#cast trigger contest

[inventors-fair]

The Wonderful Thing about Triggers

Wow, I kinda see this art from afar, but looking up close, Cityscape Leveler really is a terrifying card. Seriously, how did they make the production for that beast? Jeez. Anyway.

One of the things I love about playing Leveler is the fact that it's got a trigger that doesn't get countered if the creature itself gets countered. You have this with the Eldrazi titans, with Hydroid Krasis when that card dominated Standard—you get the idea. And there's also the cards like Young Pyromancer and Thermo-Alchemist that force your opponents to think about spells and their triggers as well! And there are cards like the Storm cycle from C18 that double themselves from casting, too.

I think you know where I'm going with this, right?

Design a card with a cool "cast" trigger!

It can trigger off of itself being cast, it can trigger off of another thing being cast, it doesn't matter what kind of card it is—all that matters is that it looks at something that's being cast.

Don't @ me this week. Seriously, what that means is that you should be using "when" and "whenever," not "at" for your triggers, because the only thing I can think of that could use an "at" is a conditional "if," and that's not what I'm looking for; the card must trigger as soon as something is cast. But that doesn't feel like too hard an ask, right?

You know what we're usually after here. I wanna see cards that are pushing the envelope a little bit. Or, like, really effectively flavorful cast triggers can be fun too! Just remember that your cards don't exist in a vacuum, you have many options and worlds at your fingertips, you're cleverer than you think, etc.

G'luck, h'fun, b'well! — @abelzumi

Cast into our inbox >> HERE Trigger Discord notifications >> HERE

[witherby]

Hi, I was just wondering if we could get some more of Omega!Hal with Mouse..? If not, that's okay. I love your writing! 💓

Absolutely you can!! Have some more headcanons!

Omega!Hal who almost obsessively grooms the kids, but Mouse gets the worst of it. Toddlers are always mysteriously sticky and can't keep themselves clean for more than an hour, so several times a day he scoops them up, neatens them, and gives them a nuzzle before letting them go play again.

Omega!Hal loooooves putting Mouse to bed. Because he's the one doing it most of the time, the bed smells like him and Mouse, and when you haven't seen Hal in a while it's almost always because he crawled into bed to nap with them.

Omega!Hal who forces Bruce to invent special communicators so he can talk to his pack all the time when he's deployed for Lantern missions, because the long distance pulls at his bond and he gets irritable to his teammates.

Omega!Hal who fell for Bruce because he doesn't make being an Alpha a major facet of his personality. That's just what he is. He doesn't demand respect or submission from the other castes in a dick measuring contest; in fact, he almost doesn't care aside from using his bond to keep his kids safe.

Omega!Hal who didn't give in to his caste instincts for years because he didn't want to be seen as weaker or inferior to others, but now that he has Bruce and Bruce's kids to help look after, he's going a little overboard exploring this part of himself uninhibited for the first time.

Omega!Hal who can't figure out why being away from Mouse specifically pisses him off until Bruce explains that his instincts see Mouse as his biological child, especially because he met them when they were freshly abandoned and he bonded to them immediately.

Omega!Hal who continues making up stories about being the biological parent despite visible and tangible proof otherwise. "Yeah they're left-handed just like their mom. What do you mean they didn't inherit that from me? I'm the mom, are you fucking stupid. We talked about this, I gave birth to that kid. No I don't have stretch marks. No they didn't nurse from me directly. No a DNA test won't show me as a match. Yes I still gave birth to that kid, I'm so fucking SICK OF TELLING YOU—"

Omega!Hal who gets more use out of his ring playing games with Mouse than he does as a Lantern and has to keep charging it way more often. It's not his fault his kid wanted to ride an elephant. He had to make an elephant!

Omega!Hal who never promised to uphold Bruce's "no killing" rule and certainly doesn't hold back if a villain ever takes his children.

Omega!Hal who has such a bad case of baby fever when he first meets Mouse that the Corps put him on an extended paternity leave, because he could not stop fucking talking about his baby at work and his fellow Lanterns couldn't take it.

Omega!Hal who has to fly a couple laps around Gotham the first time one of the boys calls him Mom with full sincerity because he feels like his heart's about to burst.

Omega!Hal who forgot to tell anybody he wanted to do a "bring your kid to work day" with Mouse and triggered a Code Red with the bat family, and apologized profusely for hours after the fact.

Omega!Hal who, without fail, tells Bruce "one more baby isn't gonna hurt" every time he's in heat.

Omega!Hal who integrates ridiculously easily into life with the boys in the Manor, who won them all over slowly and steadily with the same unconditional love they get from Bruce, and who promised that even if for some reason he and Bruce don't work out, he'll still love them like they're his.

OMEGA HAL WHO'S FULL OF WILLPOWER AND LOVE!!!!!!!! OMEGA HAL YEAH

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog! This blog runs tournaments based on movie stars who were working from 1910-1970. We have now wrapped the Hot Movie Men and Hot Movie Women Tournaments, as well as the Scrungly Little Guy contest. The Pride and Prejudice Fancast will start May 15th, 2025. If you have suggestions for casting (particularly actors of color so we can have a diverse cast), please send them to my inbox—I can't include every suggestion but I'll do my best.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag.

FAQs:

"Define vintage?" I only post about people who were working in movies from 1910-1970. My knowledge is mostly classic Hollywood, but a lot of people have been kind enough to submit international vintage stars and I include them whenever I can.

“Who won the hottie tournaments?” Toshiro Mifune won Hottest Movie Man, Eartha Kitt won Hottest Movie Woman, and Diahann Carroll & Sidney Poitier won Hottest Movie Couple.

"Who is the scrungliest little guy?" Elsa Lanchester won that!

“Has [this vintage hottie] ever been in a tournament?” Please do a tag search for them (for example, put in my search bar #james cagney). If they don't turn up after a tag search, either no one submitted them or they did not fit the criteria of being a movie person from 1910-1970.

"How do I submit propaganda? What propaganda do you boost?" you can send propaganda to my ask box, tag me in it, or reply to the poll post with it. I don't boost everything I see but I try to boost the cream of the crop. I don’t boost propaganda that’s from after 1970. I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves (ie, I'll boost an Eartha Kitt appearance on a late night show, but not a clip of her playing Catwoman). If you have a TON of photos to submit, please send a few asks instead of one long one. I watch every video I receive so I can add trigger warnings, so please don't send long videos—I don't have time to review them.

If I see repetitive, trolling, or bigoted remarks in the comments, I will block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor’s problematic aspects in the replies, that’s fine, but if I see bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked. I will also block if you start harassing other people voting on the polls. If you really hate that someone is winning, please post positive propaganda for their opponent instead.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Complaining about the poll photo without offering alternatives gets blocked.

"Hey! Some of these people sucked and they shouldn't be here!" Yes, some of these people sucked. I agree with you. For reasons I've gone into before, I don't exclude anyone from the contest for moral reasons, even if I personally think they were garbage. I do this because I cannot responsibly research and vet every competitor's background and legacy, and I'm not comfortable being the moral barometer for everyone, even in cases where I think it's really obvious. You are welcome to vote against people for moral reasons, but as mod I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about anyone.

“What's this shadow realm I keep seeing?” All hotties who fail to continue in a tournament are sent to the shadow realm, far below the veil of the earth, in gloom ever-lingering and not-hotness evermore. This is normal.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys���just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

current schedule:

Now finished: Hot Men Tournament, Hot Women Tournament, Dracula Daily casting polls, the Hot Couples Mini Tournament, and the Scrungly Little Guys [gender neutral] Contest

Upcoming: Pride & Prejudice fancast

TBD: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, and Brides)

Fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can usually be found in the #minis tag)

good tags to know:

#hotvintagepoll—all polls

#minis—polls not connected to full tournaments, usually involving hot movie casts (ie who is the hottest character in casablanca)

#silly times—what it says on the tin

#housekeeping—admin posts, like this one

hot man polls are organized #round 1, #round 2, etc

hot woman polls are organized #ladies 1, #ladies 2, etc

scrungly little guy polls are #scrungly 1, #scrungly 2, etc

all the dracula polls are under #dracula casting

the narnia debacle is under #why would you ask us a hotvintagepoll blog this

occasionally i have open ask box nights where we all hang out and chitchat. those are under #coffee night

when people share propaganda that involves their families—ie Sidney Poitier Drove My Dad to the Hospital Once or My Grandma Was Obsessed with Tyrone Power—I tag it #family lore

if you send in pics of a pet named after a movie star I tag it #hollywood creatures

i take mod neutrality really seriously but in between tournaments i sometimes recommend movies. those can be found under #recs

[kingofbodyrolls]

Doughn’t Go Baking My Heart (m) | ksj

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

this Christmas season, you’re back in the kitchen, whisk in hand and determination in your heart, entering the annual holiday baking competition once again. The goal? Finally beat your long-time rival, the infuriatingly talented Kim Seokjin. But as the ovens warm and the ingredients come together, you realize it might not be just the doughs rising this year… Will the holiday spirit bring you closer, or will the heat of competition drive you further apart? 😜

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: baking!au, competition!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: enemies to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 16.4k → Warnings + triggers: an insane amount of stupid and bad jokes with sexual undertones (like it borders on cringey), tension and a lot of it, sexual frustration, pettiness (briefly), jealousy (briefly), baking jokes turned sexual (I’m sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex in the form of oral (female and male receiving), missionary and very vanilla sex, kissing, tender but also a tiny bit rough (not really, lol), big dick Seokjin, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast play, creampie, multiple orgasms, mention of aftercare (but not described), other sexual encounters that aren’t described in detail. → Author’s note: hiiiii!! Hello! Long time no see! I was in a Christmasy mood (written in the end of October lol), and I’ve written this cute and tension filled Christmas love story for my dear friend @allie-in-the-moon 💜 Thank you so much for always reading, commenting and loving my work so much; it means the world to me!!! 😭 So I hope that this story shows my deep gratitude for you—I hope you, and everyone else enjoys it ✨ Please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think with a comment, reblog and even an ask. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just you spamming the keyboard or lots of emojis. There’s a lot of bad jokes and puns in this and you get bonus points if you know what song inspired this pun of a title! 😂 (also, I did not proofread this, I know there’s some mistakes, but I’m too lazy to fix them lol). → Read on AO3? [link] 

With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you tread the frosted path from the bus stop to the towering silhouette of the grand castle—the heart of the annual Great Christmas Bake-Off. The castle looms before you, its turrets crowned with glistening snow, twinkling lights casting a soft glow in the winter twilight. For three years now, you’ve returned to this place, yet this time, the air feels different, charged with a deeper longing. You clench your hands inside your pockets, the icy wind biting through the fabric of your jacket, as if the cold itself is testing your resolve. If only this could be the year—if only you could finally claim victory, or at least break into the top three.

But as your thoughts drift toward victory, a familiar dread settles in your chest. Kim Seokjin. Your long-time rival, the thorn in your side, always there to ruin your focus with his relentless, groan-worthy jokes. Of course, he’ll be attending again, as smug as ever. A sigh escapes your lips. Can you endure four more weeks of his puns? The mere thought grates at your nerves like a dull knife. Still, you take solace in the fact that there are other contestants—ten, to be exact. Perhaps you can avoid him altogether this year, lose yourself in the company of kinder souls. The thought lifts your spirits, and before you know it, you’re humming a soft tune to the melody of a Christmas song that drifts on the edge of memory—its name lost to the blur of countless holiday seasons, but its warmth still familiar.

Footsteps crunch behind you, but you pay them no mind, your gaze fixed on the castle doors. You can only hope that this time, luck will favor you with a decent room—not like the first year, where you were stuck in a damp, windowless chamber that smelled of mold. This year, everything must be better. Especially now that the world will be watching, with the competition broadcast live on national television. You can’t help but smile, a flicker of excitement mixing with your breath in the cold air, as the castle draws closer.

This time, you tell yourself, things will be different.

The castle stands as a relic of a bygone era, its weathered stones whispering tales of the past, likely from the 1800s or older—though you’re not quite sure. Normally, this place serves as a museum, preserving its history, but every December, it transforms into something magical. As the first of the month dawns, the grand structure becomes home to the Great Christmas Bake-Off, and its ancient walls are filled with the warmth of ovens and the thrill of competition. Surrounding the castle is a scene straight out of a holiday dream: towering evergreens, their branches heavy with snow, stretch towards the sky; a silver stream winds through the rolling hills, and the fields spread wide, blanketed in pristine white. It’s a vision of Christmas perfection, and you can’t help but love it, the landscape glowing with the enchantment of winter.

At last, you make your way up the gravel-strewn path, each step crunching beneath your boots, until you reach the enormous wooden doors of the castle. They are old and heavy, carved with intricate designs, and it takes all your strength to push them open. Inside, a familiar warmth greets you. The space is draped in festive splendor—rich red and gold hues, a plush crimson carpet underfoot, and ancient paintings adorning the white walls, their gilded frames thick with history. You step up to the reception desk, where a handsome blond man stands, his name tag reading ‘Park’. His eyes, a warm hazelnut brown, twinkle with mischief as he catches your smile. “Hi, I’m here for my room key. I’m part of the competition,” you say, offering him a smile that becomes even brighter when you sense the shadow looming behind you. You know exactly who it is without turning around. Determined not to give him any attention, you focus on Park, your smile sweetening as you push aside thoughts of the man behind you.

Park’s lips curl into a grin as he hands you a key. For a brief second, your fingers brush his, and the warmth of his touch is a small comfort against the cold that lingers in your hands. “I’ve given you the best room,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, “the perfect room for someone as lovely as you.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, and you chuckle softly. Oh, he’s sweet, and trouble, you think. But you feel a surge of relief—finally, you won’t be stuck in the dreaded moldy room. Behind you, a familiar scoff cuts through the air, and you roll your eyes. You don’t need to look to know who it is, and you breeze past him, a skip in your step as you make your way to your room.

Finding it easily, you unlock the door and step inside. It’s small, yes, but far more comfortable than your first year here. A single bed sits in the center of the room, draped in dark green linens that match the heavy curtains cascading down from the tall window. The pillows, a deep crimson, add a touch of festive warmth to the space. Exhausted, you drop your duffel bag to the floor and fall onto the bed with a contented sigh, your eyes slipping shut. Tomorrow, the competition begins, and you know you’ll need every ounce of rest you can get.

When you wake, your muscles ache from the journey, and your face feels puffy from sleep. Groaning softly, you gather your things and shuffle down the hallway toward the showers, your fluffy slippers barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. The warm spray of the shower jolts you awake, and by the time you’re dressed, with fresh makeup and a clear mind, you feel ready for the day ahead. With a steady heart and your baking utensils in hand, you descend the grand staircase toward the great hall, where the scent of cinnamon and sugar will soon fill the air. The competition calls, and this time, you’re determined to make your mark.

The main hall is vast, its high ceilings echoing with the murmur of anticipation. Twelve baking stations stand neatly in two rows, six on each side, gleaming under the soft glow of hidden lights. The air hums with energy as cameras are discreetly tucked in the corners, their lenses poised to capture every moment, while the judges’ table—grand and imposing—commands attention at the front. A producer, dressed in black with a headset and microphone, guides you to your station, and you carefully set your supplies on the smooth surface. The shelves beneath the counter provide just enough space to stow away your ingredients and tools, your hands moving methodically as you prepare for what’s to come.

But then, your heart sinks as you catch sight of him—Kim Seokjin. To your horror, the producers direct him to the station right next to yours. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach as he flashes you that signature smile, all too sweet and saccharine, with the familiar mischief sparkling in his crinkling brown eyes. “Fancy seeing you here,” he quips, as he ties his apron around his slender waist, his movements annoyingly graceful. “Back to get your ass kicked again?” His chuckle is low, smug, a sound that makes your blood boil beneath your skin. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to inhale slowly. Calm. You need to stay calm to bake well, you remind yourself, even as the heat of irritation rises within you. “Yeah,” you grunt back, your voice low with restrained anger. “I plan on wiping the floor with your face.” Why, of all people, do you two have the front row benches?

Around you, the hall grows busier. Cameramen move quietly through the room, adjusting angles, capturing every nervous glance and confident grin. The judges have arrived—Yun Christina, a legend in the baking world, with her sharp eyes and warm smile, and Kim Taehyung, whose playful charm hides a discerning palate. At the side stands the commentator, Jeon Jungkook. His tall frame is hard to ignore, built like an athlete with a face so soft it seems to contradict the sleeve of tattoos he wears with pride. There’s something effortlessly captivating about him, and his smile draws as much attention as his ink.

“We’re live in 10 minutes!” a producer announces, and the familiar flutter of anxiety churns in your stomach. No matter how many times you’ve done this competition, the nerves never quite fade—especially with the weight of live television hanging over you. The thought of making a mistake, of becoming a viral meme or the subject of a Reddit thread, haunts the edges of your mind. Seokjin knows this pressure all too well—he’s practically an online legend. His Instagram is filled with stunning images of his creations, each post a curated masterpiece, and he even has a subreddit dedicated to his handsome face and corny jokes. ‘Don’t get Jinxed,’ they call it. You’ve definitely never visited the site, but the stories of his fandom are everywhere, impossible to ignore.

The judges step forward, their presence commanding immediate attention. Christina beams at the group, her hands clasped in excitement, while Taehyung grins with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Welcome, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “Today, we’ll start off easy. Your challenge is to create regular buns, but with the sweet taste of Christmas in them.” His smile broadens, and he pauses dramatically. “You’ll have one and a half hours to present Christina and me with six perfect buns. Let the magic of Christmas guide you.”

Christina claps her hands together, her joy infectious. “We can’t wait to taste what you create! Ready. Set,” she says, her voice lifting the room, and then— “Bake!”

The word slices through the air, and the competition springs to life. Your heart pounds as your hands move instinctively, the ingredients becoming your allies in this battle of skill and precision. Seokjin hums beside you, the sound grating against your nerves, but you push him from your mind. There’s no time for distractions—not today. Today, you’re here to prove yourself, to create something more than just buns. You’re here to craft a masterpiece, with the essence of Christmas baked into every bite.

In a flurry of motion, you gather everything you might need at your station—the gleaming kitchen machine ready to knead the dough, bowls stacked high, the flour, sugar, and baking powder measured with care. Your mind races as you dash to the refrigerators at the back, the cool air biting your cheeks as you grab fresh yeast. Spices linger nearby, their rich aromas filling the air, and you make a swift decision—cinnamon and apples. The sweet warmth of cinnamon paired with the crisp, tart apples is a classic, a comforting blend that whispers of holiday mornings by the fire. With practiced hands, you quickly dissolve the yeast in lukewarm water, watching the delicate bubbles rise before adding it to the flour and oil. The kitchen machine hums to life, its rhythmic kneading a soothing counterpoint to the buzz of the room. Time is your greatest adversary—dough needs to rest before it can rise into perfection, and every second counts. While the machine works, you gather crisp apples, their skins glistening under the lights, and grate them roughly, the scent of fresh fruit mingling with the warm spices around you.

As you’re focused on the task at hand, Jungkook appears beside you, his presence radiating calm curiosity. “What are you making?” he asks, his voice smooth, as the camera zooms in on your hands, catching every careful movement. You glance up, giving him a soft smile, though your mind is racing. “Apple cinnamon buns,” you reply, juggling ingredients with a steady hand. His smile broadens. “A classic combo,” he says approvingly before moving to Seokjin’s station.

Your heart sinks as you hear Seokjin’s voice, his tone confident and infuriatingly charming. “I’m making pumpkin buns with cinnamon sugar on top,” he announces, and you can almost hear the smug grin in his words as he adds that he’ll be shaping them like pumpkins. Like pumpkins are even a Christmas thing? You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling as the camera lingers on him far longer than it did on you. It’s not that you’re jealous—not exactly—but it’s hard not to notice how much more attention he gets, how the spotlight seems to favor him, casting everyone else into the shadows.

Returning to your dough, you add the shredded apples to the mix, the machine whirring gently as it blends them in. When the dough is ready, you pull it from the machine, feeling the weight of it in your hands. There’s something grounding about working the dough with your fingers, shaping it, molding it—your hands know the rhythm of this dance well. You sprinkle flour across the table, working the dough slowly, savoring the texture, your hands moving in steady, practiced motions.

“Careful with that dough,” Seokjin pipes up from beside you, a playful glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t want you to get too kneady.” His pun hangs in the air, and you cringe, resisting the urge to groan as the cameraman swoops in, once again capturing his every move.

“That was so bad,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes as you divide the dough into six even portions. Each piece is dusted with flour, your hands working quickly, forming the dough into perfect rounds. A glance over at Seokjin reveals that he’s somehow ahead of you—some of his buns already resting, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knows exactly how much this irks you.

He chuckles, his voice low as he works his dough with casual ease. “You should watch yourself,” he teases, “or you’ll end up spread out like this dough.”

You stifle a groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you grab a baking tray, your movements quick and efficient as you line it with parchment paper. Carefully, you place your apple cinnamon buns down, spacing them out before covering them with a cloth, allowing the yeast to work its magic as they rise and puff up. Your eyes dart back to Seokjin’s station, and you can’t help but notice how far ahead he still is—his bench already wiped clean, his buns resting, as if he’s been playing this game for far too long.

But you remind yourself—it’s not about speed. It’s about the buns. And yours will be nothing short of perfect.

You glance at Seokjin again, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, and rush to clean your bench with hurried hands. His voice cuts through the noise, playful and sharp, “You keep staring at me like that, and I might think you’ve forgotten what we’re actually baking here,” he says, his laugh spilling out in waves—full-bodied and obnoxious, like a windshield wiper squeaking through a storm. God, how you hate it. That laugh grates on your nerves, scraping at the last of your patience.

With your bench spotless, there’s nothing left to do but wait. You cross your arms, eyes wandering, trying to ignore the anticipation that hums in the air. Jungkook is moving through the room, his voice soft but firm as he interviews the other contestants. You tune out Seokjin’s interview, determined not to let him rattle you, focusing instead on calming your breath. When it’s your turn, you speak with a quiet passion about your love for baking—how each year you come back, driven by the dream to win, just once, to finally claim the prize that has always been just out of reach.

The minutes trickle by, and after what feels like forever, you lift the cloth to reveal your buns, risen and perfect, their golden promise waiting to be fulfilled. Seokjin pulls the cloth off his buns at the same time, his voice dripping with mischief as he grins your way. “You really know how to get a rise out of me... or is that just the yeast talking?” His laughter fills the room again, and this time, it spreads like wildfire. You hear the other contestants chuckling behind you, and your stomach tightens with frustration. So lame. The joke was painfully lame, and yet they laugh as if he’s a comedy genius. You push forward, determined not to let him get under your skin. Brushing your buns with a delicate layer of egg wash, you sprinkle chunky sugar over the tops, watching it glisten in the light. The oven waits, hot and ready, and with practiced ease, you slide your tray inside. For a moment, you linger there, sitting in front of the oven like a camper before a flickering fire, watching as the buns slowly turn golden. You know this process well, the way the dough will puff and brown in exactly eleven minutes, and you double-check the timer, feeling a quiet confidence bloom in your chest.

When the timer beeps, you pull the buns from the oven, their perfect golden sheen filling you with a rush of pride. They look beautiful, warm and inviting, just as you’d imagined. To your right, Seokjin is already plating his buns with a flourish, his hands moving with an ease that makes you grit your teeth. You rush to do the same, arranging your apple and cinnamon creations with care, each one a testament to your skill.

The competition timer rings, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire pulled too tight. One by one, the contestants are called to present their work. When Seokjin’s turn comes, you can barely contain the roll of your eyes as the judges swoon over his pumpkin-shaped buns, praising his technique, his creativity. He stands there, soaking in their compliments with a smile so smug you can almost feel it radiating across the room. He eats it all up, every word, while you silently seethe, waiting for your moment.

And then, it’s your turn. You walk to the front, presenting your apple cinnamon buns with steady hands, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Christina and Taehyung inspect your work, and you hold your breath, but to your relief, their expressions soften into smiles. Compliments flow your way—no critique, no hesitation. They love the warmth, the balance of flavors. Satisfaction warms your chest, but you keep it inside, holding your victory close, knowing there’s still a long road ahead.

At the end of the round, a contestant is eliminated—a guy named Kwon, whose face you barely remember. Only eleven remain now. Ten more to beat.

The cameras finally stop rolling, the tension in the room easing as everyone begins to disperse. You head toward your room, eager to review your baking books, one of them authored by none other than Kim Taehyung himself. But just as you’re about to retreat into the quiet of your thoughts, you feel a hand on your arm. You turn, and there’s Seokjin, his smile sharper than before, his eyes glinting with something like challenge.

“Good luck tomorrow,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “Just remember, there’s only room for one winner here. But...” he pauses, his tone growing sweeter than honey, “I might let you take a bite of my victory… if you ask nicely.”

You clench your fists, resisting the urge to respond with the fire burning behind your eyes. Instead, you offer him a tight-lipped smile, letting your silence speak for you. You won’t let him win—not this time. Tomorrow, the real competition begins.

A good night’s sleep can cure almost anything—but not, it seems, the stubborn ache in your back. The new room may be a small upgrade from the first year, but the bed springs creak like old bones, refusing to offer even a whisper of comfort. You sigh, stretching your stiff limbs, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. 

Yesterday’s competition left a flurry of emotions behind, but instead of retreating to your room, you spent time mingling with the other contestants, laughing, chatting, doing your best to dodge the dark-haired Seokjin whose presence you’ve come to despise. There are so many fresh faces this year, and a few familiar ones from the past—some that carry the weight of past victories. You’ve even found yourself thinking, more than once, that there should be a rule: once you win first place, you shouldn’t be allowed to enter again. Let someone else have a shot. Let you have a shot. It’s a wish that flickered through your conversations with the other women, murmured over cups of tea and shared frustrations. But rules are rules, and here you are—still in the shadow of Kim Seokjin. 

But not for long.

With newfound determination swelling in your chest, you stride down the grand staircase, each step echoing your resolve. The camera crew is already in place, their lenses trained and waiting for the drama to unfold. Not today. Today you won’t be sent home. You can feel it in your bones. You glide to your station, pointedly ignoring Seokjin’s casual wave and sugary smile—he won’t distract you, not this time. You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your focus sharp. Today, you’re here for one thing, and it’s not his attention.

The judges enter with a quiet authority that pulls everyone’s gaze. Taehyung, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, claps his hands together and greets the room in that deep, melodic voice of his. “Good morning, everyone! Today’s challenge is another easy one, yeah. We’re keeping it simple—cookies.”

Cheers ripple through the room from contestants behind you, their excitement palpable. But you know better. Cookies aren’t just cookies. There’s an art to simplicity, and you can’t afford to underestimate it. As Taehyung speaks, Christina steps forward, her voice soft but full of warmth. “You’ll be making two varieties of cookies. Six of each, so twelve in total. The flavors are up to you, but they need to complement each other,” she says with a gentle smile, her eyes scanning the room, lingering on the possibilities. 

Off to the side, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook—tall, tattooed, and sharp-eyed—ready to start the competition with his usual flair. Before he even has a chance to utter the word “bake,” your mind is already alive with ideas. Chocolate, orange zest, cinnamon, almonds—flavors begin to swirl together in your thoughts like sugar in a mixing bowl. Your hands itch to begin, your mind races, and your heart pounds with the thrill of creation.

This is your moment. You’ll make it count.

Before your mind has fully settled on a plan, your hands are already in motion—grabbing bowls, spoons, and flour the moment Jungkook’s voice announces the start. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you quickly turn the oven’s dial, ensuring it will be heated just in time for your dough’s transformation. Under the bench, you find a block of chocolate, its dark richness calling to you. With swift, practiced motions, you chop it into large, satisfying chunks, the knife’s steady rhythm keeping pace with your heartbeat. Chocolate chip cookies—simple, but timeless. Your grandmother’s recipe is legendary, the kind that lingers in memory, and you know it will speak for itself on the judges’ tongues.

Adding chopped almonds for texture, you blend the sticky dough, your hands moving as though by instinct. Soon, the dough is portioned out in neat mounds on parchment, each one promising gooey perfection. Into the oven they go, disappearing behind the hot glass, and already your mind is leaping ahead to the next batch. Orange zest, you decide—a bright, citrusy contrast to the chocolate, something both bold and nostalgic.

As you stir the second dough, the spoon moving lazily through the thickening batter, you catch sight of Jungkook and two cameramen gliding over to Jin’s station. You roll your eyes, already anticipating the onslaught of Reddit posts, memes, and fangirls swooning over whatever nonsense Jin is about to spout. No doubt, he’s ready to charm the cameras.

“So, Seokjin, what kind of cookies are you making? Just from the batter, they look really delicious,” Jungkook says, trying to sneak a taste from Jin’s mixing bowl like a kid caught in a cookie jar.

“I’m making candy cane cookies with vanilla, and a batch of chocolate peppermint crunch,” Seokjin replies smoothly, his voice practically dripping with the satisfaction of knowing all eyes are on him.

“Amazing! Can’t wait to taste,” Jungkook beams, while Seokjin slides his tray into the oven with a showman’s flourish. A burst of steam escapes as he shuts the door, and he turns to the cameras with that signature smirk of his. “Is it hot in here, or is it just the oven? Or maybe…” He pauses, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Maybe it’s just you?” 

You scoff, even though your gaze lingers on the scene longer than it should. That was painfully predictable, but no doubt, the fangirls will swoon. You shake your head, refusing to admit you’ve ever spent a moment browsing through Jin’s subreddit—no, not you.

Jungkook, ever the charmer, saunters over to your station just as you pull the first tray of cookies from the oven. The golden-brown chocolate chip beauties rest on the tray, and the smell of warm, melted chocolate fills the air. His eyes widen in anticipation, practically salivating. He reaches for one, but you gently swat his hand away, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “Careful,” you warn, “they’re hot—and there’s only six.”

Jungkook pouts, his lips forming a playful smile. “They look incredible,” he admits, his gaze still fixed on the cookies as though they were treasures freshly unearthed.

Before you can respond, Seokjin’s voice cuts through the moment from your right. “Looks like your cookies aren’t the only thing heating up in here,” he quips, his deep laugh filling the room—rich, unrestrained, and annoyingly confident.

You grit your teeth, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, unsure whether it’s from the oven’s warmth or Seokjin’s infuriating presence. His words swirl around in your mind, making your blood simmer, but you refuse to look his way. Not today. You won’t let him distract you. Not now.

Christina and Taehyung appear beside your bench like a pair of deities, their presence as magnetic as it is intimidating. Up close, Taehyung’s beauty is striking—flawless skin, eyes that seem to hold secrets, and a calm that makes your pulse race. You can feel beads of sweat gathering at your temples, heat rising not just from the oven, but from the thrill of standing before this legend. “What kind of texture are you aiming for in your cookies?” he asks, his voice rich and velvety as he watches you deftly portion the orange zest dough before sliding it into the oven.

You swallow, trying to steady your voice. “I’m going for crisp on the outside, soft and sweet in the center,” you say, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. Damn it. Get it together. You silently pray the blush on your face isn’t betraying you on national TV, even with the camera zoomed in on your every move.

A sudden, familiar laugh breaks your concentration—Seokjin. You glance over, and there he is, obnoxiously close, standing at your bench as though he owns the space. His broad shoulder nudges yours, his smirk devilish. And of course, he can’t resist. With a wink at the camera, he adds, “That’s just how I like my women.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his audacity. Is he really doing this right now? In front of the judges, in front of Taehyung? He’s hijacking your moment, stealing the spotlight you’ve worked so hard for—and making a joke at your expense. Your blood simmers.

“Go away, you jerk,” you mutter, shoving him back towards his own station, but the damage is done. You catch Taehyung and Christina exchanging glances—subtle, but there. You let out a sigh, feeling your frustration simmer just beneath the surface. Tackling Seokjin to the floor and giving him a piece of your mind sounds so tempting, but no. You rein yourself in, forcing a smile instead.

Seokjin, ever the provocateur, throws a wink at the camera and grins. “Impressed, Y/N. Not everyone can handle this much heat. Guess I’ll have to turn it up,” he says, his voice light but layered with something more. And as if to punctuate his words, you watch him out of the corner of your eye—he’s actually turning the heat on his oven higher. What on earth is he playing at? The hall feels warmer, sweat prickling your skin as the competition wears on. Is he talking about the ovens? The tension between you? Or the way he’s managed to catch up to you despite the chaos?

The cookies are nearly done, and you wipe your brow, wishing you’d made both batches at once instead of one after the other. Jin’s smugness only deepens when you realize he’s managed to bake both varieties simultaneously, and now, somehow, he’s neck-and-neck with you. Damn him.

With the final timer ringing out, you pull your cookies from the oven—golden, perfect. You carefully plate them, arranging them with precision. The judges make their way through the line of bakers, and soon it’s your turn. Walking up to the front, your heart pounds, but the praise that follows is worth every ounce of effort. Even if they’re ‘simple’ as Christina put it, the execution is flawless. You let out a quiet breath of relief, but before you can celebrate, Jungkook swoops in and steals a cookie right from Taehyung’s hand. The whole room erupts in laughter, and for a moment, the tension breaks.

Seokjin, of course, gets his perfect feedback too. Not that you’re surprised. The two of you are safe for another day, though as the announcement rings out, your heart sinks a little—Eun, one of the kind women you chatted with yesterday, is the one sent home. As she leaves, the weight of the competition presses down on you. Eight more people stand between you and victory, and among them, the one person you refuse to lose to—Seokjin.

The next two days blur together, a whirlwind of meringues and bread dough, flour dusting every surface like snow, batter splattered across your bench. Somehow, by grace or sheer luck, you’ve managed to hold your place in the competition. Now it’s the second week, day five, and the pressure is palpable—only seven of you remain, each step closer to the edge, and everyone is fighting harder, knowing the next misstep could mean elimination.

As you descend the grand staircase, the tension in the air feels heavier than before. You’re the last to arrive, the others already poised at their stations, judges watching with eagle-eyed precision. When you reach your bench, something catches your eye—a sprig of mistletoe hangs conspicuously in the center aisle, like a trap waiting to spring. You make a mental note to steer clear of that festive lure, no time for distractions, no matter how innocent.

Christina’s voice rings out, warm and inviting. “Today, you’ll be baking pies! Crisp edges, soft centers, and a filling that sings of the season.” Her smile is comforting, but Taehyung’s nod is all business, his eyes gleaming with expectation. “The filling is your choice, sweet or savory, but it must be in line with the spirit of Christmas,” he adds, his deep voice resonating in the hall like the toll of a bell.

You nod, the vision of your pie already clear in your mind—a memory-laden apple-pear lattice pie, passed down from your grandmother. The tart bite of apples softened by the sweetness of ripe pears, all tucked beneath a delicate lattice crust dusted with sugar. Nostalgia and tradition baked into every bite. You know this pie by heart—it’s your connection to the holidays, the warmth of home wrapped in pastry.

As soon as Jungkook announces the start, your hands move with purpose. You reach for the flour, the butter, the cold water—crafting the crust that will hold your memories together. Focused, you’re already mixing the dough when Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air. “Notice anything new?” he chuckles, pointing to the mistletoe overhead, “A little extra something to trip you up—or maybe bring you some luck!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his playful tease. You didn’t come here for kisses or games. Your eyes flick to Seokjin, who’s snickering under his breath, ever the one to play along. But you push the sound of his laughter away, focus sharpening like a knife’s edge. He won’t trip you up this time—not with jokes, not with smiles. Your hands work swiftly, shaping the dough into something beautiful, knowing that every moment counts in this relentless competition.

No matter what mischief brews beneath the mistletoe, your eyes are on the prize.

As Jungkook drifts behind you, interviewing the contestants in low, animated tones, you’re relieved for the momentary quiet, allowing you to pour your full attention into the pie crust. This is where it all begins—the delicate balance between flour, butter, and water must be perfect. The crust is the foundation, the soul of the pie. You flick on the oven, feeling the heat radiate in waves, and start toward the supply table to grab a mold. But before you make it halfway down the aisle, you slam right into a solid wall of warmth. Seokjin.

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You sidestep to go around him, but Seokjin clears his throat, and you feel the annoyance bubble up inside you. You glance up at him, your lips tight. “What?” The word slips out sharper than you intended, but your patience is wearing thin.

He doesn’t respond at first, just raises a finger to point above your heads. You follow his gaze—mistletoe. Of course. The sight drains the color from your face. The mistletoe hangs above you like a mischievous sprite, and your heart drops into your stomach. No. Not with Seokjin.

“I’m not kissing you,” you hiss, crossing your arms defensively, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. The growing number of cameramen hovering around doesn’t help. You can practically feel their lenses zooming in, capturing every moment of your horror.

Seokjin’s smirk grows, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s tradition,” he says, his tone infuriatingly playful. “Don’t you believe in tradition?” His eyebrow quirks, daring you.

Damn Seokjin and his ridiculous smirk. You grit your teeth, a storm brewing in your chest. “Fine!” you snap, voice tight with frustration. With a huff, you step up onto your tiptoes, grab his annoyingly perfect face with flour-dusted hands, and plant a quick, perfunctory kiss on his lips. A fleeting touch—just enough to meet the demands of tradition, nothing more, nothing less. But the moment your lips brush against his, something stirs inside you, unbidden and unexpected. You pull away like you’ve been burned, cheeks blazing scarlet, heart racing as if you’d sprinted a mile. The cameras catch it all, zooming in on the moment—your moment with Seokjin, under the damn mistletoe. Your mother is probably watching this unfold, and you already dread the mountain of messages awaiting you back in your room. And Seokjin’s subreddit? You can only imagine the wildfire of jealousy that’ll sweep through it.

Mortified, you dart past him, heading for the pie mold like it’s the only lifeline left. Behind you, Seokjin chuckles, completely unaffected, while you feel like the floor might as well swallow you whole.

You slam the mold down on your bench, your body still buzzing with the embarrassment of it all. In a haze of frustration, you glance over at Seokjin’s bench. The idea forms before you even register what you’re doing. With a swift motion, you turn the dial on his oven a notch higher, a small, petty act of vengeance. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop messing with you.

“If you wanted me under the mistletoe, you didn’t have to bump into me, you know,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, teasing, unbothered. Before he gets back to his station, you’re already back to yours as if nothing happened.

Your fingers move automatically, rolling out the dough with steady precision despite the flutter of irritation still coursing through you. You lay the crust in the pie tin, pressing it gently into place, trying to focus on the task at hand. As you slide it into the oven for a quick pre-bake, your gaze drifts to Seokjin. He’s melting chocolate at his bench, completely at ease, while you’re still trying to get your heart to stop racing.

What the hell is he baking? You wonder, shaking your head. But whatever it is, it better not be good enough to outshine your pie.

Taehyung and Christina make their way around the room, their presence like an elegant breeze passing through the charged atmosphere. When they reach Seokjin’s station, Taehyung flashes his signature boxy smile, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “So, what are you baking today, Seokjin?” he asks, voice smooth as velvet.

Seokjin grins, the kind of smile that holds a touch of mischief. “I’m making a Mississippi Mud Pie,” he declares proudly, his tone thick with confidence, as if he’s already envisioning the applause.

“Interesting choice,” Taehyung remarks, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “I hope you manage to keep that pudding silky smooth.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in playful encouragement.

Seokjin nods with a flash of determination before turning back to his task, while you continue preparing the glaze for your apples and pears, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he’s making something as bold and obnoxious as a Mississippi Mud Pie. Always grandiose, always showy. You stifle a smirk and push forward, focused on your own pie. 

With nimble fingers, you weave the lattice atop your tart, dusting it generously with chunky sugar crystals before sliding it into the oven. The warmth of baking apples and pears is already beginning to dance in the air, a comforting scent that feels like Christmas itself. You glance over just as Seokjin slides his pie into his oven, and the question tickles the back of your mind—did he even notice the temperature? 

“I thought Christmas was all about giving,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, snapping you from your thoughts. “How about giving me a break and stop staring like that?” There’s a teasing edge in his tone, and for a moment, you falter. Had you been staring? Damn it. You avert your eyes quickly, but the truth is, you’re curious to see what havoc that tampered oven might wreak on his precious pie.

Time slips by, and as you clean your station, a faint smell begins to curl through the air—something acrid, something burnt. You can’t help the small, wicked smile tugging at your lips. It’s coming from his bench.

Before you can enjoy the moment, Jungkook materializes in front of Seokjin, all wide-eyed and concerned. “Uh, Seokjin... I think your oven might be burning something.”

Seokjin waves him off with the casual arrogance of someone who never second-guesses his skills. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says confidently, but Jungkook pushes further.

“Just check it, mate.”

Finally, Seokjin opens the oven door, and a thick cloud of scorching hot air bursts forth, like an accusation made of smoke. His expression falters. “Shit!” he exclaims as he rushes to pull out the pie, his face darkening with frustration. It’s burnt—not ruined entirely, but the edges are crisped more than they should be. You bite back a laugh, wishing it had turned to charcoal.

His gaze snaps toward you, sharp and piercing, like he knows exactly who’s behind this little mishap. “Well, well,” he smirks, eyes glinting. “Looks like someone’s been naughty instead of nice, messing with my oven temperature just to throw me off.”

You blink innocently, batting your eyelashes as you offer him your best impression of sincerity. “I’m so sorry,” you say, voice dripping with faux sweetness. Both of you know the truth—it’s anything but an apology—but you can’t help but find this moment deliciously funny.

Seokjin chuckles, the sound rich and unbothered as he begins to assemble the other components of his pie. “Oh, I get it now. Sabotage me, burn my pie, and then you try to sweet-talk your way out of it?” His words are playful, but there’s an undercurrent of challenge beneath his voice.

You turn back to your own creation just in time to pull your pie from the oven, golden and perfect. The scent of apples and pears wafts toward you, warm and inviting, and you feel a surge of pride. Perfect. 

Seokjin isn’t done yet. “Nice try, though,” he says, not missing a beat. “Your little ‘sabotage’ just makes me want to beat you even more.” Then, with a glint in his eye and a smirk playing on his lips, he leans in slightly. “Maybe even taste what you’ve got cooking.”

Your breath catches for just a second, heart skipping a beat at the unexpected flirtation. Did he just say what you think he did? 

You quickly shake it off, focusing back on your flawless pie, hoping that his burnt crust might just seal his fate. But fate isn’t that kind, and as the day’s competition ends, Seokjin survives. Someone else, with a pie more disastrous than his, is sent home. You’re both safe for another day, and as you walk back to your bench, you can’t help but feel both triumphant and a little unnerved. 

This isn’t over.

It’s the third week, the seventh day, and you’re already halfway through the competition. You stand at your bench, hands clasped gently in front of you, fingertips brushing and fidgeting, a small effort to calm your jittering nerves. Why you’re nervous is beyond you—yet there it is, that flutter, pressing into your chest. 

Across the room, Taehyung, Christina, and Jungkook step up to the judges’ bench, their faces alight with matching mischievous grins. An ominous spark flickers in their eyes, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. Whatever’s coming won’t be easy. Jungkook claps his hands together, a low, resonant sound that carries across the hall, his eyes sweeping over each of you.

“Good morning, everyone!” he greets, his voice cheerful and commanding. “I hope you’ve all rested well, because today, you’ll be making—sourdough bread!”

The words hit you like a chill down your spine. Sourdough, of all things! Your breath catches in a gasp; you’ve made sourdough before, but never with a timer breathing down your neck. The very essence of sourdough is its patience, its slow, careful fermentation. 

Before the panic can take hold, Jungkook flashes a grin, his bunny teeth peeking out as he adds, “Luckily for you all, Taehyung has prepared a batch of sourdough starter so you can skip the fermentation process.”

Relief trickles through you, the tension easing in your shoulders. A starter made by the Kim Taehyung himself—a legendary boost if ever there was one.

“All you need to do is turn it into a flavorful bread of your own design,” Christina chimes in with her warm, encouraging smile.

Taehyung nods, his voice soft yet firm. “But don’t forget—this is a Christmas competition. Bring those holiday flavors to life.”

With the judges’ call to begin, you spring into action, finding the precious sourdough starter tucked neatly under your bench. As you run through flavor ideas, one combination settles in your mind—walnuts and cinnamon. Yes, you think, a spiced walnut bread sounds just right. Your hands move almost of their own accord, gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, oil, walnuts. You fire up the mixer, combining everything with precision, your gaze flickering momentarily to your right. Seokjin, just as focused, seems to be neck-and-neck with you. You quickly turn away, determined to keep your attention on your dough. Yet as you slide the mix out of the bowl and start kneading, a creeping dread begins to gnaw at you. The dough doesn’t feel right; instead of that soft, slightly sticky texture, it’s dense and tough, refusing to yield beneath your palms. 

Your heart skips a beat. Damn. Something’s off. You must have slipped up somewhere with the ratios. You press on, kneading harder, trying to bring life to this obstinate mass, hoping a little coaxing will do the trick. 

But then you hear a soft chuckle from beside you. Seokjin, watching with a gleam in his eye, can’t resist the jab. “I hope you’re better at making out than you are at making dough,” he quips, his tone light yet cutting. “Because, judging by that disaster, you’ll need something to make up for it.”

Your blood boils, cheeks flushed with irritation. He has no idea what kind of kiss he missed under that mistletoe, when he only got a peak. His smirk grows as he turns back to his own bread, perfectly unbothered, and you clench your teeth. If he thinks he’s seen the last of your kitchen skills, he’s in for a surprise.

Focus, you tell yourself, hands pressing into the dough with renewed intensity. If anything, his teasing will only push you to rise—just like this stubborn dough is about to.

You knead the dough with an intensity that borders on frustration, each push and twist a quiet vent for the anger bubbling beneath the surface. The dough yields under your hands as you work it harder, almost punching it into shape. Suddenly, Jungkook appears by your bench, his brows furrowed as he takes in your struggle.

“Trouble?” he asks softly, voice edged with concern. You’re too caught up, too irritated to even answer, so you only grunt in response, lifting the stubborn dough and shoving it back into the mixer. A splash of water might save it, you hope, and you watch the machine turn, willing it to obey.

Jungkook and the camera crew linger a moment longer, their lenses capturing every sigh and furrowed brow, then slowly drift down the line toward Seokjin. The camera’s absence leaves a little more space to breathe, but as you finally check the dough, your heart sinks. It’s too sticky now, clinging uncomfortably to your fingers, almost mocking your efforts. Damn it. 

With no time to start over, you grab the flour, dusting it like a lifeline as you fold and press, trying to bring it back from the brink. Gradually, with each turn of the dough, it begins to take on the consistency you need. Relief washes over you as you shape it, finally, into the pan and slip it into the oven. You bend and arch your back to set it carefully on the rack, breathing out a sigh, satisfied at last.  

“Damn, Y/N—if you’re trying to turn me on, you’re doing a better job than the oven right now.” Seokjin’s voice floats from your right, low and casual, but with a playful glint.

Your mouth drops open before you can stop it, caught off guard as his words settle over you. Did he really just make a sexual comment about my body—right here, on national TV? Anger mixes with embarrassment, but with the cameras still lurking, you only manage a scowl and a sharp roll of your eyes. He grins in response, clearly enjoying your reaction.

When the oven timer finally dings, you take a steadying breath and pull the bread from the heat. It’s risen beautifully, with a golden crust that promises all the flavor and fluff you’d hoped for. But the moment you start to slice into it, dread tugs at you. The knife cuts clean through with too much resistance—too easily. You pull the loaf apart, and your stomach drops. No airy holes, no soft webbing—just a dense, compact mass. 

Damn it all. 

Your heart sinks as you stare at the thick slice, the reality settling in.

Fuck.

You let the knife slip from your fingers, a dull clatter as it meets the tabletop, and you sink to the floor, unable to hold back the weight that’s been pressing on you all day. Tears blur your vision, slipping down your cheeks as silent sobs shake you, and you curse the cameras that have flocked to capture every moment of your breaking. You hate that they’re filming this—that you’ve sacrificed an entire December, each day on display, competing beside someone you’d rather avoid. 

Just then, a gentle hand rests on your back, tracing soft, steady circles that ease the storm a little. Surprised, you look up to see Seokjin crouched beside you, his face soft with a kindness you didn’t expect.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his gaze moving from your dismal bread to meet your tear-streaked face. “I’m sure it still tastes good. And remember—that’s what matters most.”

You blink up at him, catching his eyes for what feels like the first time. Have they always been this warm, this deep? Rich shades of caramel that seem to melt right through you, gentle but somehow grounding. Your chest tightens as something new stirs, fragile and unfamiliar, even as you brush the tears from your cheeks. He doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t tease, just holds you there in the quiet of his presence.

Your heart hitches, and you take a deep, unsteady breath. He’s right. Taste is what matters most, you tell yourself, though you know the truth—that texture, that mouthfeel, plays an equal role. But he seems so sure, and you let that comfort settle in for a moment before he gives you a last reassuring nod and returns to his station. You rise, still shaken, hoping someone else fumbled more than you did. In the end, it’s Leah who leaves, but that close call leaves a tremor in your chest that keeps you restless long after the day ends.

Sleep evades you that night, leaving you tossing beneath the weight of everything that happened. You can’t stop replaying that disaster on national TV, the sourdough fiasco, your tears on display. Dread tightens your stomach, the idea of what Instagram or Reddit might be saying about your meltdown twisting your mind in knots. You don’t want to know what people think, how foolish you looked. And then there’s Seokjin, adding to the confusion.

You’ve been avoiding him ever since that kiss under the mistletoe, as fleeting as it was. His lips were warm, soft as clouds, and that one moment had left you breathless. And yesterday, instead of pushing you with his usual banter, he was gentle, almost... tender. It’s left your heart skipping, the memory of his face, his touch, stirring something unnamed and unsettling.

Is he just being nice, or is there something more? Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. Maybe this is just his tactic, trying to throw you off your game, to make you lose your focus so he can swoop in and claim victory. But as you lie there in the dark, his kindness replays over and over, leaving you uncertain. Something’s shifting inside you, something you can’t quite grasp yet—and whatever it is, you can’t afford to acknowledge it now. Not when you still have a competition to win. 

Exhausted but determined, you stand at your bench on this eighth day of the competition, avoiding even a glance in Seokjin’s direction. Just the thought of him, of how good he must look, sends your stomach into a whirl.

“Boy, have we got something special for you today!” Jungkook announces, his grin wide and electric. Taehyung chuckles, adding, “It’s team challenge day!”

Your heart sinks. You’ve dreaded this day since the start, hoping for the luck of a decent partner, as you had in past seasons. But as the names are read off, fate delivers the unexpected.

“You and Seokjin,” Christina calls, her voice carrying a mischievous note as your eyes meet Seokjin’s. There he stands, dark hair framing a face that’s far too perfect. He smiles, and your heartbeat quickens, rebelling against every ounce of sense you’re trying to hold on to.

“Do you want to know what you’ll be making today?” Christina beams.

The room’s voices echo in eager agreement—all except yours. You’re rooted to the spot, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Seokjin’s shoulder, aware of every traitorous thump of your heart.

“You’ll be making gingerbread houses!” Taehyung laughs, a spark of holiday pride lighting up his face. “We can’t wait to see your creativity—and bring that warm, familiar taste of home to life.”

The start bell chimes, and you and Seokjin exchange a nod before quickly settling on your plan: simple but elegant. As he dives into mixing the dough, you turn your focus to the sugar glaze and icings, choosing Christmas colors—red, green, and white. You work side by side, silent but close, the unspoken tension filling every touch and glance. Whenever your shoulders brush, heat flares up your neck, and you can only hope the cameras don’t catch it.

Then, in a moment of calculated ease, he leans in close, his shoulder pressing against yours. “See, I don’t need mistletoe to get you right where I want you,” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You’re not sure if he’s talking about the gingerbread or something else entirely, but your cheeks flush, and the world narrows down to the steady beat of your pulse. Words escape you, leaving you flustered, almost dizzy, as you help him press the dough into shape, trying desperately to calm the storm he’s stirring within you.

He turns his head just enough to lean closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric shiver down your spine. His voice, low and edged with something you can’t quite decipher, murmurs, “I can’t tell if this tension is from the competition… or just from you being this close.”

A hard swallow catches in your throat, and suddenly the room feels far too warm. Damn him for making you lose focus like this.

You manage to cut the dough into its final shapes, sliding them into the oven to bake. As they brown, you check on the icing, spooning through the white, glossy peaks to make sure it’s the right consistency.

“What do you think of this texture?” you ask, holding the spoon high as the icing drips, thick and slow.

His gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long. “Thick and creamy, just how we like it,” he replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. A wink flashes your way, and your face flushes hot. Thick and creamy. You banish the unbidden images forming in your mind, inwardly scolding yourself to get back on track.

When the cookies finish baking, you and Seokjin move in tandem, retrieving the trays and setting the cookies on racks to cool. Golden brown and perfectly crisp, they gleam in the warm light. “They look perfect,” you say, smiling, and Seokjin nods in agreement, arranging the pieces with careful precision.

With the cooling underway, he whips up a fresh batch of icing, the new bowl of white peaks tempting you. “Mind if I taste it?” you ask, reaching toward the bowl. “Just to make sure the sugar’s balanced?”

He raises an eyebrow, offering the spoon. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, tone laced with mischief. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you find yourself craving more.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air, and your pulse races, a current of anticipation tightening your chest. You take a taste, licking the spoon, but a little too quickly; icing slips over your lip and trails down your chin.

His eyes darken as he watches. “I must say,” he says softly, his smile curling with intrigue, “you look pretty with liquid dripping down your chin.”

Your cheeks burn, and something inside you clenches unexpectedly. The heat rising within you is almost too much to bear, and for a second, all you want to do is escape his gaze, escape this overwhelming feeling—run, hide, anything. But no, you won’t back down now. Not today.

Why the fuck are you getting turned on right now?

You shove your dirty thoughts aside, convincing yourself he couldn’t have meant anything suggestive. This is the competition, after all—focus. You set to icing the cookies, carefully piping along the edges as Seokjin holds each piece of the gingerbread house steady.

“You’ve got a real talent with that icing…” he murmurs, voice thick with suggestion. He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to see how good I am at licking it off?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your voice escapes in a half-choked laugh, “No!” Yet you’re left wondering—did he really mean just the cookies? Your heart races, and by now, you must be as red as a ripe apple.

Seokjin leans in, his shoulder brushing yours, eyes glinting playfully. “Better let me handle this,” he whispers, “unless… you’d rather things get a bit messy.”

The closeness is dizzying, and a startled cough escapes you just as Jungkook wanders over, asking if you’re alright. You manage a nod, praying for the day to end so you can escape this charged atmosphere, your flustered nerves, and his honey-laced teasing.

You glance up to find Seokjin’s gaze locked on you, his eyes dark and glinting. “Keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs low, “and I might just let you have a taste of my frosting.”

A jolt shivers down your spine, heat pooling in your cheeks—and elsewhere, much to your horror. You exhale shakily, fingers trembling as you finish icing the final wall of the gingerbread house, praying for the cameras to cut so you can flee.

Finally, the house stands complete, a festive masterpiece that brings a surge of pride and relief. With a quiet thank-you to the heavens that you’ve made it through the day, you’re spared elimination. The moment filming ends, you bolt from the hall, the steady beat of your heart pounding like a drum in your ears.

Reaching your room, you swing the door open, craving solitude. But just as you go to close it, a hand stops the door, and a familiar foot wedges into the gap, preventing your escape. Seokjin appears in the doorway, his presence filling the room as he nudges the door open. You turn, surprised, meeting his gaze as he scans your face, concern softening his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low and gentle, and you catch a hint of genuine worry. 

“Y-yeah,” you manage, feeling your pulse skip. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in this moment. He steps forward, his gaze drifting around your room, but you instinctively retreat until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs. Caught between him and your own mounting desire, you feel strangely exhilarated, breaths uneven as anticipation rushes through you.

“You just seem…” His voice trails off as he draws nearer, his eyes tracing your features, “a bit… out of sorts.”

You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but his intuition sees right through you. “I’m… I—” You start to speak, but words falter. Say the truth, or shield it?

His eyes narrow slightly, his voice dipping into a whisper. “You’re a little… wet, aren’t you?” The question drips with suggestion, and heat floods your cheeks. Your breath catches, and he smiles knowingly—Seokjin has never been one to miss a tell. 

He’s so close now, his scent, warm and intoxicating, fills your senses. His lashes flutter as he leans in, and for a breathless second, your eyes lock. Without thought, driven by the longing pounding in your chest, you reach for his face, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s intense, melting away whatever barriers you held, a wordless confession pressed from your lips to his. You lean into him, drawn, tethered by an undeniable need.

When you finally part, his dark eyes are fixed on you, filled with astonished heat. “Princess,” he murmurs, voice husky, “do you really want this?” He searches your face, looking for any hint of hesitation.

“I do,” you whisper, your voice raw with desire, “I don’t know why… but I need you, right now.” Your own need sounds urgent in the quiet of the room, and his gaze flickers, a grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you close once more. 

You pull him close, kissing him deeply, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere, his warmth mingling with yours. Your hands trace the lines of his body, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle. “Well, princess is in a rush,” he murmurs, a teasing smile playing on his lips. You can’t help but giggle—he’s always had that look, one that riles and draws you in. His beauty, so effortless, had once made him feel like a thorn in your side. His charms seemed unfair, his confidence so maddening. But now, in his arms, all of that melts away; there’s no room for anything but this want, this anticipation.

“Call me that again,” you say, breathless. “I like it.”

“Princess,” he breathes, voice low and laced with desire. Your hands glide lower, feeling him pressed against you, hard and wanting. You bite your lip as you savor his reaction, and he smirks, lifting a hand to brush your cheek, before leaning close to press a kiss on your forehead, soft and unexpectedly tender.

“Let me taste your cream,” he whispers, eyes dark with mischief and longing.

A laugh bubbles up from you. “Really, Seokjin? Is that your best line?”

He chuckles, his gaze unwavering. “I’m serious. I’ve wanted you since we set foot in this castle.”

The admission catches you off-guard, your heart skipping as you meet his gaze, feeling that familiar, disarming warmth. “Wait… Since the start of the competition?”

He shakes his head, voice dipping to a whisper. “No. Since the moment I first saw you.”

His eyes, rich with longing, hold you captive. Corny as it is, it’s so him, and there’s something so undeniably real in the way he looks at you that you’re left breathless. 

“You mean it?” you murmur, still stunned, but unable to resist his pull.

He answers only by lowering you back onto the bed, his touch gentle, yet urgent, and you sink into the softness beneath, wondering if somehow, in his presence, everything feels warmer, softer, more alive.

Seokjin gazes down at you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar, infuriating smirk. “Oh, I know you’ve felt this too. The way you look at me says it all.”

Your lips curl in defiance, though your pulse betrays you, hammering under his gaze. “I looked because I thought you were ridiculous—and infuriating,” you murmur, heart skipping as he leans closer, closing the last sliver of space. 

“Yet here we are, and still… you want me,” he breathes, his words brushing your lips just before they meet. His kiss is deep, a slow surrender, and you moan softly, hands curling over his broad shoulders as though anchoring him there. Your kiss is hungry, desperate, as though he might vanish, and when he pulls back, you laugh breathlessly, “Yes, alright, I want you—even if you’ve been an ass.”

He grins, all smug satisfaction. “I do have a good ass, and so do you might I add.” His gaze glints mischievously as he traces a line down your body, catching the edge of your pants and slipping them down your legs. “Let’s take a proper look, shall we?”

The fabric slides away, leaving you in a sliver of lace. He inhales sharply, admiring the delicate pink, and you can feel his gaze linger as he teases, “Pretty soaked for someone who’s supposedly annoyed with me.” His hand hovers, like he’s savoring the moment, his voice low. “What would I find, I wonder?” 

Breathless, you lift your hips, letting him pull the last barrier away. His smile softens as he takes you in. “Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice thick with appreciation, “you’re glistening. Like a rare gem.”

Heat pools in your cheeks, heart pounding at his words. No one’s ever looked at you like this, and he senses your shy retreat, gently catching your arm before you can shield your face. “Don’t hide from me now,” he whispers, pressing a warm kiss to your wrist. “It’s just you being beautiful. Let me see you.”

Then he’s there, lips trailing down the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a fire in their wake. You feel your body hum in anticipation, every nerve aware, waiting.

“Don’t tease me,” you murmur, fingers threading into his soft hair, tugging gently. 

He looks up, a satisfied glint in his eye, the corner of his lips lifting. “Oh, but I’m going to. Because this moment, with you… I want to savor it.”

Slowly, he draws closer, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, his gaze heavy with intention. The first ghost of his lips on your pussy sends a shiver through you, drawing out a helpless moan. Instinctively, you arch toward him, craving more, but his hands are there, steadying your hips, holding you in place with gentle strength.

Then, his mouth descends, and the first touch of his tongue on your clit sends you spiraling. He moves with a softness and rhythm that leaves you breathless, and when he begins to press his tongue in slow, unyielding circles, a molten heat spreads through you, curling your toes. Each movement feels like a practiced art, his mouth relentless as he savors you, tasting every bit of your arousal with unhurried devotion. The pressure builds inside you, your breaths quickening, pulse pounding.

Your fingers clench in his hair as you gasp, “God, I’m already so close… How are you this good?”

He says nothing, only hums in response, and the low vibration nearly sends you over the edge. He keeps working, drinking you in, savoring every quiver and moan that slips from your lips. You can feel yourself cresting, a torrent of sensation washing over you as you tighten your grip, and he knows—you’re almost there, and he’s right there with you, groaning in satisfaction as he tastes every pulse of pleasure.

The release is all-consuming, a rush that lifts you, dizzies you, blurs the edges of the world. You’re floating, flying, a haze of pure sensation that fades only when you’re utterly spent.

You meet his gaze, dazed, and whisper, “Let me taste you too.” He smiles, standing to pull down his pants and underwear, and you sit up, eyes widening as he’s revealed, long and thick, every inch of him somehow as beautiful as the rest. You slide to your knees, your palms pressing into his hips as you look up at him, your lips parting. With one hand, you wrap around him, earning a sharp hiss as you bring your mouth to him. You start with the barest of kisses at his tip, savoring the salt and warmth of him, a hum of pleasure escaping your lips. His moan deepens, and you smile, swirling your tongue over him with languid strokes, focusing on every place that draws out his breaths and soft curses.

His eyes darken, his breathing growing ragged, and you feel the tension between you deepen, pulsing in rhythm with every touch. You want to make him feel everything he just gave you, and as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you know that the night is only beginning.

He’s breathless now, each exhale a shiver against your skin as you take him deeper, letting his pleasure guide your every move. His fingers rest in your hair, gentle but firm, grounding him as he struggles to hold back a moan. His voice is rough, ragged as he stutters, “Engh—princess…so good with that tongue.”

You glance up, catching his gaze, and hold it with a mischievous spark. In that moment, you give him a slow, deep pull that has his eyes fluttering shut, a strangled groan slipping free. Encouraged, your hand finds its way to his balls, caressing, and you revel in every new sound he makes—each one sending warmth surging through you, building your own need.

But just as he seems ready to let go, he stills your movements, framing your cheeks with both hands as he catches his breath. His thumb traces your skin, his eyes darkened with desire, and he breathes, “You’re incredible, princess, but…I need to be inside you.” 

He hesitates, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “I don’t have a condom—do you?”

You pull back, a glistening thread connecting you for a moment before you smile, whispering, “It’s okay. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” A small laugh escapes you as you add, “Besides, this wasn’t exactly on my itinerary for tonight.”

Relief softens his features, and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further as he laughs with you. “Same here. And I’m clean too.” Then, without another word, he gently lifts the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until it catches briefly in your hair, pulling you both into a shared, breathless laugh as it’s tossed to the floor.

For a moment, he just gazes at you, taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your breath. His hands slide behind you, unhooking your bra, and as it slips away, his gaze drinks you in. “You’re…beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft with reverence, as though seeing you like this has stripped him of words.

You arch into him, and he cups you, his hands warm and reverent, kneading your skin with a tenderness that has your heart thudding. His fingers trace slow, teasing lines down to the soft, sensitive peaks, barely grazing them, sending delicious shivers racing through you. A moan slips past your lips, urging him on, and you feel his lips close over one, hot and soft, his tongue swirling in ways that leave you trembling. He alternates, his other hand grazing, then gently pinching, teasing out sparks of pleasure that arch through your body.

“Jin—oh god, it’s…” you gasp, but words fail as his mouth closes over your other peak, his hand tenderly attending to the first, each touch adding fuel to the fire raging between you.

He lifts his head, lips parting with a quiet sound as he whispers, “Good?”

“More than good,” you breathe, feeling yourself melt under his touch.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, so close it’s dizzying—but just as you reach for it, he pulls away. A fleeting pout crosses your face, only to be replaced by awe as he sheds his shirt, and god, he looks like a masterpiece. The warm glow of his skin, rich and golden, calls to you; the strong line of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist, and below that, his cock—full, hard, and yours to claim. The thought alone makes your pulse race. Every bit of him leaves you breathless, and suddenly, there’s nothing you want more than to feel all of him.

He leans over, guiding you down, covering you in gentle, feverish kisses that send giggles tumbling out between your sighs. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, his dick grazing against your thigh, and your pussy throbs in answer, sending shivers radiating out from your core.

“I want you, Jin,” you whisper, offering yourself to him, fully and freely.

“Oh, I want you too, princess,” he murmurs back, the words a caress against your collarbone as he trails his lips up to your cheek. Slowly, he guides himself to your entrance, positioning himself carefully. His voice softens, “Ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, heart pounding, as he begins to ease into you. You feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you so deeply that it borders on overwhelming. You hadn’t prepared yourself, a detail you remember only now, and for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut. He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently, searching your face.

You chuckle, half-apologetic, “I forgot to prep. It’s…been a while, but keep going.” Despite his hesitation, you nod reassuringly, opening yourself to him fully. He holds your gaze for a heartbeat, and with a final glance for confirmation, he presses deeper, sliding into you with a controlled tenderness. The ache as he stretches you only heightens the pleasure, a sensation that grounds you in the here and now, and you find yourself craving even more, wanting him to lose himself with you.

“You’re so tight,” he rasps, still pressing in, his breathing labored.

A shaky laugh escapes you. “I did say it’s been a while. You’re so big—I think you’re almost splitting me in two.”

A chuckle slips from his lips as he strains to control himself, stilling inside you. “Oh? Now you’re joking?” he asks, amusement lighting his eyes.

“Maybe a little,” you whisper, breathless, “but it does feel incredible.” 

Finally, he’s fully seated within you, filling you completely. He takes a moment, his breathing uneven as he absorbs the sensation, and then he begins to move, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that has you clutching at his shoulders. Each glide ignites sparks that streak down your spine, stars already dancing before your eyes. Your toes curl, and that familiar knot tightens low in your stomach, winding tighter with every thrust, unraveling your senses until you’re completely, blissfully lost in him.

His whispered, “Fuck,” is thick with pleasure, a low groan as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the dim light. He hovers over you, breath warm against your skin, hands planted firmly on either side of your head, grounding you in his intensity. He moves slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, unhurried, yet powerful, the rhythm coaxing cries of pleasure from deep within you as his body presses into yours.

“Seokjin,” you pant, voice trembling, each syllable tangled with need.

“Princess,” he echoes, a rough murmur that makes your body pulse in response, clenching around him. He falters, groaning at the sensation, and his eyes darken as he slides his hand beneath your thigh, lifting it to rest over his shoulder. The change is immediate; he fills you even deeper, his movements reaching an intensity that makes every nerve sing. The new angle has you gasping, clinging to him as he strikes that perfect spot, driving you toward the edge with relentless precision.

“Right there!” you cry, vision spotting, as he picks up the pace, his breaths sharp and stuttering. Your whole body is alight, toes curling, heart pounding, the pleasure mounting too quickly to contain. He grins as he watches your desperation, his hand dipping between you to find your swollen clit, fingers circling and pressing, amplifying every sensation. You’re drenched, his fingers slipping over you easily, driving you higher as your breath hitches, your body shuddering, head thrown back as the climax crashes over you. His name escapes your lips, a cry filled with release, as you feel yourself clench tight around him.

You open your eyes to his face, gorgeous and utterly captivated, his gaze locked onto you, stunned and transfixed. “You…damn, that was beautiful,” he rasps, still circling your sensitive flesh as your body trembles in the aftermath. His own body tightens, breaths quickening, and he leans closer, groaning your name as he thrusts deep, finding his own release. A final shudder ripples through him, and he lets out a sound of your name you’ll remember, deep and raw, filling you with warmth.

As he pulls back, breath heavy, he reaches to sweep a damp hand through his hair. “That…that was amazing,” he murmurs, grinning, his face flushed and bright.

You can’t help but smile back, a quiet chuckle escaping, “I agree.”

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he whispers, tenderly withdrawing as he reaches for a cloth, gentle as his hands linger. You lie there, chest heaving, slowly returning from the edge, the two of you savoring the haze of satisfaction between you. You’d just shared something unforgettable with Seokjin, the man you once called an enemy—but now, that feels like another lifetime away.

Morning’s first light glows softly against the frost-covered castle walls as you step outside with a steaming cup of tea, hoping the chill might clear your mind. The steam from your cup swirls like a small, fleeting cloud in the crisp winter air, mingling with your breath as you stroll along the snow-dusted path. Massive evergreens stand cloaked in fresh powder, their branches heavy with snow, while the castle behind you sparkles with delicate strands of Christmas lights that flicker with a nostalgic warmth. The decor, the quiet beauty—it all fills the air with a festive, dreamy charm.

You wrap your hands tighter around the cup, its warmth spreading into your palms as your thoughts drift back to last night. Seokjin had come to your room, and the memories of the intensity between you still linger, bringing a flush to your cheeks. You can’t help the way your stomach flutters when you remember his touch, the way he melted through every wall you’d built around yourself. There’s no denying it anymore—you like him. Maybe you always have. Maybe all that tension you held against him was just your heart speaking the only way it knew how, because acknowledging these feelings felt too risky. But now it feels even messier. What are you supposed to do with this, with him, here, in the midst of a competition where every moment counts?

Lost in thought, you don’t even hear footsteps approaching until a familiar voice murmurs behind you, “Having regrets?”

You turn, surprised, and meet Seokjin’s steady gaze. He’s watching you intently, something unreadable in his expression, but the glint in his eyes makes your heart skip. Regrets? Not a chance. “No… Never,” you say honestly, the answer flowing out of you without a second thought. The surprise in his face softens, and he steps closer, his brow furrowing as he studies you.

“Then what’s on your mind?” he asks, voice low as if he’s afraid to break the quiet between you.

You hesitate, blowing gently on your tea as you gather your words. “I… like you. I like you a lot. But I don’t know what that means here, now, while we’re both still in this competition. I just don’t want to mess things up.”

Seokjin nods, a small, understanding smile spreading across his lips. “Well, I like you too,” he says simply, and his sincerity warms you even more than the tea in your hands. “We don’t have to make it complicated. Why don’t we just take things as they come? Let’s be in this moment, here together, and not let it get in the way of anything.”

You consider his words and feel a sense of ease settle over you. His simplicity, his kindness—they’re exactly what you need. “That sounds perfect,” you whisper, heart lightening.

He grins, reaching forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, and the moment feels as close to magical as the glittering snow around you.

For a while, you simply stand there together, absorbing the quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but determined. “I’d better go in and get ready for the semi-finals. Coming?”

You nod, catching one last look at the snowy landscape before following him, feeling strangely certain that whatever happens, this memory, this moment with him, is yours to keep.

Inside the grand, echoing hall, the atmosphere thrums with anticipation—third week and it’s the semi-finals, and only four contestants remain. It’s another sourdough challenge, and the thought knots your stomach; but this time, you feel armed with everything you’ve learned, determined to redeem yourself from the last round’s missteps. You’ve reviewed every ratio, every technique, certain you won’t make the same mistakes twice.

Across the room, Seokjin catches your eye, flashing a small wink your way that sends warmth rushing to your cheeks. You look down quickly, hoping the cameras miss your blush. You can already imagine the uproar if anyone notices the subtle shifts between you and Seokjin. His fans would be livid, and part of you shivers at the thought. But another part is thrilled—glowing, even—that his glance lingers on you alone.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through the quiet as he announces the start. You reach for your premade starter, blending it with flour, water, salt, and crushed walnuts. A familiar recipe—but this time, perfected. As the machine kneads, you steal a glance at Seokjin, working at his own station. He looks over and smirks, nodding to the dough in your hands. “If you keep kneading it like that,” he murmurs with a glint of amusement, “I might have to admit I’m a little jealous of it.”

Your cheeks flush deeper, and you stifle a laugh, hoping the cameraman didn’t catch the exchange. You’ll knead him later, if he’s lucky. The thought amuses you, and you bury your smile, adjusting your focus as you work the dough in your hands until it reaches that perfect, silken elasticity.

Moving through the contestants, Jungkook stops by Seokjin. “That’s a beautiful dough,” he says, nodding approvingly.

Seokjin grins, a mischievous spark in his eye. “Thanks. I know this is a baking competition, but you can stop flouring me with compliments every time.”

Jungkook’s laugh echoes through the hall, and the room feels warmer somehow, each exchange brimming with camaraderie and friendly rivalry. You cover your dough to let it rest, feeling a swell of satisfaction as the texture is just right. Wiping down your station, you shift your focus to the next challenge—cupcakes, of course, because the semi-finals wouldn’t be complete without multiple recipes in one day.

You dive into the batter, drawing on the festive mood with a blend of cinnamon and shredded carrot for a Christmas touch, and creamy frosting chilled in the fridge, each detail meticulously planned. Into the oven go the cupcake molds, filling the hall with a warm, spiced aroma, blending with the yeasty scent of sourdough proofing.

Across the bench, Seokjin is working with a similar quickness, his gaze drifting to you with a gentle intensity that you can’t help but return. As you work side by side, sharing the small glances that carry more meaning than words, you feel a strange harmony, both within yourself and with him. You’re in the competition—but in these moments, everything feels like a rhythm, an unspoken bond both fierce and gentle, pushing you toward something extraordinary.

In goes the frosting to chill, waiting patiently in its piping bag, and now it’s back to the sourdough. You uncover the dough, marveling at its perfect rise, feeling a surge of confidence and—well, maybe a touch of mischief. Glancing over at Seokjin, you call out, voice low and playful, “You know, the only thing that should be rising faster than this dough is the tension between us.”

He lets out a deep, warm laugh, a sound that wraps around you and settles deep in your stomach, stirring something close to admiration—maybe even more. “Touché, Y/N!” he grins, pulling the cloth from his own dough with a wink. “Though, this dough isn’t the only thing that’s rising around here…” His words hang in the air as your mouth falls open. You give him a quick look, half-worried he’s serious, but you don’t find him popping a boner and instead find him grinning, reveling in his joke. The mischievous glint in his eye is impossible to resist, and you can’t help but laugh, enjoying the banter you two have woven between the flour and dough.

Focused, you place your dough on a baking tray, score a precise line along the length with a sharp knife, dust it lightly with flour, and slide it into the oven alongside your baking cupcakes. You’re quick to pull them out once they’re golden and perfect, setting them on a rack to cool as time dwindles. The kitchen hums with activity, everyone moving at a near-frantic pace, yet somehow you feel steady with Seokjin beside you. You glance at the clock—just fifteen minutes remain. The bread has to finish, and the cupcakes still need their frosting. Seokjin catches your anxious glance and gives you a reassuring smile, dashing to the fridge for his frosting. His calm steadiness eases the pulse of worry in your chest, and you follow suit, gathering your frosting bag and applying smooth, swirled peaks to each cupcake, finishing them with a sprinkle of walnuts.

As you pull your sourdough from the oven, the loaf is everything you hoped for—golden, hearty, the cut expanding beautifully along its edge. With a sense of quiet pride, you plate everything just in time, arranging the warm, rustic loaf and delicately frosted cupcakes into a small but satisfying spread. Relief washes over you when the round ends without either you or Seokjin being eliminated—though the victory feels bittersweet as Kevin packs up his station.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Seokjin retreat to your room to unwind, sharing stories and laughter until words give way to the kind of silence only the two of you can understand. And as the evening stretches on, he leaves you breathless in new ways, your bond deepening with every heartbeat shared between laughter and tantalizing touch.

With each passing day since the competition began winding down, you and Seokjin have become tangled in each other’s warmth, his presence as comforting as the scent of baked bread. But today—today is the final. Just the two of you remain, locked in a dance of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken. It’s week four, and the pressure sits heavy in your chest. You’re here to win, driven as ever—but some part of you almost wants him to take the victory, too. How strange, this tug of ambition and affection, both pushing you forward and grounding you at once.

The vast hall feels somehow larger with only two stations now, each of you taking your place under the blinding lights. Cameras linger, catching every nervous inhale, every flicker of emotion, and you steel yourself as Christina addresses you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Today is the finale, and we can’t wait to see what you’ll make. We’re asking you to prepare three distinct Christmas desserts.”

Your heart skips a beat. This isn’t just any bake—it’s a final act, a moment to define the entire journey. Taehyung steps forward with his trademark grin, “You’ll be baking the same desserts, so we can judge them side by side. They are: a chocolate raspberry roulade, a traditional Christmas pudding trifle, and finally, profiteroles.” 

Profiteroles. You feel a pang of dread—choux pastry, your nemesis. But there’s no time to overthink it. You exhale deeply, eyes darting to Seokjin, who meets your gaze with a soft, reassuring smile, and you offer one back, letting that silent exchange ground you. Whoever wins, it won’t be for lack of trying.

“Bake!” Taehyung shouts, clapping his hands, and the clock starts ticking. You dive in, gathering ingredients, organizing every move in your mind like a well-choreographed routine. Pudding layers, roulade filling—everything goes into the fridge and blast chiller to set, and you work swiftly, feeling beads of sweat prickling on your brow. Seokjin keeps pace beside you, and you can’t help but catch the gentle gleam of his focus. As you fumble with a pat of stubborn butter, Seokjin’s voice lilts beside you, “You think you’re so tough, but I bet you’d melt faster than butter in my kitchen.” His teasing catches you off guard, and you laugh, cheeks flushed, just as a cameraman swoops in to capture the moment.

Then, a murmur fills the hall—a door opens, and suddenly a chorus of voices drifts through. You pause, glancing up, and your heart stumbles as you see them: your mother, sister, nieces, and nephews, all holding balloons, flags and waving, their faces beaming. Behind them, an older couple you recognize from photos as Seokjin’s parents stand with pride lighting up their faces. More familiar faces follow—the eliminated contestants, cheering, their hands clapping, adding an electric energy to the air.

The crowd reminds you of what brought you here and what’s at stake, and it fills you with a quiet determination. It’s down to the two of you, and you intend to give it everything, heart and soul, even if it’s the final push in more ways than one.

“Welcome, everyone!” Jungkook calls out, his voice brimming with excitement. “We’ve prepared seating just over here, so you can sit, relax, and enjoy watching the grand finale.”

Your heart pounds as the realization settles in—you’d forgotten about this moment, the pressure of having every pair of eyes on you in the throes of your work. You’ve never reached the finale before, and the weight of the audience—family, friends, past contestants—is suddenly heavy, a slight quiver of doubt creeping into your hands. But before you can spiral, Seokjin darts over to your bench, leaning close enough for his warmth to steady you. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your nerves. “You’re doing great. But who would’ve thought baking with you could feel this... intense? Not that I’m complaining—I’ve always liked a challenge.” He throws you a wink before returning to his station, leaving you with a small, fluttering smile. Seokjin’s usual banter never fails to ground you, even if he’s technically still the competition, both of you eyeing that coveted trophy and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. A part of you can’t help but think, though, that he’s won enough already—why should he get this one too?

Returning to your tasks, you finish mixing the batter and pour it onto a tray, sliding it into the oven just as the judges approach, their expressions curious and bright. “How’s it going, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, his familiar warmth and calm demeanor making you smile despite your nerves. “Pretty good,” you answer, focusing on the profiteroles. “I just need to pipe the choux and bake it, and then it’s on to assembly. Just hoping to finally beat Seokjin for once,” you add with a sheepish laugh. It’s no secret—he’s always been the one to catch, and your admiration, even begrudging, is genuine.

“Think I’m playing hard to get, do you?” Seokjin’s voice calls out from his station, his tone teasing, playful, earning a burst of laughter from the audience. “Princess, I’m just giving you a taste of what’s coming.” At the word ‘princess,’ your breath hitches, a warm flush creeping over your cheeks. You chance a look toward him, and his eyes meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them. Thankfully, no one else seems to catch the slip, and you focus back on your profiteroles, steadying your hands and your thoughts.

As you start piping the choux, you toss a look back his way. “Well, Seokjin, I’ll have you know I’ve got a secret ingredient in my roulade this time—I’m feeling pretty good about taking first place.” 

He chuckles, your exchange laced with that familiar, easy banter you’ve shared a thousand times, though now it simmers with something deeper, something unspoken. “Oh, a secret ingredient, huh? Cute,” he replies, amusement thick in his voice. “But I already know your weakness, princess…,” he pauses for effect, the words rich with mischief as he slides his profiteroles into the oven. “Me.” 

The words strike a chord you weren’t prepared for, and your hands still, feeling exposed as his eyes flicker with a knowing gleam. He’s right—damn it, he’s right. He is your weakness, more than you’re ready to admit.

“For someone who talks a big game, you sure seem distracted by me,” he laughs, returning to his work. The sound pulls you back to reality, and you move to your next step, hoping the blush has faded enough to go unnoticed. Glancing toward the crowd, you catch sight of your mom’s watchful eyes, and you can only pray that neither she nor the cameras caught the moment.

You slide the roulade from the oven, transferring it to cool on a fresh tray, each step a carefully orchestrated dance of urgency and precision. Raspberries glisten in their bowl, their color vivid against the creamy filling you grab from the fridge, and you can’t help but smile—chocolate and raspberry, a classic match. I hope it’s perfect, you think as you roll the delicate sponge, sealing it with care before tucking it away in the fridge.

The hours slip by in fragments, your family’s cheers a soft echo at the edges of your concentration. Nearly everything is done: the roulade chilled, the profiteroles cooling on the tray, the trifle assembly is next with a bit of hope and a dash of doubt. You’re so close. You portion the trifle into gleaming glasses, slipping them into the fridge, then temper the final swirl of chocolate for your profiteroles, adding a whisper of orange zest for flair. Each element comes together like pieces in a puzzle, one you hope will capture the hearts of the judges.

Finally, you and Seokjin finish almost in sync, both of your creations plated to perfection. The judges, standing at their table with anticipation, gesture for you to present your roulade first, then Seokjin’s. Side by side, your roulades look like echoes of each other—his, perhaps a bit more precise, but the judges praise the flavors of yours, and you breathe a little easier. When it comes time to present the trifles, nerves flutter in your chest. Pudding has always been your challenge, and it shows. Taehyung’s gentle apology about its grainy texture confirms what you feared, and you nod, feeling the sting despite the kindness in his voice. It’s not over yet, though. The final moment comes down to the profiteroles. Watching the judges savor each bite, their expressions inscrutable, feels like holding your breath underwater. Did you get the texture just right? Are the flavors enough? You can’t tell if they favor yours or Seokjin’s, but the judges step back to confer, and the wait stretches on. Seokjin catches your eye, and the slight squeeze of his hand around yours is like a wordless reminder: Whatever happens, you made it this far. The audience hushes as the judges return, smiles lighting their faces.

“Seokjin is the winner,” they announce, and the room erupts in cheers, the joy swelling around you even as your heart sinks. You give a soft smile, watching as his family rushes to his side, while yours gathers around you, their hugs and warmth softening the ache of coming so close.

Taehyung clears his throat, addressing the crowd. “Honestly, Y/N, it was such small details that set you apart—mostly the pudding texture and the choux consistency.” You nod, grateful for the explanation even as disappointment lingers, a reminder of how hard you tried to make this win your own.

As your mom wraps you in a warm embrace, she whispers, “It’s alright—second place is still something to be proud of,” her voice gentle but consoling. You can’t help the small eye roll, even as you know her heart��s in the right place.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar arm around your waist, steady and reassuring. Seokjin pulls you close, leaning his head onto your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to your neck. “How are you feeling, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and meant just for you. 

But the entire room seems to freeze. Conversations fade, and a hush spreads as everyone looks on, your mom’s jaw slack in surprise, cameras hovering so close they might capture the racing pulse at your throat.

You let out a breath, half-laughing as you shrug. “Honestly… a bit deflated,” you admit, feeling his warmth steadying you, “but I’ll survive.” You lean into his embrace, letting it soften the lingering ache of the moment.

Then he turns you toward him, his gaze intent, before he kisses you—fully, deeply, with a confidence that leaves you breathless. A soft sigh escapes, and you can hear whispers ripple through the room, a wave of disbelief from everyone watching. They had no idea that this quiet affection had been growing in secret all this time.

Seokjin pulls back, his eyes shining as he holds your gaze. “It’s okay. You can beat me next year,” he teases, a hint of laughter in his voice.

You pout, rolling your eyes with playful sass. “Oh, I plan on beating your ass next year,” you reply, certain and unflinching.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his words a soft thrill against your lips. Then he pulls back, a sudden tenderness in his expression. “But… there’s something I want to ask you first.”

Curious, you tilt your head, waiting. “How would you feel about going on a date with me and spending Christmas together? Maybe somewhere special—a resort in the mountains, all-inclusive?” His words tumble out, eager, a little nervous.

“Trying to buy my love, are you?” you tease, grinning as you hear your sister muttering behind you, “Go! It’s all-inclusive!”

Seokjin stammers, his eyes widening in flustered surprise. “What? No, princess, I just—” 

You press your hands against his chest, silencing him with a soft smile. “I’m joking. Yes, I’d love to. To date you, officially. And spend Christmas with you. I like you. Might even love you a little,” you add, pinching your fingers close to show just a little, even though you know it’s more than that.

The smile that lights up his face is nothing short of radiant. His arms tighten around your waist, and he lifts you, spinning you in an impromptu waltz that has you laughing breathlessly as he plants a quick kiss on your forehead. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he says, his voice low and thrilled against your ear, his warmth filling you from head to toe. You hum in agreement, already lost in the certainty of it.

Seokjin may have claimed the trophy, but with him by your side, you know you’ve won something even better. And as the room erupts in applause, you realize this Christmas will be the start of something unforgettable.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Requested taglist: @back2bluesidex @yoontaethings @ktownshizzle @closer-to-jungkook @tea4sykes @myspi2010 @luaxjin @dazzlingjade @lachimolalajeon @agustverse @mrs-ksj @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @ajoonniice

→ Author’s endnote: what did you think??? Please let me know. This one was so fun to write and I laughed multiple times. I hope you had fun reading too 🥰

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[voidspiraling]

Time to talk abt everyone’s fav toxic yaoi LukaTill!!! Wait whattttt??

Hello friends have you ever noticed the weird similarities the number one rookie and the ruler of the stage have? Cuz they’ve been rattling around in my pea sized brain for a while now. (They were also my first Alnst ship but that’s not relevant rn) I think their “relationship” with one another is interesting based on the crumbs we have so far. I wanted to look a little deeper at how they relate to each other. Bc out of everyone in the cast Luka and Till are the most mysterious. This isn’t really an analysis just me rambling abt these two.

Anywho let’s start from the beginning and to do that we have to rewatch the sweet dream MV!

This is the first “interaction” between LukaTill and what sparked my love for the ship in the first place (Sorry Ivan! I love u too tho!)

In this scene a young Till is confined in a room and is forced to watch videos of a young Luka. However the way these shots are framed it looks like Luka is watching Till. I say this bc when you watch the full video it ends with Luka burying his face into his knees to escape from the bright lights of the camera flash (it could be triggering a migraine since I think I read somewhere he gets chronic migraines) But when you switch scenes it ends on Luka looking at Till but Till’s eyes are covered.

Thematically I think this is meant to show how Luka is like a final boss that looms over Till looking down on him. Even though they’ve never met Luka has had some influence over Till’s upbringing. In fact Urak calls Till “the ultimate weapon” probably bc Till is meant to be Luka’s foil. Where Luka is fragile and elegant Till is resilient and rough. In fact Luka’s popularity actually increased the rate of pet human ownership. I took this shot to mean that what Luka represents and symbolizes had played a part in shaping Till. Remember Urak was trying to make Till obedient through violence, likely what Heperu did to Luka. We don’t know exactly how bad Luka was treated by his guardian but we can assume from the crumbs that we have that it was bad bad. Like Till levels of bad. I’m pretty sure Heperu stopped Luka’s heart when he rebelled and is overtly like “Luka is only perfect because I made him that way.” It’s such an awful thing to say and somehow as malicious as Urak saying “His talent is what kept him alive.”

So while we know that Till is aware of Luka, we aren’t given any insight on how he actually feels about Luka. But we can assume due to the pressure put on by his guardian he probably doesn’t like Luka and maybe even fears him.

We also know that Luka has had his eye on Till as well. This is the ending scene in R3 after Ivan sang abt his yearning for Till. Here Luka has completed a Rubik’s cube and is staring at the teal and red sides, these are Till’s colors. Teal for his eyes and red from his brand, Till is mostly seen wearing some type of red. I think that even from the beginning rounds Luka knew that he would face off against Till in the final round. I say this bc out of all the contestants in Alnst stage Till is the most musically gifted. (I’m talking abt in canon the actual singers are amazing) We see Till start to sing and write music sheets when he was a literal baby. He sang more than he spoke. And in most shots of Till in the garden he’s playing an instrument or writing in music sheet paper while the other kids played with each other.

Ivan mentions it in his R3 interview but Till is literally an artistic genius. I think his profile said he struggles in everything else, but in stuff like art and music he excels way beyond his peers. That’s why even though his vocals are rated criminally low (like c’mon akugetsu vocals are heavenly what are you aliens on) he has the fastest selling album and consistently tops the charts when he releases a song.

There was also a chart showing the market value of each contestant over a period of time as well as the strengths and weaknesses of each contestant. At the end of the graph Mizi and Sua we’re both around 60/100. Hyuna and Ivan were at 80/100. And Luka and Till were at 100/100 (Important to mention that Lukas graph was a straight line at 100 meanwhile Till’s graph went up and down like crazy before settling at 100). Basically Luka and Till were like the best of the best. The only flaw on their profile was that Luka was fragile due to his health and that Till was aggressive. Musically they were perfect. And Luka likely knew this. I interpreted this as even though Till hasn’t met Luka yet he is still being watched by him. Like a hunter vs prey situation. It also sets up the power dynamic between LukaTill early on.

Now let’s talk abt the artwork of Luka and Till.

Another similarity they have is in this art from the school AU. All the characters have a cute drawing like this with hearts in their pupils looking at the other half of their pair. IvanTill are looking at each other and Hyuluka are looking at each other. But the thing that jumped out to me was that Luka and Till are the only two without hearts in their eyes. If it was just one character I would just think it was a mistake, but the fact that it’s these two makes me think it’s intentional.

Also in this series IvanTill and Hyuluka are heavily focused on, it’s through these relationships that we the humanity of the characters. Yet in the artbook Luka rates his affection with Hyuna at 70% and Till rates his affection with Ivan at 70%. As we the series progresses we see how important Hyuna is to Luka and Ivan to Till. So why the lack of hearts and the 70% rating? Do Luka and Till love in the same way? Are they incapable of romantically loving someone? Do they distance themselves from their loved ones for fear of vulnerability? And why don’t we have their pov of the pivotal moments in their relationship? Like Till’s pov of the meteor shower scene and Luka’s pov abt hyunwoo’s death. There’s so much mystery surrounding them and how the love their most important person.

Let’s also talk abt this merch from Alnst stage. Sorry for the poor quality but I’ll try my best to explain my delusions. So something I wanted to point out is that here LukaTill are the only two seen with flowers and with gore. Luka is standing on a stage made from the corpse of the alien that looks like the moon and has purple roses. Meanwhile Till he is standing in the blood of Freddie the alien in his guitar that he killed, and it looks like green grass. Till has a red clematis flower crown. I thought it was interesting how here LukaTill have this contrasting them in their merch. Life vs death, Till is surrounded by blood while Luka is surround by bone. I think this is meant to show how they both cope with their situation. They both live in a dystopian society and to cope they have to revel in the bloodshed of it all. For Till it’s violently rebelling against the aliens, seen by the freshly spilled blood of an alien, and for Luka it’s about having a reputation of being more powerful than his opponent, so overpowering that they have no chance of surviving if they’re up against him, evident by the long decayed corpse of an alien.

However the flowers represent their softer side. I think at their natures they are actually very gentle people. For Till it’s more obvious that he’s a sweetheart you just need to read his birthday comic to know how cute and lovable he is. For Luka you have to reach a bit bc we rarely see any sides of him besides his ruler of the stage persona. But I think in his interview when they ask what his favorite part of Anakt garden was he said it was playing hide and seek with the other kids. I thought that was uncharacteristically sweet to say. I was expecting him to say the classes were good or the music theory was really interesting. But no. His favorite part of being in the garden was getting to play with the other kids. (I hate that Till died but my heart also feels bad for Luka ;-;)

Another thing I wanted to mention is that Till has a flower crown in his art while Luka has a rose with thorns in his merch art. I honestly thought they would be reversed since Luka is “crowned” ruler of the stage and Till is pretty spiky, pretty sure there was merch where he’s just a spike ball lol. They almost seem to be referencing each in some weird way. This is most likely a coincidence tho since the flower crown is suppose to represent Till’s attachment to the innocent fantasy of the past and I’m like 99% sure Luka is a reference to the little prince. (A book abt a blond haired kid and a rose you should read it you def won’t get depression from it) Still I thought it would be interesting to point out.

LukaTill also share a lot more similarities than even I realized when i was looking back at all the content we have so far. For example, they’re the only two characters we’ve seen play an instrument. Guitar and violin. In their early rounds they both overwhelmed their opponent and won by a landslide. The only reason they’re alive is because of their musical talent. They both got messed up hands Luka and his purple fingertips compared to Till with his bandaged ones. Their alien owners are literal trash who have no regard for their life in anyway (i feel like the other guardians weren’t as bad bc to my knowledge Ivan, Sua and Mizi didn’t have their life put in immediate danger. Meanwhile Luka’s owner stopped Luka’s heart as a punishment. And Till’s guardian just assaults him without any regard for his safety or blood loss.) There’s so many little details these two share despite the fact that they’re just suppose to be two characters that clash with each other. Like imagine if LukaTill was the ship that had more focus in the series. This stuff would’ve driven me nuts!

The point I’m trying to make is that while LukaTill are like polar opposites they are also really really similar. I wonder if Luka is what Till would’ve turned into if he lived long enough. And I wonder if Till is similar to a younger Luka.

Super excited for the next video Vivimeng puts out! I’m going back to grieving for Till cya.

[numberonetacostan]

I know your trophy knowledge might not be too sharp but I do wonder if you have any specific thoughts or even headcanons about him ! ❤️

Hi Mirelly!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in your request!! :] Of course I can cook you up some headcanons for your guy! I like to think I have at least an okay grasp on all of the main ii cast members' characters [Contestants + Mephone4 + Assistants + Cobs] :) I may not know the common headcanons for them, though, so please forgive me if any of these end up being basic!

Ask and you shall receive, Trophy headcanons!

FINALLY I'VE HAD HIS ONE FOR AGES AND NEVER HAD A TIME TO SHARE IT. Are you familiar with the movie Ratatouille? How the little rat fellow sits on the man's head and pilots him around? I like to think that Blueberry does the exact same thing with Trophy. He cozies himself up in Trophy's head (where we have been told during some stream, I don't recall which nor who said it unfortunately, that he fits perfectly inside), and grabs on to his handles, and steers Trophy towards wherever he wants to go. It's not quite as graceful as in the movie, since Trophy is not a willing participant in this, but I'd imagine it being quite difficult for him to get anything out of his head, much less an object who very much does not want to leave.

Hmm, fuck it, Trophy is one of those people who adds a ton of dryer sheets to his laundry. A ton. I'd say a scent like sandalwood specifically, something generally seen as more masculine. So, since his clothing all smells strongly of sandalwood, so does he, all the time. So much so that it can trigger Tissues' allergies, on worse days. This may even start because in the beginning he, like a proper jock with not quite enough self awareness (he would be 0 months old so cant expect much), uses exorbitant amounts of axe body spray, and smells awful all the time. If you'd like, Paper telling him his body spray is a bit too strong could be what starts his shift to many many dryer sheets and 0 body spray. Others have told him before, he just didn't care coming from them.

Let's all hope that Trophy never ever sees nor even hears about the popularity poll that decided on the iii returning cast members, because he would be pissed. Only 250 votes? He got less votes than Box? Less votes than two objects who had intentionally quit the game? He would both complain about the votes being rigged and brag about being above anyone he beat, while internally feeling quite bad about it.

I think Trophy would watch anime. Particularly sports anime, and not because he's a trophy and is athletic, but because that's where his idols are. His influences. He wants to be cool and sporty and masculine, and you can find guys like that in pretty much every sports anime. That's why he pulls things like saying 'pUH' at Knife, he's learned from dubbed anime. This may or may not have been an important factor in the start of his homoerotic tendencies as well, since as far as I know sports animes also have a lot of that.

I'm sure it's a relatively common headcanon for his favourite flavour to be banana, but I would like to raise the idea of him fucking so hard with banana bread. He's a little loaf eating freak /ref. If anyone bakes banana bread it's gone within a half hour. He does not ask to have any or to eat it he just unhinges his jaw and swallows it whole. His favourite food. He'd probably end up learning to bake it on his own (likely in secret) so he can be a little loaf eating freak more frequently, since others would stop making it once they resign themselves to never getting to taste it.

[spectator-moon]

More Bad Kids Headcanons!

These are gonna be wholesome/little info things

Kristen sleepwalks now. She doesn't know why. It's not stress, she just gets up and wanders around. Usually, she finds herself in Adaine's room, arms moving through the motions of Warding Bond despite not being awake to cast it. Often, Adaine will quietly lead her back to her room, but sometimes Kristen will not leave, and Adaine will allow Kristen to flop on her like a cat. Occasionally, Kristen will wake up in Tracker's room, tears that she did not know were falling tracing tracks down her cheeks.

Adaine made a spell to remind everyone to take their meds. She infused it into Mordred Manor, and once again into Gorgug's axe and Fabian's eyepatch. Riz asked her to not do it for him because he has a very ingrained routine and it would throw that off. Adaine has set this spell to be triggered when it detects a certain time or event taking place. For her, it's every morning. Fig takes her ADHD meds after breakfast. Alewyn takes her antidepressants right before she leaves their room. Kristen uses her daily inhaler as soon as she wakes up. Gorgug typically takes his before he leaves the house, and Fabian has his right before he brushes his teeth. Adaine keeps track of all of this in her spellbook.

Gorgug has the most ~crackly~ bones you will ever hear. When he does warm-up stretches he sounds like bubble wrap. The loudest cracking always comes from his neck, because he's always slouching since he's so tall. Mostly, this grosses out everybody. Except Fig, who is also crackly from years of ballet and gymnastics. They often have friendly contests to see who can crack louder. Ayda judges, because she isn't bothered by it either.

Fig runs much warmer than any other Bad Kid. She is always the person who gets 'dibsed' to sleep next to for sleepovers, and during winter she becomes the most likely person to have someone hanging off of her. Ayda and her run at about the same temperature, and if they combine their magic they can actually effectively cause harm with their combined body heat. Fig secretly loves the hugs and snuggling and closeness that her warmth grants her, because it used to be the thing that drove people away (I headcanon that Fig lost all her friends when her horns sprouted).

Fabian has everybody's skin care routine memorized. He knows their go-to drink or comfort food like he knows his own hands, and when they run out of product, or they have a bad day, he'd the first one the door. He may play it cool ("I can't stand when you stress like that, here, take this hot cocoa and stop it." For Riz), but he never goes too far if it's clear that somebody is having an awful day ("hey, I got this plate of pancakes. Do you want to talk?" For Adaine).

Riz, in his neverending quest to know literally everything, has somehow found every spot that Augefort has tried to hide. He has reformed them as '(un)Official Bad Kids Zones' and made them the perfect spot to chill. If at any point, in any place in town, the Bad Kids are getting chased, or they just want to relax, Riz zips behind that one statue of Sol, or this painting from a local artist, and reveals a new place to chill.

This has been my headcanons. I hope you enjoyed! Leave your own in the replies!

[romanticizing-writing]

—Meet the Cast!—

(Part Four: The Neglected Rich and Loved)

(Trigger Warning: Patricia's section contains allusions to child neglect, abuse, use by parents, manipulation, and devaluing of self-worth. It doesn't go too heavily into detail, in my opinion, because the entire post is supposed to be structured like an article written from an outsider's perspective, but it's still there. Please consider either skipping the whole thing together or scrolling down to Alzamirano(Actor!Soos)'s section if you're sensitive to this type of content.)

Patricia:

Patricia has made her mark in the world as one of the most famous tweens of this day and age. Originally, her family was just your average one, living in common mediocrity. However, one day the young blonde asked her parents if she could participate in a beauty pageant, believing that it would be fun. They decided that it couldn't hurt and prehaps give their unplanned mistake of a daughter to become something worthy of their attention for once, so she was enrolled into the annual "Sprouting Elegance" contest. She immediately won and was gifted millions of dollars as the cash price. The amount of money was unlike any her parents had seen before, the luxurious life it allowed them to live was addicting. Thus, they became to crave more of it, desiring more and more, so that they would never have to live how they had before. Driven by greed Deciding that it would build character, they soon began to enroll her in numerous other pageants, collecting waves of money. They started a family blog to post updates on their life, displaying just how lovely and wonderful their family was, how they were living the dream. Patricia certainly dreamed; she dreamed of a world where she never came up with the idea, where she had better parents.

Eventually, her mother came to her and suggested developing a career in something that would let her put her pretty face to even more good use — acting! It would build an even more stable living for them her and maximize their her success. It was perfect! There was no reason to decline, no reason at all. So, of course, Patricia accepted and went along with whatever acting roles they were able to find for her. I mean, why wouldn't she? They knew best. Besides, without them, she would have never earned the stardom everyone else could hope of receiving. Without them, she was nothing. They created her. They were the ones who molded her into the perfect child, into who she was today. The least she could do for them was every. Little. Thing. They. Asked.

It wasn't that difficult for her to rise to the top as a child actor, considering she was already famous and of much status. Her most recent role was playing popular, rich girl "Pacifica Northwest" in the TV series "Gravity Falls". When asked on she felt about the character, she gave an intriguing response.

"It's complicated. And to-tally none of your— ... I mean, it's...personal. I feel like I know her very well and not just because I'm her actress. Though, I probably know her the best out of everyone solely because of that. That's all I'll say. You figure it out if you're so obsessed with mysteries (and me), weirdos," she said when delving into her implied love-hate relationship with the character she played.

She can frequently be found hanging out with Hadron (actor of "Fiddleford McGucket"). When she first arrives on set — her dad leaving as soon as she walks through the doors to there — she stands around, her eyes scanning through the clusters of people hanging about. She then will walk on over to where Hadron is ( typically talking to a bushing Stan [actor of "Stanley Pines"]) and tug on the sleeve of his fern green, button-up shirt in order to get his attention. He will turn his head and smile at her, and the two will engage in conversation. The mere sight of him always makes her eyes light up and twinkle, though she will try to act like she doesn't care.

She's also decently close to Mason (actor of "Dipper Pines") and his best friend, Mabel (actor of "Mabel Pines"). Mabel will occasionally drag Patricia over to where she and Mason are, and they'll all talk together as a trio. Mabel will knit a sweater, using Patricia as a model as she does, and will chatter away about stuff that delights her as the blonde and other brunette exchange amused looks, entertained by their friend's antics. In reverse, Patricia will kidnap Mason and paint his face with makeup, promising to turn him into the 'most beautiful boy who's ever lived' as Mabel giggles loudly at the scene. (Mason either swears at her the whole time or fumes in silence when this happens; Patricia only smirking in return.) When their peppy friend is not around, the duo will fire insults at each other like the sun won't come out tomorrow (some of them were used as inspiration for the actual script of the "Northwest Mansion Mystery" episode).

Also, contrary to popular belief, Patricia's hair really is naturally blonde.

Alzamirano:

Alzamirano, or commonly referred to as simply "Alza," was cast as the actor of "Jesus 'Soos' Ramirez" from the show "Gravity Falls". He was an orphan as a kid before he was adopted by a nurturing family. Their love and care allowed him to blossom into a kind person who always looked out for and after others. In order to give other orphans like himself a chance and a better place to grow up than in some of the terrible orphanages they're placed in, he started his own orphanage. That way, he could try his best to help the community and know he was giving every effort to truly assist people.

However, running an orphanage wasn't cheap, so he took up multiple jobs. He became a cook, a bus driver, a tour guide, etcetera, etcetera. Eventually, he stumbled across an ad requiring understudies for a film. It stated that they didn't have to be professionals and the salary was reasonable, so he decided to sign up. Last minute, the main actor he was an understudy for ended up calling off, so he had to take their place. Stepping into the spotlight and performing felt natural, and the crowd loved his show. Soon after, he started to get calls for jobs. He had found a career he could truly become successful with and gain a steady pay from to keep his orphanage stable and thriving.

On set, he's very a chill guy who gets along well with Mabel and, in all honesty, who wouldn't? He inquires about the living conditions for all for the children and has been seen to check in on Patricia specifically on a regular basis. He's bought multiple clothes and packages of food for her after realizing that she pretty much wears the same four pairs clothes all the time, just in different combinations, and how unhealthily thin she appears to be.

"Do you really have to try and spread gossip? Don't you have anything better to do or is your life just so sad that you live off of other people's lives to be fulfilled. Anything and everything about her personal life is personal! It's in the name. She's not required to share anything with you, nor am I. Why Mr. Alzamirano does what he does and what he suspects, if anything at all, is none of your business. You want to know something? He's a nice person and the stuff he does is nice. There you go. There's your hot scoop. Go crazy over it," Mason defensively stated when we questioned him about the Alza's gifts for Patricia.

He's friends with Stan and appreciative of the constant donations he sends towards the orphanage he runs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part

Previous Part

[scarapanna]

The berserk/cursed form guide 2.0

So I decided to give this headcanon a bit of a rework for the funsies (and also because drawing cookies is really fun jsfnsbf)

Anyhow let's start with the basics! (Almost all of it is headcanon)

First of all, a "cursed" form is a manifestation of a cookie's magic which can be triggered only when specific factors are at play, these mainly being mana levels and stress levels.

Mana is similiar to a "battery", and works as an indicator for the amount of magic present in one's body (The more a cookie is experienced, the less mana it consumes to cast advanced spells).

It depletes when magic is used (The amount depends on the complexity of what's being done) and when it's low enough it starts to have reprecussions on the cookie itself (i'll go more in depth on this another time).

Either way, one of the things it influences is a spell's ability to "fail"

If a cookie is distracted whilst casting something, it might not be intuned enough with it's magic and is more likely to nullify a spell (expecially if complex).

Most of the time nothing will happen, but if this is combined with low mana and high levels of stress it can trigger a defense mechanism which makes magic take a hold of a cookies body (This can also be triggered when a spell is casted on someone with equally high levels of stress, thus triggering this reponse from their body as well).

The cookie is not in control of itself in this state nor is it concious of what's going on, thus this state being refered to as "cursed".

This form is pretty much magic given a phisical appearence that tends to reflect both a cookie's looks and magic type

Oddly enough, it's destructive only if it has been provoked and takes most of one's own traits to define its behaviour, the way it acts can help with figuring out how to get a cookie out of this state

Ways to get a cookie out of the "cursed" state

This manifestation of magic can either percieve it's surroundings as a threat as soon as it takes control of the cookie or (this is less usual to see) not break havoc as soon but still be incredibly tense to everything around it.

To give the cookie back control one can either fight the manifestation until it vanishes, or wait for it to dissapear on it's own as time runs out

A staring contest is usually better than a full on fight against uncontrolled magic

As soon as the cookie is given control back, in both cases it's mana will be greatly depleted and it is very likely for them to faint as soon as they're back to normal, once they wake up the cookie won't recall memories of that defense mechanism (Due to the whole "not being concious nor in control" ordeal)

[Edit: separate post for how mana works can be found here]

[nyan-tame]

WAKE UP ITS 4 AM IT'S TIME 4 II ACT 3 THEORIES

AND HEADCANONS (with angst)

Im 100% willing 2 bet that these will NOT b real take these theories, predictions, and headcanons with a grain of salt 😭😭😭

ANYWAY

TRIGGER WARNING 4 MENTION OF EATING DISORDERS AND GENDER DYSPHORIA

(ITS ALL IN THE PARAGRAPHS ABT MEPHONE BTW SO U CAN SKIP THAT BUT THERES STILL ANGST)

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

mephone will join the shimmers/mephone was masking their shimmer half for years

The shimmers will continue 2 search 4 their lost young and realize that mephone is the 2nd lost shimmer (as revealed last episode) upon realizing this they will get emotional and also apologize 4 what he's been through (even if it's not actually their fault they just really feel bad 4 their child) and take them in to give them the childhood they deserved. This theory ties in with some headcanons i also have.... So cobs says in a flashback (episode 13, i think) that he has no need 2 eat cause he's a machine, right? Well, not exactly, just something along those lines. That's not the case. They're half organic because they are half shimmer. They actually do need 2 eat, but cobs has literally been starving them constantly, thinking that being mostly machine means they'll never be hungry. This is part of the reason mephone thinks they're a "fat slob" and even jokes abt it 2 himself around others but thats just not the case, they quite literally are just fucking hungry. Yes, i think mephone might have an eating disorder. Speaking of shimmers, you know how the other baby shimmer, the green one, was nonbinary implying that the shimmers are a naturally genderless species? I think mephone may also be nonbinary. My evidence? Paintbrush. I think Paintbrush was made as genderless the way they were in season one because cobs thought mephone being nonbinary was like stupid and wrong or something. Mephone projects their grief into humor as their main coping mechanism. Thus, Paintbrush's gender was seen as nothing but a joke 4 a really long time similarly 2 how tissues suffering all the time is seen as a joke and gets no help by his peers which may represent how mephone never got help woth anything even when they really needed it. Paintbrush eventually coming out made mephone feel much safer, something they dont usually feel.. but not safe enough.

The contestants who died by mephone x will get recovered but they won't be completely intact

I highly doubt that everyone is going 2 die permanently. That is not in the nature of inanimate insanity. However, the show LOVESSS 2 make its fandom miserable, so these fellas will not get removed from melife without consequences. The Xed contestants may experience memory problems or will go into a full reset. To make things sadder, I feel like their brains would subconsciously remember the people they had good relationships with even though they themselves don't actually know they've met before. In other words, if anyone sees anyone they had good relations with in a past life, they will subconsciously feel comforted by their presence. Though if these fella do have all their memories intact someone like lightbulb or cheesy will trick a buddy of their into thinking they forgot everything 2 make their friends panic a little just 2 go finger guns at them like "haha got ya" making the audience freak out 4 a moment 2. Who knows, maybe our cast brought someone back wrong, and they did forget everything...

Cobs will DEFINITELY DIE

A while ago on youtube, i think either Brian or Justin made a community tab poll on how many characters would die, 2 being the most popular vote. Literally Mephone wont have a happy ending if that mother fucker doesn't die. I also think the shimmers might kill him last second. But wait! There's another character who is supposed 2 die! I think that's bow, "but Nyan bow is already dead!!" Is what u might b thinking.. and ur PROBABLY RIGHT!!! i accidentally got spoilers 4 only ONE of the permanent deaths (DONT WORRY, NO SPOILERS, YOU JUST GET A LITTLE NUDGE, THE DEATH SPOILER WAS A CONTESTANT) If im still dead set on the fact that cobs will die, it can't be 2 contestants.. at least in my head. Bow, being a ghost and already dead, knows what it's like being dead and won't mind sacrificing herself 4 her friends. Now she can go on 2 the next stage of her afterlife!

ANYWAYSSS THATS ALL BYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYE!!!

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

[inventors-fair]

Castaways: Cast Trigger Commentary

I'm honestly a little surprised at all the cards that we got this week, and I'm overall quite happy with the variety of the cards that I saw and the range of strategies employed. It was hard to choose winners and runners from this mix, and the commentary was quite thought-provoking. Overall, I'd say that with much of these cards, complexity had to be tempered in order to get the most powerful results.

Cast triggers are nuts. The ability to have an uncounterable effect (sort of) that uses the stack can lead to some strange encounters, and there are still some folks learning MTG that have difficulty understanding what it means to "cast" a spell. Lord knows that explaining it to my students can be quite strange, and they're used to things being played just by themselves. When does this happen? How can I respond? What are the best responses? And it's not just about the responses, but how the cards interact on board that shows their design chops. Lots of cards this week made me want to brew, and I love contests like these.

There are quite a few Judge Picks this week. These cards have specific aspects I want to highlight for some reason or other, so pay close attention. With this many contenders of this strength, choosing the top cards was incredibly difficult, as I'm sure you can imagine. Read on!

~

@aethernalstars — Ash-Cannon Goblin

I think my favorite part about this card is the flavor text. It doesn't grok perfectly, but it's playful and enjoyably goblinesque. As far the card idea, the idea is solid enough. What's bugging me is the fact that this is essentially kickerless kicker. The cost is an optional part of casting, and yet the trigger is also part of the casting. There would be no need for this kind of wording unless this started as a kicker idea and was shifted into a cast trigger, which it honestly doesn't need.

As an ETB effect, I would've liked this card a lot better. The cast trigger here isn't doing anything that an ETB couldn't or wouldn't do, if that makes sense. If you want to keep this design, I think that spending your graveyard to smack face/creature/planeswalker is totally fine; honestly, this could be a decent uncommon, because it's a single-use kind of card. Graveyards are great resources and limited resources. For this specific contest, examining the 'why' of cast triggers may have led to other considerations. At it stands, I still like this card and would suggest a couple wording revisions, perhaps. Also make sure that you avoid run-on sentences!

~

@brookeuwo — Spitefellows (JUDGE PICK)

You've got a Horizons-y mindset here, don't you? Bet you think you're clever? Well, you are, and I initially was going to be wishy-washy on this card for the name being a reference but that's what a good chunk of Horizons cards are sometimes. And you know what, I'm down for it. The trick is making the homage feel like an homage, and in that I think you succeeded. In terms of power, this card's also got a lot going for it. As much as I worry about the power of cast triggers, this card's got decent power going for it.

Most importantly, it's a blowout that's pretty much only a blowout in limited. It's a five-mana 2/2, which is...very bad comparatively, even if you get two of them. So essentially you're making two bodies, right, but then the evoke cost is where the blowout removal happens; I'd say that nine times out of ten you're just going to clear a board with this card, or at least make an incredible impact. You're clogging MODO with triggers, but I mean, high complexity is fine if it's warranted. I think that as a Lorwyn callback and a Horizons power-level card, this is pushing it but not so much that you'd have problems except at really high-skill levels. Phenomenally fun card and a great idea overall.

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@cthulusaurusrex — Wavebringer (JUDGE PICK)

Attaching the cast trigger inside is an interesting move, and ultimately, I think it works quite well here! The lord-body is one of those ones that can go into any Elemental deck, but the callback to Master of Waves has not gone unnoticed. It's also interesting how you've made it so that this card wants more of a spellslinging deck whereas the Master wanted a permanents-matter deck. Could you run them both? Well, perhaps, if you managed to get them on board and then start slinging like nobody's business. What I'd want to do is play this card with Quasiduplicate effects and then really get things going.

What I'm trying to say in the end is that this kind of card is the kind that makes me want to play it and makes me understand why it exists. I don't know if it's necessarily breaking new ground, being a callback, but it's doing a number of things differently, and I think that if absolutely nothing else that this card is overwhelmingly good. The chops are there and the rationale is there and the play style—you guessed it, it's there. If I have any reservations, I suppose I'd like an inch of flavor text, but even then, is that necessary? Arguably, doesn't have to be there; the AD makes it pretty clear what the coming storm would be. So maybe all that good stuff is worth commending on its own, you know?

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@curiooftheheart — Bellowing Boars (JUDGE PICK)

I really want to like this card's power level, because it's actually quite striking. A late-game ramp deck that can get eight or even twelve lands can absolutely run away with this card. On turn four, getting two 3/2s with trample and haste isn't anything to shake a stick at, and the ability on turn eight to get three of those AND have four mana left over, potentially, is fascinating. It makes one focused on the late-game potential of stompy decks, and that's pretty darn cool overall. The more I think about this card, the more I find the design tech actually really great for limited.

And I mean, I have to assume that all that thought went into this when you designed this card, because it's actually completely unique as far as I can tell from a cursory search. The only real grumbling I have is in the overwrought flavor text. Paring that down to maybe two lines would've suited the rest of this card's strengths well. Does it have a specific setting, something that Vivien observes that's fascinating for her? A lot of adjectives hamper down the writing here and I do wish I could be less of an expletive—but it's honestly really distracting. Look: this is ultimately a card design contest wherein presentation matters. This card is substantially well-made for the nature of this contest and everything else is a me problem. Where is this going? I swear I had a point what wasn't a half-assed pseudo-apology. Ah well. Damn boars, running through my consciousness.

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@dabudder — Gracie, Substitute Teacher

This is definitely a commander-oriented card. I'm looking at its applications, and honestly, I'm not sure I'm convinced I see the upside? Drawing into cards would be nice, but the benefit of casting one spell into another feels a bit wonky. That said, there are mechanics like Escape that make the benefits fun, and with prowess you've got a bit of a nice beater sometimes. What's the shell that really wants this card, though? I can imagine that you could have fun with Suspend cards... Ooh, actually, imagine: turn 2-3, plot a couple cards, then turn 4 play Gracie and cast some stuff from exile. Trigger, cast Ancestral Vision/Profane Tutor, etc.

So it's not that I don't see the combo appeal! I think this card isn't a card for me specifically. Getting cards back from wherever you're casting them can be fun—command zone as well, considering you can get your commander to hand fairly easily. In limited, I think building around this card would be weird, and explaining that the initial spell getting cast wouldn't resolve is also weird, but hey, it's what it is. I feel that this card has strong "fun" application. Practically, this is a card for someone who's not me, in a format that's probably not a premier set. But who knows? As a side note, I think you also captured a lighthearted Strixhaven feel quite well. I substitute myself and lemme tell you, it's not half as magical...

~

@feyd-rautha-apologist — Demon of Final Moments

As a small note, I recommend in your art direction that you have the focus on the demon, because I totally was digging the focus on the mage until I actually saw what the card was. That said, damn effective work there. As for the card, you are looking at some weird weird weird stuff here. By "weird" I mean that this card is a combo piece whereupon you cast it and win the game. how so? Let us count the heckin' ways. Thassa's Oracle is the most obvious one, but Laboratory Maniac plus any draw effect is there, as is an Inexorable Tide with exiling extra turn effects like Karn's Temporal Sundering and the lot. Cast this spell and you win—there really isn't any other reason to play this card.

In limited, I wouldn't imagine that this card does much good if the removal in the set is worth its salt. Play it and bam, it's removed, you lose instantly. There are so many ways that you lose with this card, especially if it gets countered; it's fragile as all get-out. A design that either wins instantly or makes you lose just as fast is... Well, not exactly what I'd call good gameplay, I'll say that much. Additionally, if you cheat this card out, you have the situation where you can just play the game normally and encounter loops with said extra turn shenanigans (assuming proliferation of time counters). I'm afraid this one goes into the "busted" pile. Side note: I feel that the flavor text could have been one sentence with "his last" coming after a colon, but I'm down with the concept.

~

@fractured-infinity — Curse's End

Reading up on what the Curse of Wandering was/is on Amonkhet, I'm uncertain that this card is vibing with that flavor. The Curse is an aspect of the plane, and so is this card saying that the whole shebang is now over? What had caused it in the first place? If it predated Bolas, what's going on with the mystery? I feel that this card is saying that the Curse is an actual curse with a source and a way to end it, which... Eh, I don't feel the meshing, but regardless. the card itself is a great mythic with only a couple minor issues.

Firstly, there's the question of how this card would function if this contest didn't have a cast trigger. I would imagine that instead of a cast trigger, the better design would just be to exile all creatures and all creature cards from graveyards. While this does have the benefit of putting a bunch of ETB triggers on the stack, there are better ways to go about the exact execution. Besides, why not have a deck that uses this cast trigger then counters the actual spell itself? That kind of defeats the purpose of the card, I think, a little cheatsy-shenanigans that feels like a workaround rather than a function of the card itself. Maybe if there was an additional cost or caveat, I would buy it, but I'm not convinced at this iteration.

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@greensunzenith — Swarm Vanguard

The short answer is that this card is funny, funky, and probably not that broken. As for whether or not it's common, that's a rough one. Cast triggers at common are...odd, too. The best one I can see is, oddly enough, Supernatural Rescue (as a rarity-to-complexity comparison). I think this should probably be an uncommon, because copies of permanent spells becoming tokens doesn't exactly grok as well as we'd think, especially when you consider that you're going to have many, MANY copies of this card in your deck. After a point, how easy/hard would it be to keep track of on paper? Probably easy if you used things that didn't resemble actual copies of the Vanguard, but whatever. At least it's a vanilla creature.

When you have an effect like this, one must ask: would this have been more easily grokable as an ETB trigger? Honestly, I think the answer is yes, and it's unfortunate with a design that tries to go for this amount of elegance at common. Entering and making an insect token for each card with the name Swarm Vanguard in your graveyard would've probably been fine and scalable without the casting complexity. Flavor's nice, though, and the concept is solid.

~

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Zarderek, the Folkslinger

I am willing to meet you halfway on some of this. Having a spellslinging GW commander isn't exactly on-flavor, but they've had Magecraft across colors before. Technically, I don't think there's anything out-of-pie that excludes it. But you have to roll with me and agree that it feels a little off to have GW be the one for Magecrafting without naming it? You know what, I'll insert an honorary piece of trinket text in front of that trigger just for my own peace of mind.

As it stands the card would play pretty normally and would make limited decks pretty nasty. Having a protective backup spell to get more bodies and get more counters would allow for Zarderek to run away with games quite easily but not without too much power by itself. I think that it does just what the colors want to do and, without feeling too weird, is a reasonable card. I don't think you could've made it any other way; RW would've been the next-best choice, I believe. Perhaps the flavor could've spoken to the world on which we see this character, something about why GW has this kind of magical expansion? Looking pretty generic for the moment, captain.

~

@khyrberos — Atraxa's Command

This card probably functions exactly how it's intended to function. I think the possibility of having a card where the modes function in this manner is pretty cool and, depending on the life paid, would make for an interesting setup. It's reasonable to assume that swinging in would get you all that life back, too, but regardless: this card doesn't really function as a command, or at least not in the way that commands are meant to function. This card is essentially a one-off that feels like a one-off, a function of itself that has no bearing on the rest of a set. What environment would be able to play this card, or want to? What limited environment could spawn it? Honestly, what preconstructed environment would have it, either?

Commands function on their versatility, and this card has none—which is fine if it wasn't technically a command, kind of? Even then, it doesn't have the "command" feel, and turning all your creatures into Atraxa for free is... I'm not gonna say that it's not fun in concept, but for lack of a better term, this card feels like it was designed for itself without a greater reach in mind. Even a five-color command with an Obelisk of Alara feel could've done the job as a "Praetor's Command" with different modes. That said, playing with Phyrexian mana is playing with fire as-is.

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@misterstingyjack — Facesnatcher Ghoul (JUDGE PICK)

I think this card is doing everything it needs to do, and it's doing it quite well. Exiling and/or returning creatures will turn it on, and those are the most common ways to interact with creatures in graveyards at lower rarities. I love the notion that you can drop an Emrakul and then instant-speed exile it to turn the Ghoul on, but that's not happening in limited; most likely, you'll have a couple moments where you'll cast return spells and you'll be doing just fine. This card is for sure a constructed card.

And again, constructed cards are fine, because we need cards of every rarity to make things work! When I look at submissions, the first thing I think is what would happen if I opened this out of a booster pack while drafting, or something to that effect. ... Maybe it's not the first thing, but it's one of the things I think about for sure. And this card would be quite fun to build around if you can make it work, but more likely than not it's going to be a pet card, and that's perfectly fine. Targeting cards in graveyards with spells is one of those very specific things that you can't repeat much. Honestly I think "cast a spell or activate an ability" would be better for gameplay. Did you think about that and relegate it to casting because of the contest? If so, I get it, and if not, I honestly think that that would've been acceptable, just because the card itself is so tightly designed.

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@nine-effing-hells — Panoptic Predator (JUDGE PICK)

Was this an intentional callback to Hydroid Krasis? I mean, I can imagine so, because it's got similar-ish casting capabilities, but the bodies that it can make are really nasty. I think getting a bunch of fliers can be extremely rough for limited, but it is a mythic, and getting bodies isn't the worst thing in the world. Drawing cards as well is a nasty little thing. The whole notion of perfection and eyes feels like it fits well, and ultimately the question of whether the cast trigger is necessary is pretty reasonable, because, well, it wouldn't be very strong otherwise. Five mana for, say, two 1/1 fliers and a 3/3 on the ground? Yeah, mythic-worthy, and upping that cost if pretty strong itself!

What I like about this card is the fact that it doesn't get continuously stronger. Once you cast it, that's it. There's no flickering shenanigans, there's no proliferation or +1/+1 synergy—what you see is what you get. The self-balancing aspect means that the really horrible part of going against this card is the draw power that you get after being pinged in the air a lot. But, they are only 1/1s, and those little eyes squish pretty easily. Honestly, I thought that this thing itself had flying, and the fact that it doesn't makes me feel better. Overall I'm a fan! We need more eyes in the world. The flavor of Phyrexia being gross and all-encompassing checks out too.

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@real-aspen-hours — Tachyon Blast (JUDGE PICK)

This is a weird little idea and I have to commend it for how strange the interactions must be. I think that it has to be appropriately costed with that cast trigger, because the uncounterable Shock ain't worth nothing. What a strange little card! I feel that, in a limited game, this would be a pretty worthwhile removal spell, but the cost is somewhat prohibitive. Comparing it to cards like Trick Shot, I feel that this could've been a four-mana Instant spell that did double Shocks instead.

Well, even then, "double Shock" is a bit of a misnomer. Triggering and then shocking is pretty strange; targets being chosen on cast plus a trigger that also targets would mean that there would be a lot of rough interactions when it came to protecting and hexproof-ing. But hell, now you can take out that two-toughness Goyf without worrying about too much, right? There's a lot of thought that went into making this spell as simple as possible, and I appreciate that. The flavor is pretty neat as well, and checks out with how the Izzet work. Honestly, the flavor feels so on-point that it's almost hard to comment on, and that's a good thing. You've blended it in to the world quite well.

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@reaperfromtheabyss — Phyrexian Glutton (JUDGE PICK)

How much consideration was given to Phyrexian Ingester when it came to this card? That said, I actually see where you wanted to make this one distinguished. I feel that you should have actually blended the first and second abilities into one paragraph. Looking into similar effects, I think someone's first notion would've been to have this be an "As ~ enters the battlefield" effect, and yet, I can see why that would've been the wrong choice with flicker effects. Man, this is a tricky one! You mitigated a lot of the ways in which this card could've been broken. One other thing I like about it is that it's not an optional ability, so you'd have to exile one of your own creatures and/or planeswalkers if there were no other options.

As a control card, or even a midrange anti-control card, I like it a lot. The way that it's both a removal spell and a finisher is pretty strong without being overwhelmingly annoying. It enters without the ability to Shock it, which is nasty as well. And yet, on-board, it's not the hardest to chump. It sure as hell ain't the easiest, but it's designed to be difficult without being impossible to deal with. Certainly a contender, and I'm a fan! What's with folks and designing Phyrexians this week? I'm not complaining, but hey, it's something curious to note.

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@ship-of-skitties — Machi Avel, Master Planner

When we have references in real life, I think Magic's rule of thumb is to have a pseudonym of some kind instead of... Well, "parody" is the best name for it, but this card feels like an homage way more than that. I'm not the biggest fan of the name, but you have the plot and you've not lost it, that's for sure! This card's a strange one but you have all the pieces. Plotting plus the trigger is obvious but you can also cast cards with impulse draws and t works like the Aftermath Pia Nalaar, which checks out! I love the "this turn" on the middle ability; I originally felt that you could've put the two together, but actually, the third ability works with cards that just have plot naturally, so I get why you separated them.

Man, ultimately this card is just a crazy engine, and I respect it. Plotting forces a long game when you consider that you can't plot and cast cards in the same turn. I want to point out that the flavor text is a little squished in there and that "nonland" is one word, but besides those two things and the name, you've made a pretty gnarly card and I respect it immensely. Plotting has proven to be really fun for gameplay and this card's doing it quite well. Yeah, little to no notes otherwise! Good job.

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@sombramainexe — The First Stone

Don't forget that when you submit a card via text or via an editor that doesn't have a specific rarity indicator, you need to note a card's rarity. I wouldn't worry about that for the moment, though, because we should talk about this card first. I know where the name is coming from, and yes, the concept of casting the first stone and all that is theoretically funny. Functionally, this card's pretty middling, because in an interactive game you can have only one that you'll maybe use assuming you've not interacted beforehand, or it will literally be a dead draw. A single removal spell that only works if you haven't performed a set-specific game action just isn't the kind of card that stands up to scrutiny.

That's not to say that we don't appreciate seeing funny cards here from time to time, and I do assume that to some degree this card was supposed to be humorous. (BTW, for everyone else reading that doesn't understand the joke, it's based off John 8:7, a Biblical reference that's entered the common lexicon). With that said a degree of functionality is still preferred to go along with it. This card is probably narrower than you might think at first glance.

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@stupidstupidratcreatures — Biogenesis

There are quite a few options on this card. I think that the fact that you have to choose between counters and life is pretty bunk, and I actually thought before rereading that you would get both counters and life. If the second part of the card was "You gain 1 life and draw a card. Put a +1/+1 counter on up to one target creature you control." would've been just fine to me. There are plenty of effects like this in green and there's no shame in pushing it just a little bit.

Is this a cast trigger, though? I suppose in a roundabout way it is, so I'll let it skirt the contest a little bit, but this is very technically a trigger on the sacrifice rather than the actual cast. At the same time, it's important to make that distinction because it shows the complexity of a card's internals. The trigger wouldn't be possible without the cast, so there's all that, but no matter, the card's perfectly reasonable as is. I think the generic name/implied flavor isn't pushing me into any particular direction, but I'll commend this card regardless for being more in the realm of Plumb the Forbidden rather than the other green cards in the Greater Good variety that we see riffs on.

~

@tanknspank — Kami of Impending Victory (JUDGE PICK)

So this would trigger off itself, right? Six power for six mana is a good start. I like the idea that you can ramp up to a couple more bodies just by itself, and a six-mana 4/4 in white is still pretty good. I know in your notes you mentioned storm and stormlike capabilities, and honestly, I wouldn't worry about that. The ability to look at other cast spells and to make something based on those spells is reasonable for the trigger without being too powerful. What's there to say otherwise? I dunno, this card feels just plain great in limited and decent-ish in commander; bodies are bodies, no matter the format.

Victory, well—that's an odd one, but I suppose the flavor is justified if something terrible happens, and lemme just check the wiki real quick... Oh wow. I actually had no idea that that happened in the story. WELL then. I guess that places the timeline now, doesn't it. Yeah, this card checks out on all fronts. White doesn't usually get the storm capabilities, but ramping up to a multi-spell turn would be pretty fun, and even then you get to play some fun tide-turning power on turn six regardless. Overall, it's solid! It's not breaking any new ground but it's doing all the work that it wants to do fairly and firmly. I do like the fact that it'll get you a Samurai even if it gets countered. Feels important for some reason.

~

Whew. Well, that's all set and settled. Thank you for all your entries, and see y'all next week. @abelzumi

[inbabylontheywept]

The Mormon Heretic Casts a Curse

So, this is a sequel piece to The Mormon Heretic and the Leviathan. @apolloendymion requested that I write some more of the stories, and this is another one. I'm going to put a trigger warning here that the story does involve partner abuse. Not from the heretic, but just... as a detail. Also, I guess, some medical stuff that involves death. It's Old Testament shit. Take it as you will.

Mormon seminary has four separate courses about the four separate parts of their canon. It’s on a constant rotation, and my particular ordering was Old Testament, then New Testament, then Book of Mormon, then Doctrine and Covenants. 

I got the Mormon Heretic for my OT year, which is 100% the best year I could have possibly got him for. And, also, absolutely the worst, because at that time I was a very orthodox Mormon, and this guy couldn’t have fucked with my brain worse if JFK’s dad gave him an icepick and a waiver. 

At that time I had an abysmal understanding of the OT, and to call my experience with it jarring would be an understatement. I learned that Elohim is a plural word. I learned that OT God itself doesn’t deny the existence of other Gods, and in fact relished challenging them to contests. The whole experience was so insane to me that I stayed after class one day to ask the teacher how he managed to bridge the divide between the OT and the NT. They're insanely different theologies, and he really refused to mince words about it.

He listened to my concerns, and I cried a little because I was fourteen and beginning to realize that there was something fundamentally wrong with the religion I was born into, and when it was all said and done he said that tomorrow he would teach the story of how he squared away the differences between OT God and NT God. 

And he did. 

I can remember having a sense that something was strange when we arrived at the building. There was a crosswalk where the exiting teenagers would pass the entering teenagers, and normally people would discuss the lesson as they passed. The group we passed just looked shell shocked. 

I sat down. The class arrived. Heretic stood up, and went to the front of the class, and he began his tale: 

He had a little sister that got married at nineteen. She then started making visits to the hospital. 

He, like his family, assumed that she was just clumsy. He was clumsy. He’d had multiple surgeries on his shoulders and his elbows and his knees because he kept doing dumb things to himself.

She was not clumsy. Her husband was beating her. 

She got a divorce. Heretic was old when the story was being told - I think in his early sixties? - and the divorce went shockingly well for the time. Sister was not blamed, husband was ostracized from both families, and life found a way to continue in its slow way. 

Heretic was, at that point, a new teacher in the Church Education System (CES). He was trying to be a spiritual guy, and teach spiritual lessons, but he just wasn’t doing a very good job because he was really, really, murderously angry with the guy that had hurt his sister. 

Sister had moved on. Or, he thought she had, he was hardly telepathic, but he felt like she’d let go and started her life anew, and her parents had supported her, and even her in laws had supported her, and things should have been easy to let go of, but they weren’t. And every day that he tried to let go, he got more and more angry, and every day he tried to pretend he was fine he ripped the wound wider, and one day he taught a spectacularly bad lesson and came home and wanted nothing more than to kill the man that had beat his sister. He instead said a prayer. I cannot quote it verbatim, but this is very, very close to what was said. “God, I know that I must forgive to be forgiven, but I want nothing more than to see that animal choke to death on his own shit.”(I know for a fact that the choke on shit part was in it. It is not a common thing to hear a seminary teacher say “shit” in the middle of class. It is also integral to the rest of the story) If this was a book, there would’ve been an immediate result, but instead Heretic felt a strange peace, grabbed ahold of it like a lifeline, and resolved to go to therapy. Which is how he got into Jungian analysis. Finding therapy in the deep South in 1980 was pretty wild. Jump cut forward to the early 2000s. Heretic has moved on. Sister is remarried. He is at peace with the world, but he gets a call from his sisters old in-laws. 

And the in-laws say that yes, they have ostracized the abuser for the last twenty years, but they got a call from him a few hours ago to please, meet him at the hospital, because he was sick. 

And the abuser was, in fact, very sick. He’d been vomiting for days. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but they knew that at the present rate, they were running out of time. He was going to have some kind of exploratory surgery as a hail Mary, and the guy wanted a blessing first. 

And so the family had gone to Heretic, to ask him if he would be willing to bless the man that had beat his sister. It is one thing, to feel like you have forgiven someone enough to move on, and another to wish good things upon them. But Heretic had spent years and years in therapy, and he developed on an incredibly spiritual path, and he said that yes, he would bless the man before the surgery. 

And he did. 

The surgery found that the man had a benign mass in his colon. It wasn’t spreading, but it had grown large enough to prevent food from going around it. Without an exit, things had built up back to the entrance. The man was throwing up because there was nowhere else for the shit to go. Worse, during the surgery he thrown up and some of the mix had managed to drain back into the man’s lungs. He survived the knife, but the combination of fecal matter and acid inside his lungs had created an infection that he failed to survive. He drowned in his own fluids. 

He drowned in his own shit. 

Now, at that point, the class had no idea where this was going. We were a bunch of children, hearing a story about this insane divine retribution, but the Heretic continued. 

And with tears in his eyes, he told us that God had answered his original prayer only after he had fully and truly forgiven that man. That if he’d wished death on another human being in anger, in rage, and then received it, it would have damned his soul, but that as soon as he was at peace, as soon as he could wish life and love upon the man that had wronged his kin, justice could be brought down. And be believed it, with his entire heart. He spoke about how God wants to give us what we want, but that he loves us so much that we will not give it to us until we have reached the point where it is not poison to us. We will have our revenge, but only when it is meaningless to us. When the only lesson that could be grabbed from it is that God heard us the first time, and held back out of love. Then, we will see those who had wronged us choke on their shit.  

The bell rang after that, and we left the class in a daze. When we went across the crosswalk, no one spoke a word to the students crossing the opposite way. We were all too busy thinking. 

[mariacallous]

Shortly before America’s first presidential election since the fall of Roe v Wade, I want to tell you the story of Amanda Zurawski, a bright light in the center of a perfect, horrendous storm.

A little over two years ago, Zurawski was 18 weeks pregnant with her first child, a child she and her husband had conceived after a year and a half of fertility treatments. When she started leaking fluid and sought medical help, her doctors told her there was no chance the fetus would survive. But Zurawski lives in Texas, a state with some of the most restrictive abortion laws in the country: in May of the previous year, the governor, Greg Abbott, had signed into law the Texas Heartbeat Act, also known as SB8, which makes performing abortions after detection of embryonic or fetal cardiac activity, usually at six weeks, illegal. That was on top of several existing statutes. Then, in June 2022, Roe fell.

And so Zurawski’s doctors told her that by the letter of the law – as far as they understood it; more on that later – in order to get the medical care she so desperately needed, either her daughter’s heart would have to stop, or her health would have to devolve into a “life-threatening situation”, something Zurawski has previous called “the most horrific version of a staring contest: whose life would end first? Mine, or my daughter’s?”

Her doctors advised her not to leave a 15-minute radius of the hospital lest her situation spiral, nixing the already unfathomable idea of getting into a car or on to a plane to seek help from a less restrictive state, and risking going into septic shock in the middle of the Texas desert, or 30,000ft up in the air. So she went home to grieve her impending loss and brace for what might come – during which time, Texas’s total abortion trigger ban went into effect, which made performing an abortion punishable by life in prison. And there Zurawski sat, waiting.

The next day, she developed sepsis – a condition her doctors felt was extreme enough to protect them from unintentionally violating the new law, allowing them to induce labor – and after three days in the ICU, she emerged from the experience having almost died, with her own future fertility compromised, and galvanized to make a change about the inhumane laws.

“I admittedly didn’t realize the ways in which an abortion truly is just healthcare,” Zurawski told me this week when I reached her by phone during her early morning walk with her sheepadoodle, Millie, in Austin, where she lives with her husband, Josh. “I couldn’t imagine that I would ever need or want one, since I was desperately trying to have a baby.”

The first moment abortion laws and her own fertility journey intersected was early on in the IVF process. The likelihood of a multiples pregnancy increases when using IVF, but as she is not able to carry multiples, her doctor had discussed the possibility of needing to perform selective reduction surgery if more than one embryo implanted, something that is currently illegal in Texas.

“So I was aware that these laws could affect us, but not from the perspective that I would need it to save my life, and be denied healthcare,” she told me. When she found herself in the unimaginable situation of being turned away from the hospital by doctors who wanted to help her, but weren’t sure they could, her eyes opened, and she and Josh vowed to fight.

Zurawski became the lead plaintiff in the landmark case, Zurawski v Texas, which sued the state of Texas to clarify the “medical emergency” exception in the law – a riveting and harrowing new documentary about the case follows Zurawski and two fellow plaintiffs through the legal fight – and soon found herself catapulted on to the national stage. Her natural charisma, straight talk, and tragic story calcified into a perfect trifecta with the power – so hopes Kamala Harris, who made her a campaign surrogate – of firing up the electorate.

“Humanizing it is what’s really getting people to sit up and pay attention,” Zurawski told me. “When you see a face and a real human who’s been impacted by this, it’s impossible to say, ‘This is reasonable, this is exactly what we want for our country.’” She paused to take a breath. “That’s barbaric.”

One of the most powerful scenes in the documentary shows Zurawski at home with her parents, her mother saying that she’s always voted Republican, but won’t after seeing her daughter almost die.

“Will I say they’re converted Democrats? No!” Zurawski told me, laughing, as she huffed her way up a hill. “But I do think they are single-issue voters, at least in this election. It opened up their eyes a little bit to the legislature, and how laws are written, and how bans go into effect, and the real implications.”

The real implications of, say, “medical exceptions” to a near-total abortion ban?

“They don’t work! Categorically!” she scoffed, citing the multiple patient plaintiffs in her case, alongside other women who have died in our country awaiting care their doctors are prohibited, by law, from providing. “Every pregnancy is inherently unique. Where else in healthcare do we put a blanket rule over where you can and cannot receive treatment?”

In her work over the years since she lost her pregnancy, she’s found that one key to changing minds lies in reframing the conversation from “pro-life” v “pro-choice” to one about healthcare access.

“For 50 years, the right worked really hard to politicize and weaponize and stigmatize the word ‘abortion’,” she said. You say pro-choice or pro-life, and people are already on a side. But some of the time, she pointed out, people simply don’t understand what it means to be on one side or the other.

“I’ll be at a rally, and someone will come up to me and say, ‘I didn’t realize that in 1985, when I had a D&C’” – a dilation-and-curettage surgical procedure that removes tissue from the uterus after miscarriage – “‘that’s an abortion.’ That’s the same as abortion care!”

As Zurawski has crisscrossed the country, campaigning for the Harris-Walz ticket, another part of her family has also moved: her embryos. In February, the Alabama supreme court ruled that frozen embryos are “unborn children”. Zurawski, living in a state that has a similar political climate – one in which city councils have enacted abortion travel bans, in effect criminalizing the use of cities’ roads and highways to seek abortion care – panicked, and rushed to move them to a safer place.

“The implications of the ruling are just staggering,” she said. But, by some estimates, she admits that moving the embryos is itself a stopgap measure. “If Trump is elected, it doesn’t matter where the embryos are, or where we are. He will unleash chaos.”

She cited Project 2025, a rightwing policy manifesto for Trump’s second term that indicates plans not only to restrict birth control access and block access to abortion pills and medical equipment, but also potentially ban IVF and surrogacy in certain states.

“Well, Josh and I have to use a surrogate now because of what my body went through. It’s like they’re saying, you’re out of luck!” She paused, catching her breath on the other end of the phone, perhaps reaching the top of a hill. “It could theoretically prevent us from having children.”

So, what’s to be done? Watch the documentary. Share her story. Vote. Fight.

[hellohiyoko]

Danganronpa Characters Who Would've Been Unlikely Friends If They Were In The Same Killing Game (Part 1 of ?)

While working on my ambitious, 48 character killing game WIP that includes the whole cast of Trigger Happy Havoc, Goodbye Despair, and V3: Killing Harmony, one very important aspect came to mind. How would some of these characters, who have never interacted in canon, respond to one another? What friendships would form from this? What rivalries could develop from this? Quite a few fics and people have managed to put a lot of thought into this concept (one of my favorites being the friendship between Kaito, Kaede, and Mondo, the rivalry between Kaede and Celeste, and/or the "friendship" Kaito and Gundham portrayed "Blackened Skies" by CSpratt and MrCynical on AO3, or the relationship between Angie Yonaga and the Warriors of Hope as discussed by one of my mutuals, @/theamityelf), so I couldn't help but feel inspired.

Thus, this post was born! So, let's begin!

Spoilers of the main three games below, you've been warned.

#1. Kaito Momota and Aoi Asahina

Hear me out. First and foremost, just because Kaito has some traditional views on what it means to be a man doesn't mean he's this sexist, perverted, transphobic, homophobic incel of a loser some of you make him out to be ("That could've been me walking around in women's underwear"), so jot that down. Secondly, these two being friends would make SO MUCH SENSE if you think about it. They're both very optimistic (almost naively) about the circumstances, they both like to work out (Hina moreso than Kaito but I give Kaito a pass considering his condition), they both were willing to go to the extremes to end their respective killing games, and they both get so fed up with their respective antagonist-of-the-game that they decided to rock their SHIT. I can picture Hina deciding to invite herself to Shuichi and Kaito (and Maki)'s workout sessions and showing up all the boys. I'd imagine their dynamic would be pretty similar to the dynamic Hina has with Hiro, but much friendlier. They both are also willing to put trust into women that could kill them and are deemed dangerous among the rest of the cast.

I could also see Kaito being friends with Mondo and throwing himself into the sauna contest with Taka but given the events of Danganronpa S, that feels a bit obvious.

#2. Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Fuyuhiko and Taka definitely start off on the wrong foot; Fuyuhiko won't open up and Taka initially wouldn't approve of Fuyuhiko's yakuza background. As Fuyuhiko's shell softens, Taka sees Fuyuhiko's own moral compass such as how he's against underage drinking, driving without a license, or underage sex. That, mixed with Fuyuhiko's more cooperative nature could make for a rather interesting friendship between the two.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL FOLKS!

The familial pressure both Taka and Fuyuhiko deal with could be a great bonding moment for the both of them, especially since they're dealing with it in similar ways.

#3. Gundham Tanaka and Himiko Yumeno

God, Spike Chunsoft, and Kazutaka Kodaka all knew not to put these two in the same game or they'd become an unstoppable duo. With Himiko's persistence of being a "mage" and not a "magician", there's only one other person who'd go along with the act and play along. And I can hear him now: "You've proven yourself to be a capable mage. But your spells are no match for the Supreme Overlord of Ice and the Four Dark Devas of Destruction". Eventually, I could see Himiko getting tired of Gundham's antics, before immediately backpedalling and continuing the bit if a character such as Kokichi called her out on it, and I think it'd be hilarious. Bonus points, Gundham becomes immediately obsessed with Himiko's tricks that involve her "familiars".

[steddiebbang]

I’ll Be the Trick, You Be the Treat  |  Teen and Up |  96k

Author: @rocknrollsalad

Artist: @duckybeloved

[Link to Fic]  |  [Link to Art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Wayne Munson, Gareth, Jeff, Freak, Dustin, Original Characters

Tags: alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - no upside down, alternate universe - reality show, baking show, halloween, rivals to lovers, slow burn, dad steve, adult situations, manipulation, mild gore (baked goods)

Trigger Warnings: manipulation, mentions of hook ups, miscommunication

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

The Food Channel is desperate, ratings are abysmal and they don’t know how they will stay afloat. In a last-ditch effort, they cash in all their favors to score some celebrities and hand-selected a batch of bakers. A metalhead, a drag queen, an obsessive horror fan, a deaf guy, and even a vegan. They’re going to appeal to ALL demographics.

If that doesn’t work, the rivalries they brewed behind the scenes (with a few clever spies and suggestible contestants focused on the prize money) should do the trick. Who doesn’t love a bit of reality TV fighting? That should lure the viewers in.\

Between high-pressured bakes the cast makes friends, enemies, and everything in between but no one could have plotted what happens to the cute baker from Hawkins, IN and the outlandish and lucky-to-be-there baker from Chicago.

Who will win the grand prize of fifty thousand dollars and whose life will be changed for ever?

[nellie-elizabeth]

Doctor Who: The Interstellar Song Contest (15x06)

This episode kind of felt like it had too many moving parts, but overall I liked a lot of it!

Cons:

The big letdown for me is that like... I don't know who "the Rani" is. This is my own fault, I suppose. I could get into Classic Who so these multi-decade-spanning surprise returns actually impact me, but... I think a lot of the audience probably doesn't know who this character is. And the Mrs. Flood twist has been built up for so long, that getting an answer that means absolutely nothing to me did hit as a real letdown. I also thought having her bi-generate was a little odd, what's the narrative function of it not just continuing to be the same person playing the role for the rest of the season? Maybe I'll eat my words after seeing next week, but that just feels a little unmotivated at this point.

While overall I like the idea of the Doctor being triggered by the loss of Gallifrey into acting uncharacteristically, I do kind of wish that it hadn't felt so abrupt. It was a little too perfectly convenient, Belinda tuning in just in time to see him threatening Kid and then being like "that's not him." Maybe the Doctor tries at first to find compassion and understanding but just can't manage it, or maybe he comes out of the trance of that violence a little less easily when Belinda returns... something needed to be slightly finessed here, the pacing or arc of it just felt off to me in a way I can't quite define.

Pros:

I love the fact that this episode is in honor of Eurovision but is also openly critical of it and other awards-based art celebrations being tainted by capitalism... like, it managed to be a love letter to something and also calling out its bullshit, which I think is the sweet spot. As an ignorant American who has never gotten into the whole Eurovision thing, I'm sure there were a ton of references that I didn't get, like, I figured Rylan was like, a real dude, but I had to look him up to be sure. I did recognized Graham Norton though, that was fun!

I thought this episode had a great cast of guest characters, they felt distinct and memorable to me immediately. The people running the song contest, the villains, the star singer at the end, the gay couple both crushing hard on the Doctor... it was nice to see such instantly realized and fun characters throughout. I really did get a kick out of both men in that relationship being like "oh, I'd do anything for you" and the two of them sort of playfully fighting over who had a stronger connection with the Doctor. Like yeah, I get it, he's something special!

I'm still really impressed with how Belinda is being written. I had wondered if the idea of "companion that just wants to go home" would get pretty stale, but honestly it's lovely how her kindness, compassion, and curiosity lead her to wonder about the places they visit, but at the same time she does still have this overarching drive. The most emotionally impactful moment of the episode for me was when she realizes, or believes, that the Doctor is dead and gone forever, the TARDIS too, and that she's truly stuck and alone. She doesn't even know where she is, or when she is, and she has nobody to protect her. That was such a believable and effective reaction!

I also got actual goosebumps and teared up a bit during the song at the end. I think having it be in an alien language was honestly a brilliant choice, it was just the pure emotion in her voice, the vulnerability of what she was expressing within the context of the story. It felt political in a way that was both broad and specific, if that makes any sense? And the reaction, the crowd held in suspended animation, and then the silence afterward, and the roaring applause... I don't know, it just felt very relatable even though the circumstances were so (literally) alien.

So yeah, I think I'm going to say that for this one, the sum was maybe not as great as the parts, in that the A-plot stuff is getting less and less promising to me, while the individual character moments and themes of the episode itself were really lovely. We're going to see how it all culminates very soon... fingers crossed it's exciting...

7/10