#it's worth it though i've made a lot of good changes

[noctude]

hi. would anybody want to provide some singing for a track on wizard solitaire? i think it would be extremely cool to have a bunch of voices on this one. (i cant pay you sorry this would just be for fun and also i get no money from music streaming)

(details under cut)

-only 8 measures

-i will provide sheet music and an audio track for reference/timing

-lowest note is a D#3, highest note is an A4. if you cant hit a note just sing a different one and i’ll use the magic of subtle autotune

-the melody is kinda wonky because i didnt originally write it with vocals in mind but it’s doable

-theres actually 2 choices a melody and a countermelody. the countermelody is harder. let me know which one you wanna do. or both if youre an overachiever

-recording quality can be scuffed i literally did it with my laptop mic

dm me :-D

[changeling-droneco]

Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man

[royalarchivist]

Phil briefly talks about QSMP, the admin situation, Quackity, the new team, and the harassment both Quackity and the admins have been receiving.

Please listen to the clip and read the transcript in its entirety. Keep in mind that things can easily be taken out of context (even this clip, though I did try to include everything he said).

If you'd like to see the full unedited conversation, Phil started talking about last week's interactions with YD and Bad ~1h 57m into today's VOD, which led into this conversation about QSMP.

[ Complete Transcript ↓ ]

—

Phil: Yeah, she's great. Another- another reason why QSMP is just like... fuckin' incredible. That was like, not even ever going to happen without QSMP. Like, obviously it's had its problems, it's go– it's had its problems. Those problems are being rectified. All the people that were wrong'uns have been fired [Laughs] And Quackity's put a new team together. So like, I'm so happy that I'm like– that Q is doing everything he can right now to make it like, right.

But I am still just sad that Chayanne and Tallulah are just asleep, that is just making me real sad. So I've been like, logging on whenever I can to just like, hang out and stuff and just, you know, be around. But I am- I am just sad boy now. [Laughs] I've like– throwing all those penguins into the- the Spawn area was like, my limit. And the like, laughing with YD and Bad kind of cheered me up a bit.

But yeah, I'm sure most of you can agree. It's like, once- once you've been making content on a server a certain way, it's- it's been like, 6 - 8 months of like, the same like type of content I've been making on that server. It's been very lore-heavy, it's been very Egg hanging out with the Eggs and just chilling. Like, not even like doing anything crazy. We would just hang out. But yeah, I'm sure everyone's in the same boat. Like, we all just like, miss that, you know?

So... just gotta wait around. Just gotta wait. Wait for things to get better. Trust in Big Q.

But yeah, moments- moments like the other day, Chat, where me, Bad, and YD were just hanging out just like kind of... you know, it just kind of like... What's the word I'm looking for? Like, drills home how important the QSMP is and can be for connecting people. Not just now, but in the future. And like, that- I feel like that is something that's definitely worth protecting, or something that's worth like, seeing happen in the future with other people. Not even thinking about like, if I'm gonna be interacting with anyone like, thinking about like other people interacting with other people in the future. It's fucking- It's so cool.

Like, imagine seeing like, brand new streamers that you might've not have heard of interacting with people that you know right now. Not necessarily me or people that I know, but like– like, the connections that we've all made.

Dude, Me and Kristin went to fuckin' Switzer-France to hang out with these people! [Laughs] Cellbit and Lore traveled from fucking Brazil to Switzer-France to hang out! The- these connections are like, mental. Just never would have happened without the server, and that's definitely something worth protecting. And like, ensuring it is done the correct way in the future.

That means a lot to us Chat, it does– [Briefly responds to Chat] It means a lot to us and like, obviously the admins being well-taken care of is like, at the fore-front.

And Quackity speaks very highly of this new team. He's like- he's chatted to us like, in calls and stuff. He's been keeping us up to date on everything that's been going on behind the scenes, everything that he can tell us anyways. And like, he is very happy with this new team. He pretty much said that they are like, very passionate about the project, and we can like, trust that he trusts them to do a very good job. So...

Yeah, I'm excited but like, we just have to kind of like, wait. Like, there's a lot being changed around, there's a lot of plans. But the good thing to know is that the people that caused harm have been removed. And now the people that are like, in charge are like, very passionate about the project and just want to see everyone happy and succeed and be taken care of. But these things take time. So we just have to hang about, we have to wait.

[Responding to someone asking about what happened with QSMP and the Admin situation] I'm not going to go into too much detail, you can find out exactly what has gone on, and it's not as simple as black and white. It's- there's a lot of gray areas in there, and it's like very complicated, so you can go look it up yourself, but ultimately, all you need to know is that the initial admin team, the like, head people at the top that Quackity put in charge like ages ago when the server first started were making decisions that were like, not good for the health and also the well-being of the actors, and like, admins and like, the staff. So like, some staff were fine, other staff had a shit fucking time, and it was unfair and terrible and went unnoticed for a while, and then it all came out and Quackity's been like, fixing it since.

Most recently, he stepped down from the team because of like, how serious shit was getting. Like, people online have been fucking awful. And it's very dangerous at the minute for like the ex- like, members of the team, and also him. It's like- it's terrible.

So it's very heated, very– it's– again— and it's not as simple as just like "This- this is– this is right, this is wrong." It's like- it's very- there's a lot of muddled areas, and it's not as easy as just saying "This is exactly what happened." I'm summarizing. I'm literally just summarizing. But all you need to know right now, the latest update is that the team that are in charge are very passionate about the projects and are like, much, much better and will take care of the new people and the admins and all the actors and stuff a lot better than the last fucking team because the initial problem was that Quackity kind of like, took a bit more of a step back and he wasn't like, overseeing every single thing that was going on behind the scenes, but now he's had to- he's had to take a step back, he's been forced to take a step back, but he's left it in the hands of a team that he truly trusts this time. Like, he's actually fully-vetted.

So HOPEFULLY– again: there's more things that need to be done behind the scenes, and I'm not an official spokesperson, I'm just a person playing on the fucking server that my friend has made, and I'm very happy to support him, and I trust that he will do and continue to do the right thing.

But yeah. Not as simple as just [Snaps fingers] "This is this." It's like– there's so much fucking like, middle ground and shit that's gone on. And that's all I'm gonna say on it! 'Cuz otherwise it's just gonna go on and on and on, and people are gonna be like, "What do you know?" and be like "I don't know shit!" And the stuff that I do know, I probably can't talk about right now. There's like, certain things that like, can't be said, for legal reasons and stuff.

[forlix]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[headspace-hotel]

Minecraft 1.20 thoughts:

The highlight is, of course, the cherry blossom grove biome and cherry trees. The cherry wood just looks SO GOOD with everything. I've made so many builds incorporating it already and it's so easy to work into a color scheme. Cherry wood. Hhhhhnnnnghh. Such a delicious shade of pink. I want to eat it.

Also really excited about the bamboo wood set, it looks amazing and adds a lot of functionality to bamboo.

Feeling pretty positively about the armor trims, though I wish there were more where the decorative material was more dominant in the color scheme.

Trail ruins and archaeology: Mixed feelings. I think archaeology is a fun mechanic, I like exploring the trail ruins, but they really, really turn inventory management into an absolute nightmare.

There are many different varieties of pottery sherds, I think at least 20. Sherds of different types do not stack. There are 4 armor trims that can be dropped by suspicious gravel in trail ruins. Trims of different types do not stack. The trail ruin structures themselves include many different varieties of terracotta and glazed terracotta, (at least 6 different colors of each) and—you guessed it!—each type stacks separately.

Additionally, suspicious gravel in trail ruins may drop any of several colors of candle (I have found red, purple, green, brown, and blue candles) and any of several colors of glass pane. The process of digging the ruin out will fill your inventory with at least 6 stacks of gravel as well as a lot of dirt, coarse dirt, cobblestone, and flint.

To top it all off, unless you want to enchant your brush with Unbreaking, you will need to carry multiple brushes because the brush breaks before the ruin is fully cleared.

Even with multiple shulker boxes clearing a ruin fully in one trip is impossible. What were the devs even thinking??? Are we expected to throw away the candles and other "junk" drops and ignore the glazed terracotta, mud bricks, and other tedious-to-obtain blocks in the structure itself?

This update shares with 1.19 the bizarre attribute of the devs supposedly being very focused on the player experience, while seemingly not noticing key parts of the player experience. The new mechanics and features in both have some incredibly fun and engaging elements to them but also some glaring problems.

I'm pretty much just indifferent to the clay pots? They would be more fun if they incorporated some basic colored patterns and/or actually could be used for something.

Changes to sign editing, and hanging signs are both fantastic.

The "Netherite Upgrade" is shit and I'm not sorry to say it.

Like...netherite is already so incredibly tedious and difficult to obtain that it's almost not worth bothering with. 4 ancient debris is needed to craft a single netherite ingot. You need 16 ancient debris to upgrade a full diamond armor set to netherite, and 8 more if you want to upgrade a sword and one pickaxe. If you don't have Mending on all of them, basically go fuck yourself, because from that point you will need multiple netherite ingots to repair a piece of equipment in the same way you would need multiple diamonds to repair diamond equipment. All of this for a set of equipment that will be fucking gone if you die and can't recover it.

And yet the devs have decided to??? fucking...add a generic, painfully uncharismatic new item to provide another barrier to obtaining netherite gear? because it's too easy or something???

I haven't broken into the other new additions very much, but I will try to obtain a sniffer egg soon...

[woso-dreamzzz]

Legacy II

Magdalena Eriksson x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Chelsea's reaction to you

Magda finally strays from your side after six weeks.

She would have stayed for longer but she knew that if she did, she would never go back to England. So, it's with a heavy heart that she gets the last of her baby cuddles and boards the flight back to London.

She mopes all through the weekend though, draining her phone battery from the frequent calls to Pernille to see you. When Monday rolls around, Magda is still in a little bit of a slump as she makes her way to training.

She gets there early like usual and sits in her cubby, scrolling through her gallery and biting at her cheek to stifle her tears. She misses you and Pernille like crazy.

"Holy shit, is that the baby?!"

Millie barges her way to Magda's cubby, sliding to sit next to her and practically wrenching the phone out of her hands.

"She's so cute!"

That makes Magda swell with pride as she points out the little things in the photo about you.

"She's got very strong reflexes," Magda boasts," So she's going to be very smart! And-And she kicks a lot so she's going to be a footballer too!"

Magda flicks to another picture and waits an appropriate amount of time for Millie to coo over you.

"And she always forgets she has feet! It's so cute! She gets so surprised."

The locker room slowly fills up and everyone makes a little stop by Magda to look at pictures of you.

"I can't believe Nilla got to see her first," Jonna complains as she watches a video of you staring up at your baby mobile," That's so unfair."

"She helped get Pernille to the hospital," Magda reminds her though her eyes don't stray from your image on her phone," I think she more than earned it."

"And Frido too? Did she really get on the first flight?"

"She did," Magda confirms," She didn't even tell us until she was outside our door. The princesse loves her though."

"Yeah, well, Fridos tend to stick together." Jonna flicked to another picture.

It was very sweet but it just made Magda miss you and Pernille even more. You're bundled up in your baby blanket, eyes closed softly. Pernille's shirtless and your little hand is gripping her collarbone possessively. Pernille's smiling down softly at you, one hand reaching up to rest on your head while the other is curled around your body to keep you stable and safe against her.

"Motherhood looks good on you," Beth says with a laugh as Magda yawns while flicking through images - she's easily got more than a hundred of just you.

"I'm exhausted," Magda replies but she keeps the smile on her face," But it's so worth it. She makes these cute little noises in her sleep and I swear she can understand me already."

Beth laughs, clapping her on the back. "Is it hard? Being away from her?"

Magda's face falls a little as she looks at your picture. "Yeah," She admits," She...She's just so little and it's just Pernille with her now. I just want her with me all the time. I've already booked a flight for next week to go and see them, straight after the game."

"You're a great mum already, Magda," Beth says," That little girl is so lucky."

The compliment makes Magda flush a little and she stares down at her home screen - a picture of you sitting on her lap. Your eyes are wide as you stare at the squeaky thing behind that camera that Pernille's using to make you look in the right direction. Magda's sitting behind you, a massive smile on her face as you lean comfortably against her.

"She's perfect," Is what she says in reply," She makes it easy to be a good mum."

Beth laughs. "God, motherhood's made you sappy. Come on, we've still got training to do."

Training is the perfect way to get her mind off of the thought of you and Pernille. Training is easy, it's repetitive and it keeps Magda from even straying into the idea of missing you as much as she does.

"Magda," Emma says as she walks past the coaching office to get to the changing rooms.

"Er...yeah?"

"Come in."

The whole exchange makes Magda feel antsy. She runs through everything that's happened in training and wonders if perhaps she has done something wrong.

She can't think of anything so feels on edge as she sits in front of Emma's desk.

"Well?" Emma says and Magda's throat bobs.

"What?"

"Do I get to see baby pictures too or are they just reserved for players?"

Magda lets out a small laugh, half of relief and half of amusement.

"You want to see them?"

Emma raises a brow. "Well, I'd like to see the future Chelsea star you and Pernille made."

Magda fishes her phone out of her pocket and opens it to her gallery. "Funny. Pernille swears she'll play for Wolfsburg."

"This little girl will play for me come hell or high water, Magda," Emma says," I'll make sure of it."

[heartfullofleeches]

Sooo uh is it too early to ask for nsfw hcs of carnis?

(I think enough time has passed... Mainly because I've finally got enough written)

Carnis - Yan Lab Experiment NSFW Hcs

• As mentioned in previous posts, Carnis has yet to experience a lot in the human world - sexual urges being yet another. As their bond with Reader grows that starts to change. Their body feels.. strange when their caretaker does certain things. Calls them cute pet names, strokes their ears or face - even just a smile gets their stomach twisted into knots and tension between their legs. It feels good to touch that area, but so wrong to them at the same time. They've always been told their body is just a tool for others - they shouldn't get to feel this way, especially when all they can think about is Reader's hands in place of theirs. It's dirty - wrong, but it feels so good.

They start to wonder if Reader has these same desire. The thought of helping them through it makes them happy.

• Carnis priorities your satisfaction over all, and more importantly theirs. They feel as though they aren't worth the effort and sees your pleasure as their own. With how inexperienced they are, you'll have to teach them a thing or two, but Carnis is willing to do whatever they can to make you happy. Their preferred method is laying back in bed and allowing you to ride their tongue/cock to your heart's content. They like if you use their mouth more since they wouldn't be able to last long inside you and feels guilty if they finish before you.

• Huge oral fixation + very touchy/clingy, but afraid to do both. Wants to touch and lick all over you, but restrains themselves unless given the command. Could spend hours with their head between your legs and still want for longer. If you give them permission to touch you, Carnis' hands will not leave your body. Gropes at your chest, thighs, and whatever you'll allow. Develops a habit of doing this in their sleep which they'll be none the wiser to unless mentioned. You'll know when they're about to cum when they lock fingers with yours or push through their anxiousness to kiss you without asking first.

This fixation works in reverse as well. Despite their years of testing, Carnis' body is very sensitive to certain touches. Kissing on their neck, chest or thighs makes them putty in your hands. Their nipples are especially tender and gripping their horns while they're going down on you will make them see stars. Liked being bitten whether it's enough to draw blood or just a little love bite. Avoids looking in mirrors if you leave hickies because the sight alone gets them aroused.

• Becomes increasingly vocal as they get more comfortable in bed. At first it's tiny whimpers and pants for more, but as they get used to things and you they can't keep their mouth shut. Begs to be touched more, for you to never leave them. Declares their love for you until their voice is raw. If your walls are thin might be best to invest in some sound proofing if you don't want noise complaints from neighbors.

• Sucker for praise and affection. Just wants to be your good boy/pet and to know you really mean it when you say it. Head pats, cutesy pet names, maybe a pretty collar or outfit if you're feeling generous. Carnis would wear anything you threw at them if you said they looked absolutely adorable in it.

• Another way Carnis gets over their aversion to self pleasure is by cumming in the meals they make for you. Long as it can benefit you, Carnis push through most things even the self hatred and guilt of watching you undress or sniffing your clothes and touching themselves because of it. If you mention the food being good, it'll clear them of all negative thoughts towards masturbating and lead to more dishes made with the same special ingredient. Cums on your pillows or clothes as a way to mark you as theirs, but only when they're about to wash them afterwards.

• If you have a dildo/fleshlight they will throw it out unless you use it on them. They're the only toy you need.

• Always looking for new things to try online. Drags you over to the computer to get your approval before buying a new collar or to show you a new position they'd like to try. Missionary is their favorite because they like seeing your face, but they're always open to try other things for you.

• Cuddling/Aftercare is a must. Carnis enjoys a nice bath and snuggling into bed with you, but just laying in your arms straight after is fine with them too. Run your fingers through their hair or just speak softly to them and they'll be out like a light. Thanks you for staying with them and allowing them to love you every minute before they fall asleep. Hugs you tighter if you so much as breath differently and will not let go until they wake up.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Is Your Circle Trustworthy?

Hello beautiful people! I am so sorry for the wait, I've been busy with just enjoying what life has to offer. I really hope that you all are doing good! Today's reading is inspired by the people that are/were in my life that I've considered friends. I think that we all go through a period of time where we're questioning the people in our circles. Maybe it's because we're going through a period of transition, experiencing successes, experiencing painful moments, etc. I think that there is nothing wrong with this because we're all human at the end of the day. What aligns with us will stay, what doesn't will go. Also, please check out my Five Dollar Friday sale. It would mean a lot to me! Thank you! So with that being said, please pick the quote that resonates with you, my dear!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: I think some of you work in an elderly home/nursing home. Maybe you’re working on getting your degree in nursing. I heard the line from Beyonce’s ‘Hold Up’ where she says “Something don’t feel right / ‘Cause it ain’t right”. I don’t think you guys have a good discernment. You don’t trust yourself so in return, you attract some questionable people. I get the feeling that you guys are like the friend that doesn’t know how to say no, so you end up getting taken advantage of. You guys remind me of a friend that I had once. I think that you need to start owning your power, realizing your worth. You can do this by spending more time by yourself. Once you start seeing how people interact with you as you step into your true self, you will see who stays and who will go. There is nothing wrong with a fresh start. You need to get real though. You need to clean house, babe. Nothing is permanent, so don’t force yourself to stick in a situation that you don’t need to be in.

Cards Used: 8 of Swords (RX), The Moon, The Devil, Queen of Discs, Strength, 4 of Swords, The Chariot.

extras: “the underdog”. independent not by choice. meditation. saturn in the 1st house. looking at the moon. empire (2015). solar system. planetarium. “they don’t wanna see me smile”. oh happy day.

Pile Two: I feel like you guys are going to a concert soon. You could have made up with a friend that you fell out with and now you’re wondering if they have good intentions this time. They have changed for the better, I see. It takes two to tango is the energy that I am getting from this. There’s no fingers to point here. You both did your dirt but after some time apart, you’ve come to acknowledge your part in the ending of the friendship. I think that you guys have a good circle around you within this friendship and outside of your friendship. But you guys do not need to befriend your co-workers. Keep that to a minimum. This goes for any classmates that you think are cool too, lol. I see that you’ll be turned off by their behavior very quickly. But you have a good circle overall, just don’t let your ego ruin your friendships. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 9 of Cups, Temperance, The Sun.

extras: childhood best friends. autism. “stand back!” thumbs down. 2009. new boyz.

Pile Three: For this pile, I heard “divinely orchestrated”. I think your circle is perfect just the way it is. You are spiritually bonded to the people that are your friends right now. They have pure intentions. This could be your chosen family. You’ve chosen correctly. For some of you, your circle consists of mostly your biological family. Your guides approve of the people around you so much. I think that you will be lifelong friends with these people. I am seeing some distance between you and these people though, physical distance to be exact. Did you move or are you planning to move? I feel like your circle wants you to make the move if you haven’t. They see that you are bored and fed up with your current environment. They will always be there for you. You’re right where you need to be and you have the support around you, just do it!

Cards Used: Temperance, 10 of Pentacles, 7 of Discs, King of Cups, The Hierophant, Ace of Discs.

extras: polaroid cameras. divinity. todrick hall. twitter memes. “fall flat”. chasing fame. smalltown girl.

Pile Four: At one point, your circle was perfect for you. But I think that you have outgrown it. I feel like at the beginning of this friendship, you were insecure. Perhaps, you and these other people bonded over traumas or a common enemy/disdain for something. Maybe you were both impulsive teenagers who hated the world. Now, you don’t want this friendship in your life anymore. You’ve done some soul searching. This person is still on the same shit. Now there is some tension that has risen between the two of you. You want more for yourself, but this person doesn’t. If you don’t cut this person/these people off, they will take you down with them. I feel like this person is immature. They lack the emotional maturity to see how their lack of growth is detrimental to this friendship. They don’t really appreciate it like they should. I feel like this person has ego trips that you’re just now noticing. I heard, “Don’t save her / She don’t wanna be saved”. This person is judgmental and it’s best that you get away from them for your own good. I am channeling the energy of Nancy from The Craft. This person could be doing witchcraft on you if you know they engage in that stuff. Be careful, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Judgment, The Empress (RX), Justice, 2 of Discs, The Moon, The Hierophant (RX), 10 of Discs, The Hermit.

extras: beignets. spiritual/religious awakening. take me to church by hozier. army-bound. powerful.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑹: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻 𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  i'm angry at myself!  ❜ ❛  it's easy to do nothing, it's hard to forgive.  ❜ ❛  you miscalculated. i love them more than i fear you.  ❜ ❛  there is nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you.  ❜ ❛  but now you're not letting yourself feel anything. i know sometimes it hurts more to hope and it hurts more to care. but you have to promise me that you won't stop caring.  ❜ ❛  my own mother thought i was a monster ... she was right of course, but it still hurt.  ❜ ❛  in the darkness, hope is something you give yourself.  ❜ ❛  never forget who you are, for surely the world won't.  ❜ ❛  why am i so bad at being good?  ❜ ❛  it is important to draw wisdom from different places. if you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale.  ❜ ❛  sometimes the best way to solve your own problems is to help someone else.  ❜ ❛  and now you have come to the crossroads of destiny. it's time for you to choose.  ❜ ❛  you may not always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place.  ❜ ❛  protection and power are overrated. i think you are very wise to choose happiness and love.  ❜ ❛  get over here, [ name ]. being part of the group also means being part of group hugs.  ❜ ❛  stop! stop it right now! what's wrong with you? we don't have time for fun and games with the war going on.  ❜ ❛  i'm too young to die!  ❜ ❛  in my country, we exchange a pleasant 'hello' before asking questions.  ❜ ❛  i didn't know what or when, but i knew i'd know it when i knew it!  ❜ ❛  the past can be a great teacher.  ❜ ❛  when we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.  ❜ ❛  there really is no fathoming the depths of my hatred for this place.  ❜ ❛  failure is only the opportunity to try again, only more wisely this time.  ❜ ❛  i wanted to take out all of my anger on them. but i couldn't. i don't know if it's because i'm too weak ... or if it's because i'm strong enough not to.  ❜ ❛  look [ name ], you're going to fail a lot before things work out. even though you will fail over and over again, you have to try every time. you can't quit because you're afraid you might fail.  ❜ ❛  while it is always best to believe in oneself, a little help from others can be a great blessing.  ❜ ❛  you must never give in to despair. allow yourself to slip down that road, and you surrender to your lowest instincts.  ❜ ❛  if we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends too?  ❜ ❛  you know, [ name ], i don't care what anyone else says about you. you're pretty smart.  ❜ ❛  if i try, i fail. if i don't try, i'm never going to get it.  ❜ ❛  let your anger out, and then let it go. forgive him.  ❜ ❛  pride is not the opposite of shame, but rather its source. true humility is the only antidote to shame.  ❜ ❛  life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.  ❜ ❛  the greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation. things you think are separate and different are actually one and the same.  ❜ ❛  you stand alone. that has always been your greatest weakness.  ❜ ❛  bad skin? normal teenagers worry about bad skin, i don't have that luxury.  ❜ ❛  in my dream, we were right in the middle of the invasion, and you stopped to use the bathroom. we die because of your tiny bladder.  ❜ ❛  you need to find someone who waits and listens before striking.  ❜ ❛  everyone has to be treated like they're worth giving a chance.  ❜ ❛  i don't need luck, though. i don't want it. i've always had to struggle and fight, and that's made me strong. it's made me who i am.  ❜

[antiphilosophia]

Crowley's pre-fall name is BARAQIEL (THEORY)

THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS OR RATHER CLUES FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 CONTENTS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION 🤍

Very well. Who doesn't love the Crowley is the Archangel Raphael theory (I am certainly of those people who do). During my first watch of Good Omens S2 I was even somehow almost confident that that was the case.

However, my second, more careful, viewing of this lovely (but equally heartbreaking) season made me change my mind, likely for good. In episode 4, Furfur's book "Demon's Guide To Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth" shows us a name of a certain angel Baraqiel. (see photo below) Knowing Good Omens that can hardly be a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the very text is quite unreadable. One thing, other than the name, which is pretty clear is the subheading "Angel of the Sky" and since the episode 1 lets us take a look at how Crowley did indeed take part in creation of what is to be seen in the night sky, one can hardly find that entirely non-fitting. One other sentence I was (at least I think) able to read is "Often draped in red."

(On a different note but certainly worth noticing are scribbles that generally just roast Crowley – his suspiciousness, hair and name (though I am not absolutely sure of the latter) "His hair is bad!" Wow, Furfur really does hate Crowley.)

Then there is something written above the name of Baraqiel, unfortunately in none of the picture frames does it get a bit readable. I wonder though, couldn't it be "former"? Since it comes precisely after mention of Crowley to whom should one report on Aziraphale.

Crowley is very powerful. Dominion

A word that is not exactly readable but can be deduced from its placement (it is situated just as Aziraphale's "Principality") is Baraqiel's rank – Dominion Angel. It should be noted here that I very much lack proper knowledge of either Jewish or Christian mythology and I would hate to provide any incorrect claims. I therefore think it is better for me not to overly state things, even more so since everyone can look into it on their own and figure out what that might mean for our beloved demon. What I will say, however, is that they are (as I understand it) very powerful and, placed within the 2nd triad in the angel hierarchy, ranked higher than the Archangels. This would go well along with the emphasis that was in my opinion laid on Crowley's powers quite a lot this season.

For example: "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed," said Shax to Crowley, to which he replied: "How'd you know I didn't do it?" He didn't get an answer.

What I think (and I may be very wrong, obviously) is that a miracle of this vastness wouldn't have happened simply because of a regular angel and a regular demon did together half a miracle each. What is also worth noticing is that the tool with which Crowley created the Nebula is the same as the one he used to temporarily stop time at the end of season 1 right before Satan's arrival. So much to the size of his powers.

Baraqiel, lightning of God. Fallen angel

Finally, to Baraqiel himself. My lack of knowledge concerning this matter still stands and frankly I don't even know where to find valid information about angels and such on the internet. Baraqiel should, however, stand for "lightning of God" and is also regarded as the angel of lightning. In season 2 there are (as far as I remember) two occasions where Crowley is put in correlation with lightning. (1) His poor anger management issues in episode 1 and (2) his not at all better matchmaking in episode 3 ("I haven't done weather in ages"). Furthermore, Baraqiel is considered to be the one who taught astrology to people. Nevertheless, what points to Crowley and Baraqiel being one even more is that Baraqiel is indeed a fallen angel.

•

So... That is probably it. I usually tent to theorize about stuff in quiet, in fact, this is the first time I've used Tumblr for anything other than reading Neil Gaiman's posts. I didn't even think that I would actually post it but then I've searched on Twitter, TikTok and here on Tumblr if anyone else has already come up with this theory. The only post I could find (hopefully I haven't missed anything) was by @valaza_04 on Twitter (click here) where they refer to the same frame shot as I do here.

Now I know, we are still recovering from heartbreaking (but if you ask me, absolutely amazing) finale and the main thing currently on our minds is figuring out why would Aziraphale choose as he did and the many wonderful theories that come with it. However, considering the utterly virulent look that Metatron shot at Crowley before walking out of the bookshop with Aziraphale and also his "Well, [Crowley] always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too." makes me think that he absolutely does not care for Crowley and whichever angel he was before the Fall. And I reckon it won't remain unnoticed in season 3 and might even be really important (or that is just me wishing for more pre-fall Crowley scenes). Hence I decided that I will post this. And it doesn't matter if no one will see this in the end, it was quite fun to write. However, if there is someone who will read this all the way through, I hope they will accept my apology for the mistakes I have most possibly made (English is not my first language) and also for the ridiculous length this post has come to gather. It turns out, I am just as chatty of a writer as I am speaker.

Well maybe I will come around to write one more post about this theory, only with a proper research this time. Till then thank you and, please, support this season by streaming as much as you can so we can have season 3 of this masterpiece of a show. And be kind to those bringing it to us in your comments regarding the ending, even though it is very frustrating and heart-shattering, it is also maybe the best ending we could have hoped for with the prospects of season 3.

Thank you for letting me talk my heart out, Tumblr.

[8myhe4rt]

and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

adam x f!reader x lute

fic summary: you, a bad date, your roommate and her boyfriend. what could go wrong?

warnings: smut, dom!adam, switch!lute, sub!reader, friends with benefits, f!receiving, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink/reassurance

word count: 1661

(NOT PROOFREAD.)

The first thing you heard when you unlocked the door to your apartment was giggling and the sound of the Netflix loading screen. The laughs were instantly discernible. Lute and Adam were up late again watching that show they've been binge watching. Lute was sat on Adams lap, head buried in his neck as he rest his hand on the small of her back.

You closed the door, causing the two of them to finally notice your presence. "Shit, you made me fuckin' jump." Adam laughed causing Lute to do the same. "Hey roomie."

Netflix had finally loaded and Adam quickly clicked on the show. "You should watch a few episodes with us, It's like - The best show ever." He began to play an episode but paused it before the recap could start.

"Sure." You shrugged your shoulders before motioning down to your attire. "I'm gonna get changed into something more comfortable though." Adam just nodded, looking you up and down before turning back to the TV. Lute smiled and hopped up from his lap. "So am I, these jeans are too fucking tight."

Lute hooked her arms with yours and dragged you into her bedroom, ignoring Adam as he called out something about her ass looking good in the jeans she was wearing. Which it did.

"So." Lute closed the door behind the two of you before taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "You look nice, the dress is really pretty." She offered you a soft smile. The compliment would've made you feel better if the date hadn't gone so bad. Lute seemed to instantly catch onto your bad mood.

"Hey are you okay?" She frowned, patting the spot on the bed next to her which caused you to shake your head. You'd rather stand. "I know I haven't been around as much lately… But I'm still here." You knew that, but you wanted more. Though you couldn't just admit that, so you smiled down at her. "Just had a bad day.. My date bailed on me."

"What the fuck? That's horrible, I'm sorry babe." Lute sighed as she sat up from the bed and opened her arms. "C'mere, give me a hug."

You weren't about to turn down being in her arms again so you rushed over and lay your head on her chest before wrapping her arms around her. She did the same and gently rubbed up and down your back. "God men are the worst sometimes, right?" Giggling, she slid her hands to your head and ran her fingers through your hair. "You look sexy as hell for what it's worth… They really missed out."

The two of you stood in the middle of the room in silence for a moment, just indulging in the hug. You really really missed this. You missed the way she felt, the way she smelt, her voice. It was a shock to you that you hadn't just dragged her to the bed yet and begged her to fuck you one last time.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

You nodded though before she could continue the door creaked open revealing Adam - now wearing some band t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. "What you two ladies talking about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Nothing really, just talking about her date." Lute shrugged, returning her attention to Adam. However you were just itching to know what it was she was going to say and you weren't going to let him get in the way of that.

You tapped on Lute's shoulder. "What were you saying?"

This seemed to instantly gain her attention again as she turned around to face you. "Hm? What was I saying?" Lute paused for a moment before laughing. "Oh - Right! Uhm, fuck I should've asked you before but.."

Her gaze shifted back to Adam who was staring directly at you. "He and I have been talking about it for a little while and.." Lute sighed, reaching for your hand. "I've missed you, a lot - and he knows that we used to hook up and It's totally cool if you're not into it but we're wondering if… you might wanna, y'know… fool around. Like all three of us."

The request had you shocked. Not only did Lute miss it when you both used to mess around, but Adam knew and wanted to get involved too? You wouldn't be able to lie to yourself and say the thought didn't send shivers running down your spine. Because it most definitely did.

You hadn't even noticed but Adam was now standing beside you and he placed his hand on the bare skin of your shoulder. "Yeah, We have talked about it." He chuckled. "A threesome is something we're both definitely into." He gave your shoulder a small squeeze and you nodded.

"Sure… I don't see why not." The words fell from your lips without any second thought. They wanted you and you wanted them.

Your agreement seemed to make Lute perk up. "Really? Oh my God, I'm so glad." She let out a small sigh of relief.

Adam grinned and brought his other hand up to cup Lute's chin between his fingers. "So you're both in? Fuck, now I am excited." Lute chuckled, leaning against his hand. It was normal to see them being all lovey-dovey like this. Lute giggled, pulling away from Adam slightly before grabbing your hand and intertwining her pale fingers with yours. "Let's use my bed. Much bigger than the couch." Both you and Adam seemed perfectly fine with the idea as you both simultaneously followed her over there.

You and Lute both lay down against the flush pillows whilst Adam settled next to Lute at the edge of the bed. Her hand trailed up your arm, gently messing around with the strap of your dress before settling on your cheek. "You know, I missed kissing you." She muttered, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You didn't protest, in fact, you welcomed them, and your arms instantly wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to your chest. You gently responded to the kiss, moving your lips against hers. Tasting her.

"Baby, help us get our clothes off." Lute signalled for Adam to assist you both. He instantly nodded, zipping down the back of your dress and unclipping your bra one-handed whilst the other tugged down Lute's shorts. Lute pulled her own top off over her head. "Fuck, you're both so hot." Adam grinned. "How the fuck did I get so lucky?" Lute giggled at his words. as she leaned in to kiss you again.

A shiver went don your spine as Adam placed his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I touch you?" He asked, hand snaking up and down your waist, teasing your hips with a sly smile on his face. You nodded without thinking. "God, yes please-" You practically moaned against Lute's lips. Adam lifted you up slightly to slide your dress off (along with your panties) and throw the discarded fabric onto the floor. Lute also began to work on removing her own panties as the two of you continued to indulge in the taste of each other's tongues.

Once you were completely naked Adam slid his hand between your thighs, parting them to display your pussy to both himself and Lute. The couple chuckled as Adam's slender fingers circled your clip causing you to whimper and writhe between the two. "Oh, you like the way his fingers feel pretty girl?" Lute smirked, pulling back and replacing her tongue with her thumb, which she slid in and out of your lips.

You nodded, bucking your hips up into him. "Mmf! M-Mhm!" You struggled to speak, as Lute pumped her fingers along your tongue.

"I bet you're already soaking wet." She smirked, giving your breast a slight squeeze. Adam chuckled too, sliding his fingers down to collect some of your slick before smearing it across your entrance. "I know I am," Lute added on, pulling her fingers out of your mouth to motion down to her own pussy, blocked by the way her thighs were pressed together.

Adam nipped on your ear before lifting his other hand to squeeze your nipples between his fingers. "She is wet, fucking sopping." The fingers tracing your entrance brushed across your clit again sending jolts of electricity through your body and straight to your brain. You moaned on impulse. "God, You like it right here? Around your clit?"

Adam's words had you nodding like crazy. He just hummed, flicking his fingers faster against you. You gasped, arching your back to grind your hips into his hand. "Oh fuck, that gasp you let out baby." Adam turned to look at Lute, who was simply admiring the view now. "Put your fingers in."

Adam pushed one finger into your entrance - wasting zero time in curling the tips against the spongey spot that you couldn't even reach with your own fingers. You whimper at the feeling as your thighs shake underneath you. Adam takes this as a sign to add another finger into your cunt and to begin fucking you harder and smirking when you cry out in pleasure.

"Good girl." You turned your head slightly to bury yourself in his neck as you let the orgasm hit you like a truck. You tightened around his fingers, locking him inside of you until you calmed down from your high allowing him to slip himself out. Lute was instantly doting on you, running her fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses across your face. "You did so well baby," Lute whispered. "So well," Adam added, tugging you back against his chest. Being between the two was a warm and comfortable feeling, that you could get used to.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 6

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader chapter summary: a new face threatens what you've started to build with mat and nora & you recieve some much needed advice from jax

warnings: angst, not edited, mentions of food, a sprinkle of fluff word count: 1.7k (sry its not longer i am trying my best lol) authors note: hi so it's been a month and change but i am finally able to present to you guys, part 6!! thank you for the continuous love on this story. your likes, reblogs & comments mean the WORLD to me!!! someone said nora needs to start a parent trap - don't worry, she's on it <3 quick important notes: the first bit in italics is a flashback. not sure if I will do many more of them. second, i have no idea how many more parts there will be to this series because i feel like i've barely scratched the surface of what can be done. and last, im sorry if your name is calista. enjoy and please don't hate me :)

requests are open. masterpost masterlist tag form askbox

It wasn’t often that you and Mat had time to yourselves. He was busy with school and hockey, and you had a lot going on so when the opportunity arose, you always made time for each other. Liana was at a sleepover and his parents were gone out for dinner with friends so the two of you had the house to yourselves for a few hours, which as teenagers, wasn’t often. His parents were always good about giving you and Mat space but you were still teenagers, after all. 

You were curled up together on his bed with some random movie playing in the background but you weren’t paying attention to it. You were thinking about graduation that was fast approaching and what the aftermath would look like. It wasn’t a surprise that the two of you would be going separate ways once you graduated high school. Although not set in stone, Mat was on his way to the National Hockey League to an unknown team. It wasn’t realistic for you to wait to see where he would end up and then figure something out for school. You had scholarships and your heart set on UBC, not quite yet ready to move too far from home. 

But Mat, well he could go anywhere. 

You’d toyed the idea of a long distance relationship in your head but you always ended up realizing that it wasn’t logical. Mat would probably be playing on a team thousands of miles away and you were going to be busy with university. Sure, there were holidays and summers but going from being basically attached at the hip to hardly seeing each other. 

“What’re you thinking ‘bout?” Mat suddenly mumbled. His hand had been rubbing your back but when it stopped, you thought he had fallen asleep. 

“Graduation,” you said and his body stiffened. The difference between the two of you was that you were an overthinker and a planner whereas Mat was a go with the flow type of person. He didn’t think about things until he had to. 

When he didn’t say anything, you peered up at him. He was frowning, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. You reached out to smoothen the wrinkle between his eyes and he looked down at you and smiled. 

“If I was selfish enough to ask you to come with me wherever I end up, would you say yes?” 

It was a theoretical question because you knew he would never be that selfish. Neither were you though, because you would never ask him to give up his dream. 

“No,” you admitted and his smile didn’t waver but something flickered in his eyes. 

***

As a general rule of thumb, you don’t introduce Nora to anyone you date until the three month mark. It isn’t something that you have to worry about often because most of the guys you meet run the second they find out you have a daughter. It doesn’t bother you most of the time; you have your family and friends, and Nora is your number one priority so if someone has a problem with you having a kid, they aren’t worth your time. 

So, it didn’t occur to you that it was a conversation you should have had with Mat. You thought that he had enough common sense not to bring the girl you recently learned that he’s casually seeing, to lunch with you and Nora. 

It takes all of your willpower to stay in your seat and not take Nora and leave when they sit across from you. Mat seems completely unfazed by the sudden tension in the room and it hurts on some level because he used to know you so well that if something was upsetting you, he always knew. 

But that was when you were kids.

You don’t get a chance to say anything because Nora gives the girl a onceover, and wrinkles her nose. 

“Who’s that?” She asks in such a bitter tone that you’re torn between scolding her or laughing. 

The girl, to her credit, doesn’t even blink an eye. She just offers her hand to Nora and introduces herself. 

“I’m Calista, and you must be Nora,” she says, still holding her hand out and waiting for your daughter to shake it. When she realizes that Nora is not going to respond, she quickly brings her hand back and lays them in her lap. Mat looks absolutely horrified, either by Nora’s behavior or the fact that you haven’t scolded her. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to reprimand her when she acts out and often looks to you to be the bad guy. You’re enjoying this a little too much though, especially when he coughs and gestures to you.

“Cal, this is-”

“His baby mama,” you cut him off, smiling sweetly at her. He’s not getting off the hook for ambushing you, and sure, maybe it’s a little childish of you but you have heard the stories from Liana already and you know you won’t like this girl. 

“Um, nice to meet you,” she says awkwardly, but there’s something in her eyes that tells you she isn’t the innocent, sweet, new girlfriend of Mathew Barzal. There’s definitely a different personality hiding behind the curtain. 

“Have you guys ordered already?” Mat asks.

“No, we were waiting on you,” is your reply and you make sure to emphasize on the word you. He doesn’t humor you with a response, instead looking at the menu and asking Calista what she wants. 

Lunch goes about as terrible as you expected, with Nora acting out because of a new person suddenly joining the outings she was used to only being the three of you. She ignores Mat’s attempts at talking to her, opting to read a book she brought along and gives Calista the stink eye anytime she speaks. You’re fine with her wanting to ignore Calista, but you don’t want her relationship with Mat to suffer because of this, so towards the end of lunch, you excuse yourself to the washroom in hopes that she might talk to Mat if you step away. 

The only problem is that Calista decides to tag along with you, claiming she needs to wash her hands. You suspect there will be something more and your suspicions are proved true when you’re washing your hands and she walks up next to you. 

“The whole kid-trap thing is really cute,” she says, fixing her hair. “Just keep in mind that it’s me in his bed every night.” 

She doesn’t give you a chance to say anything before she quickly walks out of the restroom. You stand in shock for a moment, because you haven’t had a girl talk to you like that since high school. Liana wasn’t wrong when she told you there was something off about the new girl Mat was seeing, but this teenage-like attitude? This isn’t something that Nora is going to be around.

You storm out of the restroom, planning on taking Nora and leaving right away but you stop short when you see Mat and Nora talking. She’s giggling about something he must have said and the fondness and love in his eyes towards her is almost enough to make you stay but one look at Calista, reminds you why you were leaving in the first place. So, you walk over to the table, picking up Nora from her chair even though she’s capable of walking herself and tossing a twenty on the table. You don’t look at Mat before you leave, only calling out a goodbye over your shoulder. 

Nora doesn’t say anything until you’re buckling her seatbelt. 

“I didn’t like her,” she says casually.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Me neither.”

*** 

Mat blows up your phone with calls and texts but you ignore them. As soon as you left the restaurant, you planned on driving straight home and you knew that was where Mat would look first so instead you drove around aimlessly until you ended up in Jax’s driveway. Nora fell asleep about twenty minutes ago and you didn’t want to wake her, so you sent him a text to come out to your car. You watch as Jax comes out of his house and runs down the driveway in bare feet, climbing in your car and closing the door quietly. 

“It went that bad, huh?”

You’re quiet for a moment before leaning forward and resting your head on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath. 

“I feel like Mat and I are stuck in this constant cycle, you know?” you mutter quietly.. “Like, two steps forward and then five back. Everytime I think we’re making progress, something happens and I can’t help but wonder if I should have let him in her life at all. I’ve been a mom for 6 years, and Mat has only been a parent for a few weeks so the rational part of me knows I can’t be too hard on him, but I feel like we’re not making any progress and this is just going to end up bad, especially for Nora.”

Jax knows you well, and doesn’t say anything right away. He lets you say and feel your own thoughts out loud before giving his opinion. 

“Want me to sugarcoat anything?” he asks and you lift your head to look at him. Jax is looking at you with slight concern so you know he’s about to give you his exact thoughts. 

You shake your head and he sighs. 

“I think you still have feelings for Mat,” he says and when you open your mouth to cut him off, he stops you. “I’m not saying that you’re still in love with him, but you have something going on in your head that is creating chaos with the relationship you have with him now. You said he’s doing well with Nora, yeah?”

You nod, but don’t say anything. 

“If he’s doing well with Nora, you shouldn’t be having these doubts about if you should have let him in her life. You’re her mom, you know what’s best and if you really felt like it wasn’t working, you would have stopped it right away. You are the problem, whatever lingering feelings you are holding inside, you’ve got to figure them out.”

For a split second, you hate Jax. For a split second, you want to yell and scream and swear at him because he’s right.

“He has a girlfriend,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Jax says. “Why are you upset about it?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything until you look at him. 

“I think you do,” he replies.

You hate that he’s right.

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[bmhcdnsms]

[male reader] - fem alligned, minors / ageless, and blank blogs dni or u will be blocked !

thinking about clingy men that won't leave you alone. i'm talking: whiny, needy, pathetic, touchy men that will do anything in their power to stay by your side. definitely do not care if their behavior is an inconvenience to anyone around you two, they won't change how they act at all.

they'll whine your name in that begging tone while they tug on the hem of your shirt, pleading eyes looking at you. all that effort just to beg you to let them come with you when you order your drink at the counter at the local cafe you two were at.

genuinely panics whenever you aren't near. it's codependency at its finest. you have to use the bathroom at the restaurant you two are dining at? he's counting down the seconds until you come back. and when you do, he almost burst into happy tears as he excitedly waits for you to take your seat. you have to help a family member on something important? he's trying to persuade you in letting him come, telling you that it's a good time for them to finally meet your boyfriend. you have to go to your classes? constantly tries sneaking in, despite you and your professor's warning on how he will get in trouble.

he can't go anywhere without you. turns into a really temperamental mess (to others) that will not hesitate in throwing a tantrum in hopes of that getting you to return back to his side.

-

"why don't you want me to come?" he whines, his voice on the other end of the phone call sounding exactly like heartbreak, "baby, i can go there quick-"

"i've already said no, elliot," you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you unlock your car, "you have classes, i know you do. you showed me your schedule last week, don't skip those classes,"

he whines again, sounding like a puppy that just got kicked. his needy sounds only grow louder at your silence, "but, why? i wanna go with you!"

"you can't, you can't miss your classes this semester. you got in a lot of trouble last time-"

"it doesn't matter! my professors don't care for attendence!"

"are you lying to me?"

there is a pause and that is enough to answer your question.

"i'm sorry, eli, but no," you're about to hang up, but falter as you feel bad for being so hard on him. but seriously! someone had to, or else he'd only get worse. your boyfriend practically wanted to live in your skin with you and it was beginning to be really concerning.

"i just want to spend time with my boyfriend, why won't you let me?" he pleads and you hear a locking of a door and can only assume he went to the bathroom for privacy in his upcoming breakdown, "do you not want to see me? are you hiding something?"

"i'm not and that's the truth, i just really need to go and buy groceries." you say calmly, already familiar with this routine.

"then why?! why can't i come? why? why don't you want to see me?" he questions, voice getting weaker and weaker. you can't see it, but he begins sliding down the door of the bathroom, stressfully running a hand through his hair. he begins hyperventilating. "why don't you want me with you?"

"we can see each other after my errands and after your classes," you explain, trying to tough it out even though your empathy is telling you to pity the man.

"[name], i really need to see you, please, please just let me come," he breathes out, words becoming a stuttering mess that is hard to understand through the phone, "please, let me see you, beautiful boy, please, please, please,"

he begins repeating the word "please" over and over again and at that point you begin wondering if it's even worth it to keep arguing with him over this. he's only going to get more adament in coming along. you curse yourself for even texting him that you were busy a couple of minutes ago because that is what made this reaction occur.

"please, i'll be quiet and good, you won't even know i'm there. i won't get in the way, i just want to be with you!"

[kozachenko]

Ok the WIP I posted a little while ago is no loner a WIP yipeeeeeee I am so tired of looking at this drawing.

Artist's Notes:

THIS DRAWING IS FINALLY DONE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Ok so this drawing was a WIP that I had had sitting around for a while, and so because I wanted to do a test run with the new face style I'm trying out, I decided to pick it back up again. Now you may notice that compared to the other version of the WIP, the shading is different, and that's because I had to change all of it to match the light source of the moon, which was.... not exactly fun (especially cuz I stayed up late at night to finish this which was tiring), but it was worth it because I am a lot happier with the shading now. Also, when I initially redid the shading on the white trim of her outfit, I ended up making them look like indiscreet white blobs that just looked... bad, so I had to fix that and I think it looks a lot better.

My favourite parts of this drawing have to be the face and the hair, though I'm not surprised about how much I like the hair since hair is my favourite thing to draw. Also the wolf, I really like how the wolf turned out, since I also love drawing animals from time to time. I also like how the background turned out.

Also, Enoko's design was a hit hard to get right, and I decided to add the white trim separating her shirt and skirt mainly because I didn't like how abruptly it changed in the original design. Also, for some reason her dress makes me think of 1800s-y southern/western clothes, which has given me the headcanon that Saki gave her these clothes when they first met. Makes me wanna draw the two of them together in very western styled clothes, I think it would be cute. I also changed up some of the colours on her original design to fit in more with the palette that I was going for with this piece. Also, I like how her tails turned out, mainly because when I was working on some of the sketch for this I tried to make them smaller, but they didn't look right so I just went "fuck it" and made them big and poofy. Also drawing her wolf ears was fun, I like drawing simplified wolf ears like that. Overall, I'd say I did a good job incorporating elements (like the bear trap hands, the tails, the gem) in a way that didn't feel like they were out of place in the piece (something I was concerned about with Enoko's design).

All in all, I wouldn't call this my best work, but I do like a lot of aspects of it. I've also noticed that I'm kinda getting a bit frustrated with certain parts of my style like the lighting (mainly the lighting), so I think I wanna try and branch back into that more painterly style that I started out with when I first started posting here while still mixing in some elements of my lineless style. Also, I need to get better with my colour values, mainly just for clarity since I kinda think that's where this drawing falls flat a little.

[maxwellatoms]

Would you trust ANY Korean studio for hand-drawn animation today? I ask because, when The Powerpuff Girls came back in 2016, I noticed how slow and stiff the Korean animation was. Since then, most Burbank cartoons animated in Korea, namely Cartoon Network shows, have been like that — mostly on 2s & with less inbetweening. Look at any Digital eMation episode of Victor and Valentino or Samurai Jack Season 5; do they animate as loosely and smoothly as Digital eMation episodes of Billy & Mandy do?

Sure I would. It would all depend on the studio and the circumstances. There are good studios and bad studios, and either of those will treat your show differently based on their perception of how valuable it is to their client. In the early 2000s Rough Draft was a top-notch studio. One of the reasons I switched over to eMation from Rough Draft was that I felt like Rough Draft was putting all of its resources into making Samurai Jack look beautiful, and we were still calling retakes on three year old issues. I knew we weren't a priority to Rough Draft, and I knew that stemmed from Cartoon Network's negotiations with them, so my griping was only going to get us so far. It seemed to me that I needed a studio that was smaller and scrappier like we were. We were putting in a lot of work on our end to make cool stuff and it wasn't ending up on the screen, so we needed people who were just as hungry on the back-end, and eMation stepped up.

There's also the fact, though, that animation itself has changed a lot in the last fifteen years. Powerpuff Girls and Samurai Jack's animation always seemed to have an air of "motion comics" to it. And frankly, that's part of what I love about it. It was all a throwback to the old UPA cartoons, which were built on strong, clear poses and made for the cost equivalent of a turkey dinner. Likewise, CN storyboard artists usually had around four weeks to write and draw their boards on paper, so there just wasn't time to take the effort to do anything too complex. It was all about snapping between those 300-ish storyboard drawings and momentarily savoring them for their humor and design mastery. Now we have tons of digital tools that make the basics of animation a lot more accessible to everyone, and have changed the entire studio pipeline. Things just won't look like they used to because nobody makes them that way anymore.

When I've had to choose an overseas animation studio, the network's production arm usually gives me one or three choices and tells me that's all there is. Deals have already been made. (Sometimes they make you pick two to save on costs, which (IMO) usually results in two studios that are less functional than any one of them would have been.) The studios usually have reels, so that gives you a basic idea of what they can do. You can (hopefully) find some other show creators who have worked with the studios and get an honest review. It's an important enough decision that it's worth whatever research you can put into it. Even over good bones, an ill-fitting skin can ruin the mood.

The most important thing to remember, I think, is that it's your job and your crew's job to make animating the show as easy as possible. Really, it's everyone's job to make the next person in line's job as simple as they can. Ideally, there shouldn't be a lot of questions because the materials you sent down the chain are clear.

So... yeah. I'd still trust Korean studios as much as I'd trust any overseas or domestic animation studio. You get out of them what you put into them by feeding them money and your own labor. It's quite possible that the shows you mentioned didn't do enough of either.

I imagine the overseas studios are hurting right now, so who knows what that landscape is even going to look like in a few years.

As with every step of the process making a TV show, you just sort of have to weigh your options and find the path.

Hmm. That got long.

[balkanradfem]

So, it's chestnut foraging season again! And I'm having some moral struggles about it. Let's discuss.

Few years back, while roaming the forest, I found an excellent chestnut foraging stuff; it was so good I found I could gather 10 kg of chestnuts a day if I appeared there at the brink of dawn. I gifted a lot of chestnuts to the plant lady, who was impressed, and asked me to show her where I found them. I took her to the spot, and she said 'we could sell these. I can put out an add'. And that sounded daunting, but I said okay!

At first she was doing the administrative part of work, finding customers and managing the communications, and I was collecting and delivering chestnuts, but then she grew tired of it, so I took over completely, made my own add and was able to sell them just fine.

Then, the market prices of all food, including chestnuts, rose high up, as in, doubled. The plant lady urged me to up the price of my chestnuts, because they were now dirt cheap in comparison to anything else on the market, and I thought about it, and decided, no. I hate rising in prices, this little chestnut thing is the only price I can control, and I can decide for it to stay the same. It was a bit insane business-wise, because I am impoverished, but I am not letting poverty control my moral standing! The price stayed the same.

The year after, prices rose again, and I still remained stubborn, and the plant lady was trying to convince me that I am not doing a good deed; chestnuts are a luxury item, they're not being bought by people in poverty who would benefit from cheap food, what I'm doing is only going to attract resellers and other people will capitalize on my work. To this I said, well, I'm refusing to sell any quantity over 10kg to a single person, so they won't be able to capitalize that much. And I knew people who I was taking the chestnuts to were just taking them home to their families, or even asked me to split them in multiple bags to give to their neighbours and cousins. So I kept the price low.

This year, I'm sickly, having financial issues that are worse than before, still having pain in my arm and can't walk for long, and I thought, ugh. Maybe I should up the prices a little and it would make my life slightly easier. It would still be the cheapest thing on the market but I'd be less stressed. But then I went into the forest, and I forgot all of my struggles. It felt so good to hunt around for the first fallen chestnuts. I climbed a hill. I discovered a new secret spot. I found a chicken-of-the-woods mushroom. I saw a salamander. Tiniest frog ever was letting me see her. And I got a message from someone who bought chestnuts from me last year, asking if I had them again. And I didn't have whatever it takes to tell this person I've upped the price. I was like 'yeah I can get the chestnuts to you. They still cost the same amount'.

So then I had to tell the plant lady my decision, and she is SO disappointed. Her vibe was like 'you are putting yourself in situation where only resellers will benefit from this!' and I'm laughing like, don't worry about it, I'm at peace with my decision. But now I feel bad because she thinks I'm dumb T_T.

And I don't know what the right decision is. I hate capitalism, I hate the idea that the price of something can change even though it's the same item, it hasn't changed, it isn't worth more, it doesn't cost me more to gather it, so just because the state of economy is worse, and the world is going to shit, now it's going to cost more? But it is also ridiculous that on the market, the price of the chestnuts is not only double, but 4 times of what I sell them for. It feels so silly! How are people selling them for such a high price? But from their standpoint, it is me who is silly, for giving them away so cheaply.

So I'm going to see what is your collective opinion! I'm curious.

oh and btw what I'm doing is 100% illegal, we're discussing the morality of me doing illegal black market shit. Other foragers are doing it illegally too so we're equals.