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alphabetboyluvr · 5 months

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HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning.

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed.

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long.

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many.

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel.

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening.

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again.

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut.

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again.

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks.

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too.

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin.

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

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xerith-42 · 8 months

Text

I know it seems like striking on social media might not do enough, but as someone who has been outright obsessively using the internet since I was a child to the point that it is literally woven in my soul, been active and involved in online activism for about five years, and been using social media as marketing for about the same amount of time, I can confidently say that

THIS FUCKING WORKS!!

People base their entire businesses on their success on social media. They look at trending topics on twitter and don't see bite sized chunks of culture distilled to its finest and worst moments, they see market data! They don't see you as a single human being, they see you as a data point among thousands run through a probably AI assisted system that's prone to fucking up, that determines everything they're going to do.

How they're going to advertise, who they target it with it, what the general public wants. Every single major corporation uses data from social media websites to do this. Every. Single. One. Social media is a lot of things, and one of those things is a tool for business and politics. We know for a fact that social media politics bleeds out into the real world very fucking quickly.

Even if you can't strike financially, even if you have to go to work or school to survive, striking on social media is one of the best things you can do. Even if it's quiet. People are going to notice when thousands upon thousands of users across various sites go completely dark, and even more when some of them start getting real fucking loud about this. The US Capitalist Infused Government loves sweeping war crimes under the rug once they think the general public has forgotten about their atrocities and fallen into complacency. This system has been doing this for literal centuries.

Social media is just the newest and most expansive form we as a species have developed in the ongoing invention of ways to express our thoughts about things. It's the weirdest one, that's for sure, but executives pay attention to it. They don't often seek to understand it beyond a very basic level, because as I said, they view us as numbers on a screen, not as multifaceted incredibly and deeply fucked human beings. They do not seek to understand us on a personal level unless they think the cost of it won't outweigh the potential profit.

Pattern recognition is the tool of the moment. Machine Learning. Gathering endless amounts of data so we can replicate human existence through machines. You may think that social media strikes are ineffective because social media is just on the internet and it's "not real", but it is real! You are really doing stuff! You are contributing! Even if you're just lurking! Basic amounts of engagement can make a huge impact in a busted algorithm. Maybe you're not someone who would ever be drafted into an actual war-zone due to physical or mental health conditions, but you are probably a part of a key demographic of people that businesses are absolutely hungry for.

The budding adult has always been the target of greedy capitalists basically since this system was established and continued to get worse over time. The stage of your life when you are in the age range of 18-25 is an incredibly important transitional period, followed by a transitional period every six months until you lose sense of what six months even is because you haven't been happy in eight, and if you're in the 18-25 range currently, you got extra fucked by the pandemic. The world is in a turbulent stage and we are at the center of all of it and have been since 2001. Every single social media marketing expert will tell you the 18-25 demographic of social media users is a target demographic, because they are the most prone to extremes due to a life chock full of them.

We have to remember to be human, but we have to also know how to speak their language. They just see us as numbers? Let's show them some fucking numbers. Make posts about Gaza trend on every platform you have your hands on. Even if it's just liking posts, that gives them a slight boost in the algorithm. Commenting on posts is especially important on sites like Twitter and Instagram. But across every site the most important thing to do is reblog/retweet/share/send/copy link, whatever it is for that site, it is the biggest thing that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks at.

From a humble artist to a head of marketing at a billion dollar corporation about to have a meeting with a barely over 21 intern about how they need to run the twitter account, to said intern bumbling their way through adulthood with a job they only feel they're good at because they've been using social media since Skype was invented. We need to be loud, we need to make sure this can't be ignored, we can't sweep this under the rug. Mass media, especially coming out of the West, has been trying to censor, de-sanitize, and keep this issue quiet.

DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE SILENCED

There are tens of thousands of DEAD CHILDREN who have been BOMBED while in CIVILIAN AREAS and that is a FUCKING WAR CRIME.

THIS IS A GENOCIDE

Say that as many times as you can. Do not let it be ignored. A silent populous is a complacent one. Use your voice, even as small as it may seem. Make noise. Be loud. Be annoying. Don't let this be ignored. Talk about it everywhere you go. Do not let this be ignored.

Sometimes even we get disconnected from the real people around us. We base our sense of worth as a person based on the numbers going up or down but instead of developing a gambling addiction we just got angry about it but still fall into it because of cultural conditioning. But even if you only have let's say, completely random example, 70 followers. And only a small percent of them will see your post. Let's say maybe 20 on average, 30 on a good day, and even higher based on the machinations of fate. That's still 20 people who took time out of their day to read something you wrote, process something you created, share a part of your experience of living.

And likely they felt compelled to share it too, therefore increasing the spread of people who feel your influence. 20 people may not seem like a lot, but that has a major impact. Now imagine posts into the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands and even millions. Those aren't just numbers. Each and every single one of those is just another person who might have reblogged a post because someone they like shared it, or because they wanted to spread its message, and that simple act causes a single post to have massive waves of effects from simple ripples.

Don't let yourself be discouraged. Don't think your voice or your impact "isn't enough to matter." Everything counts.

Don't let this be ignored. Don't become complacent. Know that every little thing counts, and to do every little thing you can.

#freepalastine🇵🇸#free palestine #free gaza #social media strike #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #strike for palestine #palestinian genocide #palestine #ceasefire #endisraelsgenocide #isreal is committing genocie #do not be silent #please reblog #spread the word #spread awareness #be loud

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chiliyue-archived · 1 year

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Thigh Riding

Characters; Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, Ranpo, Nikolai

Tags; SMUT/NSFW fem!reader, nicknames, biting, teasing, thigh riding

Dazai

He's a tease.

As more whimpers and choked sobs escaped from your lips, he props your body against the mound of his thighs; a yelp escaped you as pressure applied to your core. It all started with a kiss within the empty office of the ADA. A kiss in which grew heated as your lover shamelessly roamed his palms all over your body.

His lithe fingers would find the clothed heat between your legs coaxing a ragged sigh in response You remain stagnant for a moment before experimentally rocking your hips, the motion caused a jolt of pleasure to recoccupate throughout your veins.

Gradually you picked up a pace, arms locking around his neck for support. Your face was beaming red but that was the least of your concerns as your moans echoed against the walls.

'Belladonna, you've barely moved and you already got my pants all wet~' He would whisper against the shell as your ear, though amused at your bold behavior.

Pure amusement glittered all over his expression as you desperately rolled your hips in a sloppy rhythm. His fingers, went to knead and message at your hips a silent encouragement while his voice dripped with the cruelest of words. However, it only added to your arousal as though compatible pairs.

And he was no stranger to this either, not by the way you clamped around his thigh shamelessly. He held that grin of his that made you weak in the knees; complacent and fervent as he urged you to continue.

"I'll need new pants after this, Belladonna, you've made them so soaked- but why don't we get to the main event now, hm?"

Chūya

An cocaphony of sounds bounced off the walls of your shared living area, Chūya's huffing and meandered groans coupled with your mewls.

He had you seated upon his thigh, his flesh in perfect orientation with your core- exposed after hastily pushing aside your garments.

His hands started to move you in a languid pace, words of genuine praise splitting from his clench teeth, the sight before him was becoming too great; hair sticking to your forehead, a focused gazed as you desperately tried to get off his thigh, even your lips were glistening in your own drool.

Chūya's bottom lip trembled as you squirmed against his grip- crescent moons blossoming along the sides of your hips. Each slight movement of your body or his caused tears to prick the corners of your eyes, begging for more

Chūya wasn't one to make your purposefully cry, he normally disliked it, but the moment when those crystal tears threatened to release from the desperation, it only riled him further.

He retrains the slow pace, edging you closer to your orgasm as his eyes continue to soak in the scene unapologetically.

His words traced with filth only shot pair after pair of arousal to your bundle of nerves, ushering a wave of whimpers from you end.

"God- Doll. You're making a mess with just my thigh. I didn't think you were that needy- fuck- If you keep squriming like that, i might have to use my special ability-"

Kunikida

You want to do what? Here? Now-?

Kunikida almost shut down the idea entirely, why get off his thigh when he could use his fingers instead-? and although the ADA was currently vacant with the exception of you horny pair, that was still quite improper-!

But your pleading face did more than enough to convince him, and the way you sheepishly rubbed your thighs together only added to the fuel. And so by some fortuitous miracle you found yourself mounted on his thigh

Though Kunikida would much rather be sheathed within your warm welcoming walls, he couldn't fully deny the pleasure that came as you rode on his thigh. The sounds you were making were pitiful and filthy, it made the detectives ears blaze unbearably red but his eyes betrayed otherwise; he couldn't peel them away from the way you moved your hips, attempting to create more friction.

At some point groans start to mix with your sound of pleasure as you rode closer to your climax. Despite his initial thoughts on the manner, words of praises slipped from his voice, his arms subconsciously going to hold you steady

And the sight of his dampening pant leg from your arousal made his mind go dizzy. It took everything within him to not take you right there, afterall you deserve some form of punishment after making such a mess

"Look at you pretty girl, getting off and my thigh and making my clothes all wet. Just relax a little- and k-keep moving like that-"

Ranpo

Ranpo is quite lazy, he'll do anything that doesn't require him to exert too much energy. So why not make you do all the hard work hard as he watches?

A grin is stretching on his lips as you made yourself comfortable on his thigh, your gaze shifting from determination to flustered in a matter of seconds.

He breathes out a gentle laugh as you started to move along his thigh, quickly becoming amused with the expression forming on your face; biting down on your bottom lip focusing on the act, sending your lover a glare whenever he made a tease(which was quite many)

He may even munch on his snacks as he witnesses your desperate figure ride off his thigh in search for your high. He was a jerk to his very bones.

How could he not? Not when you became desperate to reach your high, sluggish babbles and sounds falling from your mouth. It was the perfect opportunity to tease you mercilessly

His voice is cooing at you while you bury your head in his shoulder, face reddening at the flithy things he whispered to you. All the while your hips continued to roll over his clothed thigh. Your muscles were starting burn but you couldn't bring yourself stop.

As Ranpo, notices your depleting energy, he'll take some mercy on you and assist. With hands on your hips, he guides you in a sluggish rhythm that has your back arching as shivers jolted across your skin.

He huffs out a laugh when you ultimately choke out, the pleasure becoming too much- but your body betrays itself by locking your arms around him, hips shamelessly rocking in motion inviting him to continue.

"You find this quite lovely don't you? Be grateful my dear, while you get drunk off my thigh, you are leaving me high and dry. Though this visual you're providing is addicting~ "

Nikolai

You would smack that teasing grin on his face if you weren't busy drooling over the texture of his pant leg.

Nikolai was an awful tease, making you sit still on his thigh as he kisses you all over your shoulders and collarbone, fingers kneading at your exposed skin.

Even as you plead for him to let you move, he only chuckles and riles you up even further. Any attempts were instantly shut down with a harsh grip against your hip.

Eventually he takes some mercy after all your whining and begging, setting a pace. It was tantalizingly slow at first, he lips spreading into a grin as you cried for more.

Something was oddly amusing about how you clumped your legs together, arousal starting to stick to his pants. And as you bit your bottom lip in desperation, Nikolai is all but remaining deep eye contact with you. It only caused you flush a deeper crimson but all the more fed into his enjoyment

Your hips subconsciously start to move on its own seeking more stimulation. Resulting in the cruelest of words from your lover, degrading you for your slutty actions; even as tears roll down your cheeks and the only words you can babble was his name and you didn't slow down.

He becomes mesmorized with the heaving of your chest, the expression on your face and how prettily your back arched as your movements became sloppy. This all the more made the tent in his pants grow.

As you lose yourself in your orgasm, he'll take your hand and guide it the tent that was begging for your attention. He groans as you sheepishly place feathery touches to his clothed dick.

But after the lovely performance provided by you, Nikolai will make sure that his thigh isn't the only thing making you cry out loud tonight.

"I've turned you into a whiny mess with just my thigh. Now now don't be so selfish pretty girl, it's my turn to have some fun~"

#dazai smut #chuuya smut #ranpo smut #kunikida smut #nikolai smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #kunikida x reader #nikolai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut

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jxsterr · 1 year

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right i might be insane for this but something about zelink makes me feel like the usual acts of romantic affection are something a thousand times more meaningful and deep between them than those acts are normally. there’s something Religious about these two, like just a simple peck on the cheek is nice for the average couple but for them it’s something so much more. in fairness they are quite literally divine, zelda is the descendant of The goddess and link has the ungodly amount of strength and unwavering resolve to save the world a million times over. there’s nothing average about these two and it drives me insane

like yes they deserve just to be normal people after everything but i don’t think they ever will be, or at least not to each other. zelda might as well be her own goddess at this point, you’re telling me link isn’t going to look at her like she’s ethereal?? like she isn’t the sunshine that basks him in warmth every morning?? you’re also not gonna tell me that zelda wouldn’t have him on a pedestal of her own, like he isn’t her hero, like he hasn’t given his all and sacrificed everything just to save her countless times?? like his whole being doesn’t revolve around her, even when she’s expressed that he can do whatever he wants several times and yet he keeps coming back to her???

plus, there’s no way that all of the yearning that they would’ve had to go through pre calamity wouldn’t have them stuck in Forever Appreciative mode. we already know the link and zelda we see in the castle is Nothing like the link and zelda we see out in the world, exploring and having even the smallest amount of freedom in a world so restrictive. so just imagine all of the built up tension, maybe they released small amounts of it in their moments together outside of the castle but i don’t even think they’d have time to focus on one another when they were both so duty focused. zelda spent the entire pre calamity in a near constant state of anxiety over her powers, the most i could imagine them allowing themselves are hugs in moments of mental anguish, when they needed that love and support they couldn’t get from anyone else, when they were the only two who could understand the pressure they were under. just something to show they weren’t alone in this. then to reunite a century later without any restrictions, that first kiss would’ve been out of relief that they could finally focus on something else and that all that time of wishing for something more could finally come true

so then when zelda inevitably gets snatched up again and link has to go bumbling all over hyrule for her and he finally gets her back, there’s no way that every act of affection after that Isn’t done as if they could lose each other at any moment again. that every kiss isn’t slow and thoughtful and full of emotion just in case it’s their last. that every touch of zelda’s hand against his face isn’t something that whispers i love you i love you i love you. that every quiet touch they exchange isn’t a silent apology for what the other has had to endure just so they could be reunited again. it feels like link and zelda are the only couple who are immune to complacency because fate hasn’t been kind enough to let them get comfortable with the idea that they’re not going anywhere

to me it feels like their affection is something sacred, something special and something that they both cherish. their affection speaks for them when words are useless because fate has put them in such unique situations that nobody else could ever understand them as deeply as they do. everything they do is tender and calculated and full of love because god forbid they take a single moment for granted and GOD.

i’m currently writing something that i hope can portray my feelings about zelink affection because it feels like it is going to burst out of my chest……… or maybe that’s just the autism who knows

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batsylabs · 1 year

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I need to hear the fandom's thoughts on this immediately. I have a new headcanon and it's gonna take a whole lot of words but listen the meme potential is great stick with me here

Okay so there's this henchman of Bill's named Kryptos and though he has literally one line of dialogue I think about him a lot, not just cause he has superb Funny Little Guy™️ energy but for the obvious fact that he's also a weird 2D shape creature like Bill.

In the novel Flatland (which portrays what Bill says is a "pretty good idea" of what his home dimension was like), shapes are divided into different social classes based on their number of sides. Four-sided shapes such as Kryptos hold esteemed jobs, mostly doctors and lawyers.

One of the things we know for sure about Kryptos is that he is a criminal of some sort, and I was thinking about what the hell this Soos of the Nightmare Realm -ass dude had done. At first I just kinda figured that he was complacent in Bill's transdimensional arson and that was good enough, but I thought of a way fuckin funnier idea:

Kryptos was a lawyer, probably even met Bill trying to get him out of trouble in their home dimension 'cause he was idk stealing candy from babies or whatever else Bill does, and miraculously managed to waive all the charges. Bill keeps Kryptos around currently because he's constantly breaking laws (local, planet-wide, physics...) and occasionally gets arrested by the Time Police or whatever in particularly sticky situations. Kryptos is loyal as a dog and always, ALWAYS finds some kind of underhanded, not-totally-legal loophole-through-a-loophole way to mediate things.

So, in other words, HE IS BILL'S SAUL GOODMAN

#enly's ramblings #gravity falls #bill cipher #kryptos #henchmaniacs #henchmaniacs sitcom when #passing out now goodbye

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radiance1 · 1 year

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Cha'll know when Danny had the power to control the weather?

Okay so we roll with that.

So what if the GIW took notice of how this seemingly human boy could cause unnatural weather based on whatever emotion he was currently feeling?

So they scoop him up, because they can do that due to having government perks, and try to 'train' him into using his power responsibily.

Which, in actually, was just training to stop him from feeling.

Then they found out that Danny is Phantom, but instead of thinking Danny was a ghost, they thought he possessed by Phantom, and tried to find a way to forcefully separate them.

Which they did.

Danny Fenton and Phantom split, Fenton still had the ability to control the weather with his emotions, while Phantom was carried off for experimentation.

Positive reinforcement, while working, failed to produce the best results possible, so they had to result too... negative, reinforcement.

It produced fast results; the Fenton boy was getting better and better at forcing down and disconnecting from his emotions until the changing of weather was kept to a minimum.

Phantom also produced excellent results under the scientists' hands, as well.

All in all, things where going hell. Even if the Fenton boy and Phantom seemed to have some sort of symbiotic relationship, perhaps due to the length (currently unknown) of possession, they developed an emotional link with one another?

So this goes on for a while, before, surprise surprise. Some of the scientists get sort of complacent and that lead to Phantom escaping, taking Fenton and running through the prototype ghost portal they were making through trial and error, and the ghost had the nerve to destroy it behind him.

Then Phantom and Danny fall through another portal because Phantom was kinda flying injured and a bit away from dropping and then they end up in an entirely different dimension.

So then Danny had to drag his other half into a rundown building that wouldn't meet any health standards and try to treat his injuries with torn up pieces of cloth from his shirt.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp

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eddiegettingshot · 5 months

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feel like this has always been pretty clear but buck's hamster wheel isn't about the specific relationships he's in or who they're with, it's about his shitty self-worth that stops him from interrogating his own wants and needs and largely makes him a passive participant in his own life. the pattern of his romantic relationships is the most obvious symptom of this because his desperate pursuit of love is rooted in said shitty self-worth. him discovering something new about his identity or breaking from that in minor ways does not begin to approach the wounds caused by his parents' emotional neglect nor does it change the resulting self-soothing behavior patterns that all of his romantic partners have reinforced thus far, which allow him to avoid recognizing his own agency.

the reason why eddie comes up is because he is actually pretty much the only person in buck's life thus far who has actively and consistently disrupted buck's complacency with taking the backseat in his own life. the way he treats buck allows him room to heal himself. historically this has been difficult for buck when he's in his various hamster-wheel relationships because said relationships are, as i said, the result of a much deeper issue with his perception of himself and so they allow him to stay in the same cycles (we all heard bobby call him out).

if buck were in a vulnerable/confused/uncertain position where he didn't understand what it was that he wanted, and eddie made a move on him, and that kickstarted their relationship, this would literally still be the same exact hamster wheel!!!!!! because he'd still be going in with the same issues that have caused rifts in all of his other relationships, and he wouldn't have made any strides in tackling said issues! if someone's saying otherwise, they're wrong!!!!!

but it would be not only shitty but completely out of character for about 20 different reasons for eddie to do this. it doesn't have to be eddie; it could absolutely be another character who also insists on trusting buck to make decisions for himself, they'd just have to introduce someone new. eddie just currently happens to be narratively positioned in a way that it makes sense for buck to be able to do the work on himself that would allow him to take the reins for the first time literally ever with him. getting off the hamster wheel is not about eddie or about any other character... it's about buck, developing such that he can make particular choices in his interactions with other characters that actually help him grow. that growth could happen through eddie or it could not. it doesn't matter, just like his actual romantic partner doesn't matter while he's still on the hamster wheel.

buck is not real and he has no interiority so it's actually ok to admit that certain narratives attached to certain characters might assist in or hinder his growth. it's also ok that buck's self-discovery and his relationship with a man instead of a woman affected very little change in this stuff that isn't necessarily about his sexuality. none of buck's problems take away from the fact that he's bisexual. and the fact that buck knows he's bisexual still doesn't necessarily heal the majority of his problems. if you want to believe that tommy has taken him off the wheel, that's fine! but there's no need to misrepresent or reduce what's being said on the other side.

#sorry this is a fucking essay #but i am so tired of 'oh you're just saying that bc you want it to be eddie' IM SAYING THAT BECAUSE I HAVE EYES AND AN INDEPENDENT BRAIN #and i am capable of analyzing this TELEVISION SHOW #like genuinely what is it about tommy that turns people to mush. i feel like ive seen a dozen people elaborate on the hamster wheel thing #for weeks and somehow still it's just bad faith posts everywhere

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queencaramilflinda · 4 months

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Ankarna really said: “what injustices have you faced bc you had no power to make change? what injustices did you cause that you would like to make right? What kind of restorative justice would make you feel better about the situation?” and most of the PCs were just like “idk. it’s in the nothing I can do about it now” instead of. you know. taking the opportunity to finish their season arcs.

Fig should’ve brought justice to her mom by summoning her and telling her that she knows about Bobby Dawns abuse and grooming, and then reassure her mom that that was not her fault and a deep injustice in her life. Maybe then they would ask Ankarna to kill Bobby Dawn (bc also he was aware of and on board with the Porter/Jace scheme?? did we all just forget that??) or give Sandra Lynn the chance to move on.

Kristen said the stuff about her parents was in the past, but for her brothers it’s still incredibly current and real. She talks about wanting a sister but she has 3 brothers she abandoned when she escaped her parents. She could have addressed that injustice by summoning her brothers or altering a memory with them where she told them about how she felt trapped with her parents and how oppressive Helio could be and how she found something so much more freeing, tell her brothers to come with her or give them a chance to spend more time with her. (or could have talked about being failed by Bobby Dawn for no reason!)

Fabians scene with his dad was fine but it was a plot point that’s kind of already been resolved a long time ago. He feels like his father put pressure on him to follow in his footsteps, we spent 2 seasons on that already. Why didn’t he call for his mom, express anger abt the injustice of her emotionally neglecting him for his entire childhood through her addiction and then getting sober and immediately physically neglecting and then effectively replacing him with another child?

Adaine could have talked to Aguefort or the Wizard teacher about the classist injustice of making the wizard students pay so much money for materials, something she resolved for herself but is still going to be a problem for students in the future.

Riz had the right idea of talking to his friends but I wish it had been more the injustice of him having to support them all the time while also being a full time student and in all the extra curriculars because he couldn’t afford college otherwise. Yes he pushed his friends but also like. when you have ADHD (like Kristen and Fig and I do) that kind of push can make all the difference. (he also could have talked about the injustice of college costing so much and having to get perfect grades and do all the extracurriculars.)

IMO Gorgug was the only one who really understood the assignment. It wasn’t about smiting whoever hurt you it’s about recognizing that change can’t be made without having the passion and drive to make it happen. Ankarna is the manifestation of righteous anger and new beginnings, the embodiment of “if not now then when? If not me then who?” But with the exception of Gorgug none of the Bad Kids really dealt with this theme. There’s a very real middle ground between egotism or anger for the sake of anger, and forgive and forget/complete complacency with the way things are.

I just feel like there was a perfect opportunity to tie up loose ends, finish character arcs, and summarize the seasons theme through these scenes that didn’t happen.

#still not as bad as neverafter tho #and I know it’s improvised but like #give me something you know?#fantasy high #fhjy #cienna talks #d20 #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year

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qqueenofhades · 11 months

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Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but its one that I've been reminded of in the few weeks since things have escalated so severely in Israel and Palestine-- I feel like the pressure for random, average individuals online to be vocally political is not only entitled and uncomfortable, but also just an example of misplaced priority.

Like, I have people on twitter right now that are flat out saying if you don't talk extensively about I/P you're truly, irredeemably evil. I've had mutuals say that silence means you're complacent in genocide, that you have blood on your hands (exact words). But it just doesn't make sense? Most of the people who I've seen being flat out harassed for being silent are teenagers who don't have money to donate, working class folks who don't have time to spare, and normal people who just don't have enough of a following online to even spread any word effectively. Of course, the ones doing the harassing are also poor/busy/not-popular, but they don't see the irony. (I've also seen them say that talking about war constantly is taking a toll on their mental health, saying they've cried, had nightmares, panic attacks, etc...but they also say that taking a mental health break from social media is "selfish" and genocidal, so.)

The whole interaction leaves me with so many questions. If stepping away from social media because politics are stressing you out (which they are known to do), are you obligated to use social media? Do you have to use twitter to be a good person? What does that say about people who can't afford a phone, or live in a country where it isn't quite possible? (Are homeless folks inherently genocidal, or is that an "obvious" exception that was never clarified because no one uses nuance anymore?) If you have to talk about world events, lest you side with the oppressor, at what point is something so catastrophic you *must* talk about it? Is there a number of lives lost that is low enough you can get away with being quiet, and a certain amount too high that you're obligated to talk about it? Is it your duty to have the news on 24/7 to make sure you don't miss anything and catch all the global disasters as they happen? How much do you have to talk about something for it to be considered "enough"? Is there a quota??

It just feels like a lot of people are acting as if people who aren't chronically online aren't 1. doing any activism, because the only important activism is social media networking (sarcasm), or 2. are inherently bad people for *not* spending 6 hours a day on their phones. Like, I had someone I thought was a friend say I was a bad person because I was trying to cut down my social media usage, because the timing was "too convenient"... as if that's a normal thing to say to someone, ever. Sorry if I went on a little bit of a rant, it wasn't my intention. I dunno, maybe it's just me; I've seen a lot of people saying this sort of stuff so maybe they are the majority. It just feels really weird to let people that are addicted to social media take charge of who online is "good" or "bad" based off their internet usage. As if we were all catholics or something. If I were to say that current takes on morality were very catholic-seeming, would you know what I mean?

As recently noted, I am myself on an embargo from answering asks related to this topic. I will make one exception because this is important. Please note that any wank in replies or reblogs will be instantly blocked (and I won't hesitate to disable reblogs if necessary). I will not be answering follow-up asks or getting drawn into Discourse. I do not want to do it and it will not be happening.

I have said it before, but it bears saying again: thinking that the only way to Do Activism is to be constantly on social media and immersing yourself in terrible things nonstop and then posting the Most Correct Opinions (and then viciously attacking anyone who is even slightly Not As Correct as you) is absolutely bullshit. If you're engaging with this content so much that it's giving you a mental breakdown or otherwise plunging you into a spiral of anxiety that you take out on other people who are just as far removed from actually doing anything about it as you: why? Do you really think that you and you alone, one random person on the Internet, are the only way anyone else is going to find out about these things? Or do you think you have to perform the Most Correct Opinions nonstop, viciously harass anyone who isn't responding in exactly the same way, and this is the sum total of what your response should be? Especially in a situation as bloody and complicated as this, dealing with reams of religious, social, cultural, and political history where the average commentator on this conflict knows only what's been fed to them by propaganda on TikTok? How the fuck is that useful or constructive for anyone, aside from perpetuating the idea that you have to be angry all the time on social media about things you essentially know nothing about? I can't see that it does.

What's happening to the Gazans right now is no qualification or equivocation, a genocide. It should rightfully be opposed and called what it is. But unfortunately, I have spent too much time around Western Online Leftists to believe they actually care a whit about stopping genocide as a fundamental principle, and only want to be seen to loudly care about what their Ideology has told them to care about. If it means hand-waving aside genocide and atrocities when committed by their preferred polities, so be it. Why haven't these same people been wall-to-wall up in arms about what Russia has been doing in Ukraine, or for God's sake Syria for the past ten years, if they're really concerned about the rights of innocent Muslim civilians attacked by a far-right imperialist power? Why not the Uighurs in China? Why not [insert the blank] of all the terrible things happening in the world as a result of far-right fascist genocidal imperialism? Why only this conflict? Why now? Why does it involve so much excusing of terrorism as long as it's committed for the Right Ideology? Why are some of the most loudly pro-Palestinian accounts on here also the most rabidly pro-Russian? How does that make sense? To put it bluntly, those genocides are being committed by nation-states that Online Leftists like for being "anti-Western," and therefore their activities are actually fine and should even need to be defended.

My point is not to say that what's happening to the Palestinians is not bad. It is. It is awful and inexcusable. However, I seriously doubt the motives and morality of those who are being the loudest about screaming on social media and attacking everyone else for not instantly repeating their views. I seriously doubt that the Online Left actually opposes genocide and accelerationism as fundamental principles, because they proudly demonstrate every day that they don't. Until those vast factors can be dismantled and shown for what they are, and this can be placed into its larger context, I don't buy it and I don't believe this wall-to-wall social media outrage factory is actually aimed at helping the Gazans or anyone else suffering the most as a result of this. It is just to show that they can be counted on to Perform Outrage and harass anyone else who doesn't do the same, and that does nothing for anyone whatsoever.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #once again any wank will be blocked #reblogs will be turned off if needed #i will not be elaborating further #the end

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stephofromcabin12 · 19 days

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I’ve spoken positively about National Novel Writing Month before and so I am sad to have to take it all back.

If you’re not aware, NaNoWriMo recently endorsed the use of generative AI in writing practices, and their statement even went as far as to say that anti-AI views are “classist” and and “ableist”.

There is no ethical use for generative AI, as we speak. Using AI, even for something as simple as rephrasing an email or generating a profile picture, means that you’re actively using thousands of stolen works, a lot of which are copyrighted and/or protected in some way. (That’s why most companies behind generative AI’s are currently facing multiple lawsuits from various artists and companies who’ve found their work was used to train the AI models without their consent and without promise of compensation)

I’m an artist. I’m a writer. I cannot in any way endorse generative AI as long as it’s built on stolen artwork by my fellow artists, and possibly even myself. There is no world in which using generative AI makes you an artist. Currently, it just makes you complacent in art theft at worst and lazy at best.

It’s not classist to say that, and it’s not ableist either. Lot’s of writers and artists have physical or mental disabilities and/or come from a middle-to-low-class background. Your financial standing, and whether or not you’re disabled, does not define your ability to create art, as so many incredible artists throughout history have proven by continuing to make art on their own terms. I used to say that there’s no wrong way to make art. I was wrong. Generative AI proved me wrong.

The statement specifically emphasized AI as a way to get proofreading and editing done without needing to pay for a professional editor. But beta-readers have always existed for this very reason; it’s just another human connection AI seeks to eliminate in the name of “efficiency”.

There are books on editing that can be found and read in libraries, if you don’t have money to buy them. There are articles and videos made by actual experts in their field that can be found for free. I trust them far more than whatever botched mosaic of words AI spits out, which might not even be remotely correct, as most AI models openly allow errors.

So, my point is: Don’t use NaNoWriMo.

There are other ways to track your progress. There are other places to find community and writing groups. There are far better ways of creating art that won’t compromise the ethics of being an artist and, most likely, the law.

It sucks that I have to say this. It sucks that NaNoWriMo apparently has had a nosedive in it’s quality and moral standings that was steep enough that nearly all their employees quit.

But that’s where we are now, apparently. And so that’s where I stand.

That’s all.

#getting pretty tired of hearing pro-ai people using ableism as a ‘clever’ comeback #as if disabled artists havent found ways to create art on their own for centuries #its so obvious that there is no good use for generative ai and they’re just grasping at any argument they can come up with #despite those arguments holding zero validity #so fuck nanowrimo #and as always fuck AI #not quite how I wanted to start off my day but the tomfoolery of companies never ceases ig

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 8 months

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𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 - a Han Jisung short au!fanfic

Part 1

💫PART 2💫

The bottle comes to a halt at angle once more, it's in between Felix and Minho. You're safe. It sounds disgusting in your head but kissing either would be much like kissing your nonexistent brother. Not that you would ever consider that okay if he were real. The way you feel about them is closer to neutral than anything so you're not too worried about it.

Something flashes in Felix'eyes but something even more fleeting, ephemeral, even, flashes in Minho's. You don't fully catch onto that but he subtly meets someone else's eyes before crawling forward, already leaning towards you, "it's me. It's definitely more lopsided towards me", he asserts.

Minho smirks and pats his lap, "come to oppa, little one", he puckers up his lips and you laugh at him, shaking your head amusedly as you lazily make your way to him, "gross", you joke. He is a surprisingly good kisser, his lips are soft and round nicely against yours, he tastes a bit like the tequila he had earlier but it's not overpowering.

He, of course, can't help himself when your tongues meet, he just has to slide down his hands on your lower back. To be fair he stops just short of your bum, he merely stabilizes you since your balancing yourself on your knees and calves.

The timer goes off just in time for you to start gasping for a little air, and soon enough your sitting back in your place, not too unphased but not overwhelmed either, though you're sure you're blushing. The same shade of red tinging the tips of Minho's ears too.

You look around you as subtly as you can, briefly locking eyes with Felix who's uncharacteristically frowning, he tries to smile his best, comforting warm smile but you can see the corners of his mouth still pointing down slightly. Hyunjin looks like his mind is wandering off somewhere else. Han looks just pissed. It's that sort of tensely still calmness you can feel in the air before a thunderstorm. It takes over his usually delicate, sweet features like a mask.

Minho spins and the tense anticipation that lingers in the air around you is almost palpable. The bottle lands on Hyunjin, who looks a little shocked and a little intimidated too. Minho whistles complacently, "well well well well I'm getting ALL the kisses tonight", he says in a sing-songy tone while he crawls over to the tall brunette who's sighing and wincing already.

"For fuck's sake", murmurs Han, on the other side, watching as two of his best friends interlock lips, "look at this bastard, he's getting kissed left and right and I get none. Felix, Seungmin-ah we should unite, syndicate this shit", he adds frustratedly, making everyone laugh, including the pair currently exchanging saliva whom giggle in between kisses.

Felix pouts adorably and pats his knee gently, making a kissy face himself, "it's okay honey, we'll get our time to shine", he reassures and they both laugh sincerely at that, "oh I'm good bro, no kisses for me it's actually fine", comments Seugmin who promptly gets playfully slapped on the arm by Chan's slipper.

The timer goes off again and while Minho gloats and smirks, Hyunjin repeatedly dabs his mouth with the back of his hand, dramatically pretending to be utterly disgusted, "I knew you were a fucking good kisser with lips like those", the older guy points out, which makes Chan burst into the loudest laugh, soon followed by everyone else too.

Except for Hyunjin who yells something incoherent before fiercely grabbing the bottle, "please God don't make me do this ever again please", he pleads, looking through the glass as if some tiny, invisible magic creature is stored in there. He places the bottle in the middle of the floor again and goes to spin it when Chan shouts "tiiime!", much to Seungmin relief who lays down on the floor breathing heavily and lifting up his hands to the ceiling: "THANK YOU", he repeats over and over.

Chan sighs and groans as he stands back up and helps the others, everyone patting each other on the back, congratulating themselves over the game while they stretch out and yawn loudly, you sigh in relief and yawn as well, the late hour finally catching up to your tired body.

You let Felix help you up from the floor and massage your back soothingly, "that was a good game ye? Did you have fun?", he asks quietly, clearly sober now but definitely a little sleepy as you can tell by the way he rubs his eyes and tries to hold in the yawn that's puffing out his cheeks, "yeah, it was interesting to say the least, but yeah I had fun. What about you? I'm sorry you didn't get much action actually", Felix shrugs and takes your hand in his, "it's alright, watching you all was entertaining enough. Care to cuddle with me to sleep?", he offers, you nod without a second thought.

You really are so tired, nothing sounds better than falling asleep in his arms right now. One of the things you loved the most about your friendship with Felix was just how comfortable and cuddly you two were, he was sunshine personified, always smiling warmly at you and offering endless cuddles and silently holding your hand just because. He made you feel cherished and appreciated without ever asking for anything in return.

You give his hand a little squeeze and nod your head towards Chan, who's quietly cleaning up with Seungmin while Han, Hyunjin and Minho are playfully bickering and fighting each other about the sleeping bags arrangement they plan to make upstairs, "I'm going to help Channie clean up in here and then I'll be upstairs. Make sure you beat those pabos and get the best spot, I don't want to hear Changbin snoring", you suggest as you pick up stray garbage and crumbs from the table, Felix giggles and finally lets a loud yawn escape, "will do, I'll see you later".

Chan dismisses you kindly after a little over 20 minutes, reassuring you that he's literally just going to sweep the floor a bit and then head straight to bed himself, "thank you noona, I got this", he says quietly, removing the broom from your hands and giving you a little side hug, officially sending you off to sleep.

You make your way into the upstairs bathroom and get yourself ready for bed, ultimately checking into the kitchen for a glass of water for your dehydrated self. You find Hyunjin in his grandpa's checkered beige pijama pants and a white oversize t-shirt, quietly sipping what seems to be milk from a steaming cup, perched up on a chair despite his size. Half of the time you're convinced he doesn't realize just how tall and long limbed he is, notably so when he lunges on top of poor Jeongin.

"Hey", you greet him quietly, heading for the sink, ready to fill your glass, he smiles gently at you and nods, lifting up his cup as his way of saying hello, "what'cha drinking?", you inquire, smelling something faintly sweet and earthy, "moon milk. Sourt of. Chan hyung owns next to no spices so I had to make do with just some honey, nutmeg and cinnamon. It's calming and digestive, helps me sleep", he explains quietly.

"Wanna try it?", he holds out his cup for you and you take a small sip, the sweet, warm, mildly spicy liquid flooding your tatstebuds really nicely, "mmh I wasn't expecting that, it's yummy!", you admit excitedly and he giggles, "here, we can share", he adds then, patting his lap softly so you can sit on it.

You quietly alternate sips from the large ceramic blue mug, the deep shade almost as dark as the sky outside the window which you look out from, "so... Is Minho hyung right? Am I a good kisser?", Hyunjin asks after a little while, and you chuckle, "I think so! Though I didn't get to kiss you kiss you, and I don't have many other guys to compare you to. If we include Chan and Minho, you're only the 5th guy I've ever kissed in my whole life", you confess shyly as the brunette knits his eyebrows together and frowns, "really? Who are the two other lucky dudes?".

This time you giggle more loudly, yet bittersweetly, the whole scene unravelling in your head sounding ironically hilarious: you know Hyunjin's just pretending to flirt, cause you guys's relationship is playful and sweet like that, but the mere thought that 3 out of his 7 best friends are the clear majority of your whole semi romantic history makes you want to either laugh in hysterics or cry in hysterics, that would work just as well.

Deep inside you know your sophomore year sweetheart is actually the only other person you actually kissed because of the feelings you had for the guy, who ended up breaking up with you not even 3 months into the relationship cause he fell for his ex again. And that doesn't even hurt anymore, that's well in the past, tons of water over the dam.

What still hurts, much more so because you can't really talk about it with anyone, is the fact that Han rejecting you like he did is the main reason you haven't dated anyone in years. Isn't it almost pathetic how you unwillingly resorted to a stupid game in order to go from having kissed 2 guys to having kissed 5, 4 of them all being your literal closest friends?

Hyunjin pinches your sides, clearly having noticed how you spaced out for a sec, "what is it? What's so funny?", he prods you gently, you shake your head and hand him the nearly empty mug, "it's nothing. Those guys... Mean nothing". A knot in your throat makes it hard for you to swallow properly, you force yourself to cheer up and pretend that the Han Jisung shaped hollow in your heart actually means nothing.

You can tell your friend isn't fully satisfied with your response but he doesn't press you any further, he brings the cup to your lips again, encouraging you to take the last few sips but as you politely refuse Minho walks in, looking at the both of you with a confused expression on his face, he lifts up his eyebrows and smirks: "oh look who's here! My two favorite kissers, sharing cups and cuddling at almost 3am, nice", he snarks jokingly, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"It was so nice and peaceful before you came in", retorts Hyunjin, making a face, but Minho just chuckles and smacks the bottom of his bottle on the taller brunette's head, "dream of me tonight, Hyune", he says giggling as he walks out. The tall brunette gives him a side eye and sucks on his teeth, "this man... he's actually a good kisser, but don't tell him I said so or I'll never see the end of it".

Cuddle piles were pretty much the norm wherever you guys slept over at each other's houses, hence the current spread of sleeping bags, blankets and pillows on the floor was nothing unusual: full heads of hair peeking out from fluffy blankets and limbs spreading out on top of each other, the boys sprawled out on the floor in whatever position, it was all very normal.

You walk into the living room trying not to step over anyone and let Felix phone screen guide you towards him in the otherwise almost complete darkness, the shapes of the sleeping bodies underneath the colorful sleeping bags looking like shadowed blobs all over.

As predicted, you know Changbin is relatively close to you cause you can hear him snoring, Felix gives you an apologetic smile once you slot yourself beside him in his large sleeping bag and blanket arrangement: "I'm sorry ...he was sleeping already but he was so warm and I felt lonely. I needed the cuddles", he confesses sheepishly and you giggle softly as you settle against his shoulder, his arm automatically wrapping around your back.

From what you can guess, Changbin is a little over to Felix's side, Chan is uncomfortably snuggling up on the couch, a single foot hanging out of the blanket he has spread on top of himself while Seungmin turned himself into a burrito on the other side of the coffee table that sits in the centre of the room. Hyunjin is currently rolling over on top of Jeongin who groans in his sleep from in the impact.

Meanwhile Minho and Han are over on your side,a few breathes away from you, the empty space on the blankets and pillows covered carpet being the only thing separating you from facing Han's back directly. It looks like he's in a deep conversation with Minho, judging by the hushed tones they're whispering in. You try not to pay them any attention and focus on Felix's soft breathing and the TikTok videos he's showing you on mute.

"Are you gonna say anything or are you just going to pretend everything's fine?", Han blinks slowly at his inquisitive friend, the internal turmoil still swirling around his stomach, the pang of jealousy intermittently pulsating at the base of his throat: "what do you want me to say, Min? Did you enjoy kissing her?".

🥀PART 3

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mazzystar24 · 3 months

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to that previous anon, this is a queer man speaking! Just wanted to say that disliking tommy for being a racist asshole of a character is not homophobic 🥰🥰

what is homophobic is making statements insinuating that queer-coded poc characters would somehow ruin the show by being confirmed queer just because you know that that character being confirmed queer would mean your ship had no more legs to stand on!

i love how so many people try to insinuate that bt shippers somehow speak for the entire queer community when the entire bt fanbase is made up of mostly white cis straight women or white cis queer men, neither of whom are the most educated on nuanced queer issues— they really need to check their privilege before trying to speak over the rest of us who actually want a meaningful story to be told rather than the rushed, last minute, no chemisty bullshit they threw at us in 7x4 (and yes- it was last minute bc tommy wasn’t even originally supposed to come back this season. and even when he was on board to come back, eddie was still the first choice to be confirmed queer! hope this helps, anon🥰🥰🥰)

You me and @eddiediazismyhusband share the same brain cos I got you guys notifications around the same time and I was abt to post an rb to that talking abt this exact thing

Yes to all this

Like it’s the same way when the daddy kink debate happened GAY MEN were getting asks talking abt how homophobic they are and how they just don’t wanna know that gay men having sex all by a bunch of straight women who were making 20+ daddy kink fics

Like can we criticise your favourite white man (even if he is gay) in peace without having to list our sexuality, our race and a kink list?

Like I’m a bisexual poc woman so I have a leg to stand on when it comes to nuanced queer issues but if a gay man was talking abt an issue specific to gay men I wouldn’t fucking act like Ik better, but what I would expect is if I’m in turn talking abt a poc issue or a queer poc issue I would expect him to be sat and zip it and grant me the same respect I would grant him

Like you’re having queer people get spoken over and even called homophobic or fetishisers by straight women and you’re having poc being insulted and their opinions disregarded by a bunch of white people

Like do we need to make a list like here are things that ARE homophobic vs things that aren’t as a guideline to some of these people😭😭

Also yes like these same people preaching rep and all this stuff are making “pride month posts” abt not wanting Eddie to be queer in canon or celebrating that it hasn’t/ (and in their brains) won’t happen or celebrating that homophobia would cause the writers to be hesitant to make two mains queer

Also the same people that are preaching privacy and then sharing private screenshots

Also the same people preaching hearing minorities then minimising Tommys complacency in racism or having racist takes abt Eddie

And the same people who a large majority refuse to watch the show other than the bucktommy or tommy parts and then claim they’re not fetishising and claim that we are for what??? Wanting a meaningful well built slowburn romance that straight people have got in media on multiple occasions??? Or having a queer arc like Eddie’s that would be so unique from most if not all that is currently in the media???

It’s like hypocrisy after hypocrisy with these people istg

Anyways I’m adding moot points atp cos you’ve said it perfectly🫡🫡

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buckley diaz family #anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard #asks open #send asks #my asks #send me asks #answered asks #asks #fandom discourse #911 discourse

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nayatarot777 · 1 year

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what conditionings are you stripping away?

so, i live in england and a thunderstorm is currently happening as i’m typing this up. i decided to look up what thunderstorms mean metaphysically (because we’ve gotten yellow alerts and amber alerts for this storm and we hardly ever get thunderstorms so i felt like it must be significant). y’all, tell me why this is what i’ve found:

“Thunderstorms are seen as powerful and intense events, and they can symbolize an awakening in the spiritual sense.

The sudden noise of thunder can shake us out of our complacency and remind us to pay attention to what is happening around us. This awakening can prompt us to listen to our inner voice and intuition, and encourage us to make changes in our lives.

The rain that often accompanies thunderstorms is a powerful symbol of cleansing and purification. The rain washes away dirt and debris, leaving the earth feeling refreshed and renewed. In the spiritual realm, the rain can represent the release of old patterns and negative energy, allowing for a new beginning.”

very fitting for this reading 🙃

pile selection:

• pile one •

cards: ace of swords, knight of cups, the tower

i’m seeing that you’ve realised a very self-destructive pattern in who you give your love and care to. you might’ve tried to save people from their own demise and their continuous tower moments, but you’re learning to move with consciousness when dealing with others and contemplate whether or not it’s a wise idea to try to “help” people - “help” that is often coming from a saviour complex that you’ve had for a while. it’s coming from a good place, but you’re now understanding that sometimes you just need to leave people tf alone to their own bs and misery. it doesn’t have to be your problem to fix and they don’t have to be your person to try to guide out of misery that they’re extremely deep (and comfortable) in. period 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

• pile two •

cards: page of cups, the hierophant, king of cups

you’re stripping away the conditionings of authority figures and their traditional values and opinions being forced onto you. you’re learning to find your own belief system based on what feels right - not what you’ve been told - and that’s helping you to become someone who is entirely lead by your own intuition (which is something that you may have struggled with before). you’re able to find out surprising things about yourself and what your true beliefs are. i’m also hearing that your beliefs surrounding “good luck” is changing a lot. you’re definitely finding out what it’s like to be lead by faith in your own personal belief in a higher power/higher self. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

• pile three •

cards: page of pentacles, queen of pentacles, 2 of swords

you’re stripping away the habit of downplaying your accomplishments and what you’ve built. you could’ve denied abundance in some way - or at least in terms of recognising some type of abundance that you have, either physically or metaphysically. however, i feel like you’re now standing firm in your acknowledgement of how valuable you and what you’ve developed in your life actually is. i’m also hearing that you’re no longer doubting yourself in terms of being able to maintain or practically manage something. you know that you can, and that you have so much to attract and so much to learn from other people. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

• pile four •

cards: knight of wands, the devil, king of swords

you guys are finally learning how to observe and rationalise taking action before actually making a move. you could’ve been quite impulsive in the past, leading you to interest in things, places, and people that you grew dependent on. i’m also hearing that a lot of you have finally realised that you don’t actually need someone/something who you thought that you did before. someone who tried to prevent you from finding your freedom - especially in your opinions and your way of thinking. you’re undoing the conditioning that you should run away from and shame your shadow, because you’re realising that your shadow is who will give you the truth and the best guidance to follow - not your ego that’s comfortable in the same toxic and draining life cycles. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

#psychic readings #tarot reading #pick a card #pac #pick a photo #divination #tarot #pick a picture #pac reading #spirituality #intuitive #daily tarot #free tarot

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creative-frequency · 6 months

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Raphael x Reader: Act II: The Dinner, pt.2

Summary: Your patron Raphael invites you for a dinner with multiple ulterior motives. Part 2 of 2. Word count: 3853 Notes: Dinner date with Raphael at House of Hope. Some romantic tension finally relieved, making out with the devil.

Previous part

“I’ve been looking forward to spending an evening with you,” Raphael mused just as you pulled your hand back from his. His warmth lingered, burning your fingertips.

He had brought you into a grand foyer. Nervous about the new situation and Raphael’s company – and not really knowing what to reply – you gaped around at the decorative hall. Massive pillars stood in rows at each side and the ceiling was impossibly high. There were no paintings on the walls unlike in the rooms you had previously visited, but devilish sculptures stood amidst the pillars. No doubt sculpted after Raphael’s own visage. Deep red drapes softened the masonry.

Raphael lingered in the middle of the foyer while you paced around a bit, marvelling at the interior.

“Before we dine…”

You turned to look at him.

Raphael snapped his fingers. A sweet wave of nothingness washed and settled through you – silence.

“There. A little privacy from our tentacled friend,” he said with a complacent tone.

The Emperor was going to be extremely upset about you dining with the devil and denying it the chance for eavesdropping. It already had opinions and dire concerns of you lending your ear to Raphael. Even more so about sleeping in the devil’s bed, but that was a conversation you rather wanted to forget.

“Oh. It’s… quiet,” you said, bemused.

The whispering and humming of the Artefact in the back of your mind was gone. Not once had it occurred to you that Raphael might have the power to do such a thing. At the same time, it warranted slight worry about his motives for silencing your astral guide. What had he planned for the night that he didn’t want anyone else to hear?

“This way, my raven.” Raphael motioned towards the hallway and you stepped into pace at his side.

Your mind truly was wondrously silent, thanks to the devil. While it felt weird, a sense of bitter longing filled you. What a luxury it was to remain the only inhabitant of one’s skull. You couldn’t get rid of the tadpole soon enough.

The earlier times you had visited the dining hall of House of Hope, you had not exactly been keen on examining the interior design. Raphael didn’t seem to mind that you were taking in every detail of your surroundings now. Hells, he even seemed pleased at your silent awe as your gaze moved around from the massive painting of the devil himself above the fireplace.

There was a simple brass bell on a chain that was mounted into the wall. The bell was almost invisible in the middle of all the elaborate decoration, but something in it drew your attention.

Raphael followed your gaze and hummed in thought. “Go on, give it a ring,” he urged.

You moved closer to inspect the item.

“What is its purpose?” you asked but didn’t dare to touch it despite his encouragement.

“It is merely a simple dinner bell. Ring it and I will know the table has been set.”

You reached for the short chain and gave it a light tug. The bright jingle sound reverberated in your skull and made your teeth ache momentarily. If that sound couldn’t travel through different planes, nothing could.

“Satisfied?” Raphael spoke while you held your cheek to stop your head from spinning.

“And regretting it,” you asserted with a pointed glance and moved in for the seat he was offering. Raphael let out a low and soft laugh while ensuring you were seated comfortably, then took his own seat opposite.

The hexagonal table was once more laden with dishes that you had never seen or tasted before. It seemed that Raphael currently held a taste for the more exotic Southern flair as many of the foods originated from Calimshan. There was roasted goose and stuffed portobello mushrooms with cherry port wine reduction and foie gras stuffing, aqua-tinted Green Calishite cheese, pork sausages and honey-sauteed vegetables – the same dish you had eaten on your first meeting. He also served you a glass of trike, a sweet and strong wine made from palintrike. Oranges, apples, sunmelons and other fruits were plentiful on the table, cut into bite-sized pieces and served with a sweet paste made of dates.

Raphael took care of most of the conversation on his own while you ate. He told you about the ingredients and spices in the dishes, their preparation methods and the history of the area they originated from. While it was certainly interesting, you couldn’t figure out a natural way to bring up Astarion’s dilemma.

After five courses and three different wines to match, you couldn’t possibly eat anything more. When Raphael paused to sip his drink, you braced and went for the direct route.

“Can I bring my companions here for dinner?” you asked.

Raphael arched a brow at you.

“They’re not my clients,” he replied, unsurprisingly, and leaned forward. “You are. My most precious one, in fact.”

The weight of his words made you shiver and a wave of apprehension coursed down your spine. It had been evident that he really didn’t care for your companions, but when he accentuated it like that… You had to avert your eyes in a flush and focus on the empty plate in front of you.

Raphael placed his glass on the table and fixed a curious gaze to you.

“What is on your mind, little raven?”

You inhaled quickly, remembering why you had brought up the topic in the first place: “So, about Astarion…”

Raphael made a calming gesture and smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m motivated to help him.”

Your loyalties were already stretched between your companions and your devil patron. To both of them, you essentially owed your life. Raphael could stand to be pressured a bit more. You straightened up on your seat.

“How soon?” you questioned.

“As I’ve previously stated, I’ll think about it and get back to you. Don’t fret,” Raphael replied and, to your astonishment, added: “Until I offer the little vampling a mutually beneficial solution, take care not to tread into any perilous dens on your adventures.”

He was talking in riddles again and looked impossibly complacent.

“I don’t need your approval,” you replied coolly and sipped your wine.

Raphael hummed with mirth and spread his arms theatrically. “Certainly you don’t.” The balmy timbre of his voice sent another wave of shivers through you, but this time the sensation made you feel warm.

You swirled the wine in your glass, examining the deep red colour against the light of the fireplace. Raphael leaned back in his seat, gazing at you contemplatively.

“I was surprised to see you at Last Light today,” you said to change the subject. “A mere coincidence, I take it?”

Hells, you were apparently starting to imitate his way of speech now. That was too much wine.

Raphael chuckled, as though pleased with your question. “There are so many people ripe for temptation,” he replied. A non-answer.

Your brows furrowed as you remembered Mol. Had she already made a deal with the devil? You had half a mind to ask Raphael, but he probably wouldn’t provide an answer other than citing whatever patron-client confidentiality rules devils lived by. You sipped from the glass again, flushing down the thought.

“Does it ever bother you to make a living out of mortals’ suffering?” you questioned and watched Raphael’s reaction over the rim of your glass. He snapped his fingers and the glass filled up right in front of your eyes.

“Life is not a fairy tale, my dear,” he replied in a low tone, posture relaxed and not at all bothered by your questioning.

You paused to huff in thought before answering: “Yet mine already has the main antagonist on stage.”

“Oh?” Raphael raised a brow. “I didn’t realise I was the villain in your narrative,” he said, clearly amused. If the line was meant to taunt you, you held back any further retorts and sipped the wine.

Raphael didn’t let the silence sit for long, eager as he was to continue painting the analogy. He leaned forward over the table. “And what does that make you, little raven? The hero? The sage? The victim?”

You leaned back on the chair. “Isn’t it a bit too late to choose a role?” you mused. “I am clearly the underdog.”

Raphael laughed. “Everybody loves an underdog, don’t they?”

You hated the blush that crept over your cheeks. “I should hope so,” you murmured nonetheless.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at the sight as a self satisfied smirk crept across his lips.

“The journey has changed you already,” he noted.

Despite having a whole table between you, the moment felt as intimate as him buttoning up the borrowed shirt on you that morning in his boudoir. Heady and tender feelings coiled inside you, and it didn’t exactly help cooling down your flushed skin.

“How so?” you asked.

Raphael brushed any doubts aside with a burgeon motion of his hands. “You’re no longer the tender bud I encountered at the site of calamity. You’ve grown, little raven. Flourished.”

“Right…” You didn’t really know how to react when he was suddenly showering you with compliments. “I hope it hasn’t been a complete waste of time for you to watch me grow.”

“At least I can’t say I’m not entertained,” Raphael said with a warm chuckle.

“Enjoying the show, then? I’m glad.” It was the wine talking, but damn if flirting with him didn’t make you exhilarated and hot all over.

“Very much so, my dear.”

You placed your elbows on the table and locked your fingers under your chin, never breaking eye contact with the devil. Raphael’s eyes glinted at the sliver of gold on your finger. His lips curved upwards. He too leaned over the dinner table, fingers intertwined, and immobilised you with a heated stare. The honey-tinted brown eyes had gained molten swirls. Your heart started drumming faster.

“How your features and string of tragic misfortune have entranced me,” Raphael said, surely in jest, but the voice. It was a lover’s voice, sensual and suggestive. A sharp pulse of desire shot through you. His attention was intoxicating. You wanted more. A flutter sprang to life in your chest.

You blinked and focused on trying to stay calm even though your head was spinning.

“Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening in a more comfortable setting?” Raphael asked carefully. The rumble of his voice set your very soul alight. Gods help you, you were hanging on his every word. A pulse of desire was pooling into a warm liquid that spread through your body.

“You’re the Master of the House, so I’ll follow your lead,” you managed to reply.

Raphael arched a brow in surprise and chuckled. He stood up.

“Undoubtedly I am. Come.”

He offered his arm to you like the perfect gentleman and walked you down to the next room. Just holding his arm threatened to turn your legs into jelly, but you steeled yourself, determined, though nervous to see the evening through.

The room was a small parlour with plush sofas and small tea tables littered with delicacies and confectioneries. You made a little gasp. Calimshan Knots, Mraed and different kinds of chocolate were on display on a luxurious silver tray with three layers. It looked almost too beautiful to break a piece from the work of art for a taste.

Raphael guided you to sit down on one of the red loveseats and sat down next to you. Exhilarated at the proximity, you had to force yourself to breathe, only to inhale his sweet scent of cherries concentrated in the air.

“Please. Indulge.” He motioned towards the sweets, but you felt the words had another underlying meaning. Your blood started running hotter in your veins.

Raphael examined your features with great interest.

“You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me…” you suddenly remembered.

“Ah, yes. There is a matter of great importance that your little group will soon have to resolve,” Raphael stated and his head tilted slightly in thought. “One way or the other.”

“Oh? What kind of matter?” you asked unsure if you really wanted to hear this. “I assume it has something to do with the Artefact?”

“Technically, yes,” he said, a hand to his chin, “I happen to possess an item of great interest to aid you in this predicament. I could be persuaded to part with it.”

You blinked. “And what would I have to offer in return for this item?”

Raphael chuckled mirthfully. “Very good, little raven. Your skills in the art of infernal negotiation are improving. But, for this particular instance, I’m willing to take a loss.”

Simultaneous feelings of unease and pride clouded your mind. “That’s… unexpected. You would lose hold of such an item for me?”

“If it means you win, my dear,” Raphael purred and leaned closer. “However, it still comes with its conjectures.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” you said quietly, “What would those conjectures be?”

“I’m willing to loan you this item, if” – Raphael lifted exactly one finger in the air – ”you promise to return it along with another trinket of my choosing.”

He could very well ask something impossible of you and do whatever he wanted with your soul in the end when you inevitably failed to deliver. So far Raphael had been fair in his dealings, but you had to be careful. Cryptic and unhelpful hints aside, you didn’t want to think about the Artefact, the tadpole or the Absolute right now.

“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” you murmured.

Raphael barked a laugh. “Indeed. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, my dear.”

The laugh left the remnants of a smirk over his lips. You swallowed. His scent of fire and cherries was making you go mad as it addled your poor, tadpoled brain. He lifted his arm over the sofa back and angled his body properly to you.

“You, my most troubled protege, will surely make the right decision,” his lover’s voice whispered with a rumble you could almost feel over your body.

Raphael’s hand dipped to caress your shoulder. The touch ignited a trail of fire in its path. He leaned closer and instinctively you leaned away. A proper smirk now curved his lips. So it became a chase; the fox hunted the raven. Your breaths grew shorter by the second.

He placed his other hand on your knee, a gesture to keep you still. The touch shot a wave of heat through you and you barely held back a wince. Thanks to the wine and your general ludacrity, you were already feeling wanton enough in his company, so you wouldn’t be able to take much of his enabling to finally snap and throw all noble notions into the fires of Hell.

That was presumably his goal.

“I’ve grown fond of you, little raven,” Raphael purred, “I’d hate to see you make the wrong choice.”

His every word caressed your skin, adding fuel to the liquid fire raging in your body. You swallowed to gather the last bits of your prudence and said: “I’m sure my companions and I will make the best decision we can under the circumstances.”

Raphael’s smile widened, his head leaned to the side. “That is most gratifying to hear, my dear.”

His hand still lay on your knee and you believed you felt it inch up your thigh while the other one continued caressing your shoulder, trekking up to the back of your neck. You couldn’t take your eyes off Raphael’s face. His gaze lowered to your lips. You placed your hand over his on your thigh and saw the delight spill into his expression. His skin was hot and you were already dreaming how it would feel wandering around your body; caressing, circling, fondling…

Did he do this with all his clients? Somehow you knew the answer. You could read it in the curve on his lips and the spark in his eyes. Mortals often held no such interest to him.

You were special.

In the back of all the lust-ridden thoughts, you wondered how it might feel to be loved by him, to wake up next to those molten saffron or darkened honey-tinted eyes.

You swallowed as Raphael’s fingers moved to the inner side of your thigh.

“Though I could use some motivation…” you heard yourself saying loud and clear.

The devil’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they were lit with plain and clear desire.

“What a brave and naughty little thing you are. You never cease to surprise me,” Raphael husked. The words were latent with seduction and promise.

He leaned closer and you felt his shallow and waiting breaths fanning over your cheek. Only the warmth radiating from his body and his scent of sweet cherries, deep musk and smoky brimstone was registering at this point. You felt almost woozy, aching in the trepidation that he might pull away and not give you what you craved more and more with each passing second.

Raphael’s eyes were the colour of dark honey, his eyelashes so dark and beautiful, and the thought of his lips on you… The consuming craving to taste him was overwhelming.

“It’s the company I keep,” you intended to say, but in the end were unsure if the words actually left your mouth or were blocked.

Raphael kissed you with overwhelming heat and hunger.

He cupped the back of your head and pulled you right into him.

The kiss was searing, passionate and would’ve swooped you right off your feet had you been standing. His hand instantly made headway up your leg, fingers already tracing your inner thigh and unceremoniously delving closer to your aroused, aching sex.

You gripped Raphael’s shirt, pulling him even closer. You wanted him closer. You wanted him so much. How you wished the clothes on your back would just burn away.

He pushed you against the sofa back with his body. His mouth moved from your reddened and swollen lips to plant hot kisses on your cheek, jaw and down to your neck. You mewled with pleasure and offered yourself to him, indulging his every motion and brush of his lips.

Two thoughts fought for purchase in your head, but neither gained any foothold: were you really doing this with your patron and what consequences there would be. Your soul was already damned. He had been tempting you for weeks so it was about time for things to progress this way. Tangling your body with his surely didn’t actually mean anything.

“Give yourself to me,” Raphael whispered into your ear, his breathing tickling. His hand reached its aim between your legs and you gasped as he resolutely stroked your clothed sex.

Your whole body quivered from the delicious friction of the contact and you bit your lip. A tight sensation coiled in your lower abdomen, ready to burst at the next hint of touch.

You wanted more of him.

“So eager…” Raphael whispered. He kept your head still and close, turning it as he pleased to reach the sweetest spots of your skin. You acquiesced to all of it, too stunned, too ravenous for more to move. The grip of your fist tightened on his arm and at the hem of his shirt.

He claimed your lips again. You spread your legs and his nimble fingers stroked you through your clothes with the most perfect pressure, all the while his heavy breaths tickled your neck and the shell of your ear between demanding kisses. The more you gasped and moaned, the more laborious his breaths also became.

“R-Raphael…” Your throat was dry and your voice already hoarse.

Your hand wandered south with the goal of reciprocating the pleasure he was giving you, but the brushing motions of his fingers sped up and you waivered, abandoning mission. It was extremely hard to focus on anything else besides the pleasure Raphael was so expertly giving to you.

Amidst the kisses and hot breaths on burning your skin, your release was hell-bent on building fast and hard, and, frankly, it surprised you both.

It hit you like a pit fiend running into a wall at full speed.

You gasped for air, clutching Raphael’s forearm and felt the ravaging pulsing against his fingers through your clothes.

“Fuck…” you huffed, voice hoarse.

Raphael’s motions stopped as it dawned on him: You had reached an orgasm in a shamefully short time. It was certainly… surprising.

“Uh, guess I was more motivation-starved than I thought,” you managed to mumble in what you aimed to be an apologising tone. Your head was spinning from the sharp and intense orgasm, and it was extremely hard to think in complete sentences.

Raphael slowly drew back from you with a muted expression. No tender kisses, no praises, he was just staring at you in mild disbelief.

“I, uhm. Do you want to…?” you mumbled ambiguously, but couldn’t quite reach the shame waiting somewhere in the back of your mind. It had felt way too good to be ashamed.

You took a deep breath to clear your head and Raphael straightened his back.

Then he laughed, low and rough and assumed back his role. “Like I said, you never fail to surprise me, little raven.”

You blinked. He was acting as if he had not just kissed you silly and made you come with his fingers while both of you were still fully clothed.

“Hopefully the evening was as enjoyable to you as it was for me,” he continued in a cultured tone.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. So that’s how it was going to be. You hurried to settle your clothes into a more presentable state and hopped to your feet. Your legs were shaking and you felt lightheaded. There was no way your companions would not realise what had happened. Astarion would take one look at you and start either yapping or giggling.

“Yes, uh. Would you be so kind and send me back now?” you inquired, trying to reach an impassive tone but failing spectacularly.

Raphael paused, clearly deciding whether to abide by your request or not. Not a hint of the earlier lust was visible on his face. Either he hid it extremely well or your little display had not affected him at all. How frustrating. So he could make you come with a single finger, but you had no effect on him.

“Of course. Far be it from me to keep you here against your will,” Raphael said with an incline of his head. Not even a hair was out of place on him.

With a quick snap, he sent you back to camp right then and there. A swift look around told you that no one was awake. Good.

Only a moment later you realised that by ‘motivation’ Raphael probably had not meant to allow you to come. Oh well, what was done was done. You could only hope the consequences of your own actions wouldn’t come back to haunt you.

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