#the puzzle has no instructions. it will look different to everyone...

[celine-song]

Problemista (2023) dir. Julio Torres

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?” 

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?” 

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

[oscpstri]

red, black, gold

drive to survive format, 0.9k

there hasn't been a female driver in formula 1 in a while. jessie d'angelo thinks its time we run it back.

warnings: none

note: welcome to the first installation of this series! this story involves oc x the grid. enjoy ~

[WILL BUXTON] So where were we? Ah yes. Alpine has signed a contract with two back-to-back F3 and F2 champions. Good for them. Unfortunately, the catch is: not one of them knew about it.

The production crew hurriedly place two chairs in front of the cameras as a certain Australian and Italian awkwardly plop themselves onto their stools. They both give each other a shared look before the crew start talking.

"Good to see you two back."

A smile radiates on their faces. They had been here before, just under a different position and a different team.

"We're back. And uh, I'm driving for McLaren now."

"I'm driving for Porsche."

[WILL BUXTON] Oscar Piastri and Jessie D'Angelo. The two perfect pieces of Alpine's puzzle. If they had actually signed the both of them for 2023, maybe they would have a better chance at the Constructors' Championship.

"I was never talked to about contract signing. Definitely not in regards to racing for them next year." Jessie says, glancing at Oscar who nodded in agreement.

"Same here."

NOVEMBER 2022 ━ ABU DHABI

"1 lap to go. I repeat, 1 lap to go."

It was the last race of the 2022 Formula 2 season. Jessie D'Angelo had made a name for herself as the first female driver to climb up the male-dominated motorsport since the 90's. It was a bloody crawl on the way to the top, but the gold she tasted as she reached those heights only made her want more.

She was currently second in the Drivers Standings, so close to the top she could smell the trophy. She had claimed pole in the race and was tailing the podium victory. Jessie would have won if she stayed where she was, but she wasn't one to turn down a fight.

"And that's P1! Congratulations Jessie D'Angelo, you are a Formula 2 World Champion."

As Jessie crosses the finish line first, the fans roar in delight. The female driver smiled wide in her helmet, taking in the moment and the various greetings from the pit wall.

"Lets go! Back to back, baby. Fuck, I'm exhausted." Jessie cries, sticking out her hand through the halo to wave to the crowd.

"This one is for all the female drivers out there. Let 'em know what the hell they're missing out on."

BREAKING: PORSCHE TO RE-JOIN FORMULA 1 NEXT YEAR. DRIVER LINEUP TO BE ANNOUNCED.

[WILL BUXTON] Formula 1 consists of teams that are household names: Ferrari, Mercedes, Aston Martin. Teams like these get you on your feet in anticipation.

Everyone's heard the whispers within the paddock of a new team supposedly joining in 2023. I just don't think anyone knew it would be Porsche.

JUST IN: PORSCHE REVEALS STAR-STUDDED LINEUP AHEAD OF THE 2023 SEASON.

[WILL BUXTON] They were an OG team, one established from the very beginning of the sport. They didn't last very long, but everyone knew it was always a matter of time before they came back. And what better with the 2022 Formula 2 Champion?

"Wait... what do I say again?" Jessie asks, fumbling with the slate in her hands as she sat down in the stool.

"Introduce yourself and who you're racing for."

The female driver nods at the instructions, exhaling deeply before bringing the slate up to the camera's view.

"Hello. I am Jessie D'Angelo, 21 years old, and I am a Porsche Formula 1 driver." She states, clapping the slate with a relieved smile.

"Oh, and I'm also the first female driver to grace the grid in... a long time."

MARCH 2023 ━ BAHRAIN

All 22 cars were lined up at the starting grid for the first race of the season. Jessie managed to qualify P11 which wasn't exactly the best nor the worst. Sure, she wanted points on her debut race, but knowing the big names she was racing with she humbled herself into just making it out unscathed.

She was humming to her favorite tune, tapping simultaneously on her steering wheel as she tried to look unfazed by the events prior to getting in her car.

Jessie knew that being the only female out of 22 drivers was going to be brutal. Everyone around her had pep-talked her into what to expect as she stepped foot into that track. She had hyped herself up, thought she would be able to handle the nasty remarks she was bound to receive. Turns out Jessie D'Angelo still has her temper and was more mad than sad when she walked out and heard the booming boos from the crowd.

The crew had taken off her tire covers, the starting grid clearing signaling the race about to start.

As the first red light goes on, Jessie locks her eyes onto them.

This was now or never, and she was determined to make a grand first impression.

"It's lights out and away we go!"

"And that's P3, Jess! Congratulations on your debut race."

"Woo! Lets fucking go! God, I wanna see the look on all those motherfuckers faces." Jessie yells through the radio, finally being able to relax after a tight first race.

As she placed her car in parc ferme, she swiftly pulled herself up by the halo and stood next to her car. She turns to look at the stands and sarcastically bows to the same crowd that boo'ed her before the race even began.

"How do you think your first race went?"

A small smirk emerged on Jessie's face, proud of the feat.

"I mean... I got P3 and proved the sweaty non-drivers wrong. I think it went very well."

[aismoker]

Be a GOOD boy

Tucker looked up from his work when his phone buzzed. He had received a message. At first he didn't recognize the sender: GOOD boy #79. The avatar showed a picture of a bald guy wearing a leather uniform with a big cigar in his mouth. His eyes seem to glow red.

Tucker was annoyed. It must be some kind of spam bot. But as he saw the number, he recognized it as the number of Connor, his best friend. As he looked better, he recognized the guy on the picture as his friend. He opened the message. It only said: "be a GOOD boy". Tucker was now very puzzled. Did Connor get some kind of virus on his phone? Was it some kind of joke? Barry was so occupied with the message, that he hadn't noticed that a file had started to download. Once it was finished, his phone shut down. Tucker didn't know what was happening. He started his phone again, but instead of the normal opening screen he saw an image of a red spiral.

"Shit", Tucker thought, he must have downloaded a virus. He tried to shut down his phone again, but nothing seemed to work. As he tapped frantically on the screen, the image started to change. A picture of bald man in a leather uniform, smoking a cigar appeared on the screen and then another and another. Tucker didn't understand anything of all this. What was happening to his phone? He looked at the screen. The images started to change faster and faster. He sometimes thought he recognized some of the guys in the pictures. Wasn't that James? And wasn't that the guy who worked at the gas station? He wasn't sure. By now, the images flashed so rapidly that his consciousness couldn't register. It was, however, in a way quite relaxing to watch the images. The longer he kept looking at the screen, the more he got entranced. He didn't even notice that text started to appear on the screen. He didn't even notice that after a while, he was starting to chant softly: "be a GOOD boy... be a GOOD boy... be a GOOD boy..."

Several hours later, the doorbell rings. Still entranced, he stands up and goes to the door. He ooens the door. He doesn't expect there to be anyone and indeed, the hallway is empty. He looks down and sees a big bag standing on his doorbell. There is a note attached to the bag. It says: "GOOD boy #137". He smiles. He takes the bag inside and opens it. In it he sees a pile of neatly folded leather clothes. He smiles. His uniform has arrived. He puts it on. He walks towards the bathroom and picks up his razor blade and starts shaving his head. He doesn't question his actions. He just OBEYS. It feels so GOOD to OBEY. Once done with shaving he grabs the bag again and takes out a wooden box. He opens the box. In it, he sees a rows of cigars. He softly caresses them with his fingers and picks one out. As instructed, he cuts the cigar and toasts it. He then sticks it in his mouth. He flicks the lighter and looks in the mirror. In a few seconds, he will be a GOOD boy.

As he takes his first drag and his lungs fill with the thick, creamy smoke, he feels a feeling of euphoria and joy wash over him. He is a GOOD boy! GOOD boy #137 takea another drag. The feeling intensifies. It feels so GOOD to smoke a CIGAR, so GOOD to OBEY.

GOOD boy #137 picks up his phone. The phone seems to work normally again, with the small differences that the red spiral with the cigar-smoking men is non-stop visible, like a transparent film over his screen. He takes a picture of himself and he uses it as his new avatar. He looks at his screen name. It said "Tucker". He frowns, he knew he had heard that name before, but he couldn't recall when. He tried to think, but GOOD boys don't think. He changed the screen name to "GOOD boy #137". He then uploads his photo to the spiral-file. He is a GOOD boy and everyone who sees the file should know it.

He looks through his list of contacts. He sees that besides GOOD boy #79 there are also GOOD boy #89, #103, #107, #117, #118 and #129. He smiles. So many GOOD boys already, but not enough. Everyone should be a GOOD boy, so he sends the file to all the men in his list with the simple message: "be a GOOD boy".

He then texts GOOD boy #137. "I am a GOOD boy now. Thank you!" Half a minute later, he got a reply: "It is so GOOD to be a GOOD boy! Come out and meet me at my place, we need to make more men into GOOD boys." #137 answers: "every man should be a GOOD boy. I'll be there in 5 minutes." He grabs a few extra cigars and walks out of his apartment. He smiles as he takes dep drags of his cigar. It is so GOOD to be a GOOD boy.

======================

EPILOGUE

Barry Johnson, head scientist at Big Tobacco international, a conglomerate of the largest tobacco producers worldwide, rushes to the director's office. There was no time to lose. He knocks at the door and without waiting, he opened the door and stepped into the office. "We have to stop the GOOD boy project! We have to use the kill-switch!" The director, sitting in his large leather chair didn't answer for a second. He then asked, calmly: "And why should we do that?" Johnson answers hastily: "The program is too powerful! Our estimations showed that it would affect about 200 men in the course of a month, but it has reached that number in a few days. The program's reach seems to grow exponentially!" "No worries, I have increased the production of uniforms already. We cannot have GOOD boys without thwir uniforms. I have also contacted the partners. They have increased their production to the max." Johnson is dumbstruck. "You did WHAT? You don't understand! I have to kill the program before we lose control!" As the director turns his chair slowly around to fave Johnson, he says: "No, you don't understand how GOOD it feels to be a GOOD boy."

The director had now a shaved head and he was wearing a leather uniform. He has a cigar in his mouth, in the other his phone. The phone emits a vague red glow, that is reflected in his eyes. Johnson backed away. "How?", he stammered. "My son Jason shared the file with me. He wanted me to know how GOOD it is to be a GOOD boy. "So, it got to you too," Johnson said, "the there is only one thing that I can do. I have to use the kill-switch" He backed further away from the director, until he hit the wall. "Odd", Johnson thought, he didn't know the office had leather walls. But then he realized he hadn't backed himself into the wall, but into Andrew, the 2.07 m high security guard who was into body building big time. "Andrew, thank God, we have to get out of here!" He looked up and his heart jumped. He saw a large cigar sricking out of Andrew's mouth. Plumes of smoke came out of his nose, covering Johnson. "It got to you too..." Andrew didn't reply to him. He simply mumbled around his cigar "be a GOOD boy... be a GOOD boy..." Johnson felt the iron muscles of the security guard wrap around him. He was trapped in a smokey embrace. Johnson tried to get out, but the other man simply was too strong. Andrew holding the head scientist with one arm, took out his phone and switched it on. A red spiral appeared. Johnson tried to look away from it, but only a short glance was enough to fix his gaze on the screen. He saw the images of men, wearing leather uniforms and smoking cigars flashing in front of his eyes. Inside his head, a battle was taking place:

"All those guys... all GOOD boys now... victims of the program... MY victims... all GOOD boys now... I have to help them... I have to kill the program... they know how GOOD it is to be a GOOD boy... I have to fight the program... be a GOOD boy... I have to think... GOOD boys don't think... I have to think of a way out now... GOOD boys obey... I have to think... GOOD boys smoke CIGARS... I have to... be a GOOD boy... be a GOOD boy... be a GOOD boy..."

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 8

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Kate cautiously stepped into Bucky's house, expecting a picturesque country residence. However, the reality was far from her imagination. The old-fashioned appearance of the house and the lack of modern amenities surprised her.

As she hesitantly explored, a sudden sensation tickled her feet, prompting her to let out a startled scream. To her surprise, it was Archie, Bucky's puppy, licking her shoes. Bucky, equally surprised by Kate's reaction, quickly intervened, "Hey buddy, are you hungry?"

The small, fluffy dog responded with an enthusiastic "Woof." Witnessing Bucky's affection for the little pup, Kate felt compelled to maintain her image as an animal lover, despite her true feelings.

Apologizing for the interruption, Kate approached Archie, attempting to pet him. However, the seemingly docile pup suddenly growled at her. "Grrrr..."

Bucky quickly reprimanded Archie, "Archie, stop it. I'm sorry, Kate. He must be hungry."

Kate, trying to downplay the situation, suggested, "No worries. Perhaps he's just scared because of my long nails. I'll cut them later."

Bucky, feeling guilty, replied, "No, you don't have to. It's not because of your nails." He didn't want Kate to go through the trouble of adjusting her appearance for Archie.

Bucky, observing Archie's unusual behavior, was taken aback. Archie had never growled at anyone before, not even at Alpine, the gentle horse.

It seemed like the little puppy sensed something different about Kate that made him uneasy. Bucky couldn't help but feel puzzled by Archie's atypical reaction.

Bucky, still taken aback by Kate's unexpected visit, gathered the courage to ask her how she found him. Kate, choosing to omit the fact that she interrogated everyone until Steve spilled the information, simply mentioned that she had been following Bucky's vlog and decided to join him.

Feeling a sense of embarrassment about the simplicity of his living conditions, Bucky hesitated, "I didn't expect anyone to find me here. This place is not exactly suitable for—"

Kate quickly interjected, trying to be humble, "Oh, don't worry, Bucky. It's a charming little farm. Luckily, there's a vacation home in the area, and my assistant has booked it for me."

Relieved, Bucky chuckled nervously, "Well, that's good to know. But farming is not as glamorous as it looks in the vlog. It's hard work."

Kate, undeterred, smiled confidently, "I'm up for the challenge. I want to experience it for myself."

Both surprised and impressed by Kate's determination, Bucky agreed, "Sure, you can join. Just be prepared—it's not as easy as it seems in the videos."

As Kate woke up the next day, she grumbled and instructed her assistant to prepare sunscreen promptly. The sun mustn't ruin her flawless skin.

She continued complaining about the food, exhibiting the opposite of the image her P.R. team had carefully crafted – that of a friendly and humble supermodel.

Kate hails from a wealthy family, and her spoiled nature becomes increasingly evident. Her assistant could only roll her eyes discreetly, well aware of the stark contrast between the public persona and the true character of the woman she served.

Kate's arrival at the farm couldn't have come at a less ideal moment – Bucky was deeply engrossed in the care of the cows, and the pungent smell filled the air. While Bucky had long grown accustomed to the farm's unique aromas, Kate found herself less appreciative.

Unaware of Kate's reservations, Bucky continued his farm duties, accompanied by Toby, who diligently recorded the day's activities.

During the live stream, Bucky dropped a startling fact, "Did you know a lot of people are killed by cows every year?" The unexpected revelation prompted a flurry of reactions and comments from the intrigued viewers.

As Kate approached, Bucky, ever the showman, pivoted to include her in the camera frame. The viewers were in for a treat – witnessing the supermodel stepping into the rustic world of Bucky's farm. The comment section erupted with excitement, questions, and exclamations, creating a lively interaction among the audience.

Amidst the commentary flood in the live chat, Bucky seized the opportunity to engage both Kate and the viewers. With a mischievous grin, he turned to Kate and said, "Looks like you've brought a whole new audience to the farm, Kate. What do you think about being a part of my little farming world?"

Kate, ever adaptable, replied with a good-natured smile, "Well, Bucky, it's definitely a change from the runway, but I'm up for the challenge. Who knew farming could be so intriguing?"

The viewers, fueled by excitement, bombarded the chat:

Viewer1: "Kate, what brought you to Bucky's farm? Spill the beans!"

Viewer2: "Bucky, you're living the dream – supermodel on the farm, that's wild!"

Bucky laughed, enjoying the banter, "Well, folks, Kate here wanted a taste of the 'farmer's life,' and here she is. Any questions for our glamorous guest?"

The questions poured in:

Viewer 3: "Kate, are you planning to start your own farm now?"

Kate chuckled, "I don't know about that, but let's see what Bucky has in store for me today."

As the trio gathered for lunch, the farm's usual serenity was interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching. Y/N appeared, her horse bringing her gracefully to the scene. Bucky, ever the courteous host, welcomed her with a warm smile, "Hey, Y/N! Perfect timing. Lunch is served."

Y/N, unimpressed by the attention, Y/N simply nodded, "My mother insisted. Hope you enjoy it."

Bucky introduced Kate, "Y/N, meet Kate. She's joining us on the farm today."

Kate extended a hand, masking her competitiveness with a friendly facade, "Hi, Y/N. Bucky's been showing me the ropes. Your farm is quite charming."

Y/N responded curtly, "Glad you think so. Enjoy your lunch," before returning her attention to Bucky.

Y/N couldn't help but suppress a laugh as she observed Kate's childish antics. There was a striking resemblance between Kate's behavior and someone Y/N knew well.

During the meal, Kate subtly tried to assert her connection with Bucky, linking arms and sharing laughs. Y/N, however, maintained an air of indifference, unswayed by the orchestrated display.

Meanwhile, Bucky focused on showcasing the meal prepared by Y/N. "Folks, today we've got Y/N's special: homemade chicken pot pie. It's become a fan favorite around here."

While eating, Bucky turns off the live streaming. Kate tried to help him by giving him ideas to make his livestream more viewers, "Here's what I was thinking," Kate began, "we could turn part of the farm into a runway for a fashion show. It would be a unique blend of agriculture and high fashion."

Bucky, trying to process the idea, raised an eyebrow, "A runway on a farm? Is that even practical?"

Y/N, not one to mince words, deadpanned, "That's the most amazing bullshit idea I've ever heard."

Toby, who happened to be taking a sip of his drink, burst into laughter, nearly choking on his beverage.

Bucky, caught between politeness and practicality, tried to salvage the situation, "Well, it's not that bad, Y/N."

Kate, however, felt a mix of embarrassment and a chill running down her spine. Y/N's sarcastic remark had a familiar ring reminiscent of the authoritative tone her father often used.

As Kate pondered Y/N's sarcastic comment and the striking familiarity of her father's authoritative tone, another puzzle piece fell into place when she recalled the food Y/N had prepared.

The taste was uncannily similar to the exquisite dishes Kate had experienced in 3-star Michelin restaurants.

It baffled Kate.

How could a farm girl, someone seemingly detached from the glamour of city life, possess culinary skills rivaling those of high-end chefs?

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[terrence-silver]

Does Terry Silver get nervous butterflies when in love? I like to think about his sensitive side, if such a thing exists.

---

Oh, it exists alright.

He's pacing up and down, trying on several different outfits, putting his stylists through hell because the impression he wants to leave matters more than anything else right now --- he's overthinking, he's overplanning, his mansion is practically under siege, the long-suffering Margaret is reminding Mr. Silver that he should please, most respectfully, calm down before he blows a fuse because here he is, practically vibrating with excitement and buying expensive gifts in advance...and then buying several additional ones while soaking in his jacuzzi because the first one seems somehow insufficient to what he desires (and he's imagined you'll desire). He's making call after call that is meant to ensure he's delivered every bit of information, intel, every purchase, every commission, that every order is put into motion, that every piece of the puzzle that'll ensure him, say, a perfect outcome to something he's envisioned or planned with his beloved is completed to his specific instructions; he's all movement, all enthusiasm, all euphoria, he's weaving schemes in advance like he just made the business deal of a lifetime. He's been at it since one in the morning. Now, it's two in the afternoon...the next day. Man hasn't slept in over twelve hours and nobody knows exactly where he seeps the energy or endurance from; but whatever the source, there seems to be an infinite abundance of it. He's all giddy, all smiles, all laughter and that's Terry Silver in love for you. The human incarnation of a happy pill.

Impossible to contain or calm down.

His butterflies are absolutely on steroids and hitting new highs, loudly flapping away hard enough to cause a windstorm in his gut that'll put a pep in his step like he's a child about to meet his most cherished playdate after being separated for merely a day for all we know, running on excess energy, forcing everyone around him to just try and keep up with his overall stamina and increasing demands --- and good luck with that one. Milos Dadok could be there, diligently almost running behind a long-legged Mr. Silver, carrying bouquets containing a hundred and one red roses because it's go big or go home at every hour of the day in this dojo, grimly and very seriously attempting to pace himself to his Boss' wide, eager strides as he hauls the flowers forward followed by a team of staff members marching where Terry wants and needs them to be. They're on a tight schedule here! They've an agenda! Man could be any age at any time and he'll behave like a school boy about to go a first dance.

So, not only can he be sensitive, he's...I mean, look at this beautiful face?

☝️I envision Terry Silver in love is like that 24 / 7.

It's everything or nothing with him.

Guy beams infectious, boyish, unspoiled happiness like a nuclear reactor and when he truly cares and it's written all over him, I feel. All over his body language. His face. His expression. His energy. His behavior. His deeds. All of it. There's no doubt in mind this guy's enamored because when he is, emotions are open and raw. Beloved walks into the room and he immediately has this triumphant, shit-eating full mega-watt smile with two rows of teeth entirely on display at the mere sight of them as he runs towards them and his whole face along with his eyes just laugh with him. He lights up. I wouldn't say it is nervousness in the classical sense because I don't feel he ascribes to feeling, cultivating or nurturing any emotion he might view as limiting to his ambitions (in this case, his ambitions being beloved's affection), but nonetheless, it is the type of love one cannot hide and definitely the manner of reaction everyone dreams and yearns to be greeted with. He's just overjoyed. If anything, Terry Silver's very courageous and even adorably overbearing with his butterflies.

He can be the sweetest person ever or a literal nightmare.

Best pray he doesn't see you as an enemy.

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Two

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.7k

Release date: Mon. February 5, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now aware of Seokjin's secret, you try to take some of his...techniques into your next stream. But how well will they pay off?

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, discussion of boundaries and triggers, Seokjin explains what bdsm is supposed to mean to us watching at home, internet/cyberbullying dynamics, boss/employee power struggles, discussions of consent, peer pressure, mention of threesome, implied chubby/fat reader (it's vague enough to not adopt a specific size), mention of sex toys, swearing, sexual fantasies, m masturbation, damn Seokjin has a boner so many times in this sorry, size kink, y/n assumes Seokjin's sexuality, porn simulation games, 1 (one) reference to Vine (RIP), Dom Seokjin, kink negotiation, mention of choking and improper bdsm practices, mention of urethral sounding (but not actually happening)

a/n: Ahh hello! First of all, thank you to everyone who has read TFTS so far! It really warms my heart knowing how well received it's been, and your comments and messaged have meant so much. I really wanted to emphasize discussions of consent and boundaries in this chapter. I was struggling to write for a little bit, and then suddenly I saw this one gif of Jin on my feed and my brain jimmy neutron brain blasted my way to a 13k length chapter. Hopefully I've proofread well enough, but if you spot some serious errors please let me know. -h

On Saturday afternoon, Seokjin woke up for the first time in what felt like forever feeling rested. After checking the weather app on his phone constantly throughout the night, he received the alert that heavy snowfall was causing delays in plowing and public transit. He messaged the opening crew, encouraging them to also enjoy the lie-in and prepare for a delayed open. Instead of falling into the semi-sickening lovefest of couples peeling each other’s perilla leaves or trying to feed each other lunch, he could be spared until the evening. 

Which was good, because Seokjin was exhausted. His live last night was not planned, but after closing and apologizing to you about his gross mismanagement of power, he needed to get out the pent-up frustration that crumbled the bones in his body from pressure. 

Sure, it was the right thing to do to apologize, even though he knew he would never be able to look at that prep counter, your wide, glassy eyes, and swollen lips the same way again. But it was important to him. He could never become the kind of man he watched his boss be to him or his wife, forcing his way past someone’s boundaries to get what they wanted. 

Even years later, Seokjin was convinced that had he not shared information about Soon Yi that intrigued his boss, if he’d maybe kept his personal and professional lives separate, things maybe would have been different. And now that he was in the position of power where he was someone else’s boss, wasn’t it his duty to make sure that didn’t happen to you too?

Seokjin almost lost all his control with you yesterday. From the moment you came in with a tired, croaky voice that greeted him “hi” before the sun had even come up, he knew he would be struggling for the rest of the day. 

During multiple points of your training, he had the urge to touch you, which was nearly impossible not to do, since so much of the guidance you needed came from hand-over-hand instruction as he showed you the fluid motions of safe chopping. When his large hands covered yours, Seokjin became aware of how tiny you were to him. Maybe not in all the places, but your height, your smaller hands, they showed him how easily and perfectly you slotted into his body, like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he could ever feel matched to. 

Maybe Seokjin executed this desire to touch you a little too dramatically. When he saw your misplaced cutting knife, he let that excuse lead him head-first into white hot desire, scolding you, watching you squirm a little as you felt embarrassed for losing focus. And that seemed to unlock some feral need in him, to get you to squirm a little more, to touch you and feel the velveteen softness of your forearms as he pinned you against the prep table. 

The little gasp you’d let out sent the blood straight to his cock, and to avoid you seeing how easy and embarrassingly you could undo him–how quickly one singular sound from you would make Seokjin rock hard and panting and under your complete power–he reacted, clasped your wrists, used some set of excuses to get closer, let his arm skim across your cheek to grab a packet of whatever the hell was above you. And the way you didn’t resist, didn’t pull away from his grasp showed him how good you could be, how obedient you were as you turned around when told. 

He should’ve stopped there, but you were standing in front of him, smelling a little bit like coffee and a fruity shampoo you used, your bodies only mere inches from full on contact. And Seokjin wanted more of a reason to hold onto you, to see what ways he could rile you up, whether you were cognizant or not of how, well, submissive you were to him. 

Most of his income from streams came from scenarios where Seokjin played into a softer role, which translated into the role of a submissive pretty boy, and usually a bottom. But for the first time in years, a rich, satisfying wave of dominance rolled back into his body and he welcomed it.

Seokjin knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. The one bit of control he maintained was in his refusal to let go of your hands, even after you had mastered the motions of your knife, possibly even better than Seokjin himself could chop. Because if Seokjin declawed himself from you, his hands would absolutely wander. Up the sleeve of your exposed forearms and down the swell of your breasts and full hips. 

His cock ached thinking about how plush and soft your body would be under his hands, how he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking you. He could safely grope your sides and not feel like he would pinch your bones together, and that was important, because Seokjin liked to be rough.

When that carrot fell, you couldn’t shake Seokjin’s desperate hands off yours and you carried him with you as you curved your body toward the floor to pick up your mess. Seokjin was blessed and cursed with the brief moment he got to touch more of you than he ever had as your ass rocked back and ground gently into him. 

He’d moaned, though he tried to disguise it as a grunt or scoff, but the way your delicious ass attracted him right in between the line of your cheeks practically begged him to rut against you. 

Your reaction of shock, though, halted him as he remembered you two were in the kitchen of his family’s restaurant. He scrambled to cover his dick before it became even more obvious and humiliating. 

And then you fell, because Seokjin was an idiot and forgot he had been holding onto you. 

The sound of your head crashing into the metal ricocheted through his ears, and your pained moan sent him spiraling in panic. He didn’t think. Seokjin wasn’t the best at remaining calm during potential medical emergencies, instead of electing to assess your wellbeing and check-in with you, he just reacted, plucking you off the floor and onto the counter.

You can’t manage a restaurant without carrying heavy sacks of rice or flour, cartons of vegetables or gallons of oils and liquids into the space. That, plus the fact that Seokjin did go to the gym to keep his figure, ensured that when he had to pull you up from the floor, he could do so with ease. Which thanks to his awful, overly enthusiastic libido, was really locking in some potential size kink. If Seokjin could hoist you onto the cold prep counter without breaking a sweat, it meant he could also hoist you onto other things, like his cock. Could bounce you up and down and see how those delicious, large tits would follow his pace.

Fuck. 

This was when Seokjin realized even though he was deeply, deeply interested in these fantasies, his reality was different. Because too easily he had dipped into some innate submissive part of you and decided to play with it and tease you for it. Too easily, he has erased any boundary between professional and personal, and now you are walking around with a giant bruise on your forehead. He used his power to manipulate you, didn’t he? While the tiniest part of him argued back, suggesting it was purely mutual attraction and biology, that he shouldn’t apologize because he swore he saw something in your eyes that almost guaranteed you wanted him too, this is why Seokjin had to apologize. The “almost” of it all. He wasn’t sure, which meant the uncertainty was a risk and just because he wanted something to be true didn’t mean it was. 

By the end of the day, the intense proximity to you and the memory of your lips parting to suck his tongue into your mouth had become too much. Seokjin turned on an impromptu stream to wallow in his self pity and direct that dominant energy into something that was far less harmful and at least lucrative. 

Now, as the winter’s dull afternoon light glowed through the city, Seokjin checked his phone, seeing that the evening crew leader had arrived and informed him that everything was covered and they wouldn’t need the extra help. 

With that update, Seokjin’s entire evening just became available, which was a rare thing for him since he moved up in his job role. But because of this, he was unsure what to do to pass the time. He cooked himself dinner, cleaned, and organized the jars in his refrigerator, needing to keep his hands busy to distract himself from thinking about you. 

His apartment looking immaculate and there no longer being anything else to clean, he finally fired up his computer to play games. Maybe this would serve as a proper distraction. His new PC was set to come early next week after being delayed by the snow. Despite Seokjin’s financial success since his start as a streamer, money to him was still something he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

After Worldwide Handsome took their cut from last night’s fifteen grand in earnings, he would be walking away with about ten thousand dollars. He would, albeit quietly, pour around seven thousand of those dollars into the restaurant, where the mom-and-pop feel of the small shop was starting to show its age.

Last week, he’d called a repairman to give him a quote about fixing a broken coil on one of the griddles. After a quick inspection, he was informed most of the unit was corroding, and it was time to seriously consider a replacement. Between that, the new register he ordered, and the walk-in freezer that was coughing its last breath, probably as we speak, Seokjin spent nearly forty grand in the last month with repairs and replacements to keep the shop running another day. 

His parents had insisted they’d pay for the expenses, but after the first few discoveries he’d made of the DIY wiring his father had tried in earnest to configure, Seokjin stopped alerting them to the updates he was making, hoping that distance, age, and some fairly similar looking appliances would allow for these changes to go undetected when they returned. He had seen what this place made. He’d seen his paycheck. There was no way in hell his father could afford an $18 to 25,000 walk-in freezer on their operating budget. 

Overall, Seokjin made plenty of money with streaming, but beyond some investments and his nice apartment, as well as a savings account to ensure he wasn’t completely destitute, he lived much below his means. When he hit goals during his streaming, it did really feel like he was winning big. To buy himself a new PC was something he knew he worked for.  

Just as he was browsing the new skins in the game store, he heard the familiar chime and his heartrate picked up. 

You were live. 

He hesitated. “No,” he said out loud to himself, his voice croaking after hours of not speaking. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He knew if he looked at you right now, all the distractions, the cleaning, the dedication to keeping himself busy, would be for nothing. It would be painful to look at you–probably all cozy with your hair pulled messily away from your face, your glasses hanging off your nose instead of your usual contacts–and not think about how merely hours ago he had your heat rubbed up against him. 

If he really wanted to torture himself, he would also think about how the casual, disheveled look you sported could have been something he woke up to this morning if he’d tried a little harder, the loose t-shirt you probably wore rising up while you slept next to him, exposing the soft tummy he knew hid under it. Maybe even one of your nipples would slip out, hard from the chill of the cold winter air bleeding into his apartment. 

But Seokjin wouldn’t torture himself. He knew better. When he exited his game, he definitely didn’t launch his web browser and go to your channel that was on his Favorites tab. And he definitely didn’t cup himself through his sweats as he watched you appear before him. 

If the idea of you in casual wear could make him this hard, the view of you now, as you sat on stream with a tight, low-cut top that showed the curve of your breasts and their delicious, lickable valley between them, could easily turn every part of him into stone. You did your makeup today. Let your hair delicately frame your face. You looked like you were logging on to lure your viewers to come to you like a siren. Seokjin wanted you to devour him. 

His cock twitched and he groaned. He was such a pervert. But whoever this Y/N was, she looked like she was ready to play some games, and not the kind that Seokjin was used to seeing on stream. 

“Well, hello,” you purred. Was this really happening? Who the fuck had possessed the wide-eyed, awkward gamer he was used to watching?

“I thought, given that it’s so close to Valentine's Day, and because I missed the stream last night, I would make it up to you.” 

Seokjin froze. How had he not known you were supposed to stream yesterday? He would’ve never let you stay so late. He shot you an apologetic text,and when he looked up from his phone, he saw some of the comments flooding into your feed:

Mingisaysrelax: Um…am I on the right website? 😏💦

MountainSan88:😳 

PizzaBoy97: You look really pretty 😍

MizzVyne: Is this allowed? IS THIS ALLOWED?

Seokjin watched as your chat exploded in response to your new look, clips being taken by the hundreds when you leaned down to adjust your seat and the tops of your breasts jiggled. Your mods seemed to be on top of things though, because as soon as he saw raunchy or hateful comments, they were swiftly being taken down. 

“I’m not going to read my comment section right now, but I assume you’re all a little shocked by my appearance. I don’t know, I was feeling a bit inspired by another streamer I watched last night when I got home from work. He had some really good ideas on um…stuff, and no I’m not going to share who he is because some of you will absolutely cyber bully him for being associated with me and he deserves better than that.” 

He. A pang of bitterness surged through Seokjin. It was laughable, really, how he was jealous because you were watching other male streamers when you got home from work, completely oblivious to how on another site he was jerking his aching cock to his viewers thanks to how worked up you made him. 

“But yeah, I’m going to switch up the stream in the second half, if you want to stick around and see.”

This really piqued his interest, pressing his palm down onto his erection to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

You frowned at your screen as you launched your game, some first person shooter that would hold your attention so you wouldn’t have to talk.

You opened your mouth to add something, but you were immediately dropped into your game, setting your jaw as you focused on the controls in front of you, occasionally panicking, key smashing so loud that it drowned out your squeals when you were knocked over and over again and needed a revive. 

Seokjin assumed whatever teammate who kept reviving you must’ve been a subscriber who was stream sniping…or reverse stream sniping? Stream assisting and reviving as you struggled your way through the game. 

Something really stuck with him as you played. Whoever this “mentor” was must have been well versed in the knowledge that on any streaming platform, sex sells, especially for women. Your new look was drawing in quite the crowd. He wasn’t sure he’d seen you have this many subs, points, or viewers while streaming before. It was like a switch flipped. 

He felt a tiny flutter of something like pride swell into his chest. You were becoming more confident every day he knew you, from your knife skills to school teaching to now streaming. 

“Oh shittttttt,” you groaned into your mic, ripping Seokjin away from his soft reverie and back into full on, desperate wanting. Maybe you were toeing the community guidelines with this stream, but that groan sounded almost pornographic coming out of your mouth, and any chance Seokjin had at trying to be respectful was long gone. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh you’re being a bad girl tonight I see,” he chuckled to himself.

Almost as if you heard him, you giggled back, biting your lip playfully. Fuck, what were you doing to him? Your chat seemed to be in a similar standing. 

As a result, One of the mods pinned an announcement to the top:

W0nW00: To maintain community guidelines and compliance, we are labeling this channel as 18+. We ask that you be respectful to Y/N and her moderators as we continue with this stream. If your account is set to under 18, you will be redirected in 2 minutes. 

Shit, all for a simple moan? 

You paused the game. “I’m going to go for a bio break. Be right back.” You set your break screen, and instead of the usual, cutesy graphic of a cherry blossom tree blowing in the wind that said “Spring Day Streams”, it was now a neon, vaporwave cityscape and said “Join Us For Spring Night Streams, An After Dark Experience”. 

Seokjin’s eyes wide, he finally released his cock from his sweats, and took himself in his hand. Oh, this was going to be good. 

Seokjin is a camboy.

That’s the only thought splitting through the headache you’ve had all morning. Is there such a thing as an orgasm hangover? Because if so, you’ve got one. If not, maybe you were concussed in the kitchen yesterday.

You’ve spent most of the day trying to clean up the mess of your apartment and frankly, your mental state. Seokjin spends his Friday nights Daddy domming his humble pool of viewers and making thousands of dollars doing so. To even think that sentence feels insane. 

And humiliating. Because attached to that sentence is the realization that Seokjin’s major success as a gay camboy means that he is absolutely not thinking about you the way you are of him, and the kiss you imposed on him at work was definitely not consensual after all, which when you think about it, is obvious based on how frantically he apologized and assigned himself at fault for what happened. He was trying in the most polite way to reject you. 

You’re an idiot. And despite all of it, the shame of your action isn’t what’s delivering the heavy punch; it’s the fact that your crush didn’t die the second you found out last night. If anything, you’ve been silently wallowing in your sadness since you woke up, your stupid heart not processing that there’s one significant reason for why you can’t have him. 

You try to trudge through the fog of it all, placing your newly cleaned toys back into their proper dust cases and compartments before returning them to the drawer next to your side table. You switch loads of laundry and drop the warm pile on your bed, grimacing at the idea of having to fold it all. 

You shouldn’t be disappointed. This is a stupid crush that was never meant to go this far. Not to this place where you aren’t just humiliated, but the loneliness that you often avoid feeling has been spilling through the cracks of your life all day. 

The laundry is the only thing that occupies one side of your bed. Never another body, his warmth, his weight existing as another living thing keeping your living thing company as you fold laundry or wash dishes. 

No, you shouldn’t have projected this crush or obsession or whatever you want to call it onto Seokjin, but in these months of conversation and blooming friendship, you’ve found your mind beginning to wander into the fantasy of not just sex, but safety and connection. He’s a man who has always treated you with the utmost respect, even now in how he has maintained a boundary that gently rejects you, even if it’s confusing. 

Before his promotion at the restaurant, there was collaboration that fostered your trust in him; your bodies started working around each other like dancers, fusing your movements with a natural flow. You’d seen some of that pop up throughout the day yesterday, which you couldn’t help but feel like delivered a bit of hope in your stomach. 

You know it’s useless to continue hoping that something will change. Maybe he’s bi, you’ve thought a few times since you went to bed. He did call everyone a good girl. But, don’t some guys call each other girls as some kind of kink? But even hoping for that still feels wrong in your gut. Instead of wishing he just so happens to like pussy, you should be redirecting yourself from the fact that it doesn’t even matter. He said so himself, he’s your boss. 

“Ugh,” you groan into your unfolded laundry. Why can’t anything ever be easy? 

You shove the clothing pile to one side of your bed as you lie down, staring up at the ceiling, your eyes following the soft pattern of cracks that have begun to appear through the paint. You already know that going back to work on Monday will be awful, not just because this crush won’t crush itself, but because you clearly now know more about Seokjin than he perhaps ever wanted you to know. Won’t it be awkward trying to talk to him? And if he asks why you’re being so weird, what will you even say?

Sorry Seokjin, I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore because I spent Friday cumming while watching you on your gay cam show as you stroked your huge dick and admittedly once I saw your face connected to your dick I had the best orgasm of my life that rendered me useless the next day.

Perfect. This won’t be absolute hell at all. 

Your stream alarm rings on your phone. You sigh. That’s right. You promised a makeup stream to your followers. 

How did Seokjin stream so confidently? Last night, the way he just exuded dominance and control, how he managed to get so much money from sitting there and making his chat do the work? It’s not only impressive but also inspiring. If you were able to have that distance from your chat, maybe things would be a bit easier, and the questions that were so personal and directed would fade into the background while ones of adoration and impersonal fantasies could take their place. 

And the money, god. If you had money like that, you wouldn’t have a stack of financial aid forms sitting on your dresser right now waiting for you to basically jump through hoops to ask nicely for a loan. 

The way he was able to be so different and make money off of it? That feels promising to you too. Because whoever Daddy Dom Seokjin is, he isn’t just walking around in the world being “on” all the time. You know him as someone whose ears flush with embarrassment the second one of the delivery guys tells him he made an error with the order and tries to diffuse the tension with some free snacks; who often hums game scores and whose laugh sounds like a squeaky windshield wiper swiping across dried glass. 

What if you could be more like that? 

Not Daddy Dom or Mommy Y/N, but more casual and detached? You could stop reading your chat and answering questions. Or if you did want to play into some of Seokjin’s sex appeal, you could dress slightly more suggestively or do your hair and makeup to exploit the male gaze’s money a bit, just like how Seokjin did. 

In this world of streaming, where everything feels like fractured versions of reality, parts of you being split among the pixels and delivered and digested into someone else’s home for their entertainment and pleasure, it’s hard for you to ever feel like you can have some close community with your followers. Not like Wonwoo does with his. Because of your start and how people perceive you now, there just doesn’t seem to be a way for you to have intimacy. Even if you tried, your chat flies by so quickly now that unless it’s a notification from a mod, any usernames and personal anecdotes are lost before you can even know who’s who. 

You think about it for a bit. It can’t hurt to try, right? It’s not like you being a little less reserved would automatically launch you into a career in porn. And if it will help bring a little more income in, lessen the blow a tiny bit, you can’t really see why it would make sense to keep doing things this way when you are this miserable by the idea of it. 

Spring Day Streams holds a standard image that is pink and soft, and you know some people love watching you because you’re hitting some fantasy they have. The woman who looks like an angel but swears like a sailor and as stereotypes often assume, fucks like a demon. 

What could “fuck like a demon” look like on an often all ages game streaming platform, though? Well, not all ages. Some streams are only accessible to registered users over the age of 18. Usually the age filter is there because the game is super graphic, or the streamer is a sex educator or swears so much the algorithm has started penalizing them. A few times though, you’ve seen some streamers playing games that are so raunchy they’re basically porn. And porn versions of those games exist, but to keep some of them streamer-friendly, they also sell versions that don’t have uncensored anime girls receiving creampies. That would definitely maintain the brand without going too far, right? 

You open your phone, typing in some of the titles of games, mostly dating simulators you’ve seen other streamers play before, and then you stumble across one called MiCamStudio, a puzzle game with the plot where you’re the manager of a camgirl enterprise and your goal is to become the most successful, richest entrepreneur while keeping your girls happy. 

You laugh. It feels a bit on the nose, but a fun way to shake things up in an after-dark concept. And it���s not too expensive, which means if this entire plan bombs, you won’t have invested much into it. Fine, you’ll do it. 

Wonwoo responds right away after you shoot a quick message with your idea to your mods on discord to help them prepare. 

On it. 

With a deep breath, you start to get ready. 

As you brace yourself to come back from your short bio break and announcement, your heart is hammering in your ears. What if everyone left? What if things get weird or gross or you think you’re being kind of sexy and cute but are really just being an idiot? 

Suddenly, this entire idea seems so stupid. What if your mom decides this is finally the time she wants to watch you stream? She hasn’t ever had the interest to, but what if she finally thinks to herself on a random Saturday night in February, “Wow, I sure do crave watching some video game streams! Say, I know my daughter Y/N streams. I should check it out!” or worse, what if someone she knows sends one of the clips or a screenshot of you with your tits practically out? 

Your anxiety is starting to win in this battle, and as you pace back and forth in front of your computer, shaking your clammy hands and trying to remember how to breathe, you see the number of viewers has dropped since the stream moved from all ages to 18+. Which means that you can now read your chat again. 

The comments are actually really supportive. Among them are some of your mods cheering you on, but one username anchors you back into your chair as you watch the notification dance across the screen. 

JokeJinSeokjin has subscribed for 3x months!

Seokjin. Seokjin is live and watching you. Which you expect to be the thing that will throw you over the edge. Seokjin, your boss. Your kind of friend. Your crush. The man who you are trying to emulate in this attempt to be sexy and earn more money and confidence. 

Surprisingly, a warm glow of comfort settles in you stomach instead. Because while maybe in all of this mess there’s plenty to be anxious about, you feel a part of you that’s determined to make him proud, to show him in this rejection what he’s missing out on. You take a deep breath to steady yourself as you hit the button to come back. 

“Ah, hello! I mean-um, hello,” you catch the nervousness pouring out of your shaky voice and clear your throat, trying to sound more composed. 

“I wanted to try something new today. Well, tonight. Welcome to Spring Night Streams, where I’ll be playing some not safe for work in more of a raunchy way type of games. Because as we know if there’s blood and guts and horror, it’s all ages! But boobs, those are a no no!”

You shakily laugh and suck your lip into your teeth. The taste of your lipstick laths over your tongue and you try not to think about how messy you just made it look. Or how you might now have lipstick on your teeth to really add an effect of clownery to your poor jokes. 

“I’m going to play this game? It came out a few years ago, but it’s a puzzle game called MiCamStudio. Maybe some of you have played it. But uh, yeah if you don’t like things like that I can always um…well I’ll just try it and see…” you trail off and nervously fidget with your controls as you open the game. 

Whatever you were expecting out of a dating simulator type game where you were in charge of cam girls, it wasn’t this. When you open the menu to start a new game, the animation that loads after you click “Start Streaming” is dozens of bra-clad boobs bouncing across the screen as it transitions you to the story line menu. 

Jesus Christ. Heat floods your cheeks. This somehow feels worse than the time your earbuds died and you didn’t notice that the audiobook of a very spicy holiday romance you were listening to wasn’t coming through them, but your phone. On the bus. And to make matters worse, you were at a part where the narrator was very generously providing sound effects and moans for the main character as she participated in an orgy with triple penetration. Yikes. 

You begin the walk-through of the storyline, greeted by Candy, a pink haired, busty camgirl who is looking to expand her horizons in the business. As you tap through the prompts, Candy starts to become less dressed, abandoning her already tiny skirt and crop top combo for a barely-there set of lingerie that covers just her nipples and vagina. 

“I need your help!” Candy pouts, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I need 400 new fans for my business or else I’ll be out of work! Quick, use this magic wand as you solve puzzles to help me get closer to my goal!” 

The wand is, of course, a vibrator. When you play through the first level tutorial and are prompted to use the wand, it vibrates the blocks, shifting them into new positions on the screen to match colors together. If you get enough combos, she has a giant orgasm, which increases her fans so you can pass to the next level. 

As you work through some of the first few levels, you notice that your view count has recovered somewhat from earlier, though the comments are kind of off-putting. Not because people are being sexually inappropriate, but because they’re mad you’re not interacting with them. 

NGL I thought this was going to be more fun and naughty. 

Yeah now she’s not even talking to us at all. 

I miss when she was bad at games and it was at least interesting. 

Someone come get me if she starts moaning again like she did earlier. 

Fuck. You are fucking this up. And your viewers are right, you haven’t been talking to them. Or really doing anything but playing the game and trying not to wince from embarrassment every time Candy moans as you make her a star. 

There’s got to be something you can do. You think about Seokjin again, who you’re not sure is still watching, but you hope some of that confident edge he had last night starts to come over you, too. What was it that he did to keep everyone engaged? 

He gave them incentive. A goal. He didn’t have to say much to them but tell them what to do and they happily did it. And that also took the pressure off of him to keep talking. 

With a deep breath, you test the waters. “Oh, you wanted more fun and naughty? Well, you didn’t really work for it did you?” 

You hate the words as they come from your mouth, but they have an immediate result. 

Loyal2You tipped 1600 points. What do you need us to do to earn it?

Your face burns hot, and you sip some water to try and cool yourself, playing it off as nonchalance rather than anxiety. You feel your stomach threatening to lurch into your throat as you force out the next sentence.  

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe you need to show me what I need,” you smirk. You really don’t know. Money? Subs? People not questioning you? This to be over?

LongJohn69 gifted 10 subs. Maybe this will help? 😉

“Well, it’s a start. Thanks for the sub,” you giggle, forcing yourself to relax into your chair. 

“Hmm, what can I give you all as a reward? I feel like I could really use some cute new clothes that I can wear for you next stream if you help me?” 

Your voice is softened and the pitch is a bit higher. Maybe Candy’s baby voice is having an impact on you from the game, because your normal, even paced tone is taking a turn. Is this the persona you’ve been trying to find? 

But you need this money. School, your future. You can’t just keep living the way you have been. 

7DaysAWeek tipped 10,000 points. Please, say “thank you 7 days” in that adorable whiny voice, baby. I’ll double tip if you do.

You freeze. 20,000 points is $200. All for you to say something so simple and stupid? 

God, but it doesn’t feel right to do it. You could ignore it, you think. And walk away with $100 before your commission rate is taken out. Which will end up being nothing, you realize.

“Oh, hmm.” You pause and then just do it. “Okay. Thank you 7 Days for the points. I really appreciate it.” You drum up the dramatics, eliciting some horrible, embarrassing baby voice that makes your vowels stringy and weak. 

Yuck. More requests pour in, people eager to get you to recite some innocent seeming phrases that you know are fodder for their spank bank. 

You see a tiny notification flash in the bottom right corner: a private message from Wonwoo. 

Y/N, you could get into deep shit if you aren’t careful. This could potentially violate your terms of service. 

You frown at the message but nod to let him know you read it. 

“Okay, well, I think it’s time we get back to the game!” You awkwardly divert your attention back to the screen, letting Candy’s moans fill the silence as you ignore the new requests and subs for the rest of your stream, too humiliated to think about what they could be saying.

After you end your stream, you feel the damn of tears that was welling your eyes for the last half hour spill. 

What a fucking disaster. What started as a hopeful night turned out to be one of your most streamed yet somehow also least successful broadcasts. The rush of viewers at the start provided you with a great boost, but after you didn’t engage again with the requests, your views, subs, and points plummeted, leaving you with a very slim payout for the day. This wouldn’t be much of anything for your bills once commission is taken. 

You don’t know how people do this. You feel like absolutely dog shit, and you even wrapped early, pretending that you were sick. But maybe you also aren’t really pretending, your stomach feels knotted and sour. 

Something about that felt wrong, but you don’t really understand why. It’s not like you’re prudish or fear sex. On any given day those kinds of requests stack up by the hundreds. But maybe it’s because tonight you finally peeled back the dismissive layer and let them in that has you feeling vulnerable and honestly, a little dirty. 

You wipe some stray tears from your eyes, stretching across the desk to grab your phone and pull it off of do not disturb mode. You see a few texts from Seokjin that he sent while you were streaming. 

Seokjin (8:17PM): Hey! I didn’t know you were supposed to stream yesterday. I would have let you leave early if I’d known.😞

Seokjin (9:15PM): Hey, are you okay? You look really uncomfortable. I know you’re playing and won’t see this until after you’re done but I wanted to check. 

Seokjin (9:47PM): Y/N, please don’t feed into these requests if it’s not what you want. 

Seokjin (10:02PM): Call me. The second you get this. Urgent.

You read the last text, which was sent twenty minutes ago. Shit, did something happen to the restaurant? 

“Y/N,” Seokjin says after one ring, his voice strained. 

“Um, hi Seokjin. I’m just calling you back because you said it’s urgent! Is everything okay with the restaurant? Did the snow knock power out or something? If you need me to come in tomorrow too I can help with stuff.”

“What?” Seokjin pauses for a second, his exasperation now turned to confusion. “No, Y/N. Everything with the restaurant is fine.”

“Oh. Then why did you call?” you ask. 

“Well, if you saw all my texts then you know I was watching your stream. And I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay after that? Near the end you looked pretty upset.”

The warmth in your stomach you felt when you first heard his voice is gone, replaced by a sharp, gritty unease.

“Oh. Um, yeah I’m…fine,” but the tightness in your throat betrays you and a tiny sob escapes as the tears begin falling again. 

Seokjin doesn’t say anything as you sniffle into your phone, scrubbing the dribble away from your nose and cheeks with your sleeve. 

“Hey,” he says as your cries become softer. “Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?”

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it,” you say weakly. 

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?” He repeats. 

Do you? Part of you is exhausted, tempted to just go right to bed. But you know if you lie down right now in the rest of that unfolded pile of laundry you might never emerge. 

“Ok,” you whisper into the receiver. 

“I’ll come get you,” Seokjin says. “Dress warm. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

When you were little, your parents took you on a road trip to get away from the city. You sat in the backseat, kicking your father’s chair grumpily on the first day, tired from waking up early and having to be stuffed into the car with the mountain of snacks, toys, clothes, and camping gear you had shoved in beside you. Your father was patient for the first hour of your kicks, but before long the steady thump thump thump on his lower back was becoming a strong annoyance as he navigated further away from home. 

“Y/N,” your father had sharply warned once he’d had enough. “Keep it up, and I’ll take your feet off and put them into my pockets.” 

While in retrospect the threat is silly and impossible, at the time, your five-year-old self was struck with horror as you imagined him sawing your feet off like the patients who were out in the snow for too long in that medical TV show you saw at your grandparents’ house once.

You’d tucked your feet underneath you until you were at a rest stop, where picnic tables and a small garden scape awaited you, filled with native wildflowers and lazy, fat bees that hovered from flower to flower. 

Your mother smoothed your hair with her hand, guiding you through the garden as your father bought your lunches from inside the building. 

“He didn’t mean it,” she’d said softly, feathering the tips of your hair across your cheek. Goosebumps prickled along your arms and you shivered, even though the sun was heavy and hot on top of you that day. “No one will take your feet from you.” 

You’d hugged her tightly then, still unsure as to why someone would try to take your feet from you. Your tapping in the car was mostly to keep you from feeling like you were going to be sick, but back then you didn’t really have the words to express yourself. 

When your father returned, he wordlessly placed your meal in front of you, including a large, fudgy cookie for dessert. Your father had always been proud, and even then when he didn’t apologize to you and promise he wouldn’t saw off your feet, being given a dessert was as good as any apology. 

He smiled when you licked the smudged chocolate off your fingers, eventually tutting impatiently so your mother would take you to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, you found him looking at a map on the building’s outside wall, with a bright cherry red You Are Here sticker signifying where in this confusing picture you were supposed to be. 

“There’s an observation point a few stops away from here. It’s supposed to be a really nice view over a valley. Y/N, do you want to be our navigator for those and help me decide when we should stop to look?” 

Laced in there was his apology. An opportunity at redemption, connection. You’d nodded instantly and scrambled back into the car, no longer upset about having to share your space in the backseat with all the cargo, ready to take on your role as your father’s co-pilot. 

You visited every observation point along that freeway that trip, all the way from the rest stop to the campground in some rural village. Some of the spots were lackluster, now overgrown and showing a view of a wall of trees and bushes and not some regal cavern or farmland below. But there were also the ones that, had you never insisted on visiting, you would have never seen half as much of the flora and fauna you’d expected to see on your camping trip. And it was the one major trip your family had ever had that made you all feel like a collective unit, ready to fight against the forces of grumpiness or foot-sawers together.

From that point on, whenever you saw the sign marker, you couldn’t help but feel a smile bloom on your face, which is why at this moment you are sitting next to Seokjin in his car, bundled up and stupidly beaming at him as he mirrors a happy but confused smirk back at you.

When he’d picked you up, Seokjin didn’t say much, just started driving north, through your neighborhood and into the rolling hills outside of the city. While this morning’s snow still clings to the trees and rooftops of some hillside buildings, surprisingly, the plows have done a good job of ensuring the road is safe and salted. You can feel the tense knots in your shoulders starting to lessen a little just from the feeling of being somewhere else for a while.

As you weave up the mountain side, toward the observation point, you gasp. 

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?’ His eyes bulge from his head. 

“It’s just that, I love observation points,” you say sheepishly, not sure if you should divulge your entire story. 

Seokjin nods, thoughtful. “I like to come up here sometimes when I’ve had a really bad day. Just need to clear my head. Seemed like you needed to do that too.” The car curves along the bend, some of the wind fluttering clods of snow from the trees and onto the road. 

“Yeah, I do…” You trail off, letting him take you higher into the mountain before pulling into the observation point. This one has some small cafés and despite the late hour and snowfall, there are still quite a few cars parked in the lot, some sets of families and couples strolling around with warm drinks and peering out onto the twinkling, snow-covered city below. 

“How’s your head,” he asks gently, and it takes you a minute to remember what he’s referring to. You touch the make-up covered bruise and shrug.

 “Eh, it’s not so bad.” Truly, as the day wears on, you are feeling a bit tender, but the swelling has gone down, and your worry has gone with it. 

Seokjin opens your door for you, ever the gentleman, and you try to fight off the harsh tug in your chest that likens this behavior to a date. 

The two of you head over toward one of the lookout points, leaning against the rail posts. You take in the rolling hills below, how soft and plush the city looks now, almost like it could never be a place where you feel sadness or loneliness. You sigh. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Seokjin begins gently, “but I was wondering what happened during your stream tonight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him. 

Maybe this conversation would feel more uncomfortable if you didn’t already feel so awful. You are just trying to feel a little bit better about this whole ordeal. Trying to find in you some nugget of comfort to ensure a more stable future. And hell, Seokjin had made it seem so easy. But now, you are humiliated. You aren’t sure how you are going to go live again and go back to how things were before when the internet is probably making a giant laughing stock of you, or fetishizing you. You’re not sure which one is worse. 

“So, I know when we used to be, um, friends, I had mentioned to you that streaming is something I fell into. And as you also know from working with me, I don’t have the best social skills. Or I can, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I haven’t been liking it that much, really. Mostly because people in the chat always ask really personal questions about me and it feels weird. Like they’re real people but they can’t be real, to me. Does that make sense?”

He nods once, urging you to continue. 

“Right, so, in all of this, I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it more fun for me. And last night I saw you-YouTuber. I saw this YouTube streamer and on his stream he just seemed so cool, and smart. And he was able to both stay engaged without telling everyone everything and had distance. But he also was kind of domin-strong, he was just really good at telling people to meet goals and incentives. And it worked, they did it. I thought, maybe this could help me be better at this so I don’t hate it so much. I could make some persona, do something different that helps me better enjoy it or make more money. I don’t know. It seems stupid now when I think about it.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,” Seokjin says, turning to you. Your eyes flit to his face. His nose is pinkish from the cold, and his broad shoulders are tightly bound up to his ears to avoid the chill from spreading. 

“Of course you should like streaming, but if you don’t, if this isn’t the formula that works for you, then maybe you should try something different to help you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, realizing too late what you are saying. 

Seokjin freezes. “Do what?”

“Um, how do you maintain confidence all the time? Like at work and stuff.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t. You know that. Weren’t you just with me last week when I was bowing and spluttering like an idiot to Mrs. Yoon because that one repair man backed his car over her potted azalea? I was anything but confident then.” 

You fight a soft smile. Seokjin had been trying to scoop the twiggy, out of season bush into a bucket to salvage it before offering to replace it. Mrs. Yoon however, was having none of it, chirping on about how that plant had been germinated from her ancestors’ hillside home generations ago, and despite her choosing to carelessly plop it into a busy alleyway, she was sure there was no replacement that could soothe her aching heart. Seokjin handed her a wad of cash, and a gift certificate to the restaurant in an act of good faith. That seemed to shut her up. 

“You know what I mean,” you nudge. “You have an ability to talk to people though. Even Mrs. Yoon can’t say no to your mother’s bossam recipe when you charm her like that.” 

“First of all, no one can say no to my mother’s bossam recipe, regardless if I’m there to grovel or not. Secondly, you’re charming too, Y/N.”

You chortle at this. You? Charming? “Ha, I wish. But really, Seokjin. Half of that stream was an awkward setup and I thought I was going to puke. And not because of how I was dressed or anything like that. It’s so weird. I don’t really care about if people make comments like that about me because they’re impersonal. But knowing that I am sitting there, and everyone has some expectation of how I’m going to perform for them, it makes me feel awful.” 

“Tell me about it,” you hear him mutter, but he then recovers. “It sounds like that crossed one of your boundaries, then. Just because some explicit stuff doesn’t bother you, doesn’t mean that nothing ever will. And it doesn’t have to make sense. You can not care if strangers are talking about you sexually but care if you’re engaging with them and using sexual innuendos to do so.” 

Part of you is tempted to engage with the comment, to press him to explain and pretend that you have no idea what he’s speaking in regard to. But what good would that do here? Please Seokjin, can you share with me how being a gay sex cammer, which I absolutely already know about after watching you and masturbating to you, has impacted your life? 

God, how mortifying it would be for you. 

Instead, you let the comment go, cutting him enough slack so he can assume you didn’t hear him. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Seokjin adds. You shoot him a look. 

“I don’t really have much of a choice at this point! No offense, but it’s not like I’m making bank at the restaurant, and I already have chosen to withdraw from this term because of billing issues and–” 

“You’re withdrawing from school? Y/N!” He yells,  and you feel a heat of shame flood your cheeks as you see some scattered people shift their attention toward you. 

Now you were both embarrassed and pissed. How dare he scold you?

“Not from school, just the term!” you yell back. You’d made the choice in your spiral this evening, in between bio breaks. It was haunting you as you stared back at the packet of financial aid papers and billings notices. Streaming, you’ve now seen, is such a hit or miss game. And you truly can’t maintain the expenses that can cut into your work hours. Especially if you need to get a different job that isn’t streaming or working at the restaurant. 

“Is..is that where Spring Night Streams is coming from?” he asks, face flushed with embarrassment at his outburst. Your anger dulls.

“Partially. This felt like some way to sustain myself without it draining me. I thought maybe if I look pretty, people won’t just come and try to either ask me super personal things I don’t want to share, or they’ll just feed into basically the illusion of sex and pay me that way. And I can continue to play games and suck at them or be good at them, but the original reason behind why they came to my stream could be replaced with a different person, someone who isn’t so closely trying to dig into me.

“But, then I fumbled the bag, and you saw it. The viewer count was fluctuating so bad, and the second I interacted with that one comment, suddenly I was toeing the line for TOS and could easily have jeopardized my entire branding and be permanently banned from the website for sexual activity. Tonight was one of the lowest payouts I’ve made since I started. And now I know too, this could all just as easily go away if I’m not being…I don’t know. Compliant.” 

Seokjin makes a dissatisfied grunt, his breath coming out in a white puff. Now past eleven, most of the couples and families have dispersed, and the cute café that had advertised decadent looking hot chocolates is closed. The only thing remaining open is the tiny convenient store. 

You try to suppress a shiver but fail. 

“Come on,” he says, guiding you away from the railing and toward the store. 

Inside, the shopkeeper doesn’t even flinch or look away from his phone, which is streaming some sports match in Spanish. 

Seokjin places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you over to the drinks section, gesturing for you to select something from the warm options. 

“I wouldn’t recommend anything pre-made,” he warns, his voice low. “That stuff has probably been here since this morning.” He helps himself to a tea packet and the hot water dispenser. 

You browse a little and find a packet of hot chocolate. While it may not be the fancy, marshmallow delight pink drink that the café had advertised in their window, this will do just fine. 

By the time you’ve gotten your drink mixed together, Seokjin is waiting for you at the counter, a selection of different snacks piled high and a gentle smile on his face despite how bothered and grumpy the shop worker is toward him, practically smashing the food into a bag and muttering a total. 

You hadn’t given yourself a chance to really look at him before, but as he stands before you, you can finally take in how incredible he looks. While he’s wearing some gray joggers underneath, he’s elected for a long black puffer coat and green knit sweater and somehow looks so put together, so…boyfriend. 

Your heart flutters a bit and you try to tamp it down. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself, Get a hold of yourself Y/N. 

As you head back out into the chilly air, you both settle into a table outside of the convenience store, and Seokjin pulls the snacks out of the bag, all of which are your favorites. 

“You remembered?” you ask, a little stunned that he would commit all your tiny convenience store runs to memory over the months you’ve worked together and would split packets of sweet potato puffs and tiny, sweet cakes. He shrugs. 

“Morale is low. You need the boost. Now pass me some of those chips, I’m starving.” 

Your stomach growls in agreement, and you pop open the bag, nibbling away quietly. 

“You don’t need to people please to be a good streamer,” Seokjin says finally, rinsing his mouth with his tea. You chew your bottom nervously but wait for him to continue. “There’s tons of people on the internet who do streaming for all kinds of uh, stuff. And they make a ton of money without compromising their values to do so. Maybe instead of focusing on what you think people want in a stream, do what you want instead.” 

You sigh. “See, that sounds great and all, but when I tried that today, people got mad and left. Did you see all the donations trying to get me to say things or do stuff after that first one?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, taking a big bite of a chocolate cake thing and chewing diligently. “Welrr,” he begins, his mouth stuffed full, “I guesh you have to undershtand dat peepo on dee internet will always chewz sex first to get what dey wan.” He swallows. “And if that doesn’t work because someone sets a boundary, fuck them.” He pauses. “Not literally!” A blush creeps up his neck. 

You laugh. “I thought you limited your swearing to mostly angry kitchen interactions,” you say, and sip the watery hot chocolate. You wince. 

“You chose wrong with that hot chocolate. I’ll make it up to you next time.” Next time. Your stomach leaps. 

“But you don’t see it because I’m trying to maintain a professional air most of the time. But I say shit, piss, cock and fuck pretty regularly.” Like when you’re camming, you mentally note. 

“Yeah, so, speaking of that. And boundaries. This isn’t really the most professional boss-employee relationship happening right now.” You gesture around you. You didn’t want to say it, but you know it needs to be addressed. Seokjin and you really need to figure out a new set of rules, especially now you know what he does after dark, and he’s watching your streams, too. 

He pauses and sighs. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Look Y/N, I do want to talk about that. And we can address it. But before we do, I want to finish talking to you about what happened earlier today. Can we do a brief boss-employee dynamic halt for the rest of the time we’re up here? I want to talk to you as a friend right now, which we once were, even if it was for a short time. Will you let me do that?” 

You look up at him, and he’s gazing back with intensity, and also something that looks almost like desperation. 

“Okay,” you say. “For the rest of the time we’re out of the city. We are just two people. Friends. Not boss. Not an employee. Just us.” 

He smiles at that. “Yeah, just us.” 

Seokjin tried to not kick himself in his own ass for doing what he was doing now. Bringing you up here, to his safe place, was far too intimate of a decision. But when he’d watched the rest of your stream, watched you do stuff that– while he couldn’t be absolutely sure but he could assume– tested your boundaries and comfort, he knew he couldn’t just let you spiral by yourself. 

He’d been there before. During a show earlier in his cam career, Seokjin was once asked to try a more extreme kink on his stream which involved a thin metal rod that he would push into his urethra for pleasure. 

He’d agreed to try it before he’d even looked it up, and even when purchasing the equipment, he’d felt really queasy and knew he would hate it. But he’d promised, which he now understood was a fake law people set for themselves to push them past their limits. On the stream where he tested it out, he started shaking and crying, stopping before he could even open the package with the rods in it and ended his stream early. 

From then on, he had spent more time learning about kinks and BDSM. It was much more psychological and technical than he’d realized, with precise and careful movements, components of care, and more thoughtfulness than he’d ever really learned from porn or the internet. 

While he and Soon Yi had been exploratory in their sex life, it wasn’t like they’d ever done proper research when they were together. Looking at things now, he felt a little sickened knowing she could have gotten seriously hurt the times he choked her, not knowing the right placement of hands or pressure to make sure he didn’t cause permanent damage. 

Seokjin then reassessed his boundaries. He never wanted to position himself on his streams where he would succumb to pressure for money and compromise his own safety or desire. This was supposed to be fun.

The main tenets of BDSM are safe, sane, and consensual, which is hard to define on the internet. When something is leaked or found by the wrong party, it can especially compromise consent. With a permanent imprint of something existing once agreed upon, at any point someone’s right to withdraw consent can be invalidated simply because there’s a paper trail. And if that happened, then safety and sanity were sure to be called into question too.

Which is why Seokjin couldn’t stay silent after he saw you drawing breath after shaky breath after the first exchange with that follower. The instant regret that bloomed on your face as you so easily traded your comfort to make money, he never wanted you to feel that or experience it again. 

Which is why you now sat before him, the residual makeup from your stream still there but smeared, a thin looking peacoat doing a lot of work to protect you from the elements. This is why he said dress warm. Why were you wearing a glorified blazer in this weather?

He knew his time was limited with you, and that yes, he was already compromising this boundary that he’d set. But boundaries could be redrawn, and in this moment, he didn’t want the only thing protecting you right now to be that peacoat. He needed to protect you too. 

Granted, you probably were questioning his qualifications in this, and for a brief moment he considered telling you, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he remembered the video of him cumming and saying your name existed on his page if you’d ever gotten curious. Behind a paywall, sure, but it was there. 

No, for now, it was Seokjin and Y/N, friends. Us, he thought, and his pulse quickened unhelpfully. 

You sat in front of him, sipping at that awful hot chocolate, waiting for him to deliver more of his advice. He hesitated to speak more. Here you were, attention fully focused on him, and the dependence on him to get you home tonight, to move back into a world that wasn’t just you two and your own little universe, and all Seokjin was doing was considering how long he could carry on the pause. 

Maybe he would never speak again, and you would have to stay here forever, on top of the mountain as the snow began to gently fall around you two like you both lived in your own private snow globe. 

Wait, snow? Seokjin blinked, and sure enough the flakes were swirling around you both again, the wind kicking up your hair. You let out a sharp shiver, and that broke the fantasy of staying here. 

He ushered you back to the car, where now the snow was coming down in thick, heavy globs that signified the moisture in the air had increased, which made sense. Back in the city, the forecast had said it was set to rain, but he’d forgotten elevation impacts the weather, and that the change of moisture in the air also could result in ice on the way down. 

As you warmed your hands in front of his heat vents, he tried to think of his next move. It was now after midnight, which meant the road authority was probably not planning on plowing the roads anytime soon, and the accumulation quickly erasing the parking lot around you was a sure sign that it soon would be unsafe to drive. 

If you stay here any longer, you might be stuck together all night, an evil idea glinted through his head, and he felt a pulse of desire run through him as he caught a whiff of your soft, sweet scent. 

It would be kind of hot, the two of you snuggled in the backseat of his SUV, you clinging to him tightly to keep yourself warm through the storm as you used his parka as a blanket, the windows fogging up to give you two privacy as you moved tighter together, panting into each other’s mouths when you rubbed up against him and–

No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Urging his steadily inflating erection down, he glanced over to you, noticing you were still shivering. 

He sighed. God, why did he have to get hard right now, in gray sweatpants no less? Nothing screamed “boner alert” more than seeing a dick swelling in light colored sweats. But you were still cold, and he decided he would rather risk you seeing him hard than your teeth chattering or you getting sick. 

Seokjin removed his puffer, handing it to you. “Here, put this on,” he ordered, and you looked at him, a tremor rocking through your body as you tried to eke out a “thank you”.

You began to put the puffer over your peacoat, but Seokjin shook his head. “I think your peacoat is useless right now. Maybe you should take that off and just wear mine. And then, consider getting a new coat,” he teased. 

You hesitated. “Uh,” you said. Seokjin’s eyebrow raised, and he swiftly adjusted himself in his joggers while you looked down at your coat before sighing and unbuttoning it. 

Fuck. You still had on that same top from earlier, and Seokjin could now see that it wasn’t just a sexy, low cut top that showed your heavy and full breasts, but that it also had a large keyhole cutout through the back, which meant you didn’t wear a bra with it. He bit his lip as he took in your hard and prominent nipples. God, no wonder you were cold. You were practically naked. 

His cock twitched, and any attempts he had at concealing his erection were useless. He was now definitely going to be fully hard for the rest of the drive. 

You zipped yourself into Seokjin’s puffer and let out a satisfied sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth. Seokjin took the opportunity to snatch your peacoat from your lap and drape it over himself, praying that would help conceal some of the compass-pointing-north bullshit he was trying to stave off. 

Unfortunately, you snuggled into his coat was just making it worse. 

Clearing his throat, he started the car, and slowly began testing the surface of the parking lot. It was a little slick, but nothing too bad. If you stayed any longer, though, you would definitely be here overnight. 

With a silent, sad nod to the outlook point, Seokjin prepared himself to head back to reality, where your moment of connection would be replaced by workplace congeniality. 

About halfway down the mountain, the snow surely turned to a heavy rain, aggressively battering down on the windshield and making it nearly impossible to find the lines on the road. 

“I’m sorry, I think I should pull over,” he apologized and you agreed easily, your shoulders relaxing a bit as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“Well, we never really got to finish talking about stuff anyway,” you offered generously. 

Seokjin smirked back. “Yeah, we didn’t. Look, what I wanted to say earlier was that with streaming, you shouldn’t have to compromise on what you want to be successful. If people leave your stream because they can’t hear you baby voice their requests so they can get off, then fuck them. They aren’t the community of people you want to watch your content, anyway. Those are the type of people who are never satisfied, who will just demand more from you. Sooner or later they’ll be less kind and be aggressive and threatening. And you don’t deserve that, Y/N.” 

He sucked in a breath. “You just need a chance to build confidence, that’s all. Assuming you even want to continue doing these streams. I know you said you don’t feel like you have much of a choice, but maybe I could help you out. Uh, I could give you a raise or something so you could quit! And with school, too, I’m sure we could figure out something! Maybe if it’s not too late you could go back and––”

You held up your hands, signaling for Seokjin to stop talking. 

“I’ve made up my mind! And I don’t think giving me a raise or trying to help me with school would be a great way of maintaining that boundary we are supposed to have, remember? Something tells me a boss isn’t supposed to offer his employee an undeserved pay raise for her personal issues.” You huff.

You were right. Seokjin chuckled. “Okay, fair. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to throw everything away like I did.” 

You whipped your head over to him. “Listen, Seokjin. I appreciate that you care and don’t want things to happen to me. But I’m also not you. And you also didn’t throw everything away but that’s another topic completely, one I thought we discussed yesterday morning. Regardless, I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here and I need you to help me understand what exactly is happening right now. Are you my friend or my boss? Because right now it feels like you’re telling me what to do like you are in charge of me but hiding it behind the guise of friendship and that’s not how this works. So explain. Ideally before you drop me off and we don’t speak again until Monday.” 

Seokjin swallowed hard, an anxiousness beginning to swirl in your stomach. This whole conversation felt like it was going south really quick. He scrambled to steady himself and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t styled it today, and the black strands were sticking to his forehead from the melted snow. “I’m sorry. You have every right to decide. And you’d said before that this was a temporary pause. And even if it wasn’t, that’s also your choice.”

“Again, yes, you’re right. But I also don’t see why you seem to care so much!” Your volume raised in annoyance and you crossed your arms over your chest in a puff. “You don’t get to decide I’m some soft little flower who can’t advocate for herself! Like yeah, I feel shitty about what I did but I’m just trying to figure out my boundaries, just like you said earlier! So yes, I have the right to decide if I want to go back to school or not! Thanks for pointing that out!”

If he hadn’t been getting chewed out right now by you, Seokjin would’ve thought you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen, your mouth settled into a sharp frown and your eyebrows knit together as you argued with him. 

Instead though, he felt like a jackass. He’d seriously overstepped in his attempts to protect you, and guilt washed through him as he realized he was placing himself into your shoes. Even if your situations were scarily similar, you still had the right to do what you wanted without his interference. Besides, his intention was to provide safety for you, not control. Maybe he’d underestimated you earlier and how you were utilizing your stream. Yes, you were uncomfortable, but it’s not like you were a child who was set to be taken advantage of, or that you’d make the same mistakes he would.  

“I-I care about you, Y/N. We’re friends. I know being your boss changed a lot, and while I sign your paycheck and have to give you orders, it’s not like that change in role made me care less. It’s not that easy.” 

You uncrossed your arms. “But,” you started, your tone softening, “you can’t both tell me what to do as my boss and tell me what to do as a friend. I’m not clocked in, Seokjin. And that’s why this is so fucking hard. Because my boss is the one who took me up a mountain after apologizing to me yesterday for his “gross misuse of power” when I’m the one who kissed you sitting on a fucking prep counter! And yeah, we were friends before you were my boss, and that means I learned to work with you and trust you as my coworker, and we shared interests so you can watch my streams and tell me about MapleStory. We have history and it’s not something we can deny. But you keep acting like I am not in control, like I am not an adult. 

“I would love it if we could stay on this mountain forever,” you added, taking the words Seokjin was thinking earlier and making them real, “because, maybe then we could just stay friends. I miss you as my friend! And I wouldn’t feel so…weird now trying to figure out which guy, Boss Seokjin or Friend Seokjin, is talking to me.” 

Seokjin was unsure what to say, just that he knew he’d fucked up yesterday not just with his behavior in the kitchen, but ultimately how he set boundaries with you. 

“I don’t know what to do about it, Y/N,” he said weakly, honestly. 

“Can I then offer a suggestion?” Your voice sounded frustrated, on the verge of yelling. He nodded. 

“On this mountain, right now. You are my friend. And any other time when we aren’t at work, we are friends. We are not the first two people who started a friendship and had a power dynamic at work. I don’t know what happened in your past that makes this so hard for you, and you don’t need to tell me. But whatever you said yesterday, it wasn’t true. I want you to trust me when I say you didn’t take advantage of me. Was it kind of stupid and inappropriate on both our parts? Sure. But I’m not this weak, breakable thing. You said so yourself with my boundary-setting for my stream that I just need confidence to assert myself and make sure I don’t get taken advantage of. So let me start with you. Help me start with you.” 

You leaned a little closer and Seokjin’s heart beat erratically. “I promise, Kim Seokjin, that whatever happened in the kitchen yesterday was consensual. At least on my end. And that I do hold you in regard as my boss during work hours most of the time. But I can’t fucking stand if you continue to uphold this standard when you talk to me as an authority and then immediately pull a hypocritical move and try to be my friend after. It’ll drive me crazy.”

Your voice was shaky now, like you were holding back tears. Seokjin fought the urge to pull you close to him, but god, how he wanted to. 

“What you do need,” he asked and you sighed. 

“Clear communication. On both sides. No more deciding for me. On anything. If I say no at work, it’s just as valid as saying no in private, even if it’s something you think is what’s best for me. Even if you don’t like it. Because you don’t know what really is or isn’t until I tell you.” He nodded in agreement. 

“I can do that. And I’m sorry again, for how confusing this must’ve been. I acted selfishly when I decided that my position as your boss overruled and negated any of our history. It was never going to be as clean as I wanted it to be,” he apologized. 

You managed a sad smile but nodded, a sign you accepted his apology. 

“Thank you. And also, I do want to continue doing the streams. I didn’t get to say that before. I do want to try after dark stuff. Because it feels like it could be fun, could help me stay involved but less personal if that makes sense. And…” You trailed off, humming to yourself as you tried to find the words for your final thought. 

“I really would like it if I could have your help in this. To help coach me in a way to maintain that boundary. You did have some really great points on execution. And I think maybe your experience in cam-leadership and management could help me both continue doing this but also finding what I want. And I need a friend for that. Not a boss or manager.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widened as he caught the last of what you were saying. 

“Wait,” he said, trying to put the pieces together. Were you asking what he thought you were asking? “So…you want me to help you run an adult-only, after dark gaming stream?” You laughed. 

“I need you to be my confidence coach,” you clarified. “Help me learn how to say no to my fanbase and keep myself calm throughout a stream so I don’t compromise. And like, I don’t know. We can iron out the details, the idea is so fresh to me, but I need you, my caring friend Seokjin, to make sure I don’t break the terms of service again and ban me from streaming.”

He blinked a few times, unsure how you’d arrived at the conclusion that he would be any good at this. 

But Seokjin knew he would be. He did this multiple times a week, and it’s how he knew you were heading toward trouble. What if he could help you learn how to protect yourself? Because you were right, you didn’t need anyone to save you. But you maybe needed someone to show you. And he could be that person. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

As Seokjin pulls up to your apartment nearly an hour later, you feel a slight sadness that your night is over. On the way home, as the rain steadily poured and the city lights came back into a clear view, you’d felt a tug of worry in your gut that because you were back in the city, your agreement to stay friends wasn’t real, and that any moment Seokjin would be cold and formal, withdrawing his agreement to help you with streaming. 

You’d had the idea in the car in somewhat of an epiphany, sorting through the confusing dynamic you’d been shoved into. It made sense to you, now. Instead of trying to model yourself after the master, why not learn from the man himself? 

Despite your initial anxiety that he would back out, Seokjin if anything is all the more reassuring, gently nudging you with your peacoat in his hands to signal it is time to trade. You nod sleepily, shrugging it off your shoulders and trying to ignore the disappointment you have in no longer being enveloped in his warm scent. 

As you tuck your arms back through your sleeves, Seokjin gets out of his side of the car, the rain still beating harshly, but he appears even more determined to open your door for you, opening an umbrella to keep you and your coat from getting pounded on. 

You try to insist on sharing the umbrella, but Seokjin shakes his head, guiding you forward toward your apartment complex’s front door. 

“Thank you,” you say as you step under the lip of the roof with him, smiling up at Seokjin, who is already soaked. His black hair is piecey and dripping down his face, plastering a few disheveled pieces across his forehead. “God, you really should’ve used the umbrella too! You’re drenched!”

Seokjin laughs a hearty laugh, the squeaky, windshield wiper one that makes your chest burn. “Please, that coat you’re wearing is pathetic. I had said dress for the warmth and you picked one of the worst things you could find. Even a standard issue blazer has more weather resistance than that thing!” 

“Excuse you, but this coat most of the time is fine. And also, I thought you were just saying it as a formality! If I’d known we were heading into a literal mountain I would have changed my clothes!” You bicker back, your laughter filling the space between you two. 

“Yeah, well, now you know for next time,” he says, eyes flickering with something you almost categorize as lust. 

You beam. This time the idea of next time feels possible. If Seokjin and you can work on these weird work boundaries, there might be a hope something comes from this after all. Unless he’s gay, which you still can’t quite figure out, but you try not to think about that as he shakes his head like a big dog. 

“Okay, Sparky,” you joke and glance down at your phone. It’s very late now, and your body is quickly succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Seokjin’s shoulders sag, and he sighs, stepping back into the rain. “Yeah, I should probably let you go now. I’ll see you on Monday. And Y/N?”

His lips turn into a smug smirk as the rain soaks through his clothes. “Don’t forget that you promised me a crate of julienned carrots”.

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[qtubbo]

Some random qbagi headcanons in no particular order :]:

She likes wearing clothes that make her chest look smaller, she just likes how it looks she is anti the little underboob shadow

She wears really intense red eyeshadow, that she makes herself (and now with a bit of help from empanada and tina <3)

She likes practicing new hairstyles with Empanada every day it’s really just an excuse to be very physically affectionate and talk every morning

She’ll always stop at doorways to check if anyone’s listening regardless of where she is

She’s really muscular but it isn’t obvious due to her baggy clothes, and giant coat

She lets Empanada put any of the pretty feathers she finds into her hat, and hasn’t taken any of them out

She steals Tubbo’s nicer clothes to repurpose them for herself by sewing different stuff together or fitting it to her own size, if she can steal it, she is not buying it

She hand-makes most of the toys that Empanada has, she really does not like spending money (or leaving a record) if she doesn’t have to

She doesn’t read the instructions on anything and chooses to try and figure it out through observation and clues (its like a fun puzzle for herself)

She’s about 5’11 but is so crouched into herself with horrible posture so she looks about Pac’s height

She does kickboxing to destress, and can knock someone unconscious with relative ease

She’s almost always wearing headphones that are allways blasting music to max (she may have a few hearing issues)

She knows how to drive a motorcycle but is always terrified when riding (she wants to get that under control so she can drive tina around town all cool like)

She has a lot of ear piercings

She feels a lot safer underground and untouchable, she’s the most scared in an open place with a lot of people.

She leaves space on her wall of “family” portraits/pictures for new one with Cellbit

She has really high pain tolerance, and just fakes it because she wants to sound more normal

She’ll put random stuff in her mouth and chew on it before spitting it out once she’s realized

She writes fake notes in her notebooks so that if anyone finds them they’ll be mislead

She will not take off her favorite pair of boots and wears them everywhere outside the house, she has no other pair of shoes and she does not want anymore.

She wakes up with the biggest bed head in the world and it takes her like an hour to even remotely wake up

She grinds her teeth a lot, especially when nervous

She makes two cups of tea every night incase Bad or Tina come over (even though it makes her a bit repulsed) sometimes when she can’t stomach that she’ll just pour 2 cups of beer

She’s bisexual but hasn’t really thought about it much other than I like girls and everyone else looks hot sometimes too

Having such a big garden down in her base with practically everything you could imagine made her take up cooking, she likes trying a new recipe every night. Bagi says it may end up being a survival skill in the future but she really just wants to spoil Empanada and show off to Tina.

[kangaracha]

Chan + tremble

written by @keepswingin for the nevermore universe

---

The mirror shatters when Chan looks into it, pieces slipping from the frame and crashing against the ground. He can't bring himself to move, lost in a trance that reminds him of District Nine as he blinks and looks down at his hands, opening and closing them until they are covered by gloves darker than the room around him and ink that stretches unnaturally across the curves of his skin. He blinks again and then the mirror is fixed when he looks up, but he is different and out of place amongst a room full of oddities. 

The door opens ahead of him, and someone new stumbles in, but they don't feel new to him. They feel like someone he's known before, blonde hair cropped and skin pale with distrust as he approaches Chan, eyeing him carefully. 

Chan doesn't know what to do at first, simply watching as he walks closer and closer. When he looks down at the small podium he has been placed against, an electric pad sits there, instructions filing themselves away in his head the longer he looks at it. 

He looks back up at the man before him and tries to speak. But no words come out, and his hands move without the rest of his body, fingers pressing against the screen in a stiff and sure way that doesn't feel right. 

The man walks past without having to be told, but he does look back at Chan more than once as he descends down stairs that have no end. 

Chan is left alone. 

There's a part of him that doesn't want to be alone, and another part of him that thinks it's how things should've always been. It's better this way, isn't it? 

He blinks again, and the room changes once more, warping into something he's never seen before. But no, he has seen this before - he's recorded here before, spoken words far too close to his heart, listened to others laugh and speak and yell. This is their place, has always been their place, even if the people within change on a whim. He reaches out to the microphone that sits in front of him, gripping it gently. He's worried it will shatter like everything else had if he holds it too tightly, if he dares think anything other than what is expected of him. He's never had such a restraint before.

"You're different," someone says, and Chan jumps, turning to see a man standing behind the glass, one hand resting patiently on the soundboard. He doesn't let go of the microphone, and the man on the other side of the glass grins. "You could break everything." 

"What?" Chan asks, even though he remembers now, remembers why he's so dangerous, and why everyone else is destined to stop him from becoming something they can't control. The man in front of him doesn't bother to explain further, instead toying with a switch, and then reaching over and turning a knob sharply to the left. A light flickers on to his left, bathing the recording booth in soft light.

"How does one stop something like you?" the man continues, as if Chan hadn't spoken. "Is it even possible at this stage?" 

Another flick of a switch and the Victory Song plays, far too loud. Chan winces, covering his ears, but the bass thrums loud, and the lyrics stick to him like they're meant to stay there. His body trembles under the sound, and by the time he looks back up, the man is watching him, though his eyes hold no interest in his reaction. 

"Or are you meant to stay here and become me?" 

Chan finally sees him for who he truly is, the pieces slotting into place like a puzzle that's been left alone for far too long. He knows that voice, knows those eyes. Speaks that same tone. And he can do nothing but watch as the man with his face, the other him, finally takes what is meant to be his. 

[agardenofbasil]

this is an odd pairing request … “god, you’re freezing cold” for pedri/hansi flick 🙇🏻‍♀️ if you don’t want to write this, you can replace h f with any other player from the squad

Actually, this isn't that odd! I like to think Flick is an untapped character. He has so many layers to him, so I hope I did this request justice. Enjoy. 🍃

“Too easy,” Fermin grins.

Pedri’s fighting a smile while his teammate nudges him to celebrate their early three point lead. But Pedri knows better. Flick is only a few meters away, at the whiteboard, drawing arrows. The man has super hearing, even when he’s giving instructions. And while there are very few moments that their coach isn’t serious, isn’t continuously drilling at them, Pedri pays attention to every word. The last thing he wants is to be embarrassed.

By the scribbles on the board and Gavi stripping out of his training gear, Pedri knows he’s coming off. He doesn’t mind. They spoke about this earlier. January is hectic, busy. “We will need you later,” Flick told him in English,specifically referring to the upcoming overseas Supercopa matches, to which Pedri shrugged and accepted.

They filter back out after halftime, waiting for Barbastro to emerge. Pedri hangs back on the benches and watches the rest of his team warm up. Gavi looks positively joyful to be taking his place, and some of the other new kids, like Sergi Domínguez, are more than eager to make their mark on the game.

“Where’s your coat?”

“I have it.”

“Put it on.” His coach sounds exasperated, as if he needed to remind Pedri of the weather. Pedri needs no reminder; he’s freezing, but he prefers for Gavi to formally enter the pitch before wearing it. Pedri shakes his head with a laugh, but is thankful when someone passes him a coat.

“Zip it up.”

“I will.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.” Pedri wishes he could say more, but he dislikes using the translator for every little interaction. “I want to rest.”

“Good.” Flick reaches towards him. Except when Pedri goes to shake his hand, the German withdraws. “God, you're freezing! Gloves?”

Pedri left them in the locker room.

Flick looks at an aid. “Gloves? For Pedri?” The man nods, going to the locker room. Flick shakes his head, and Pedri pulls the neck of his coat over his mouth. So much for not feeling embarrassed.

Gloves land in Pedri’s lap as the game restarts, and Flick focuses his attention towards the pitch. There's another goal, minutes later, by Pablo Torre, that Flick celebrates by punching the air.

Pedri cheers alongside them, but not without noticing Flick’s excitement. He recalls everyone complaining that Flick is too stoic. Too robotic. The memes of Flick’s expressionless face during his Bayern years. He wonders what they would say now, seeing the German celebrate with teenagers.

Ten minutes later, the same person who gave him gloves passes him a blanket. Puzzles, Pedri asks, “For me?”

“From Hansi.”

Flick doesn't turn around. He's too fixated on the game, despite being four up. Pedri smiles to himself as he drapes the blanket onto his legs.

When substitutions are made, Flick eventually looks over to him, giving him a thumbs up. “Good?”

If Flick is a different person at Barça, then he's all the better.

Pedri gives him a thumbs up back. “Good.”

[phoenix-and-found-family]

I don't know what this is but:

I always imagined Phoenix talking a lot during missions, either in their head or out loud, to the point where most of the time Reginald has to mute them because he can't give them instructions and also have a conversation with them

So I've gathered a collection of my favorite lines of theirs from all the different games because I have nothing else to do right now

enjoy :)

10. *right after getting Friendly Skies explained to them by Reginald* I have one question. Was the name a pun on purpose?

9. *Eaves Drop, listening to the audio files while also concentrating on opening the desk* Everyone... here... needs... to be... put in a... mental... hospital...

8. *after eating a Zor popsicle and being told they were full of lead* Really? They must be really good at hiding it because all I tasted was shitty off-brand expired red clothing dye.

7. *the second the elevator dinged in Rising Phoenix* HEY JACKASS! GUESS WHO STILL DIDN'T DIE!

6. *House Call, right after Robulter left and they were dying to the poison* Why does this- *cough, hack* -smell like a broken espresso machine?!

5. *Seat of Power, they activated the security lockdown by accident and are in the middle of a puzzle* THIS IS YOUR EVIL BAD GUY BOSS ZOR AND I TELL YOU TO FUCK OFF

4. *Jet Set, right after John calls them Phoenix for the first time* Phoenix... You know, you're a bitch, but at least you're a bitch who knows how to name things correctly.

And now for some serious ones:

3. *Phoenix, about to pass out, teetering on the edge of the cabin, the voices of their handler and Prism screaming for them to leave, to get out of there, looks up at the sky for what could be the last time, and barely manages to whisper two words.* I'm... sorry... *They lose consciousness, falling like a bag of rocks towards the lava below.* "PHOENIX! NOO!"

2. *They blinked back tears, smiling.* "Hey, Handler... If I don't make it... I'll tell my parents you said hello." *Phoenix pushed the abort button. They saluted to the empty air, finally not caring that they used the wrong hand.* "Fuck you, Zor." *The power gave out, and they started falling rapidly to the ground alone.*

1. "What have you done?! We're both going to die!" *They looked the camera dead on, a serious expression on their face.* "Hey, Solaris- Tell Zor I'll see them in hell." *The death engine exploded in a terrifying blast.*

(This isn't ranked by favorites or anything. The last three are numbered that way because those are the games they were said in.)

Bonus:

*the very end of ieytd 3, with Phoenix on the beach and Prism and Reginald done with talking for now. They look down and realize that their prosthetic leg is missing.* ...Fuck.

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

Why Crewel is Dusk’s favorite teacher.

—

“Sit still!” “Stop making noise!” “Why can’t you remember simple things?!” And more and more and more.

Would they all just shut up? It’s annoying. All people ever do is complain. So what Dusk’s not siting quietly like everyone else? That sounds insufferable. Does no one else feel their brain screaming at them when they do that? And so what if he’s forgetful, he can just get a bunch of one thing and always know where at least one is.

And then those same people have the audacity to call him irresponsible because “everyone has trouble doing things they don’t want to, but you still have to do it”. If everyone actually feels like him then Dusk doesn’t understand how people do anything not interesting. That’s more of your brain screaming at you, like your brain is telling you it’s not possible to reach your goal because there’s glass in the way. You can see it, but that doesn’t mean you can do it.

He’s tried things like planners and alarms, but they never work. It just means he can see everything he just cant get up and do. No he’s not being lazy. He just cant. If “everyone has those issues” like people told him, then why doesn’t anyone understand? Why is he always in trouble for it? Why was he mocked?

And now he’s at a school again, a fancy private school or whatever this place is. And Dusk expected it to just all be the same. He’s been to school, but it’s nothing special. There was his dad, but he’s not going to talk about that, and that shouldn’t change much in the sense of the actual schooling.

And for almost a month, he was right. More people getting mad if he doesn’t sit still. More people getting mad if he forgets things. More people getting mad when he can’t do something boring. It’s no biggie, Dusk dealt with this all before. No reason to take it person-

At the end of the first month there was a sudden change spearheaded by his Alchemy professor, Professor Crewel. One class period, he came up to Dusk and handed me a weird cube with buttons and textures all over it. Said I could use it as long as we weren’t doing any labs because it could be a danger there, and as long as I make sure to not do anything loud with it when it’s time for something quite like a test. The professor also said he told every other teacher about it and they all agreed to let him have it as long as it wasn’t disrupting anyone else.

Dusk even started getting instruction sheets that were different from everyone else too. Where he once had to grueling scour lines on lines of text, his instructions were now pictures. It was shocking how something a simple as a change in format got rid of so many of his “careless mistakes”. He was already doing well in the class because he liked alchemy, but somehow his grade still grew to just below a one hundred.

And every other class soon followed with simple and clear instructions. Even if they couldn’t rely on visual things, the instructions were simple and clear, usually spaced out so it didn’t look like one block of text. Finding things became a thousand times easier and so did generally paying attention, especially when class assignments became more interactive. Doing things in class and actually trying didn’t seem daunting anymore.

More importantly, the teachers didn’t do anything to mock him. To be fair, none of the NRC teachers mocked him to begin with, but memory of dealing with that treatment doesn’t fade quickly. And they also became more understanding in general. If he couldn’t sit still, they didn’t get mad, they directed him to something he could do instead, something usually more active. And those redirections also usually came with extra credit since they were just assignments on the active and complex side. They treated those like a puzzle, and who was Dusk to deny a fun puzzle?

Maybe this is why this school has the reputation it does. People here don’t get good grades because they are smart, but because the school is trying to make everything attainable. And while every teacher was definitely helping, Dusk wouldn’t forget the leader who started everything.

—

You cannot tell me that most of that school doesn’t have something like ADHD or Autism or something. The gifted kid to finding out your neurodivergent pipeline. The school definitely knows how to deal with these kinds of things and has tons of alternative assignments.

Dusk probably doesn’t know his problems all have a root though. He was transported when Earth/whatever magicless world was in the early 1840s. No one would know anything about mental disabilities.

Also all of Dusk’s teachers were working together, but Crewel sees Dusk the most so he took the most active role.

(And they probably are trying similar things for students like Deuce too, but they haven’t found anything that works for him yet.)

Pretty much 75% of the school is neurodivergent in some way.

(probably)

[helicrazy]

Send a ‘💬’ to catch a glimpse of a memory my muse has.

(( TO AVOID CONFUSION. For those who haven't read/ or forgot about his history, Vortex's pronouns were she/they when he was created. His name was also different but I don't know what to put it as so it's [Redacted] for this. Anyways, enjoy! ))

It all went off without a hitch.

[Redacted] couldn't believe it. Everything Onslaught explained from the moment the guards slipped up to breaking into the armory played out like the mech was a psychic who could foresee the future. It was the most impressive thing [Redacted] had ever witnessed, and she admired him. How could she not? He's the only person on this planet who saw her as another simple Cybertronian. A broken one nonetheless, yet he didn't hesitate to help her when she needed it the most.

She's standing in the middle of the hall, listening to Onslaught give a rally speech while a handful of other prisoners raid the armory. Everyone is either shouting or cheering, showing their appreciation toward Onslaught before they rush to other parts of the prison. Leaving a path of destruction and a few wounded guards pure the navy blue mech's orders. It's confusing to [Redacted], yet she knows she still has much to learn.

"Here." Onslaught grabs her attention before holding out a gun for her. She stares at it, looks up at the taller mech, and then glances back down to take it from his grasp. Her helm slanting as she holds it flat with her servos.

The truck chuckles with a smile, making [Redacted] peer up again. Oh, how she adored that look on his face and wanted to find it in herself to pull it off. At most, her lip would curve slightly to form a small one.

"Let me show you." Onslaught states as he steps behind her and moves her servos to hold the weapon properly, pressing the end of the gun against her shoulder while aiming it perfectly straight. "This is how you hold it, and anytime you want to pull the trigger you lean into the stock because it's got a kick to it." He explains while pushing her shoulder into the weapon as the other servo points out the trigger, and then motions her to move forward.

[Redacted] follows the instructions while keeping the weapon steady, getting a feel of it and only stopping when she hears one of the injured guards and looks toward them.

Onslaught steps around to stand beside her, pushing the weapon down and aiming it at them. "This is what they're used for. To protect ourselves and eliminate those who try to stop us from having our freedom."

She looks up at him puzzled. Almost questioning him but the look in her optics does it for her.

"They may be injured and unarmed now, but what do you think they plan on doing once they get repaired and properly supplied?"

Ah, well that takes care of the confusion she had earlier.

"I don't expect you to fire right away. First times can be-"

The rest of the sentence is never heard as she looks back and squeezes the trigger, releasing a loud sound and making her shoulder sting in the process. It creates a new wave of feelings she doesn't remember experiencing before. An adrenaline rush where her spark is racing and she feels shocked and for once, proud of herself for pulling through.

[Redacted] steps over to them while lowering the gun. She stares at the mech crying in pain from the new wound on the side of their chassis as energon bleeds out. Completely focused on the damage and the sounds coming from them all because of her. She raises the gun to the mech's helm, who begins to plea to be spared but she doesn't budge. [Redacted] is determined and excited to finish what she started and presses the trigger again.

Blood sprays across her face after the helm explodes from the close-range blast. For a moment she stares blankly at the mess, the beautiful artwork of her destruction like everyone else has been doing during the prison break. She reaches up to touch her face, feeling the blood and the edge of her lip curved into a smile that she wasn't even aware she was doing. One that appears bigger than the small ones she normally gives.

[Redacted] holds her servo in front of her to gaze at the blood before returning her attention to the dead mech in front of her.

And for the first time in her life, she laughs.

[toothlespoggers]

You leave a trail everywhere you go in life, even if you never “did” anything, you leave speckles of glitter on different people you interacted with. Everything you do even if you’re just a baby and you’ve just been born, you’ve left an impact on the people you’ve been surrounded by, your doctor, the nurses, your parents, their loved ones. The people their friends with.

online, you may think “I’m not famous, no one knows me, I’ve never done anything” but you’ve spoken to people, you’ve played games, made friends, done things had interactions, left spots on every single thing or person you interact with.

take a look at your bedroom, what do you see in it? Toys that have broken parts, those were loved. They have history and a story.

drawings, art, music. Downloads. Even your music history or stuff you’ve listened to recently tells a story about what you were doing when you were listening to that song.

do you have a pet? You’ve made an impact on their lives. Do you have siblings? You existing has made an imprint on them.

everything you do everything everyone does leaves paw prints on everything. That’s why it’s important to take a look and try to make sure your paw prints are good ones.

do you leave glitter where you go, making people find remnants of your interactions like a little piece of treasure, or do you leave mysterious bruises on people that they don’t quite remember where they got them from.

of course, not every bruise is inherently bad, they tell stories, and more often than not they can be positive as well as negative. Not every impact is good or bad, some are just impacts.

life is built weird, we’re all given a puzzle that hasn’t gotten the right amount of pieces because the people who sold it to you off of Facebook ate 3 of them and accidentally spilt milk over the rest.

you only have corner pieces and you’re not sure what the picture is supposed to be but you have to figure it out anyway and often you have todo it without help or instructions.

and maybe you don’t finish the puzzle, maybe you can’t do it.

but you tried, and it’s not your fault you were sold a weird puzzle, but it is your fault if you don’t use the pieces you already DO have. To make something, even if it looks stupid, you still did something with it.

what I’m saying is.

stuff is stupid. It’s weird and you can’t do much about it. But we have todo something about it anyway so we might as well enjoy the journey.

think of it like a movie, it’s not an amazing movie, it’s got a lot of flaws and it has Chris pratt as a voice actor. But you can appreciate the artistry of some of the aspects, and you probably enjoyed watching it even if it was a trainwreck. It’s not your favourite movie, but we can all laugh at it together and take a breather because at least we watched the bad movie as a community.

at least we’re all stuck in the same bad world together.

[peaceluvsmith]

The Sensory experience

Hey,

You're probably wondering what the fuck I'm up to this time. This is something I've been working on for around two months. It might not mean much to you; might not mean anything at all. But it means everything to me- these type of things. And hey, we give what we have.

It is not a playlist I'm giving you. I don't like seeing through that lens. I don't even see a playlist as a playlist. Not the ones I make. This is a look inside. I am letting you in for a change.

But I'm cryptic, and I'm complex and I'm confusing and I don't make sense. To me, with this, I'm saying absolutely everything. When in reality I'm giving you different pieces of different puzzles and standing there waiting for you to react as if you knew exactly what I meant.

For me, the prettiest and most terrifying thing... is time. With this, I hope that time will make understand. Even if it's years from now.

There's a way to do this, I curated and captured, pondered and wondered, I glued and I attached. When I get an idea... ahhsdh It's really hard to control the urges.

I don't know if you know what music means to me. What it does to me. I don't know if you ever will. And I know I will never be able to explain it. To anyone; ever.

Okay. I'll stop parallel yapping.

This is what I call "Sensory".

First, I will give you a spotify and I will give you instructions I want you to follow as you read them. Although I'll try, you'll have to understand some things I cannot explain the why of.

The images. - I sent the images first for the sake of confusion. Like a shot in the night. To disorient you. eheheh

Spotify - This is called "Oel Ngati Kameie" A simple google search will tell you this is Na'vi for "I See you". And while that's true. "I See you" means much more than a greeting, it's not just a way to say hello. No. It means "I see you in front of me. I see beyond you. I understand you and I accept you." - You may play the first track. And with this I welcome you. - I want you to hear each one of these tracks with nothing but your computer light and bedside table light on.

Welcome.

I want you to experience everything I've felt.

-

Like everything, this has a beginning. This has a structure and a purposeful one.

- Part One: The introduction is track one. Part Two: You, tracks 2-11 Part Three: Epilogue. track 12.

Track 1. This is a cold night in a calm town. - The same color that shows up at the top of the playlist. - Navy blue and fresh breeze dominate. This was the beginning. Long before you knew there was a beginning.

This was my beginning.

Tracks 2-11. Track 2 is you. Maybe you remember Everyone has a sound. This is yours. I've been planning on telling you. Sometimes one-liners appear in my mind and I wanna tell you all of them. "Whenever I'm around you, music starts playing." Music plays wherever I am, all day long, every living second of each day I breathe this oxygen that is gifted to me. But the music that plays with you is so loud. So so loud I sometimes cannot hear you; makes me go "huh" ajhdj Your presence alters something in me. And I wish I could explain it. This is my best attempt at it.

Track 12. I will let this one talk by itself.

Some things, even when I put my heart and soul to it, I cannot explain.

Here's to the fools who dream

[sushantsus]

Is a Montessori Course Right for You? A Guide for Aspiring Educators! 

The Montessori approach has become a benchmark in early childhood education — celebrated for its calm classrooms, child-led activities, and respect for every learner’s individual pace. Across India and globally, an increasing number of schools are adopting this method, and more educators are asking whether Montessori training is the right step in their careers. 

But a Montessori certificate isn’t for everyone. It’s not the only path into early childhood teaching, nor is it always the most practical. Before diving into a Montessori course or signing up for a Montessori teacher training online, it’s essential to understand what the training involves — and whether it aligns with your goals. 

What Makes the Montessori Method Unique? 

Created by Dr. Maria Montessori over a century ago, the method centers on one belief: children learn best when they’re free to explore at their own pace in a structured environment. It’s a blend of independence, responsibility, and hands-on experience with the adult acting more as a guide than a lecturer. 

Montessori classrooms use specially designed materials from number beads to language puzzles and emphasize real-world activities. Children are given the freedom to choose tasks, work independently, and repeat them as needed. The philosophy requires the teacher to observe, wait, and only step in when necessary a skill that requires specific training. 

What You Learn in Montessori Teacher Training 

Whether you’re taking an in-person program or a Montessori training course online, the curriculum typically covers: 

The stages of child development through the Montessori lens 

How to use and present Montessori materials 

Preparing the classroom (called the "prepared environment") 

Understanding sensitive periods in learning 

Techniques for observation, discipline, and classroom management 

Most programs also specialize in specific age groups such as 0–3 years or 3–6 years since each stage has unique needs and materials. 

Training is hands-on, even in virtual formats. Many online Montessori programs require demonstration videos, live assessments, or supervised practicum components to ensure that students can apply what they have learned. 

Is Montessori Training the Right Fit? 

It depends on what you want to do. 

Montessori training is essential for those who wish to work in a certified Montessori school or plan to establish a school based on the Montessori method. It also suits educators who are deeply aligned with the philosophy those who believe in independence, trust the child’s natural development, and prefer guiding over instructing. 

However, if you’re looking to work in mainstream or play-based preschools or if you're unsure of your long-term focus, you might benefit more from a broader program in early childhood care and education. 

A Montessori course is a specialized commitment. For many educators, beginning with a general foundation offers more flexibility. 

Broader Pathways: ECCEd and Early Childhood Diplomas 

If your goal is to work across various types of preschools, lead a daycare, or become a general early years educator, a diploma in early childhood care and education (ECCEd) may be a better starting point. 

These diploma programs cover: 

Child psychology and growth milestones 

Lesson planning and classroom activities 

Language and number readiness 

Emotional and social development 

Practical internship experiences 

Unlike Montessori training, ECCEd prepares educators to adapt to many learning environments traditional, play-based, thematic, or hybrid making it a more versatile option for long-term career growth. 

Online Learning Options and Flexibility 

For many aspiring teachers, geography or personal commitments make attending full-time classes difficult. That’s where online Montessori courses and ECCEd programs, delivered virtually, can make a difference. 

The best Montessori teacher training online options replicate in-person experiences with tools like: 

High-quality recorded demonstrations 

Interactive assignments 

Discussion groups 

Faculty mentoring 

Optionally, in-person practicum support 

Likewise, online ECCEd courses like those offered by leading training institutes allow students to complete coursework at their own pace while still gaining real classroom insight during internships. 

What matters most is choosing a program with a curriculum that aligns with your goals and the flexibility to fit into your life. 

Career Outcomes and Practical Opportunities 

Both Montessori and ECCEd programs can open the door to meaningful careers in early childhood education but in different ways. 

With a Montessori certificate, graduates often work in: 

Montessori schools and learning centers 

International schools with Montessori-style classrooms 

Private tutoring or early learning consultancies 

With an ECCEd diploma, opportunities include: 

Mainstream pre-primary schools and kindergartens 

Playschools and early childhood development centers 

Childcare management and educational startups 

Teaching support roles in NGO and government programs 

The key is to match your training with your intended role. 

Choosing the Right Path 

Here are a few guiding questions to help decide: 

Are you deeply committed to Montessori philosophy? 

Do you plan to work exclusively in Montessori schools? 

Are you seeking greater flexibility in your teaching environment? 

Do you want to start teaching quickly or explore a variety of roles? 

Your answers can point you toward a Montessori course or a broader ECCEd program both valid, respected options in the early education landscape. 

A Starting Point That Opens Doors 

For those unsure about specializing just yet, foundational training in early childhood care and education can offer a wider launchpad. One institution supporting this kind of growth is the National Academy. While it does not offer Montessori teacher training, it provides ECCEd programs that prepare educators to work confidently across diverse classrooms with practical skills, a strong foundation in child development, and flexible learning options for today’s professionals.