#like the lack of apps totally sucked

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting. 

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens. 

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen. 

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business. 

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts. 

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux. 

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic. 

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes. 

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair. 

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest.  “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him. 

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah. 

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm. 

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage. 

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires. 

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-” 

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying. 

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen. 

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile. 

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.” 

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater. 

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.” 

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out. 

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication. 

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?” 

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks. 

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.”  Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time. 

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet. 

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips. 

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist. 

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges. 

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped. 

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples. 

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them. 

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met. 

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change. 

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about. 

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore. 

With Eddie. 

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger.  “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens. 

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff. 

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right. 

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

[bangtanficsforyou]

They Reject You (Hyung Line)- Part One

Pairing: BTS x Reader 

Warnings: small mentions of alcohol, there might be curse words here and there.

Genre: angst (but it's not that bad, i think?)

A/N: If you enjoy my writing and wish to support me, consider joining my patreon!

Jin

"That's cute," Jin quips.

"Huh?" You say in a questioning tone. Not understanding what exactly he is commenting on.

"The guy preparing dishes for the girl, even though he sucks like really bad at it." He replies with an amused smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes drift back to the screen for a brief moment to see the said guy now mistaking sugar for salt.

"I mean, dude is trying, so yeah, it is cute," you agree with a nod and take another scoop out of your ice cream tub.

"If only he had my cooking skills." He boasts, leaning back slightly as his smirk turns cocky.

"You went from complimenting the lead guy to complimenting yourself, real quick." You quirk a brow at him, letting him know that you totally intend on calling him out.

"Does that surprise you?" He ask, quirking a brow of his own, in return.

A soft smile appears on your lips. "Considering that it's you, no, it really doesn't."

He nods at you to agree with your words. "Hey, but it's true though. I am a great cook and my girl would be really lucky to have me as her man."

Something about the phrase my girl rubs you off in the wrong way. Maybe it's because when he speaks it like that, your brain comes up with the image of someone faceless being all coupley with him. But that's the thing, you don't want that person to be faceless, you want it to be you.

"So you'll cook for your girlfriend?" You ask trying to keep your tone playful to hide the way your stomach is currently churning.

He looks at you as if you have asked the most ridiculous question and as if the answer to that question should be obvious. "Duh, that's like one of my top date ideas. To cook for the girl I love and wooing her with my skills."

You hum in response.

Does he ever think of you that way? Is the person faceless to him as well? Or does he have someone he likes already?

"Jin," you call out, not thinking straight and acting solely on the emotions that are coursing through your veins. Perhaps, you have had enough of bottling up these feelings and of not having a clue where you stand.

He responds with a hum before glancing away from the screen to look at you.

"I have feelings for you."

For a few moments there's only silence except for the noises from the TV and in those few moments you keep your eyes locked with his, simply because you're far too anxious to move even in the slightest. Plus, having your eyes on him allows you to notice every emotion that plays on his face.

But the longer the silence stretches, the more your heart sinks.

If you were to go by his reaction, or lack thereof, you know, that whatever words he's about to speak, will only break your heart.

Jin closes and opens his mouth a few times, searching for a reply. He just wants to say something, anything that will break this awkward silence.

"You can just be honest with me, you know?" You say, adding a light chuckle at the end, in hopes that it will make him feel comfortable enough to spit out whatever it is that he wants to say.

Thankfully, it seems to give him enough courage.

"I just, haven't ever thought about us like that and your confession caught me extremely off guard." Jin sighs. "But I'm glad you confessed, I can imagine how tiring it can get to keep your feelings to yourself. I just hope now you feel a little lighter and I really don't know what's the app–"

He is cut off by a something small hitting him right across the face. When he realises that it's a popcorn and that it's you, who has aimed it at him, he stops his rambling and looks at you with a confused frown.

"You don't have to ramble so much," you snort.

"I just don't know what to say," Jin for some reason looks disappointed with himself. "Just give me sometime?"

You shrug, pretending to be totally unbothered. "Don't worry about it. Take all the time you need."

With that you turn back towards the tv screen, and rewind the movie a little bit because you have no idea how the plot progressed in the last ten minutes. Jin takes the hint that this conversation is over, at least, for now and resumes watching the movie.

However, you can feel his eyes swiftly move to your face every now and then, just to make sure you're okay.

Any other time, you'd have appreciated it and cooed at how sweet and caring he is, but right now, you honestly hate it.

Because even though he didn't directly say it, you understood what he meant. He does not know how to turn you down.

You understood it the moment he said that that he has never thought about the two of you like 'that'. As someone who knows what falling in love feels like, you know, picturing yourself with the person you want, is something that happens automatically. It's just a part of the process.

But it never occurred to him that way because he never really found himself falling for you.

So for the next twenty minutes, you pretend to be slowly falling asleep to avoid any sort of interactions with the man sitting a few feet away.

Min Yoongi:

"You're late," that's the first thing Yoongi says when you take your seat. Rightly so, you think. Afterall, you're half an hour late and had it not been for your text you're pretty sure Yoongi would have left by now.

"I'm sorry, there was too much traffic," you lie hoping he buys it.

He nods but a part of you thinks he doesn't completely believe it, yet chooses not to question your words.

Instead he hands over the menu to you. "What would you like to order?"

"I will just have the usual, I guess," you reply not bothering to skim through the menu.

"Well then," he dings the bell, notifying the waiter that you both are ready to order.

Once the waiter has noted down both of your orders and is gone, you find yourself glancing around awkwardly to avoid his eyes.

"How was your Sunday?" His deep voice greets your ears and you mentally curse out loud.

"It was just another Sunday," you shrug, not bothering to keep up the conversation because honestly, you're scared as fuck to exceute your plan.

Okay, that sounded very spy like but it's not that serious.

Your plan is to confess to Yoongi.

Yoongi is the man you're engaged to.

The man you're engaged to because getting married to him, would be extremely beneficial to both of your father's companies. The man with whom you have gone on ten dates so far, because although, arranged, you two should get the oppurtunity to get to know each other before marriage. The man for whom you've found yourself falling, just after the third date.

When you put it like that, it does sound as intense as being a spy. Because even though the two of you have been on dates and are about to get married, Yoongi isn't someone who's emotions can be read very easily.

You don't even know if he enjoys your company or agrees to go on the dates with you just because he feels like he has to. He doesn't make you feel unwanted but that doesn't mean you feel particularly wanted either. It's somewhere in between. Which is confusing as fuck, to be honest.

But it's not like all that matters. You both are getting married eitherways, so the bare minimum you can do is to be honest about your feelings for him. That way, you'd let him know where you stand in this arrangement.

You have told yourself that just because you found yourself falling for him this quick doesn't mean he'll too. If his current feelings for you, turns out to be platonic, you'll be okay with it. But that doesn't mean that a part of you does not hope for him to reciprocate your feelings.

And it's because of your 'plan' to confess, that you were late by half an hour. You just kept pacing in your office and lost track of time.

But now that you're here sitting infront of him, and staring at him, you realise that there's no point in stalling.

"Actually, I realised something this Sunday," you say.

He quirks a brow that lets you know that you've got his attention. "What that realisation might be?"

You sigh, feeling your nerves take over. "That if we're going to get married, we should be honest with each other."

His curious expression turns into that of a confused frown. "What do you mean?"

You chew on your lower lip before taking a deep breath in hopes that it will provide you with the courage you need to just let the words out. "I like you."

Yoongi's face remains neutral but you don't miss the glimpse of surprise that flashes through his eyes. That surprise is enough to tell you that he wasn't expecting that.

He remains silent for a few moments and you let him be. Before he can speak, the waiter comes with the food which breaks the tense atmosphere.

Thanking him, you take your portion of chicken on your plate, when Yoongi starts speaking.

"Thanks for being honest with me," he says it softly and in a tone that lets you know that he means it. It also lets you know that there is a but coming. "But I guess I have been too stuck in my head to let myself relax and feel anything."

There we go.

You know you said that you'd be okay with him turning you down but now you don't feel okay at all.

It hurts.

But you guess, you should have seen it coming.

It doesn't help that from the very moment, you realised your feelings for Yoongi, your brain had been imagining you two being happily married and being in love with each other. Basically living with each other like any other couple who marry in normal circumstances.

Your hurt must have been visible on your face because as soon as Yoongi notices the effect his words have, he starts fumbling with his words.

"Look-What I mean to say–"

You chuckle, albeit a fake one, to put him at ease. "You don't have to explain yourself, it's okay."

Yoongi looks unsure but figures he doesn't know what else to say. Which is why he ends up asking, "are you sure?"

You nod and give him  smile, hoping to reassure him.

As you look back at your plate, you find yourself wondering what this marriage is going to be like. It's not exactly loveless, but then that love isn't reciprocated. You find yourself panicking extremely, when you think of the both of you living together.

Fuck, what's worse is now he's aware of what you feel for him. You two would pretend to be happily married to the rest of the world and be awkward when away from the public eye.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

Hoseok:

It's weird now that you have confessed to Hoseok, your dance teacher.

You know when the term "teacher" is used in a sentence like that, people usually frown. But you'd come to your defense and say, that there's nothing frown-worthy here.

You're twenty two and he's twenty six, both adults and belong to the age group where you both can make your own decisions. Plus, it isn't the usual teacher-student scenario here. Although, you and Hoseok started off with him being your teacher, gradually the two of you became friends.

Hence, it's fair to say he isn't just your teacher.

It's when you started to get to know him outside of the four walls of your classroom, that you started to fall for him. How could you not? He's a literal sunshine. A person who can light up anyone's mood and someone who's presence feels so warm and bright.

You've honestly, never met someone like him before.

You think he should have seen your confession coming but the surprised Pikachu face he made upon your decaration of love, told you that he clearly did not anticipate that.

The whole confessing thing went fine. You were scared, yes, but you did it. What isn't fine, however, is how he is yet to give you an answer.

But it was you who had asked him to take as much time as he needed and to not feel pressured. But after seven long days, you're getting antsy.

Which is why, once the class is over, you linger until everyone else is gone. Once you notice that there's no one else and just you and Hoseok, you head towards him.

You tap on his shoulders to make him aware of your presence.

He turns around and upon noticing that it's you, he gives you one of your sunshine smiles. "Hello."

"Hey," you return his smile and greet him back. "If you don't mind, can I talk to you about something?"

He nods without missing a beat and you honestly love how this isn't awkward at all. Although, by the look in his eyes, you think he has some idea what you want to say. "Did you think about what I said last week?"

Hoseok gives you a nod again, and this time his smile turns apologetic. "Yes I did and I'm so sorry for not reaching out to you any sooner."

You wave your hand in the hair dismissing his words. "Don't apologise, it's obvious that you'd need your time to gain some clarity."

"Thank you so much for being so understanding." He feels relieved to hear your words but sighs when he realises what he will have to do. "But I think I'd rather us be friends, I'm sorry."

Ouch.

You chuckle. "Again, there's nothing you have to apologise about. Thanks for letting me know."

With that you give a tiny little wave and head for the door.

"Wait, you're leaving?" He queries, not expecting you to just leave.

You smile at his question. "Although I'm like totally cool, I still need some time away to let it sink in that the guy I have been crushing on for months, just turned me down."

Hoseok feels bad when you put it like that but he knows you're right. "I get that, I'm sorry–"

"Stop apologising, will you?" You say in a light tone letting him know that there's nothing that he should be worried about and that you're definitely not upset about his rejection. When you notice that his expression has softened, you offer him one last smile before heading out.

When the warm air greets you outside, you feel a bit of melancholy. It's just your mind that wonders how beautiful it would have been had you got the opportunity to call Hoseok, yours. How lucky would you have been had you got to see the side of Hoseok that he reserves only for the special someone. How you could have easily fallen in love with him and would have cherished him.

But alas, you don't think that you'll get the chance to do any of the above.

You just hope whoever, gets to do those things with him, they cherish him and treat him right.

Namjoon:

"I have feelings for you," you slurr, the evidence of alcohol heavily present in both your breath and words.

Namjoon, the person your words are directed at, completely freezes. He blinks a few times for you to say something like sike! gotcha but when you don't, he lets out a nervous chuckle. "You're drunk, you probably don't even know what you're saying."

"Just say that you don't feel the same. Don't try to educate me about whether I'm drunk or not," you whine in complaint. "I anyway saw you making out with that girl a few minutes ago."

Namjoon's expression changes when he realises that although you're saying this in your drunken state, you very well know what you're talking about. Were you really confessing to him? Right now? At your brother's birthday party?

"Hey, c'mon we can talk about this later." He says trying to keep his voice gentle so that he doesn't sound as panicked as he feels.

"No, I need you to say it to me." You reply, voice as firm as it can be in your drunk state. "I need you to say that you don't feel the same. That would help me get over you."

At the end of it, you end up looking like a child throwing tantrum with a pout and a sad yet annoyed frown on your face.

Any other time Namjoon would have cooed at the sight but right now he's too concerned about not making a scene and gain unnecessary attention.

His eyes do a quick scan of his surrounding and when he makes sure that so far the two of you have managed to not draw attention, his eyes drift back towards you and he speaks in a hurried, hushed tone. "I don't think this is the right time to talk about this. Especially not in a room full of people."

"You're deflecting from the topic," you huff and cross your arms. "There's nothing too difficult about rejecting my confession. Just say so and we will be done."

"Can we do this later–"

"No we can't," you cut him off and stomp your feet in anger. "You don't know how much it hurts everytime you treat me as just your best friend's little sister. I know you'd never see me like that but seeing you make out with someone else was a whole different level of hurt."

Namjoon's features soften when he notices that now your features have turned that into of heartbreak.

"I understand what you're trying to say," he says his eyes now on the floor. "But still, I think that this is a conversation that should be saved for later."

You get closer to him, your eyes visibly fuming with how he refuses to take your words seriously.

"You tell me that you don't feel the same, right to my face or I'm not moving an inch from here." You grit the words through your teeth.

Namjoon sighs and you're standing so close to him, that you feel his breath hit your face. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," you reply without missing a beat with your eyes fixed on him, refusing to move an inch. It's your drunk mind's attempt at registering everything so that you don't forget it when you wake up tomorrow. You need to remember this so that you can put a stop to this one sided pining for once and for all.

"Well then, I don't feel the same." He whispers the words so slowly and so gently, that had it not been for your undivided attention, you'd have missed it.

But you don't.

The words have you flinching even though this is very much what you had asked for. You take a few steps back and nod at him, letting him know that you're satisfied with his answer.

You don't look up at him as you leave the hall and ultimately, the party. You think you hear a voice calling your name and you think it might just be Namjoon's but you don't turn around to confirm your suspicions.

Right now, your utmost priority is to reach your apartment and let things sink in.

[cfr749]

I love your 6x04 spec about Lucy's camera being broken and her being investigated! You should totally write a fic about that if you're inspired ✨️

hi anon - thanks for the ask!

So @literali1110 pointed out to me that there were footage from Lucy's camera after the fall, so doesn't look like this is the route they'll go 😂

I do keep circling back on how hesitant Angela and Nyla looked when Lucy made her suggestion, and it makes me wonder if they may end up questioning whether protocol was followed or something instead? Or maybe Lucy will simply struggle with her own feelings of guilt around ending up in that situation because she was trying to prove herself?

I am glad that there's not really any ambiguity about whether she had to take the shot and whether the guy was 100% guilty, because I think it would destroy Lucy if those things were in question.

I'm definitely feeling some angsty inspiration from Lucy's struggle this season; jury's still out on whether it ever becomes anything more than random sentences in my notes app.

Regardless, I'm gonna hijack this ask to ramble a little bit on why I'm actually okay with the choices they've made and the story they are telling for Lucy this season so far. Like a lot of people, I hate seeing Lucy going through a hard time and of course I want to see her be supported. Give me the scene with Tim in the hospital a million times over; I'll never get tired of seeing that she is valued and loved by the people in her life. We honestly haven't gotten enough of that for literal years.

We've seen Lucy go through so much. But in five+ seasons, we've barely seen Lucy be anything other than her sunshine-y self for more than a handful of scenes. Even more so in the last few seasons. It is beyond time the writers take the time to give her character more depth and emotional range. It is beyond time they turn her back into a character that is deeply empathetic and relatable to the audience.

It has sucked seeing more and more commentary on social media the last few seasons about Lucy being childish, silly, unprofessional, and even manipulative 😭. And I think that's a direct result of the lack of care and intention the writers have put into writing her character since she graduated the FTO program. She's been used as little more than comic relief and a plot device outside of the ship for way too long.

Gif Credit @livelovecaliforniadreams

While other characters have progressed professionally, Lucy has remained mostly stagnant since she graduated the FTO program, beyond a few UC missions that all pretty much ended the same way without doing anything progressive for her character (why didn't we see her struggle with the ethics of UC work when it came to using Aaron's puppy? why haven't they helped us understand how she reconciles her love for UC work to her empathetic nature and the reason she became a cop?).

I think of Lucy's journey in comparison to Tim's -- we've seen him go through awful things. We've seen him suffer. We've seen him struggle. We've seen him evolve and grow.

With Lucy, we've mostly just seen her go through awful things and move on as if nothing has changed. We all have our head canons, I think, about grief and coping and what's going on under the surface, but we don't actually know what she's feeling 99% of the time.

Do I wish they would have taken the opportunity to explore the impact on her character in the aftermath of DOD or after Jackson died? Of course I do. I would have preferred that to having to see her struggle professionally in the shadow of Nolan getting handed success for simply existing. (And if I thought they intended the juxtaposition, I'd give them credit for telling a realistic story, but I seriously doubt it 😂).

But I'm still glad they are taking the time to tell a story for her now. And I'm glad they seem to be doing it with intention.

And this was not at all what you asked about, but here you go anyway, anon 😜🥰

Thanks for the ask!

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

First shared in The Saiouma Pit discord server, parts said by other members are in quotations, unassigned bullet points are my messages

Hina: "It could go either way but... if it's Shuichi demonic royalty instead of parent, it's his uncle or Shuichi's parents and uncle being there and he's managing to perfectly play shit off to his parents while his uncle is just not buying it?"

his parents being the rulers of hell but his uncle being the one that cares to visit

Dra: "Shuichi tells Kokichi about what's going to happen, Kokichi agrees to help him find someone to marry (they are stupid) but before they can think of anyone time Runs out Shuichi's uncle appears from his silly little red demonic circle, looks at Shuichi, notices Kokichi and just "your human is rather small" And Shuichi loses it because oh fuck he didn't want to get Kokichi involved in this"

Hina: "The fact they really thought an hour was enough time to find a fiancé is just sad"

Fuwa: "we can extend it to 6 hours." And then I said: "no, an hour is perfect"

also Shuichi knew beforehand and just waited helplessly until it was last bell to do anything so he asked Kokichi for ideas

Fuwa: "they do fucking tinder, try to get a demonic looking match. They use a goddamn fake face app, to like, see who's demonic enough, and they point it towards Kokichi on accident at the very end, and it's like "perfect match". "Wow it's truly satan!!""

Hina: "WHY THE FUCK WON'T ANYONE MATCH WITH ME??? I TRIED A THIRST TRAP. I POSTED A PHOTO WITH A DOG. DO YOU NEED A FUCKING FISH??? IS THAT WHAT WE NEED??? SHOULD BE GO FISHING???"

Dra: "Does Kokichi get pros/cons of suddenly being married to demon royalty?" me: "like, what could the cons even possibly be? but yes he does"

after that dinner he stays up at night, pulls out his trusty white board

Dra: ""What if they don't have wifi in hell"", Fuwa: "Shuichi's family" (also listing cons)

Hina: "Pros: Demon Royalty, Would Protect You, Live in Castle, Rich, Cool Uncle, Husband Kinda Cute Ig Cons: The Signal Sucks, Parents are Meh, A lot of fire, Hot. Everyone Here lowkey wants to kill you"

idk about the killing part, I think Kokichi could gain respect in hell, they'd think he has what Shuichi lacks, he was always deemed too timid and soft for a heir to the throne, now this human he brought on the other hand…

Dra: "Ok but it'd actually be so funny if the other demons started going with Kokichi's lies and introduced him as the most powerful demon ruler that just happens to look like a lil dude (it's totally so he can fool sinners into thinking he's harmless) and Shuichi is just watching this go down like "huh""

I love fake dating AUs so I'll try to add a little more to this.

Neither of them has realized their feelings yet when that fated night happens, but something's been brewing through months of their living together. They're just friends that help each other in situations like needing an emergency fiancé. It's cool.

Until it's serious and they're told to pack, so they can begin preparations for the wedding and coronation in Hell as soon as possible. So things get a little tense, but they can go with the flow. It's just another adventure in the life of a supreme leader. And then the shenanigans begin.

The chambers prepared for them obviously have only one bed. They have to show off their affection to sell it to everyone. Learning new details about each other when they're made to pick out stuff for the wedding together. Some frosting on one's face while trying potential cakes. Waking up face to face after swearing to stay on far off sides of the bed the night before.

Kokichi learning things about Shuichi's childhood, Uncle shows him pictures. Shuichi watching Kokichi as he impresses demons with his act, looking at the faces he makes and being not only impressed too, but falling a little bit in love with the joy it brings Kokichi to have a receptive audience.

The realization of feelings being followed by the assumption it's unrequited and wallowing in it. The mixed feelings when trying on suits, dreading the approaching wedding day while thinking the other doesn't feel the same. Something pushing the tension past the limit and causing the confrontation. I've been thinking of maybe introducing a little magic to Hell's wedding traditions; they would each have to throw an ingredient into a huge jug of a special alcoholic drink that is prepared for weddings some days in advance and those specific ingredients have to be thrown in by the couple because the mixture will turn a pretty color when someone in love does this step.

Those idiots. These two morons. When it turns out alright they jump to the conclusion that the other is in love but with somebody else. [This could also be done with Kokichi hearing Shuichi mumble something about love in his sleep, or overhear him venting to somebody who knows their situation, probably Uncle or a friend, say "I think I'm in love" all tragically and the same misunderstanding happens]

So accusations fly, "If you're in love with someone, then why didn't you go to them with this?"

"I didn't know then. Why did you agree to this if there's someone you-?"

"I didn't know. And I expected this to be over by now. I thought that they wouldn't approve of me, or find out it's a farce and then kick me out."

"You should be with the one you love. I can open a portal for you. I can come clean to everyone, I got you into this mess-"

"No. It's not that simple" Shuichi looks at him questioningly, so he sighs and continues "... I am pretty sure it's unrequited. Doesn't matter anymore. What about you? I promised to help. Whatever that means now."

Whether they resolve it at that point or continue without talking things out [Shuichi claiming that his feelings are unrequited too, so their only option is to stay on track.] is up to you.

[xalygatorx]

CW: Big angry AI rant. I get a bit nasty and swear a lot idk what else is new

Was modding a stream chat yesterday and had an AI bro come in and basically say if you were putting your creative work online you just had to deal with the likelihood that it'd get scraped and blamed artists/writers/creatives for using social media for discoverability when the sole purpose and usage of social media is (checks notes) "to take our whims and desires and turn that info into a marketable commodity."

Right.

First of all, cunt behavior.

Second, my goodness they had no idea what "AI" actually is in terms of differentiating it from what's happening now re: stealing intellectual property vs. how a computer inherently works. They were calling everything AI like the sad, creepy boomer they later proved to be (via a glance at X when some of my fellow mods got blocked afterward for having opinions rivaling the chatter's, opinions that said chatter didn't respond to because their valid arguments totaled a whopping zero).

Thirdly, idk what the idea is arguing with people having their work stolen and acting so superior about their struggle. You're not going to get rich off these notions—you and every other mediocre, money-hungry, pathetic little dickweasel ripping off someone else's work bc you've never done a thing worth noting in your life except daydream about sucking off Elon Musk are saturating this "market" if it can be called that. There's too MANY of you for any of you to be special and, from the outside perspective, it's embarrassing to watch.

I hope the only shreds of content you ingest for the rest of your days have the exact lack of soul you must for shitting on the very people that unwittingly fed your only hope at ever feeling "creative" with their stolen, plagiarized work. Taking a page out of our future VP's book, I'm gonna say it, you're fucking weird.

Anyway, I think I'm so consistently surrounded by other artists and writers and creative folk who (rightly) hate how this newer form of AI is being used and how hypervigilant we have to be to protect our work, constantly moving apps every time another one gets on the bandwagon (looking at you Tumblr) that I forget shitlords like this exist outside of memes.

[bluestrawberry7]

hi! i'm doing a project on the impact and community of tumblr for my media final and was hoping to send out some questions to my mutuals. i would very much appreciate your take on some of these questions.

thank you!

how is tumblr different from other social media platforms?

how has the tumblr community affected you as a person/online presence?

do you feel more inclined to post more personal or private aspects of your life and or opinions on tumblr rather than other apps?

what are your favorite aspects of tumblr?

what are some things that only tumblr bloggers would know/understand?

what would you do if tumblr got shut down?are there certain traditions on tumblr that you think other media sites wouldn't understand? (example being our site wide celebration of the ides of march)

all in all, how has this app changed your perspective on social media, the world, your life, and so on.

hi!! this seems like a cool class

1. it's not addictive and that's a good thing? there was this one post abt it was while back but like tiktok and instagram etc whatever are programmed to hack into your psyche and keep you scrolling as long as possible with their algorithms and dopamine and shit, which is the point of all social media sites in capitalism, like duh to keep you on the app as long as possible. but tumblr sucks at people a social media site and is more just like hanging out with your friends showing posts to each other, so I can open it for a few minutes and scroll or search for things and go down a rabbit hole but there's really no way for me to get absolutely lost in it like other things idk

2. idk that much as a person but it's made me.more comfortable online and stuff bc it's totally anonymous so I can just like what I like and it'll never matter. it was also like my first social media site that I actually interacted with

3. yes and no? I'm not gonna post pictures of myself or like my name or age like I would on Instagram but I also wont worry about people I half-know judging me for reblogging something weird. everyone's just kinda vibing here and doing what they like.

4. the lack of malicious intent by the creators. I know staff has issues it's got ads and shit now and whatever but it definitely feels way more like a fun project that breached containment then some evil capitalistic megacorporation trying to monetize social interaction.

5. the fact that the whole point of the site is to hand around posts like cool rocks and not just like shit for clout. and that there is no such thing as tumblr clout.

6. um. be sad for a bit and move on with my life. it's cool but it's not some incredible force I can't live without I would just like get more active on something less cool

7 lmao goncharov

8. its just a nice little hub of usually cool interesting people I've honestly learned a lot from random textposts by people I'll never meet

good luck on your project!!

[curejiraiya]

I think my 10+ hours into fashion dreamer opinion is it's a good game, but not really a good $50 game.

But of course it probably will be after all the dumb fucking content updates I hate live service games.

I do love dressing people up, and I love getting new things, I love the outfit making. I just wish there was MORE to do, you know? Like there's fun here but it's like mobile app you check once a day for a few weeks fun. Not sink 50 hours into and lose time because you played so long fun. I don't mind not having a story, like a lot of people do but I don't. I love just going around giving people cute outfits. But I wish there was more.

Style Savvy had more restrictions on making outfits, like someone would want a sporty orange skirt and the game was very specific on what that meant. In this game characters are always more vague about what they want, and the categories aren't actually defined so you have to just guess, and often you will guess wrong, but there's no penalty so it doesn't matter. There's also the trend system when making outfits, but you're expected to just remember them; They don't pop up on the UI. If they showed up on the UI I could actually use them, and it would make creating lookits more of a fun creative challenge.

The other kind of outfit creation is when an NPC shows you an item and has you created an outfit for it. But in a really annoying matter there are no restrictions whatsoever, and you're rewarded no matter what you do even if you're not in trend or whatever. So you could just make them wear anything it doesn't matter. I want things to matter!

My biggest complaint though is the UI. The inventory system sucks really bad. Having no categorization for items sucks really bad. If someone's request is for socks, I first have to scroll all the way down to socks and pick those out, before scrolling all the way back up to put together their outfit. With 4,000 items in your inventory that is ridiculous time to scroll. It does not make sense to me that the inventory has no organization. Instead they offer favorites pages, but you only get a few and they suck? You can drag a few items you like onto them, but that's not how fashion works. I don't make everyone wear the same thing over and over. If I get someone who is really into flowers, I'm going to want to make them wear flower clothes. Why would I put the flower clothes in my favorites though, I'm not going to make anyone else wear them. I should be able to search for clothes with flower patterns!!!!

But I do really enjoy what's there, giving lookits to the NPCs is fun! You meet a character like Streamer Steven and get to craft a fun influencer outfit for him. I just wish there were some more restrictions to it, like if Steven had a brand or style. If I would get rewarded for doing things Stephen liked, or penalized for giving Steven outfits that don't work for him. But the game doesn't have those things implemented. It's totally up to you to make your own restrictions, and I think that doesn't fully work in a game like this. On occasions it feels like I'm in a character creator rather than playing a game; and that's not an awful thing, it just doesn't feel like it will capture me for hours on end.

I'm still excited for the updates even if I hate games getting updates. I definitely would have preferred all the content was in there at launch, but there are some styles the game is severely lacking in and I can't wait to see them.

Specifically summer clothes, there are so few summer clothes in this game. There's like three tank tops for type A bodies and there's none for type B. There's one pair of sandals and they're specifically titled zori sandals so I think they're actually meant to go with the kimonos which I haven't seen yet.

There's also a ton of Christmas stuff in the game, so to me it's obvious that all the holiday stuff is going to come in updates but the Christmas stuff was there because the game launched during the Christmas season. Frustrating because the southern hemisphere exists, but also I think winter clothes are boring.

Idk where was I going with this rant. I think this game isn't worth $50 right now but will be in a year. If you're ok with that buy now, if not wait. Even then a lot of the depth of style savvy is missed. I do not think we'll ever get a style savvy game or one like it again. Even without the style savvy aspects though it still is fun.

[rationalisms]

Omg you discord post is exactly what I’ve been thinking as well. I’ve joined it for fandoms and school groups and irl community stuff and each and every time I get so anxious that I end up going ghost. Speaking specifically on fandom though, I recently deleted my account and the app (love being #free) because the one to one feel of involvement is A Lot. I love screaming into the void and shooting off a stupid post way too much so having to think through everything I say is anxiety like I don’t actually want to feel like I’m in a chat room? Idk but it’s the same with twitter, I use it to crack some jokes but the extra sense of familiarity that seems to come with frequent interactions overwhelms me and everyone else just seems to be okay with it. I realize that’s a box of a social anxiety thing in general though. Anyway not that you asked bit this is why I don’t think I’ll ever leave tumblr it caters so perfectly to the hermit in me lol

oh bud i completely feel you, it's an absolute nightmare for people with any amount of social anxiety. pretty much the only reason i use discord is for ttrpg organizational purposes, and for the one movie watching/music league group chat with my group of friends; any servers i've joined that are bigger than that i go through the exact same process every time: agonize over what to say for several days because everyone else already seems incredibly familiar with each other in a way that's so deeply terrifying and intimidating and then eventually just leaving again. which sux! i wanna Take Part In Stuff and meet people who share my interests but i'm a big ball of anxiety and that setting is my nightmare... so i definitely get you. and good on you for deciding that you're no longer getting anything out of it and pulling the plug! it can be hard especially with how much it's assumed that you have certain social media and FOMO and alla dat, so i'm glad you were able to draw a line and i hope it helps make you feel more comfortable.

i don't mind twitter as much because it feels more passive in a lot of ways. like, engagement can just be a driveby fav or even if you do reply or someone replies to you there's an inherent built-in acceptance of delay in response or even just like. Acknowledgement By Fav Can Be Enough. which imo is definitely not the atmosphere for discord at least ime. but it's still not great for fandom stuff for a ton of other reasons including the complete lack of archiving. and honestly, i abandoned my public twitter for my locked down private one for a multitude of reasons and the anxiety around having to keep up some sort of Public Persona is definitely part of it, so i absolutely understand you on that level as well.

tumblr has its own issues obviously, but like you i never felt the same sense of pressure or dread here. a big part of that is obviously the whole reblog system in itself, in that it's totally fine and even encouraged to just, idk , silently curate pretty pictures for a bit and at most commenting in the tags when you have something to say or w/e, but also being able to do the whole shooting random thoughts into the void whenever you want to instead. it's also much, much easier to curate my experience here than anywhere else lol. much more robust blacklisting functions available (albeit reliant on third party extensions) and if you didn't choose to put something on your dash then tumblr won't for the most part force it on you. so that for sure helps.

idk, i don't have the solution! because like, yes in many ways discord and twitter are suboptimal for fandom stuff but in many ways it's also down to the fact that i do obviously have pretty severe anxiety around these things and struggle with it immensely in a way that a lot of people obviously don't. which sucks but isn't their problem.

i still think we should all move to dreamwidth though. if enough of us hermits congregate there other people eventually have to follow, right? that's how we all ended up on tumblr in the first place :x

[thelifeofliza]

How To Go to the City Without Ur Parents Noticing

Dear viewers,

I know you’re all lame and have no life, so let me, teach you, how to live ur life to the fullest.

So, if you guys know me, which duh, how would you not, you know I’m like totally not boring at all, I mean come on, I have a following on this website, so like obviously I’m special. But look, I don’t think that you just aren’t special, just you haven’t reached your highest potential yet. So, I know you’re all wondering, Liza how did you go to the city as a 17 year old? Or maybe you aren’t. But you should be, cuz like why wouldn’t you? I mean if you don’t have strict parents, you’re like totally privileged, but whatev. Look, I’ll get started on the tutorial, but like okay, it’s not like it was during the day. I went to Chicago in the night. Chicago is like, totally dangerous guys, I mean if you’ve been on the internet, which you definitely have, then you should totally know it’s dangerous, I mean there’s like shootings and stuff guys.

First, you have to catch your parents lacking, like totally catch them of guard. Wait, actually first step is to like have a car, or your license or whatever, transportation, and all that.

Okay so next is wait I said earlier, ugh I don’t want to repeat it, I think you guys get the gist. So anyway, for me my parents were at a wedding or like not home for the night. I think, I mean to be honest with you guys, I don’t really know, but it’s okay because it doesn’t matter what they were gone for, just like the fact that they were gone is perfect.

Alright, so next you’re going to want to have a friend or something. I just brought my sister. It’s not like I don’t have friends, like I totally do, it’s just my sister is pretty cool you know, I used to hate her, but you know how things change. We’re like totally tight now. So, I basically convinced her to go to Chicago. Well, like I was driving, so like she even had a choice really, I mean when I have my mind set on something, it’s happening. You know how it is. I would totally recommend that mindset, it’s like totally powerful and stuff.

Guys, next step is really important. Have money. So, if you don’t know this, you’re kinda stupid. No offense, but like, full offense. The city is soooo expensive guys. Like, we had to pay for parking! Are you serious. To park on the street, not even a parking garage. Imagine like my car got stolen, and I had to pay for parking. Ugh, that would totally suck. But I’m like immune to danger so of course that didn’t happen. But guys, I for real spent like 20 bucks that night. Not even including gas, and we were there for what, umm like 4 hours I wanna say.

Hm okay is there another step, oh wait yeah there is, so if you have life360, turn that offffff. So, if you guys need a tutorial on that too, I totally got you. I’m like an expert on that. Also probably do this before you leave. No, definitely do this. Especially if you’re parents stalk life360 like mine, omg, like get a life guys! Me, I’d rather spend all my screentime on snapchat, but whatever guys, your loss.

Next step guys! Have the time of your life. God, it felt so freeing to be in Chicago without my parents. That’s a feeling you can’t get anywhere else. Not to sound cheesy, but omg, I was soo happy. I would recommend that feeling to everyone. So do it guys! DO IT!

What’s next, hm okay so don’t get lost or lose your car. I didn’t, but I would love to just help you all out. Getting lost is not fun guys. Or so I’ve heard. I never get lost. My sense of direction is impeccable. What I would recommend is to take a picture of your car or make a little pin on your maps app. The picture actually tracks your location. Kinda freaky, right? But that’s just for IPhones as far as I know. But anyways if you make a little pin in the maps, then it should stay there. I mean, me I just kinda took a gamble, and we totally remembered. Thank God because I was not trying to get lost in Chicago.

Anyways guys, I think that’s all for todays post. Let me know if you follow my advice! Because it is totally fool proof. I think. Hey, it worked for me, so it’s gotta work for someone else.  

Make sure to follow and like!

<3 Liza

[the-firebird69]

Ellen Trump brought up on charges of Sky Sam the guy Sam for messing with the phone and bring his in here. I also think it should be pointed out that myself and my people so you can't really find enough to be claimed for these idiots declaring war on us and Breaking every rule in taboo of your culture when they are incompetent fighters and people you necessarily cannot bow to We're not to be penalized for what you're stinking traders are doing they make it look like we encourage them for a different reason at this time in their demented slow pig brain they're still trying to say we inspired them to revolt they have us doing this stuff when it's merely them trying to rope us in to do what they want. Lousy manipulation is very very lame at almost nonexistent they have a plan that's part of yours For one reason or another usually their mental illness in their lack of intelligence they whittle away at. I'm one of the most valuable people on Earth to both kinds I have come kind of a game this **** next door is rancid with what seems like hatred of me or envy or I can't pinpoint it but he won't leave me alone and he won't go away and if there's any crime I've done you should investigate this bozo as he's probably having it done'cause that's what they say they do for the most part the mental health industry I was stuck in was run by these ignoramuses I'm saying in the mental hospital listening to dribble that evil **** how they gonna get rid of everyone including their own people and the demand that I do it for them with not so much as a valid reason except they suck themselves in their monsters themselves. It might've been seen by mom and dad or on the other side of the tracks but no way do they look like monsters compared to these assholes here What I'm saying is you don't know what their plan is and what their game is some Macs are pretty close it's a petty pretty damned awful 0 sum game they want for Earth and probably have no ability to carry it out a ratting on everybody else's Modis and motif and plan assets locations to try and carry it out they're not interested in these huge ships they don't care about big Giants and I guess I can make them do it you know try and blow the caverns and we don't want that but I'm telling you you're missing the whole boat these people are the drugs of the dregs of dregs. low lifes nd There are many that are helping me but but a lot of them are completely gone then with the ones in the mental hospital and Trumpsters once of them are totally stupid but stupidity is not what it is it is t it is deep unchecked and not controlled or monitored well enough psychotic homicidal behavior their children and there's a few of them here or that out of control and they're sick enough and insane and they're going after the max and they're having people do that the max plane is not working and the max here are even telling me what do we do'cause I don't know if they don't blow everybody up and they hate them I encountered this years and years ago no people don't remember it you don't wanna remember it you say it's the staff answer motif to hold you there it's not this guy is as crazy as Woodall he doesn't know what what ends up all day long is dragon his people into the state of complete oblivion not only did a lot of people miss labeling him as a Class A terrorist meaning if we let up off him we're in trouble but because of his psychosis and some of the others like trumpsters he's also a very sick person and a loose cannon on dead and I'm like Mitch mcconnell it looks like it cares about his life this man trump seems to be a professional nihilist and another type of massive psychotic mass murderer is Tommy app I don't see how your master and control when they did the purge ohh and Holocaust and they hit plenty of you and plenty of people that are worth something they were seeking out in Intelligentia and they're making up all these things starting into a docudrama we do this because of that then he throws his hands up in the air it is spoiled **** and so after issuing threats everywhere

[yegas]

ughhhh me too. in the past I said I wouldn't mind watching a slice of life about knb, and it's still true now ;-; I tried getting into fujimaki-sensei's other manga about baseball....but eh.. it just didn't hook me.. if it were to become an anime though, I think I'd be interested

I think I need to have a listening spree of the new album hahahaha SAME I feel like with their self-titled, they really found their sound.. for me, it's THAT album that got me into them. I still remember the first time I ever saw Afterlife on MTV and what I was doing and how I reacted (and how I fell in love with Synyster Gates hahahaha) did you have a *favourite* member? ngl, I was a total fangirl for Syn (if my previous statement didn't give it away yet 😂) and I still have a reaaalllyyyyy soft spot for him when I look back at my teenage self, but in its entirety I've definitely grown out of it and just respect each band member as a musician and artist

I wouldn't say it's amazing, but more of a convenience. so if you're on your phone most of the time, it's handy to have. although I preferred it in the past where the customization was minimal lmao just so there are fewer things to fuss about.. now you gotta make a theme for a desktop version AND mobile version.. yeah.. and I think most of the users now prefer to just like stuff or passively scroll through the app.. oh true.. before, a mutual's mutual would more often be in the same fandom as you and it was THAT easy. now, it's hard to even begin where to look.. it's nice to see those old posts from time to time. like it's still alive after all these years 😂 (lol yeah on other social media, a post either dies out or is reposted—which I find really annoying. I see the same post 10 times but from different usernames..like talk about originality) I was on twitter for a while until it became X which sucked 🫤

awww hahaha gotta thank that stray cat 😂

thank you so much, I appreciate it 🥺 I've been doing some journaling.. I guess it's helping.. and just trying to ground myself with things I used to enjoy and surrounding myself with good company. though I really wish there was a fast forward button for recovery

really i didn't know he had a baseball manga! now that you mention baseball, have you seen diamond no ace? i remember watching quite a few episodes but i don't think i finished it, i think it was ongoing back then when i was watching. i wonder if i should get back to it...

DONT TELL ME YOU ALSO DISCOVERED THEM ON MTV LMAOOOO i saw the nightmare video there for the 1st time and got hooked !!! that's so funny, mtv used to be pretty good, found a bunch of bands on there back in the day. and yea i totally get you, syn was definitely the coolest!! i don't think i had a fav member but i found matt the most attractive back when he had super short hair >.> but when i saw them live in 2013 he had long hair so that was unfortunate hahahaha. what other bands are you into?? i've been obsessed with dir en grey lately if you don't know them you gotta check em out trust me on this one :p

wtf a theme for the mobile version, that sounds like a hassle. yep definitely ends up being like the more new features they introduce on social media, the more cumbersome everything gets, cause it seems like they don't even think em through more often than not..

you know what, another thing i find refreshing about tumblr nowadays is the lack of reels/shorts/tiktoks whatever they call short form videos lmao idk abt you but i never really got into them (unless they include some cute animals lol)

it seems like you're handling it in a healthy manner, i'm rly happy to hear that! 🌸 i know what you mean, but you really gotta take it a day at a time, it's gonna be much better for you in the long run than if you were to bottle up everything and "force" healing. you'll see, soon enough you'll be surprised to find yourself not even thinking about the person for several days. it happens naturally somehow, and you'll be an even stronger person mentally for having dealt with everything this way

[musicinfooy]

Under the current “pro rata” model held true in Spotify and Apple, money from your dedicated fans goes into a giant pool that’s paid out to artists based on their share of total streams. This mostly benefits mega stars.

Spotify figures out how many streams came from a given country and then calculates the portion of those streams that went to specific artists. This causes smaller artists who might not have such a massive reach, but have a dedicated loyal audience, not getting much money because they share a smaller portion of the overall streams.

Effectively, if The Weeknd or Harry Styles gets 5% of all streams on Spotify in any given period they and their labels will get 10% of your monthly subscription fee, even if you never listened to any of their songs.

Rolling Stone reported in 2020, that the top 1 percent of streaming artists end up getting 90 percent of the revenue.

If you were to take the more than 1.6 million artists who released music to streaming services in the past year and a half and ranked them by their total streams, you’d find that the top 16,000 of those artists pulled in 90 percent of the streams. And it doesn’t take more than a basic grasp of math to realize that this leaves 1.6 million artists with just 10 percent of the streams.

FYI the current number of artists on Spotify has now grown to about 9 million, this means more share less.

This “pro rata” model typically benefits the major labels and the most popular artists. When you listen to music on the streaming services what do you hear on these platform generated playlists, radio stations and suggestions: More of the same top artists represented by the biggest labels. This has changed very little if at all over the last 3 years.

Obviously this is not acceptable. Not only from the view of the music creator, independent label and self-publisher but also from the fan’s’ point of view. It too sucks knowing that these superstars are taking money away from your choice artists.

Yet, I cannot feel too bad about using streaming services. The subscription fee is for using the service. No longer do I need to carry around all my CDs or be limited to the storage capacity in my device. And new releases are automatically available. But there must be a better way to focus user and fan activity and payments in a more meaningful way.

Lets see how the biggest record labels will get their fingers into the new payment models. We’ll take a look at the most recent deal with Universal and Deezer, as well as the first change in the “pro rata” model founded by Soundcloud and Warner.

Micropayments and Tips: A Better Way to Pay Your Artists

If only there was a way for a fan to pay directly to the artist. Wait, hold up there is. Though Netease and Tencent in China use the “pro rata” model, they calculate the accumulated streams of a given artist and pay out according to the type of user: free, subscribing, or VIP. So the pay per stream varies from user to user. Already there is a distinction between users. But even, is the possibility for the listeners and fans to give gifts directly to their artists.

Yet another advance in China that the western services are lacking and struggling to “catch up to”, if that is even a tangible consideration for the streaming services to implement?

Micropayments and digital tips are common in China. There are apps that allow people to tip or give monetary gifts. However, many platforms have this function built into their system as they do in the music platforms in China like QQ and Netease as well as Douyin and others. And you can always use a 3rd party app to send a gift to the ones you choose. How awesome would it be to go to Spotify or Deezer or Apple and leave your thoughts and show your love as comments to your artist as you listen to their music, as they do on Netease and QQ. And also showing your support by giving them a tip or virtual gift.

Moving Beyond Pro Rata

Universal has struck a deal with Deezer or is it vice versa? Deezer CEO Jeronimo Folgueira says that the deal is the “most ambitious change” to the economies of music streaming since it first started.

Focusing on artists who have a minimum of 1,000 streams per month with a minimum of 500 unique listeners will get a “double boost.” Is that 2x per stream?

They will get another “double boost” if the song was actively searched for by the user rather than suggested by the system or on a playlist. Is that 4x times per stream?

This Artist Centric streaming model is definitely a move forward. It seems though that the ones it benefits the most are the artists who are already taking the majority of the royalties. So any artist who has more than 1000 monthly streams and 500 different listeners will now be taking double of what they are already taking. Where is this coming from?

Denis Ladegaillerie of Believe, expressed his concerns that this 1000 streams/500 listener threshold will increase over time. Essentially squeezing out any upcoming artist with fewer than the threshold.

Jeronimo Folgueira of Deezer has addressed a very sore point in the streaming world, “There is no other industry where all content is valued the same, and it should be obvious to everyone that the sound of rain or a washing machine is not as valuable as a song from your favorite artist streamed in HiFi.”

Deezer is planning to replace non-artist noise content with its own content as functional music which won’t be included in the royalty pool. And of course tackling fraud by driving a better new and improved fraud detection system, making it less attractive to fraudsters and protecting the royalties.

So at least we can count on 2 things: Artists will receive a smaller payout if their songs play as part of an algorithmic playlist and will not need to compete with background noise tracks. Please remember this is only on Deezer. And how about all artists that are not part of Universal Music Group do they share pro rata of whatever is left over?

As of now Spotify is not on board, “We are willing to make the switch to a user-centric model if that’s what artists, songwriters, and rights holders want to do. However, Spotify cannot make this decision on its own; it requires broad industry alignment to implement this change. The research we’ve seen to date suggests that a shift to user-centric payments would not benefit artists as much as many may have originally hoped.”

Another possibility implemented by Tidal is their Direct-to-Artists payment model established in 2022. As a listener and subscriber your monthly fee will be allotted to a pool of royalties based on your subscription tier. As a premium HiFi plus subscriber it is estimated that 10% of your fee will go directly to your artists you listen to.

At the forefront we have Soundcloud and their Fan-powered royalty model since 2021. This is only available to independent artists who monetize directly with SoundCloud. The more time your dedicated fans listen to your music, the more you get paid. So a user paying $10 a month only listens to five artists, those five artists will get a split of that $10, after SoundCloud takes its cut, no matter how many times the user listens to each of them.

This model that seems to benefit independent artists is a collaboration with Warner Music Group, having cut a licensing deal with SoundCloud to adopt the streamer’s Fan-Powered Royalties system. WMG is the first major label to adopt the system, and its embrace of the model could signal a larger shift for the industry. Warner and independent artists are like oil and water, could there still be a light at the end of the tunnel for independent artists?

Conclusion

The structure of payments between streaming services and labels or independent artists are in need of change.

There is an inability to distinguish premium content, any stream over 30 seconds in length counts the same. This means that the music that has a higher value is not recognized.

An alternative is a more flexible artist-centric model that seeks to distribute payouts based on the value an artist creates and provides for the platform.

Fan-powered royalties means a subscriber’s subscription fee or advertising revenue will be shared among the artists they actually listen to, rather than going to a big pot and being split up among the platform’s most popular artists.

Streaming platforms have more pricing power than they have demonstrated in prior years as several major music streaming platforms have increased their prices on their standard services; however, the average revenue per user on paid streaming music services has fallen by 40% since 2016.

Apple Music and Spotify have essentially lowered the value of their catalogues by introducing family plans and smaller prices for bundled users, but maybe they are preparing for the next generation of users.

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[jaylaxies]

ariaaa omgggg for whatever reason dumblr wasn't giving me notifs on your blog ever since I came back to the app but I love that you're active 🖤🖤🖤 your writing is always one of my absolute favorites 🤩💖

Also lololol I was thinking ab just chilling in like leggings or shorts and like a hoodie or tshirt or smth that spells casual and you're like not expecting anyone over so you're not wearing a bra and just being comfy and then the hyung line show up and find out ab your lack of chest support lol and I was wondering if you'd write like reactions for each of them 👀 if you're not feeling it, that's totally cool too lol <333

- 🍜 anon

dumblr really sucks at times 💔 i’m so glad you enjoy my writing 😋 that’s honestly such a motivation booster fr and that idea seems so hot, i’ll make a separate post for it then after i get done writing my fic ‼️🫶🏼 and omgg how have you been, anonnie? hope you’re doing well :3

[the-final-sif]

anyways my secret toxic trait is despite being a huge proponent of open source software I actually believe in my heart of hearts that windows phones fucked and i miss them. i had a windows phone with a slide out keyboard and it was the best phone ive ever had, the total lack of software be damned. the UI was amazing, tiles were so good and easy to use, give me back my hard edges and sharpness and my physical keyboard i miss them so much.

[wttcsms]

♡ | afterglow [I]

PAIRING atsumu miya x f!reader WORD COUNT 5k CONTENT CONTAINS illusions to excessive alcohol consumption, very subtly hinted drug abuse (not from reader or atsumu)

SYNOPSIS finding out that his hot supermodel girlfriend is dumping him for some baseball player? that sucks. finding out via her red carpet debut with her new man as her plus one? sucks a bit more. having this happen to him the same day he just lost the last game of the season? yeah, it’s starting to feel like the universe has it out for him at this point, right? but atsumu miya is nothing if not petty, childish, and immature. he’ll get back at her. after all, there’s a secret dating app created by publicists and agents that pair up perfect matches for brightening up any celebrity’s public image. all atsumu has to do is pay a pretty sum of money to convince the media (and mainly his ex) that atsumu miya is still on top of the world and living his best life with the best (albeit, fake) girlfriend ever. 

unfortunately for him, his perfect match just so happens to be you — his first girlfriend, his highschool sweetheart turned sour, and the first girl who ever broke his heart.

you know what they say: when it rains, it pours.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Atsumu Miya does not believe in soulmates.

It’s a concept that he can’t really wrap his head around. The idea that there is someone out there for everyone is just some sugar-coated fantasy that was contrived purely to sell shit on Valentine’s Day.

(It goes without saying, of course, that Atsumu Miya — in all his twenty-three years — has never bought, made, and/or given anything to anyone on Valentine’s Day.

Even with his current circumstances, the chances of breaking that streak look bleak at best.)

He comes to this conclusion during his first year of high school. Everyone picks a myth or folktale that they previously covered during said unit in literature class, and then they go up to the front of the classroom and share the deeper research they did on whatever they chose.

Atsumu chooses the Red Thread of Fate. He’s not a romantic, by any means (and you’d have to be real fucking dense to even entertain that idea). It’s a matter of convenience. His mom has a sewing kit that she keeps in the linen closet, and since this project requires him to decorate a board, he figures taping a bunch of red thread on cardboard will suffice.

(It doesn’t, but that’s only because the lack of effort was too obvious to ignore.)

Anyway, what he learns from all the research he put in (read: ten minutes on Wikipedia), basically, there’s this dude who talks to an old man, and oldie tells him that the woman he’s going to marry is gonna be his wife. For whatever reason, the girl happens to be there, but the young guy thinks this man is full of shit, and he throws a rock at the girl. Even Atsumu sees that there could have been a better response to that situation, but it’s not enough for him to stop rooting for the guy, y’know? So, flashforward — guy gets an arranged marriage, he meets his wife and sees her for the first time, and he totally scores. The woman is supposedly one of the great beauties of the village. Then, here’s the real kicker: it turns out she has a scar. A scar that came as a result of being whacked in the face with a rock.

There’s other variations, other retellings, but they all end up sharing the same ending: no matter how the guy feels, no matter what the guy does, he still ends up getting the girl, proving that the old man wasn’t lying whenever he said the red string connecting them would forever tie them together.

Well, it’s a myth for a reason.

In the real world, things like that don’t exist. Coincidences, yeah. Fate? Predetermined destinies that the universe decides to assign to everyone? Yeah, no. But then Atsumu remembers the way a volleyball feels in his hands, grazing against his knuckles, propelled by the force of just his fingertips, and the feeling of something fitting in so perfectly in his life makes him think that maybe fate is something real.

Fate, as it appears, is one sick and twisted bitch.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat what you just said?” He runs a hand through his already messy hair, hoping that he’s too hungover and genuinely did mishear you the first time around.

You roll your eyes before leaning forward, repeating what you told him just a couple of seconds ago.

“Miya, I’m going to be your girlfriend for as long as my services are required.”

You look about as happy as he feels, and he wants to say something smart, something witty, but he’s thinking that maybe he shouldn’t open his mouth at all. He feels sick to his stomach, and it’s not an exaggeration or a means to describe how he feels about this current situation.

It might be a result of a gas station burrito.

Obviously annoyed, you lean back in your chair. “Well, anything to say to your new girlfriend?”

He opens his mouth and throws up.

8 HOURS EARLIER

Happiness can be found anywhere.

Atsumu usually finds it on the court, ball in play, and a team of talented players that he can orchestrate to his heart’s content.

He currently finds it at the bottom of a shot glass at a club he doesn’t even remember the name of. The bass boosted music blasting through the sound system might be the reason for why his head is pounding so hard (he’s never been a fan of loud noises), or it could be a result of him accidentally hitting his head against the doorframe entrance to the men’s bathroom. He’s not really sure, and fun fact: he doesn’t actually care, either.

All he cares about right now is getting so fucked up, he forgets his own name.

“Miya!”

The fact that he knows that shout is meant to grab his attention is just proof that he’s not working hard enough. Catching on to his pattern already, the bartender is quick in sliding him another drink. He downs it by the time the person calling for him actually reaches him.

“Miya, get a fucking grip,” he hisses, slapping Atsumu’s back with a bit more force than necessary.

There aren’t a lot of people who can get away with doing that to him, but Shugo Meian is the current captain of the MSBY Black Jackals, which — as fate would have it — happens to be Atsumu’s current team. The last person Atsumu wants to piss off is the guy who pretty much calls the shots and has a shit ton of influence over how much play time he gets. With the way his night has been so far, playing volleyball seems like the only good thing left he’s got going for him. He’ll be damned if he fucks this up, too.

Not like it matters, though, since their season got cut short. It happens — seasons ending sooner than expected. It happens when you lose.

And that’s what happened. Their team lost. There is no play time for Shugo to take away from Atsumu, considering the fact that they won’t be playing for the last month remaining of the season. It was a good run; a great one, even. They made it a lot farther than most teams, and Atsumu’s just barely scraping the surface when it comes to talk about reaching the peak of his career. He has more than enough years to recover and redeem himself from a loss that, from certain viewpoints, is hardly a loss to beat himself over.

And, really, during normal circumstances, he really wouldn’t take this so harshly. He normally wouldn’t feel as gutted and hollowed out as he is right now; if only he hadn’t been dumped.

And it’s one thing to be dumped over text or on a phone call or in-person during a dinner date, but it’s another thing entirely when it comes out of seemingly nowhere. In the afternoon, he’s walking on the court with a supermodel girlfriend, and in the early evening, he’s stepping off the court, a man sweaty and defeated, opens up his Twitter timeline, and sees that said supermodel girlfriend is now his supermodel ex-girlfriend.

Professionally photographed variations of “the gorgeous Izumi Aoki” and her “yummy hunk of arm candy Junichiro Ichikawa” standing impossibly close together at some red carpet event are plastered all over his timeline. They look practically joined at the waist with how close they are. It’s not exactly the best thing to see after getting his ass kicked on (and then subsequently off) the court. He originally gives her the benefit of the doubt, but after clicking on one (or two… or three… maybe six, but definitely no more than seven) article(s), he ends up realizing with startling clarity: he just got dumped.

He just got dumped, and the words “I’m breaking up with you” weren’t even spoken or sent to him. All he got were Twitter threads and articles from various semi-reputable gossip sites that all recycled the same quote Izumi told the interviewer:

“Me and Miya? We’re a done deal. Me and Juni…” (She looks up lovingly at Juni while she’s saying this, just an FYI. Atsumu didn’t need to know this information, but five out of the no-more-than-seven articles he read felt the need to mention this little gesture, as if it means something. Maybe it’s the bitterness of a scorned ex speaking, but Atsumu highly doubts that anything coming from Izumi Aoki is capable of being genuine or loving.) “We’re the real thing.”

The truth is this: Atsumu doesn’t really care about the slight attack on him. He doesn’t even care that Izumi broke up with him, just the fact that she didn’t feel the need to let him know that she was going to do so. A little warning would have been well appreciated, rather than seeing that he’s been replaced by a hotshot rookie baseball player via tweets made by thirsty college students who had difficulty choosing between wanting to fuck Izumi or Junichiro.

(The general consensus? Both. People from the ages of seventeen through twenty-two wanted to get in bed and have an insane threesome with, according to them, “the hottest celebrity couple”.)

“Atsumu.” Shugo still has his hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, his grip firm, his tone even more so. “C’mon, it’s time you get home.”

Home, huh? Atsumu stares at the bottom of his glass and sees something familiar. Hyogo Prefecture. He sees practices in his high school gym — it used to feel so big, 'til he went pro and realized that maybe there was a world bigger than that gymnasium. He sees arguments with ‘Samu, back when Osamu was still dying his hair. He sees annoying the shit out of his mother but still willing to fistfight anyone who would dare to make a “your mom” joke to him. He sees himself as a second year, pretending like he didn’t spend all last month gathering up the courage to pretend to be as confident as ever as he convinces the smartest, prettiest, so out of his league girl to go on a date with him. You saying yes to him that one time (and every other time he asked after that) had been the highlight of his last two years of high school — which is saying something, since he went to Nationals both years, as well.

He swallows hard, wanting to laugh at himself for being so sappy. He’s not quite sure why he’s suddenly taking a trip down memory lane. Must be the drinks, he rationalizes. They’re finally doing their job in getting him fucked up.

“Whatever you say, captain,” Atsumu finally replies back to Shugo, looking up to shoot him a grin.

And man, Atsumu must have really had too much to drink tonight, because for a second, the captain he sees is Shinsuke.

Sadness, you suppose, has a way of seeping itself into any place it sees fit. For example, you’re at a club, surrounded by your best fucking friends in the world and future co-stars, celebrating your latest starring role in what Japan is calling its “most anticipated romance of the year”, and you’re…

Well, you’re sad.

You're at the height of your career, but everyone says the peak is just going to keep on getting higher and higher. You’re where you’ve always dreamed of being, where thousands of other young hopefuls are currently aspiring to be, and yet, for some odd reason, you’re not that happy.

“Hey, pretty girl,” a deep voice can be heard right against your ear; you almost jump in surprise but turning around (and also being hit with the overwhelming scent of Versace Eros), you realize it’s not a complete stranger.

Forcing a smile that you know he’ll be too drunk to recognize as fake, you acknowledge your co-star. “Hi, Inoue.”

“C’mon, babe, you can call me Ryo.” He has a heavy arm resting on your shoulder, and your already weak smile completely diminishes at this point.

Ryo Inoue has a following that’ll take you at least two years — two wildly successful years — to even catch up to. His mom was — still is — a prevalent name in the industry. She’s won practically every award an actress can even receive. Now, she has her own skincare line and still a massive, loyal fanbase that treats her word as gospel. His dad is retired, but back in his prime, any movie he was directing was bound to rake in billions of Yen, and several have even done well internationally. The point? The point is that Ryo Inoue is the epitome of a nepotism baby. He’s talented, and he’s got a pretty face, and he probably would have done well without the backing of his two powerful parents, but things come easy to him. Way too easy.

You don’t need a reputation of being easy.

Shaking off his arm, you roll your eyes. He doesn’t catch it because he’s already drunk, and with the club’s strobe lights, fog machine, and warm bodies that make everyone appear to be one big blob, you don’t think he would’ve been able to focus enough even when sober. “Yeah, whatever, I gotta go. See you on set next week.” You slip away. You think you hear him shout something, but it gets devoured by the bass boosted music blaring in this way-too-hot (and legal maximum capacity reached) space. You make your way through the club, trying to find a way out of this damn dancefloor from hell. You glance around at your surroundings, eyes landing on the bar. You catch a glimpse of blond hair and frown.

You shouldn't be thinking about him right now.

That’s how you find yourself back up in the VIP section of the place. It’s a lot better here than down there, with the “commoners” as one of the supermodels call them. The A/C seems to actually be coming through the vents, and while everyone up here is just as scantily clad, just as drunk off their asses, and just as bad — if not worse — than the so-called “commoners”, it doesn’t matter.

Money has a way of turning trashy into classy, after all. Because the barely-there bralettes the models are wearing as tops are decked out in diamonds, not cheap rhinestones. Everyone’s drinking straight out of bottles that go for over two thousand dollars. And nearly everyone here has made their publicists’ lives a living hell.

You don’t want to be thinking right now, and that’s why you’re up here, with them, pretending to celebrate. It’s all any of you are good at: pretending. Looks like you didn’t even have to become an actress to become a professional liar.

“Babe, congrats on the movie!” The only person you really, truly trust out of all “friends” is Yua. She’s bright and bubbly, literally the definition of a ride-or-die, and the only person in the industry who hasn’t stabbed anyone in the back. She’s a model that’s been gracing the covers of Vogue and being Prada’s number one It Girl since she was seventeen. You can’t blame her for wanting to party every night. If you had to go through half the shit she does, you’d want to blackout to forget it all, too.

You hug her in response, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the people present. You can put a name to every face, and you’re familiar with most of them beyond just being aware of their existence. You’re already regretting coming here in the first place, but Yua’s beaming at you, and you recognize that glossy, faraway gleam in her bright eyes. She’s on something right now. You try not to grimace. “Hey, this place sucks. Wanna get back home?”

“Home? Bestie, the party’s just getting started!” She drags you closer to the couch, giggling as she pushes you down, forcing you to sit before she plops next to you. Yua only gets really fucked up like this after a photo shoot. You should have just stayed home, but everyone was going to be here, and you can’t afford to not at least make a brief appearance. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Yua. Not like you were doing such a stellar job ‘til now.

Yua’s been your roommate for only a couple of months now, but she’s been your first ever friend since you were just some teenage girl from the Hyogo Prefecture who wanted to act. The two of you have the same manager. Meeting her was a coincidence; clicking with her was fate, you guess. You wouldn’t have survived without Yua, and you cringe, thinking about all the emergency hospital visits you took her to. It looks like she wouldn’t survive without you, either.

No, you think miserably. The party’s been over since you looked at your phone, saw a familiar name pop up on your screen, and subsequently wanted to chuck your phone at the nearest wall.

akihito Congratulations on your latest role. I know you’ll do great.

Yua’s squealing as a server comes with a bottle in a bucket of ice. She grabs it. It’s champagne, and apparently, a gift for you.

“I’m so happy for you right now!” She cheers, thrusting the cold bottle into your hand.

You’re still thinking of Akihito, his blond hair and charming smile, and the fact that even though he broke your heart, he’s still the only person you can find yourself longing for.

Maybe you should take a page out of Yua’s book. Fuck it.

You pop the bottle, and the rest of the night becomes history.

6 HOURS EARLIER

Despite Shugo’s best efforts, a drunk Atsumu is a hungry one. And Atsumu, sober or not, is a stubborn dickhead who must have his way.

That’s why Shugo has to pull into a shady convenience store. Atsumu stumbles around the aisles, knocking over snacks, and the cashier doesn’t even look up from his magazine — which Shugo realizes is an old copy of Playboy — probably because he’s so used to this behavior from his customers.

Atsumu gets five burritos from the hot food display, and Shugo tries to gag as he watches him devour the first three in just a couple of bites.

“I can’t believe you ever had a girlfriend,” he mutters to himself, wishing his air fresheners in his car were stronger. Nothing seems to be combating the smell of five gas station burritos.

“I can’t believe you never had a girlfriend,” Atsumu counters, before snorting. “Nevermind, yeah I can.”

“Where would I even have the time to meet a girl? I’m either at the gym or cleaning up your messes.”

“I know you’re old, but c’mon now. Ya never even heard of a dating app?”

It’s because of this conversation that Atsumu is not going straight to bed — which is what Shugo commanded him to do the moment he dropped Atsumu off — but rather, he’s on the phone with his agent.

“Ken, I have an idea.”

Kento Sato is a man with expensive habits, a detrimental aspect of his personality that is the reason why he has to answer phone calls at two in the morning. Had Atsumu Miya not been one of his highest paying clients, Atsumu would not be on the phone right now. Guess money does have its perks.

“What is it, Atsumu?”

“Is it true? The dating app? Is it real?”

Kento freezes momentarily, now wide awake.

“The dating app” as Atsumu so simply puts it goes beyond just that. It’s a network where only the top agents and publicists and managers have access to, and even harder to get an arrangement for your client. Money is an obstacle, but so is your client’s public image, fanbase, career, and predicted future. It’s supposed to be a secret, and no one besides the publicists who set it up and the people who get paired is in on the truth: that it’s a fake dating app.

A publicity stunt. A way to trick followers and haters, co-stars and teammates, the entirety of TikTok and talk show audiences, that this new It Couple is the real thing. The difference between the setups done outside the app versus the matches made from it is easy to tell. The most important one being that the matches made from this app are never found out to be fake.

“Atsumu, let’s discuss this in the morning—”

“Don’t bullshit with me right now, man. Okay? ‘Cause listen — I don’t care much ‘bout the breakup, but it’s embarrassing, and everything’s going to shit right now—”

“Listen to me. You’re drunk. You’re exhausted. You’re not thinking straight—”

“I was thinkin’ just fine when I heard ya setting up that deal for—”

Accidents happen. Kento had been on a call, setting up an arrangement, and Atsumu was (sincerely, too!) looking for the bathroom. (The eavesdropping was all intentional, though. Nosy shit.)

“Don’t speak of that.” Ken hisses, and although Atsumu’s stubborn, he — for the most part — knows when to pick his fights. “Fine. So, it’s true. What does that have to do with you?”

“My rep, Ken! I’m the reason why the team lost, and now I’m a fuckin’ joke ‘cause I got dumped for some rookie baseball player who’s fresh outta high school!”

“And what is this app supposed to do for you, huh? You think I can just magically get you in the network, pull some strings, and just like that, your reputation is fixed? Shit like this happens all the time. I highly doubt a fake girlfriend is going to be able to solve everything for you.”

“Yeah, but—” Atsumu closes his eyes. It’s not really a matter of reputation or “public image” that he cares about. It’s not even the breakup that has him riled up. For the first time in a while, Atsumu acknowledges that he’s drunk, sitting in his dark apartment that feels more like a model home than an actual space that’s lived in, and he’s completely and utterly alone. “Can’t we just give it a fucking shot? ‘Cause if not, I can tell everyone I know about how you set up—”

“Fine, Atsumu.” Kento sounds beyond irritated, but Atsumu doesn’t care. He is, after all, getting his way. “Eight o’clock, sharp. I’ll call an Uber that’ll pick you up at seven to take you to my office. And Atsumu?”

“Yeah?”

“Even if she’s going to be paid to date you, try not to make her want to run for the hills — or to the nearest baseball team, for that matter.”

1 HOUR EARLIER

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Fumiko Gima — 13 MISSED CALLS Fumiko Gima — 3 VOICEMAILS Fumiko Gima — 27 UNREAD MESSAGES

Fumiko Gima might be one of the best managers in your industry, but she’s notorious for her lack of communication. She’s got a tight grip on the talent industry, and she manages names with more fame and money than yours. Her priority, therefore, will always be with them first, and you as an afterthought. Just being one of her clients is a privilege, and it’s enough to overlook how she rarely ever reaches out (she doesn’t even acknowledge your birthday).

So the fact that it’s Saturday and barely seven in the morning, and she’s called you thirteen fucking times in the past hour means she has a serious butt dialing issue, or you are in deep, deep shit.

Fumiko Gima Potential pairing. 5:03 AM

Fumiko Gima Wake up. We finally got a match. 5:10 AM

Fumiko Gima Get your ass up. Your contract is now depending on whether or not you come through. 5:16 AM  

Your eyes feel crusty, your throat is dry, and you don’t even want to know what you look like right now. You woke up in your living room, and Yua is still sleeping on the couch, half her body hanging off of it, drooling and blissfully unaware of your impending doom.

You scroll down further, trying to make sense of Fumiko’s messages. Pairing? Match? Your contract hanging in the balance?

Fuck.

This situation goes beyond the type that shit can be used to accurately express your feelings. This is a catastrophe. Now is the time for you to say fuck.

Because how does a teenager with no connections, no relevant experience, but a shit ton of genuine acting talent get picked up by a powerhouse manager like Fumiko Gima? Here’s a hint: you didn’t sell your soul, but you kind of, sort of, definitely did agree to rent out yourself to parade around as someone’s fake girlfriend when needed.

Fuck.

The air conditioning makes the meeting room colder than it needs to be, the lights are brighter than they need to be, and you are entirely less sober than you need to be.

Fumiko nearly burst a blood vessel when she met you at the front door of some sleek, shiny office building that you’ve certainly never visited before. Of course, even though it’s eight in the morning, Fumiko looks awake enough to shoot you a glare that could have turned you to stone. She’s wearing four-inch heels, her pencil skirt and blazer looked ironed and brand-new, and she looks like she didn’t spend her Friday night moping about her ex. Now you’re wondering if she even has a significant other, or if there was someone special in her life before but now they’re no longer a thing, or—

“You look like shit,” is her greeting, before rolling her eyes, pushing you inside like she’s afraid someone’s going to take a candid of you, and forcing you into an elevator that would be sending you off to your doom. (As it turns out, your doom happens to be located on the twenty-eighth floor of this unknown building. Lovely. You can only hope the view will be nice as you’re signing away your life.)

Now you’re stuck in a chair, staring out the window (the view is shit, by the way, much like this whole entire situation), waiting to see who will be coming out the elevator next.

Truth be told, you weren’t even hesitant when the offer first came up. Fumiko Gima was relatively unknown to you before she handed you her business card after watching one of your mock auditions. A Google search told you everything you needed to know: she meant business, and you wanted to handle yours with her.

Everything comes with a price, though, and at the time, the deal seemed too good to be true. You’ll have to pay her, of course, but only after your first big role — a role that she would secure for you. All you have to do is be on standby for a less… traditional role.

It’s an acting gig, she told you. But it’ll be very challenging not to break your character.  

You hear the elevator ding!, and you swallow hard. You’ve got oversized sunglasses on, ones tinted dark enough to where no one can see your eyes, and so you hope that when your “match” sits down in front of you, they won’t be able to see you size them up.

“About time,” Fumiko says, skipping any polite greetings whatsoever. You suppose that when you’ve got a majority of Japan’s A-List actors/actresses in your grip, you can afford to skip formalities or two.

“Gima.” A gruff voice says.

You can feel three pairs of eyes looking at you. Fumiko, probably expecting you to turn to face them and say something. The owner of the gruff voice, undoubtedly. And that leaves… the person you’ll be pretending to be head over heels in love with. Yeah, you’re not looking up just yet.

“Do you think I have the time to just sit here and wait around for you, Sato?” Fumiko’s voice is colder than this room, and a lesser man would have started apologizing the second she was done asking her (highly rhetorical) question.

“Yeah, well, not all of us keep our clients on a leash and yank them to where they need to be.” Apparently, whoever Sato is, is not a lesser man.

“Hmph. From what I’ve heard about him, you really should. It’ll do you some good. Maybe it’ll stop the production of white hairs for you.”

Sato just grunts in reply, before yanking a chair out and taking a seat. Whoever is with him follows suit, taking the chair directly across yours. You register blond hair — messy, which makes you feel a bit more comfortable — and broad shoulders that take up the entirety of your sunglasses’ lens. You’re trying to avoid looking at his face, hoping and praying that he’s not going to be too difficult to pretend to be in love with. Maybe you’re shallow and stupid for wanting your fake boyfriend to be hot, but shallow and stupid describes half the people you’re associated with. Birds of a feather, or whatever.

“Alright, they’re here, we’re here. You two can have the hour to talk things out. I have a more pressing meeting to attend, but I’m sure Sato has nothing important happening in his life, so he’ll discuss legal matters with you both before I get back.” Fumiko’s efficient, so you’re not surprised that she’s practically halfway out the door by the time the first few words come out her mouth.

You turn to focus on Sato, who shoots you what you assume he thinks is a smile (but resembles a scowl, more like). “Ah, I need a drink first. Coffee.” He adds in the last word quickly, which makes you smile. “I’m going to get coffee. You two… Yeah.”

The moment you’re alone, the person who came with Sato finally speaks.

“So, what’s with the sunglasses? Are ya, like, blind? ‘Cause I really don’t mind, but my place is a mess, so if you’re ever comin’ over, you’re gonna have to give me, like, a two-day notice so I can get the place fixed for ya.” The voice sounds oddly familiar, the accent reminding you of home. It’s a lot more comforting than you expect it to be. “Nah. Make it a four-day notice.”

“No. I’m not blind.” You push your sunglasses up to rest them on top of your head, finally staring straight at your new “boyfriend”.

And then you kind of wish you were blind because the stunned face staring right at you is a lot more familiar than the accent.

Five years can make a difference, but you would recognize Atsumu Miya — your first boyfriend, your first love — anywhere.

a/n: i just realized that i stated the fucking obvious with the whole "woman he's going to marry is his wife" and then even had the audacity to emphasize "wife" as if... the woman u marry is ??? anything other than ur wife ???? but i left it up bc on brand with atsumu's idiocy but also im 2 tired 2 do anything abt it. pls know that i have looked over this draft (and probably that paragraph since it was written so early on) a minimum of 3 times and only just now caught it after publishing it. i am resisting the urge to go berserk rn.

[otomeloverkai]

Update: 20 mins wait seems a bit ridiculous (screenshot given below)

Okay, so I have my opinion now. I wanted to wait at least 5 days before having a firm opinion...but seriously, the chats are between Teo and me are not getting any better.

Things I feel are missing/not right in The ssum: the forbidden lab :

1. A major part of what makes a game interesting is the interactions between the characters. However, with "The ssum", there is only Teo and I, no other characters (yet) to interact with.

2. Lack of a comprehensive plot- absence of a motive. I know, most people will say that it has only been 3 days, which is too early to judge the plot, BUT let me say this— in most interesting games (rated above 4 stars and above in the playstore), the plot is more or less transparent. The moment you enter the game, the plot is introduced to you and you know what you're working with– this is totally missing in "The ssum" which has a very abstract plot.

3. Too many features that were not explained clearly. Imagine entering a game for the first time and being slapped in the face with a planet named Vanas, an emotion incubator, energy, frequency, aurora batteries, study lab, duplicate twitter, and an individual who is quite impolite to you. Long story short, I want to say that it is a lot to take in.

4. Too many paid features. For someone who was excited about "The ssum", I am greatly disappointed. Every app/game has certain paid features, and it is completely valid to make money off a game. What is not right, however, is that I must pay for even the most trivial features that are usually totally free. Why am I supposed to feed batteries to an individual so that he stops breathing and replies to me? And this happens every few seconds into the conversation. Also, the high prices need a special mention- the price per month in my country would be the price of monthly groceries for a family of 3.

5. Different planets. I am assuming that Teo is not a resident of earth. He supposedly lives on the planet Vanas (aka fictional Venus). This has led to an unconscious sort of disapproval. The game which I had presumed to be a normal dating sim with a plot has turned out to be some sort of "guardians of the galaxy" fanfiction.

6. Teo has no special or characteristic qualities that might make him special. And his typing speed sucks...moreover, I need to pay him to type better.

That's all. I know cheritz made a lot of effort to make this game, and I know how difficult making a game from scratch is, but "The ssum" is just not what I was hoping it would be.

I will play the game further, and if at any point I learn something, that makes me feel that I disagree with any of the points that I have stated above, then I will update the post and let everyone know. For now, however, "The ssum" is not good. This post is totally my opinion, not spreading hate, just trying to politely state why I do not like this game. It does have a few things that are good, but my overall opinion is that I do not like it.