulder-to-shoulder. Sannie’s food bowl resided in the far corner, where the countertop met the wall. This unfortunate placement meant that you were effectively cornered, trapped between a wall, the edge of the countertop, and a massive Minjun.

The realization of your predicament sparked an instantaneous reaction. Whether it was a surge of claustrophobia or a pure fight-or-flight response, you weren't entirely sure. One moment you were standing, the next you had dropped to the floor with surprising agility, scrambling around Minjun’s legs in a desperate bid for escape. To say Minjun was bewildered by your sudden descent would be an understatement. His expression was a mask of utter confusion. Sky on the other hand was not at all surprised and was actually laughing hysterically at your undignified retreat.

Y/n: The hell was that??

Minjun: I wanted to pet the kitty.

Sky: Which one?

Minjun simply shrugged at Sky’s teasing remark, a smug, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your eyes narrowed, sending silent daggers in both their directions. It was one thing to constantly endure Sky’s playful jabs and unhinged commentary, but Minjun joining in on the torment was almost unbearable. The thought of navigating an entire night with this newly formed alliance of teasers filled you with a sense of weary dread. A silent debate began to brew in your mind about the pros and cons of resorting to eviction. The only problem with that, was the inconvenient truth that both of them now possessed the code to your door. Defeated, you abandoned all pretense of composure and launched yourself towards the welcoming embrace of the couch, your body colliding with the soft cushions in a dramatic collapse.

Sky: Bitch come on, this is the first time I agree with a man. I want you guys to happen!

Your face was pressed firmly into the fabric of the couch, the muffled scent of home filling your nostrils. In that moment, the idea of being gently suffocated by the plush material was a fate you would not mind. If Minjun’s interest was genuine, a part of you longed to explore the possibility, and step outside the boundaries of friendship. But the scars of past romances still ached, leaving you paralyzed by a deep seated fear of vulnerability. Sensing your fragile state, Sky seized the opportunity for further playful torment, settling onto the couch cushion next to where your head lay buried and launching a ticklish assault on your sides. “Oo no tat don ork” Was the muffled noise that came from you.

Sky: I can’t understand you.

Y/n: You know that doesn’t work.

With a groan of resignation, you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Your gaze drifted across the room to find Minjun now comfortably seated in your recliner and Sannie curled contently in his lap, purring like a tiny motor. With both of them staring at you, you instinctively drew your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around your legs. Seeking a small measure of comfort and self protection. The whirlwind of emotions from the day, coupled with this unexpected and somewhat overwhelming dynamic between your two closest friends, seemed all too soon.

Y/n: Look, I don't know if Minjun is actually serious or not. But for right now I don’t want anything, there's too much happening all at once.

Sky: Even if it’s not serious, he would at least make sure you’re not touch starved anymore.

Y/n: SKY I'M SERIOUS!

Sky: Ok, ok, serious time.

Minjun: You know I can still hear you right? Don’t I get a say in any of this?

Sky: Not right now sweetie, the grownups are talking very seriously. We know you’re there, we’re just choosing to ignore you.

Minjun: Well, I would like to be acknowledged when I say that my feelings aren’t a joke. To say I haven’t developed any sort of feelings would be total bullshit, but it’s still too soon for me to tell. Not only that, the conversion you guys had in the bedroom, seemed like you’ve had it rough with relationships. I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready because that’ll hurt us both.

Sky: Sweetie this is why I said the grownups are talking, she just needs a good dicking down to move on.

Sky would soon regret those words. With a swift movement, you snatched the nearest couch cushion and hurled it, the soft projectile colliding squarely with their face. Their reaction was nothing short of theatrical. Clutching their cheek with exaggerated pain, they gasped dramatically. Their eyes widened and glistened with mock tears, staring at you as if they had just received a mortal injury.

Y/n: I’d appreciate if you’d be quiet for just two fucking seconds… Minjun, I know there’s something there but it is all too soon. And plus I can’t risk that fucking creep hurting you.

Sky, witnessing this sudden shift in your demeanor and the unexpected vulnerability in your confession, instantly dropped their act. Their playful facade crumbled, replaced by an expression of genuine bewilderment. They were unable to fully process the words that had just fallen from your lips, especially admitting it so openly in front of them. As much as Sky’s teasing tactics could be perceived as cruel, they were often rooted in keen understanding of your inner workings. They possessed an uncanny ability to read you like an open book, their insights usually piercingly accurate. In return, they themselves were an open book, their emotions and intentions rarely concealed, making your sudden, unguarded confession all the more impactful.

[breezypunk]

A little bit of Bubbles & Buttercup ♡

[artificialintellegencefreak]

Godpoke-sona!! Detail rambling and headcanons below the cut (Like a lot. A lot a lot)

Details about my creature in no specific order

-No one knows their name and when asked they jokingly replied with 'N, you'll have to earn the rest of the letters.' Their chosen name back home was Horns, they're thinking of changing it though.

-They're mute though fluent in sign language (a drainfolk variant), this has some complications. Not everyone knows sign of course so they usually carry around a notebook if they absolutely have to resort to writing conversations, Megapon has helped a lot.

-This unfortunately means they can't talk to Alexei at all without Megapon. :( (Someone please teach my mans to read???)

-Non-binary/Agender/???, they don't really care about gender, they're them and that's that. (They/Them before coming to the Grove but meeting Huzzle gave them some confidence so now they're trialing They/It)

-Drainfolk! An Earth family adopted them as a baby, this has had...consequences.

-Furry all over, it's technically green but it's such a dark shade most people assume it's black, you can really only tell in bright direct light.

-When their Earth family took them in they thought it would be pretty easy to hide the fact that Godpoke was drainfolk. They grew up trained to be completely covered head to toe, they were given the option to be completely shaved otherwise. Needless to say they've gotten very used to long pants and sweatshirts even in the middle of summer. They're familiar friends with heat exhaustion.

-Their horns are very small, only an inch or so and rather dull sticking straight up from their forehead. They're kind of glad they never got any longer, it would make it hard to wear hats.

-It was a bit of a tense time when their horns grew in. They had been allowed to leave their hair out, it looked natural enough but now they had to add hat's to their regular outfit. It was... a lot. They've gotten used to being invisible or trying to avoid attention. Becoming the Godpoke has been a big change.

-They don't really have proper claws, they're not even sharp enough to help open boxes. But they wore gloves to cover them anyway. No beans on their hands sorry :(

-Their eyes don't actually glow, but because they're such a bright color in contrast to their dark fur it's definitely giving cat eyes in the dark.

-They're kind of uncomfortable being exposed at all, but they're also pretty sick of being over heated all the time. So the poncho is a compromise, covered, but breezy! (Razzma helped them find it.) They're not quite ready to try shorts.

-The bandana is a new addition but they've been so used to neither being seen nor heard growing up that they never really developed proper social queues. They absolutely cannot smile on command and generally look about emotional as a brick wall. (Provided that brick wall is not Bauhauzzo)

-The messenger bag goes with them everywhere. It contains a water bottle, a notebook and lately, Megapon! (We'll say hammer space is readily accessible to people in this universe. Seriously why is Megapon that big.)

-Quick Trigger warning for this one! (Unintentional self harm) Because my godpoke is a reflection of myself I unfortunately gave them my bad habit. :( I've got chronic 'pick-at-skin-around-your-fingernails-till-you-bleed' so my godpoke scratches at their arm till it bleeds a lot. It's unintentional but tends to happen more when they're stressed. Post rift their arm is almost always bandaged. :(

-Quick tangent, I imagine in addition to their designated domains, the gods also have some mortal assigned dominions. I.E. Huzzle Mug is the patron god of trans people! While Godpoke did come to see King's ascension (at least that's what they told people back home) they also came to see Huzzle Mug for a 'blessing'.

-Headcanon: Huzzle Mug loves being seen as the patron trans god, and sees trans people finding themselves as an act of self invention. It often helps people with their transition via a godly boon, (Huzzle does a lot of magical top/bottom surgery). It can't alter bodies too much though, that much godly energy would probably fry a mortal brain, so alas it cannot make you a dragon but sometimes people come to it with more out there requests. Asking for inhuman traits isn't unheard of and generally accepted in the Grove, but as more animalistic traits are seen as a sign of drainfolk heritage most people don't ask for those.

-(I imagine drainfolk come in a very wide variety of forms. Why you might ask, when our greatest representation is a bunch of similar looking funny little blue guys? Housecat Man. Housecat Man is why. What's his deal? Where'd he come from?)

-So! My Godpoke's tail is not natural! They asked Huzzle Mug for it after everything settled down and it was clear they were going to be staying in the Grove for a while.

-My Godpoke is very used to being ignored or just straight up not noticed so the tails' purpose is two-fold; to help them feel more like 'themself' and also! To be loud! It looks mostly furry to match the rest of them, but has layered scales on the underside that they can shake to imitate a rattle snake's rattle and a stiff mat of fur at the end that if they whip just right can make a whip crack sound. They really only do that if they feel they're being talked over though. Just because they don't have a voice doesn't mean they don't have something to say.

Anyway if you read this far, thanks! Hope you enjoyed my little guy.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

📸 @breezypunk | comm detes

All That Glitters

I woke up and realized I forgot to queue anything for Shippy Saturday. Good thing I still have some comms from Breezy to share. Looking at this set, I've finally settled on "All That Glitters" for the AU name. It's just too perfect.

[le-velo-pour-dru]

[Image ID: A photo of Dallon and Breezy Weekes sitting next to each other. They're both smiling, and Dallon is wearing sunglasses. There's a filter over them that gives them white cat ears and small yellow noses like Dear Daniel and Hello Kitty from Sanrio, and a picture of Dear Daniel kissing Hello Kitty's cheek is below them. /end ID]

[constanthaunt]

Word WIP Game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word. ty @shipstorms for the tag the word was BITE. all excerpts are from without are dogs apart from the second one. going to tag @knoepfchen, @wayrad and @middlingmay with the word BOAT if you want to🫡

Buck, he thinks. The name he gives him, severed from his own. In Christ, God calls each of us by a new name. There’s nothing Christlike about John’s intentions; it sounds better in his mouth, sounds like it suits him. Whoever heard of a roughneck from Wyoming called Gale anyway? No, he's Buck. Buck Cleven, like John supposed he ought to be.

If Gale were here instead of in Wyoming, he would have put a hand to his face by now, said, what’s all this, darling? Suiting up for a night at the stalag? He’d say it all breezy, like a place that doesn’t exist anymore.

They walk and talk. 

Gale’s talking about space, the moon. They’ll be sending folk up there soon, he says. At least, they’ll be trying. John doesn’t understand why they can’t leave it alone. He doesn’t say that. He listens to Gale talk about navigational stars and how we’ll get there. Maybe they’ll need God up there.

Easily racked up, easily knocked down. Sometimes John’s not sure if he’s supposed to be bringing God to them, or getting them in an orderly queue.

[dragons-and-art]

Hey lads i have made a proper queue/waiting list for the current back of commission~! You'll get to see how many slots are left plus progress of all requests so far. Kinda like a trello but i don't know how to use trello lol

It also has prices and terms of service in another tab if you wish to set up a commission instead :D

Feel free to give it a look if you wanna see where you're at in the queue or if you're interested in a doodle~

[billcarden]

idk about you guys but the LA queue was easy breezy beautiful

[appledotcodotuk]

vertigo: an aminori drabble

yet another little drabble courtesy of the yuri shipping olympics! the prompt this time was 'I can't believe you talked me into this'. I'm bringing back an old favourite to appease my 16 year old self, and basically nobody else. aminori enjoyers if you are out there...

summary: minori is certain that she can finally see a crack in ami's cool facade; and all it'll take is a ride on whimsiville's supersonic rollercoaster: Vertigo! a flawless scheme which will certainly not backfire. not at all...

banner: screencap from Toradora ep. 6 "True Self"

pairing: minori kushieda / ami kawashima

no warnings required!

1,423 words!

'I cannot believe you talked me into this' Ami Kawashima, model student, model model, and model melodramaist huffs.

It does not surprise Minori - at least not a great deal - that the way in which her face scrunches with distaste is still beautiful; the sort of righteous disdain you'd see in a fancy book of fancy artpieces that cost an arm and a leg and weighed about as much too, and all without running the risk of a lasting wrinkle.

There's a hint of the unimpeachable to her which promised any attempt to test this stoic unrufflability would yield nothing but frustration.

Perhaps, were she one of those rational types, Minori would recognise this as the omen of futility that it was. It would be better, really, for everyone if she did.

But Minori was dedicated, and all she could see in those finely crafted features was a provocation. Ami was a challenge, or she was issuing a challenge, and Minori didn't stop to mull over the distinctions between the two. She was a bit more preoccupied with attempting to pry loose an expression which hadn't been made for TV from Ami's habitual smirk.

'What's wrong Amin? Scared of a bit of height?' She asks, opting to accentuate the extent to which she too, was entirely cool-headed and unbothered by the other's presence by slinging an arm over her shoulder.

Ami had opted for a breezy summer dress that day, with thin straps, and thus no fabric to shield her from Minori's totally casual arm-slinging. There was nothing to prevent her from feeling the way her exposed shoulder hardened into a taut tension under the skin.

Woah. Had she developed inadvertant powers of petrification in the last minute? Before she could inspect Ami's shoulder for any stray pieces of stone, however, her arm was smacking limply into her side; a consequence of its unceremonious dislodgement from its resting place. 'Ow!' She says, as if it had hurt, 'What gives?'

'I am not Taiga, I don't need to be encumbered with any extra limbs.' She says, and there's a familiar flash in her eyes and ah geez, she's totally about to- 'Whilst I'm sure that little terror could benefit from the additional weapon when she inevitably has another tantrum, I prefer words to brute force.' There it was.

Why did she always turn to Taiga? More importantly, how come she knew, with a precision that frankly unsettled Minori, just what to say to send an indignant blush a-blazing in her cheeks, and as an adendum to that, what malicious God had perfected her in the art of setting Minori's heart pumping anyway?

On second thought, perhaps a God was too pure a boon-granter for someone like her. A deal with the devil for quick wit, unshakeable smarminess, and perfect hair was decidedly not off the table. She wouldn't put anything past Ami.

Instead of responding with something that would have been, no doubt, utterly devastating, Minori opts to take the moral high ground and pictures the way that smug self-assurance would melt away soon - in approximately 3-5 minutes time, if the sign posted outside the start of the queue was anything to go by.

Ooh, maybe she'd even scream! Perfect, beautiful Ami Kawashima, shrieking as she hurtled across the track at world-record-creating speeds.

'What's the stupid smile for?'

'Hmm...?'

'Hey, snap out of it fluff-for-brains, we're nearly at the front.'

Curses! She'd been so caught up in envisioning her victory over Ami's snide professionalism that she'd almost forgotten to be present for the main event! Get your head in the game Kushieda - you're playing for keeps here!

'Aw, oopsie! I must've gotten distracted.'

They were nearly at the front now, which meant a first-class view of terrified fairgoers being lowered into Vertigo, screaming as they were whipped past at speeds that made Minori dizzy, just from looking, and sickly aftermaths: the victims of Whimisiville's finest, fastest rollercoaster.

Taiga had flatly refused. Takasu had muttered something about 'winning Inko-chan' from a stall that contained a bunch of slightly squashed looking bird plushies and disappeared. Kitamura was long-lost. It was just the two of them. Minori, Ami, and the terrifying rollercoaster. She had to make the most of it.

Especially when it had been so easy to convince Ami to come along with her for the ride. Who knew when this sudden fit of good-will would strike Her Imperious Majesty next? All it had taken was a few insinuations of cowardice here, a sprinkle of guilt tripping there…!

She was almost disappointed that she hadn’t been called upon to deploy her patented ‘Please-I-Have-Never-Wanted-Something-More-in-My-Life-and-if-You-Say-No-I-Will-Hold-You-Personally-Responsible-for-the-Lack-of-Fulfillment-that-Will-Plague-My-Every-Waking-Hour’ eyes! Although, perhaps that was for the best. She didn’t know if her heart could take her special-est of special moves quailing under Ami’s cold disapproval.

Better to just be thankful for the chance to absolutely squander whatever warm feeling had prompted this agreement as quickly as possible, right? She almost felt bad, meeting what could well be an olive branch with this. Almost.

‘Heeeey Ami.’ She turns to her victim, attempting to stifle a giggle. Really, it was all her fault: she should never have let slip to Minori that this was her first time in Whimsiville when they’d run into her by the shooting gallery.

Taiga had been less than pleased by the chance encounter but Minori was nothing if not optimistic. Or was that opportunistic? The possibility of getting a reaction out of a brick wall in the body of a high school student was just too tempting! ‘Did I mention that this thing can go 200 km/h and has three loop-de-loops?’

‘You did not.’ Ami says, glaring. Having made it past the barrier now, they're scoping out a free cart in tandem with the portion of the crowd who have finally escaped the drudge of the queue. They settle unanimously for a carriage towards the back. It’s neon yellow, with flaking flames painted on the side and there isn’t enough space for them to sit entirely apart from each other.

Instead, their knees keep grazing each other, and Minori jumps each time it happens, sending their legs flying away from each other like two magnets stuck facing identical poles. ‘But don’t worry, I’m used to compensating for your particularly severe case of scatterbrain.’

‘Hey!’ Minori leaps to her own defense, and it seems her knee also has something to say because it leaps too - settling firmly next to Ami’s who continues on, apparently unaffected.

‘For instance, I do know that you tend to get motion-sick.’

Huh? Since when had Ami been keeping such close tabs on her? That was confidential information, which required a Taiga-level clearance, and she referenced it as easily as if she had been there on that lazy afternoon when she’d been regailing Taiga with the misadventures of her family trip to Kyoto! Well, she supposed that technically she had been there, it had taken place in the classroom, but that was even more shocking!

Had she, Ami Kawashima, been eavesdropping? Surely not! The only eaves that were supposed to be dropped around here were by Minori, the super-sleuth!

Really, was there no integrity to be found in the subtle art of getting one over on someone? At least Minori, in her schemes, was willing to put her own body on the line - she was sacrificing her stomach so she could see Ami’s smug expression get turned inside out by this high-speed death trap!

‘And,’ Ami whispers - whispers! - as she draws closer to Minori, her breath warming the outside of her ear - what was that bit called again, the shell? Minori finds in that moment that she doesn’t really like the comparison. Shells were so hollow, a pale imitation of the setting which formed them, a memory of something distant, and displaced. Ears were much less nostalgic, surely. They didn’t hear only what they wanted to hear, right? - Ami was being very quiet all of a sudden. Minori bites down the urge to yell at her. What, what?!

‘Did you know that before we’d met, I had ridden Vertigo five times over? I’m a big fan of the part with the 50 meter drop!’

Click.

The bar that would keep their bodies from slamming into the ground below as they were shot along at really, very high speeds (and Minori, in all her arch genius knew that this speed was 200km/h precisely) snapped into place with the finality of a death sentence.

Oh.

She was totally screwed.