#(Oh also this was meant to look 'last minute' okay??? it's not just bad art design I promise)

[shurisasthmaticgf]

daughter of hades blk! reader ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

summary: you arrive to camp half-blood and are the only topic of conversation. rumors already circulate catching the attention of one particular cabin which means you now have a problem with one specific girl. everyone is dying to know who your father is but you're trying to protect your identity unsure of what will come when he claims you as his own. what nobody expected was it all to happen on your very first night.

character list: hades daughter! reader, clarisse, grover, percy, annabeth, male oc (briefly)

warnings: swearing, fighting, mentioned parent loss, clarisse is a bitch

You dragged your feet along the dirt pathway that led back towards the open grass training grounds of the camp. The other campers were enjoying their night after a long game of capture the flag you missed by a day. You were slightly appreciative that you got to camp when you did because fighting off a fury and minotaur in one day was enough. The entire idea of this place was just peculiar to you but you’d seen much stranger on the New York subways back home. One minute you were walking home from school half an hour after it began because some girl in your class lied and said you punched her. The next minute some winged lady with a bad pixie cut was trying to kill you. Not even three hours later, a minotaur nearly succeeded in the fury’s failed task. 

Upon your arrival people were interested to know who the new girl was that escaped the minotaur's clutches. Rumors began to circulate that you were a daughter of Poseidon because of the minotaur fight. According to one of the girls in your cabin, a demigod named Percy killed a minotaur on his first night at camp and got claimed as Poseidon's first son shortly after. Since you’d also “defeated” a minotaur in everyone else’s eyes that meant to them that maybe you too were a child of Poseidon. Everyone seemed to like that narrative except one cluster of Ares children that had been eyeing you all day in way that felt a lot less than admiration. It didn’t help that the rumors followed your every step and grabbed more attention the longer you stayed in the open. 

You had only made it a few steps outside of Hermes cabin and the amount of stares you were getting made your skin crawl. Just as you were about to give up on trying to make it to dinner, a familiar face appeared in front of you. The satyr greeted you, “Hey you’re outside again. I was coming to invite you to dinner. Oh and I made you something in arts & crafts.” He pulled a small crown of yellow and white dandelions from behind his back and placed it on your head gently. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, “Thank you, Grover. It’s beautiful.” The satyr stuck out his wrist proudly and said, “It matches mine too. Usually Annabeth and Percy are here to match with us too but they’re not coming back until late tonight so you’ll have to wait to meet them.” You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to meeting this Percy guy based on the fact that an entire cabin hated his guts and now you for even being associated with him. 

As you followed Grover down the cabin step you eyed the other teenagers around you before meeting his gaze nervously and he glanced down at your right hand. Grover stared for a minute then said, “I don’t think the axe is helping.” He chuckled and reached for the axe but you pulled away before he could touch you or the weapon. There was an awkward silence before he told you warmly, “You have nothing to worry about y/n. you are safe now okay? It’s just dinner time and it’s taco tuesday. So I’ll take this and you get some food, and we can sit outside on the beach away from everyone else. Deal?” You nodded and swatted his hand away when he reached for your axe again, this time he asked, “Then how about you put it back?” You followed his instructions and closed the cabin door behind you before he led you off to the dining hall. 

You picked at the last taco on your plate as Grover sat beside you and asked, “So do you think you know…” There was no point in letting him finish so you spoke up, “No. Daddy never told me or gave me hints about who he really was..."

Now that was a complete lie.

Truthfully, you did have an idea of who your father could be but there was no tangible evidence. The only lead you really had was poorly remembered dreams from your childhood. The dreams depicted you sitting on a throne of bones guarded by three vicious dogs with countless dead soldiers at your feet. Glittering obsidian and midnight blue marbling lined the throne room and the smell of bakhoor, incense, and spices clung to the back of your throat from your father's timeless cologne. As a child you recall him calling you "my little goddess" and teaching you that darkness and the dead were nothing to fear. As you grew older you realized that you truly were the only thing that mattered to him which is why you stayed out of sight for so long. He gave you the hints long ago but you never wanted to believe they were true. Especially after you arrived at camp to see that there wasn't even a cabin for your suspected father.

Grover continued staring at you prompting you to continue speaking, "Some could say Ares because I was always hot-tempered and starting trouble as a kid but…could have just been the absent father- dead mother thing? The Ares kids here aren’t my type of people.”

Grover nodded along and asked curiously, “Where’s the axe from?” You shrugged and answered, “I found it in my house as a kid. My grandpa was a huge nerd about that kind of stuff and used to collect and sell things like swords and knives and my grandma said it was probably just another collectible he didn’t sell before he died. As a kid I always thought daddy left it behind for me, kinda like a gift.”

The sound of a twig snapping drew both of your attention to a boy who was cautiously making his way to you both. Grover beamed and waved him over, “Ezra, hey!” The satyr turned to you and continued, “Y/n this is Ezra, son of Demeter.” You gave a genuine smile and the boy who looked around your age relaxed more and responded, “Nice to meet you.” The young demigod was fairly tall around 5’11 and his thick black locs with their puffy roots added an extra inch or two. Assorted colors of beads adorned each loc on his head right at the ends or the middle. He smelled of earl grey and cucumber in a subtle way that complemented the shades of green in his outfit and headscarf. Ezra stuck his thumb back towards the rest of camp, “Percy and Annabeth are back, and they’re looking for you.” Grover lit up and said, “Thanks man, I’ll be right over.” The demigod waved to you before disappearing down the path back towards camp. The satyr beside you excitedly stood up, “Percy and Annabeth are the ones I told you about. I know they’ll wanna meet you let’s go- wait. On second thought I’ll bring them to you, just stay here and I’ll be right back.” Before you could even say that you didn’t want to meet anymore new faces, Grover was already running back towards camp leaving you alone looking over the beach once again. 

The peace and quiet lasted no more than three seconds because through the lapping of gentle waves a chorus of amused whispers and snickers behind you. The same group of Ares kids that had been eying you like a meal since the moment you arrived crowded around you. The ringleader of the pack you’d recognized as Clarisse, pushed you with the blunt end of her spear. The thick, chocolate brown ringlets that framed her face swung back and forth with her laughter as she looked at you laying on the ground with food spilled on your t-shirt. She laughed along with her cabin siblings and murmured, “Pathetic.” The end of her spear pressed further against your sternum making it slightly harder to breathe in. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips when you remained silent, “What? Cat got your tongue? ‘Cause you sure had a lot to say a minute ago.”

Clarisse kicked the retracted bo staff that you owned, in its current form it was no longer than a roll of quarters. Your fingers reached for it, opening and closing them desperately but stopped immediately when her foot pressed them into the dirt. one of her brothers mocked you in a whiny tone, “You think Daddy weft you a widdle gift?” He high fived Clarisse and laughed before she crouched down and grabbed you by the collar so your faces were merely inches apart. Clarisse hissed with words laced of venom and hatred, “Nobodies like you don’t get gifts from the gods. We all know you’re not one of the big three so why lie to everyone about it?  You think you’re all special because you lied about fighting a minotaur and killing a fury? Lying about being Poseidon's kid?” You rapidly shook your head, “I never lied because I never said any of that.” She let out a laugh and continued, “Gods this is too good, too easy…let’s get one thing straight right now though. You’ll always just be a lonely little nobody. And I know for a fact your Daddy will never claim you as his own because you’re weak. That’s why you hide behind that little satyr all day, your little protector. But where is he now? Huh? Nobody’s here to protect you now.” She plucked the flower crown from your head and threw it aside allowing one of her siblings to stomp it into the dirt. 

Anger coursed through your veins and your eyes filled with a fiery rage you hadn’t felt since your family fell apart when you were eight. You gritted your teeth together and tightened your jaw then without thinking, you leaned forward and spat directly into her face. The crowd of siblings had grown to a larger group of nosey teenagers that oo’ed as as Clarisse let go of your t-shirt and let your head fall back onto the ground with a thud. The young demigod flipped her prized spear in her hand and pointed it directly beneath your chin by your throat. The very tip of it electrified and glowed a fiery red only a millimeter from touching your skin which made you swallow thickly. For only a second pure fear flashed across your face which was enough for Clarisse to know she was winning already. A sinister smile crept onto her face and you pressed your head back further into the earth, begging to the skies above for someone, anyone to help.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you heard a deep voice in the distance, “Hit the ground.” The voice was familiar of someone you knew but couldn’t quite remember. Nevertheless, you followed the command and balled your free hand into a fist before bringing down against the hard dirt and gravel covered earth. The force of your fist fractured the ground beneath Clarisse and her siblings' feet causing them to stumble back. The retracted bo staff rolled back into your grasp which you held in one hand. with the other, you reached for her spear and snatched it from her grip whilst spinning it back so the pointed end now faced her and her siblings who were lying on the ground. You took a step back and twirled the spear in your hands for show then threw it to the side which she immediately scrambled to pick up.

Of the six Ares blood teenagers, three of them were on the ground unconscious while the other two staggered to their feet ready to fight back. You quickly extended your bo staff and whipped it across your body knocking one of the boys back before swinging it quickly in an X formation knocking out the girl beside him. Bringing the staff once more across your torso then over your shoulder and around your head, you knocked the boy out as well leaving Clarisse the only one standing. 

Clarisse stood more angry than before now knowing that you were stronger than you looked, proving that she now had competition. Her cheeks felt hot as other campers watched the two of you standing before one another clearly questioning if she was going to be the one that walked away tonight. One of the smaller kids you recognized from Hermes cabin threw you the shield he owned. You nodded to him as a thank you and took a step back. Clarisse watched as you brushed one of your thick twists out of your face and raised an eyebrow which pissed her off more. Why weren’t you struggling? Why weren’t you afraid?  The idea of you winning pissed her off the more she stood there which was enough for her to lunge forward with her spear. You held up the shield and caught the body of the spear in your hand and turned around to try and slip it from her grasp. The girl pushed you trying to shake it from your grip and when you held on tighter she huffed and threw you forward not realizing her most prized possession would be thrown with you. Crackling and hissing sounds filled your ears the moment your back hit the ground and knocked the wind from your chest. Clarisse looked at the half of her spear left in her hand while the pointed end was still lodged into the shield in your palm. Blood curdling screams echoed throughout the entire camp and everything seemed to still around you as the teenage girl stared in horror. You walked over to her and pushed her back with your shield before she could run up on you. She hit the ground once more and you snatched the other part of her spear from between the arm hold. All of your thoughts were clouded with anger as her words rushed back through your memory once more. 

You climbed on top of her with each of your legs on a side of her waist so you were hovering above her torso with a smile far from friendly. You held one of her arms down with your knee while the other was trapped beneath her torso but she didn’t even try to fight you back anymore. She watched with her eyes now full of fear as you held the sharp end of her broken spear beside her face, dragging the tip of the blade on her skin but not hard enough to cause harm. You placed the tip underneath her chin so she was forced to meet your gaze, but a sudden cloud of darkness fell over you both. The curtain of shadows engulfed the two of you which took your focus from Clarisse long enough for her to free her arm and push you off of her. The shadows rose as you made your way onto your feet and stepped away from the crowd that had formed. The feeling of your heart pounding in your chest seemed to be the only thing you could focus on as the dark clouds fell from your head to surrounding your feet. When you could finally see ahead of you all that was there was the ocean, same as before. 

“Y/N!” Grover’s voice broke through the crowd as he manuvered through campers and stared at you with darkness and shadows pooling at your feet. A girl with deep umber skin and black waist length box braids stood beside him and a pale, freckle- faced boy with a mess of blonde curls that brought out his ocean blue eyes. The three of them along with every other camper and Chiron who followed the crowd stared up above your head. You looked up to see a long royal blue and obsidian bident, a black snake coiling up the body with two navy prongs pointed towards the sky at the top. A glow of midnight blue surrounded the bident and illuminated around you. It lowered into your hand and the weight brought a smile to your face as you felt a wave of pride in knowing what this meant. 

Chiron’s voice bellowed, “You have been claimed by Hades. King of the Dead. God of the Underworld. Y/N L/N.”

You turned to face Grover and his two friends with a sweet smile on your face as if you didn't just kick a whole cabin of demigods asses. "Hey I'm Y/N, daughter of Hades. Nice to meet you both." The blonde boy you knew to be Percy just stood with his mouth agape until the girl elbowed him. He scratched the back of his head and said, "Hi, I'm Percy." You smiled and shook his hand while the girl gave you a head nod, "Annabeth." Grover looked past you and motioned to the Ares kids on the ground, "You did all that?" Looking over your shoulder you saw some of them were now coming back to and you turned back unfazed, "More or less." Annabeth slung her arm over your shoulder and led you along with her two other friends away from everyone else, "Yeah I like you. We're gonna get along well I think."

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

authors note: i saw a lot of people posting their own fics about pjo so i thought i'd give it a try. i'm new to this franchise and i've only watched the show and movies. but i'm starting to read the books now so this is what i've come up with using the stuff i've seen, read, googled, etc. please be kind if there's something 'inaccurate' bc im still new to this!

[leviathans-watching]

i'm literally so in awe how in obey me! they all have such nice nails that don't seem to be ruined at all >__< so if u don't mind may i request how would all of them (could also be mammon centric ehe) react to an mc who gets their nails painted but literally just a few minutes into them, they accidentally get ruined with the simplest tasks they do !!! (may or may not be first hand experience bwahwhaj TT) and tysm and hope you're always doing good !!

the brothers' reactions to you messing up your nails

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: okay because i feel you. my nails never look good lol. anyway, thanks for requesting! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come say hello!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed :)

➳ lucifer hears you curse from the other room and puts his book down. “mc?” he calls, “are you alright?” after a moment, you stick your head in the doorway sheepishly. “oh, i’m alright,” you say with a sigh. “my nails aren’t, though. i always mess them up. this is why i don’t really paint them.” lucifer hides his smile. he’s not surprised you already managed to smudge the polish. you never seem to have quite enough patience to wait for them to fully dry. “how about this,” he says, standing. “i’ll do whatever you were trying to do so you don’t mess them up anymore.”

➳ mammon walks into the living room, spotting you on the couch. “whatcha doing?” he asks, and you jump. “you scared me,” you huff. “and great, i just messed up my nails.” mammon grins apologetically. “my bad. but that’s a nice color.” “thanks,” you say. “i bought it a while ago but only now am trying it out. too bad i can’t really do it justice. i wish i’d learned to paint my nails nicely when i was young because not they always come out looking like shit.” mammon laughs. “shit or now, they look nice on you,” he says. “and if ya really wanted, we could go to the manicurist and i’ll pay for ya.”

➳ levi crosses his arms. “it’s been like fifteen minutes! what do you mean your nails aren’t dry yet? come on, let’s just play games.” you shake your head. “no way, levi. just trust me, they’re gonna get smudged. no matter how long i wait, they always do.” after a few more minutes of whining and wheedling, he finally convinces you to play. that, however, doesn’t last long. “oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, and he looks over, pausing the game. “look,” you say, holding up your hand. somehow you’ve managed to smudge almost every single nail.

➳ satan watches you begin to put away dishes. “careful,” he warns. “didn’t you just paint your nails?” you roll your eyes. “that was like, thirty minutes ago. they’re definitely dry.” “don’t say i didn’t warn you,” satan says, then begins to help you, pulling plates from the dishwasher. when all of the dishes are finally put away, you turn to him, presumably to gloat about your nails, but the words die on your lips when you see he’s right and that you’ve already smudged three nails. and somehow chipped another.

➳ asmo grabs your hands, inspecting them. “your nails always smudge because you don’t wait long enough. not just for them to dry, but between coats,” he explains. “you’ve got to have patience! beauty is art, and every great piece of art took a while to make.” you laugh. “maybe i’m just not meant for pained nails.” “nonsense,” asmo dismisses. “now come on, i’ll repaint them for you. you better be grateful, i don’t offer my amazing services to just anyone, you know.” “as if you’d let me forget,” you snort, and he huffs out an affronted breath.

➳ beel squints at your nails. “those are messed up? they look fine to me.” you sigh. “they are! look at my pinkie nail! and my thumb, too. how can you not see that?” beel shrugs. “i guess everything just looks perfect when it’s on you,” he says, and you fight a smile, crossing your arms. he doesn’t even mean anything by it, either. that’s probably just what he genuinely thinks. “don’t try to flatter me,” you command, “at least not until you tell me how you never mess yours up! it’s unfair!”

➳ belphie watches you pick at a bit of nail polish, concentrating deeply. “i can never get these to look perfect,” you mutter, “but i can at least get them looking semi-decent. right?” you go in with the brush again, and almost immediately mess up. belphie can’t help how endearing he finds it, even if he’s starting to wonder what the record is for the longest time someone’s spent painting their nails. because you’ve got to be definitely getting close. “just let me do it,” he finally says, leaning over and taking the bottle from you, “or else we’re going to be here all night.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[judging-films-of-all-kinds]

Transformers 2007

It’s been many years since I seen this movie. Last time I watched it was like eight years old. So I am going to watch this.

Not even a minute in and the intro is great. We get to hear Optimus voice while looking over something and learn it’s the ‘cube’. 

The title card is yummy

“But we were too late.” OHHHH

“I am never going to your mama’s house. I promise!” Haha they are besties

“I can’t wait to hold my baby girl for the first time.” He has a kid?! We been sleeping on this fact?!

“You sure she didn’t fart?” I laughed and now I’m more nervous

HEEHEHE That transformation is soooo good. And shockwaves from the blast are good too!

MINICON 

SAM!!!

“People. Reasonability.” Lol sounds like something my middle school art teacher would say

LORE 

Lol Seaman. Look, I was in highschool five years ago. We would 100% giggle at these jokes. Its even funner that Sam just movies on. Either he didn’t catch on or he did and rolling with it

“Cars pick their riders!” 

Nice going Bee. 

“I’m so underdress.” Yes you are

“So far we know, no survivors.” Well that hurts my heart lol

Oh man that sound made my skin crawl!

That goldfish tank hurts my damn soul 

“It’s family grass.” Omg that family warms my soul lol. You will argue about the dumbest things

“That’s his bling!” Yeah Sam! Let him have his bling. His a handsome little man

“Wow. You are so cheap.” “It’s his first car. It’s meant to be like that.” Yes but no lol

OUR BOY IS ALIVE! And so is the little kid!

Bumblebee is the best wingman ever

Lol poor dude. Sorry man but sometimes you gotta take one for the team

Sam being a goober

“Do we have any classes together?” Girl don’t hurt his feelings like that

Oh Sam you are so awkward. I love you lol

Okay the soundtrack is so good for this scene. It makes sense that the little guy is shaking as he downloads all of that

LOL how did he not get spotted? 

“This is my last words.” Okay yeah I would do that too

“Mojo, I love you.” I would also do that 

How are you guys not hearing that sound? DON’T LEAD THE DANGER TO THE PEOPLE?!

“LEFT CHEEK!! LEFT CHEEK!! LEFT CHEEK!!!” Fair response

Maggie is the best and I love her. I don’t think we seen her in the other movies

“Get off my grandma’s carpet! She doesn’t like anyone on it! Especially the police!” 

“Satan’s Comoro!” Said while holding a tiny little dog

THAT’S NOT A COP

Sam still able to run after being thrown into a car is impressive

The DETAILS that is put in the cybertrons is impressive. This CGI is from 2007 and it’s still so good!

“50 years from now when you look back on your life don’t you want to say that you had the guts to get in the car?”

“I’m not going to sit in the seat! He's driving!” Yeah that is fair

That was a smooth line lol Well done Sam

Wow, you boys just had to crash land in the middle of a city?

“Are you the tooth fairy?” Kids say the darndest of things

Optimus Prime! Oh the soundtrack is siiick. It’s almost holy… 

Ironhide!! “Feeling lucky, Punk?” I’m using that from now on

Wow, Ratchet! Just tell the whole world why don’t you. Poor Sam. This is not your week, is it?

“It was an accident that would intertwined our fates.” Sadly true

“How do you know about the glasses?” “Ebay.” Lol that made me laugh harder than I should have

Glen Whiteman is a real one for giving Maggie tips about what to do with FBI. Is silly but a sweet guy

I take it back lol 

Lol Sam’s parents are my parents I swear lol 

“My bad.” Coming from Optimus Prime is delightful to me lol

Irionhide saying “Bad Mojo” is just as good

HAHA SAM XD Casually opens the door. “Wats sup?” 

OMG THE MOM IS THE BEST

The Bots trying to hide, especially how Optimus does it is gold

“Your mom is so nice.” I want to see more of these ladies hanging out together

His here!

Lol that mom is awesome! I would kick butt for my hard work too

OMG THE DOG IS ON THE- HAHAH XD His only six pounds! Pretty sure you can put him in a box and do just fine lol

I love Sam. His not going to rat out the bots. Loyal to the end. 

Sir you shouldn’t test this young lady. We DO petty and she’s in highschool, she can and will ruin you.

DON’T BRING HER DADDY INTO THIS YA PRICK

Optimus Prime to the rescue! 

“Taking the children was a bad movie.” Optimus the 1# Dad!!

HAHA BUMBLEBEE IS THE BEST

Optimus is so gentle with them. Even his words are gentle

Oh no! Bumblebee! We can’t understand him but I love they added his cries of distress

Sam trying to help Bee will always put tears in my eyes. You know in that very moment their bond grew

MORE LORE

The Air Force soundtrack is sooo good

“Who’s this?” “His my adviser.” “…He comes too.” Haha he knows that wasn’t 100% true but rolls with it

“They are primitive and violent race” Said while Bumblebee is shocked over and over again

“Where we so different? They are a young species. They have much to learn. But I have seen good in them.” And it pans on Sam. Totally doesn’t have meaning 

MEGATRON!! And you can hear the faint sound of chanting. Creepy

Sassy Sam is my cup of tea

The Allspark is huge

STARSCREAM MY MAN

That’s a baby! Be nice to the murder baby! Bee and Sam’s bond is still strong!

Oh that’s how its small! Okay cool!

MEGATRON IS AWAKE AND HIS TAKING NAMES

Megs and Screamers voice is so good

Here comes the cons~ Time to kick butt!

That mom and son need therapy after this

Awww Bumblebee. AW SAM!! HIS CRYING

And the fight keeps going

All these people need therapy

GO RATCHET! KICK SOME CON BUTT

Aw Jazz. Kept fighting till the end

“Listen! You are a soldier now!” And that is the sad part about this whole movie. The second Sam met Bee, he became a soldier for a war that is older than his own species. They all are. 

Irionhide telling Sam he and Ratchet will protect him is sweet. He didn’t have to say it to Sam. He could have said “We will protect him.” Or something like that. But he didn’t. 

“I SMELL YOU, BOY!!” Yep not scary at all

“I drive, you shoot!” Hehe yes. I am using that as well

Awwww Bee peaking through his mask

Hang on Sam! Dad Prime is coming! “Oh so unwise.” So creepy and gentle lol

Optimus telling Sam to kill him is… damn. Sam is a kid being told he has to kill his friend to save the world

That’s one way to die, huh Megs? Optimus gentle holding Jazz’s body is not something I was expecting. Holding his dead friend…

HIS HOLDING HIS BABY AT LAST

PFFFFF THE MOM!! SO MEAN

Anyway this movie was pretty good. Got me laughing and feeling this. A good balance for a movie that came out when I was little 

Rating 10/10

[dumplingsjinson]

Back with a REALLLYYYY long ramble about my love life? (Like, when I say really long, I meant it.)

Or... A lack thereof. I don't know, it's confusing; maybe I'm overthinking and maybe he does want to be friends or... he wants more??? Maybe I'm looking into things a bit too deeply BUT THAT'S WHAT I ALWAYS DO AND I’M AFRAID IT'S NEVER GOING TO STOP AHHA.

SO ANYWAYS. Here's the story. 

Prepare for a long ass post lmao, because I'm going the FUCK off again :D So like, if you don’t want to read my bullshit then feel free to skip past onto the next glorious post on your dashboard. 

(The TL;DR is at the very bottom of this post if you can’t be fucked reading the whole thing lmao.)

Okay. 

So. 

I met this dude on CMB (Coffee Meets Bagel). We'll call him... Mixed signals dude. (we’re calling him mixed signals dude because it feels like he wants more with the way he acts, but the words that come out of his makes me feel like… Yeah, no, maybe I’m overthinking this greatly.)

He's pretty nerdy. A homebody. Overreacts to things. Pretty shitty texter but aren't most people? And he doesn't seem to exercise much because we were walking around a lot during our first meet up and he was pretty puffed out after a bit lmao. He's an introvert. He's a bit… Eccentric (and I'm not saying that to belittle him). I'm not pinning any of this against him, though. It just provides a background to what type of person he is. 

Either way, he asks me if I'd like to meet up with him "as friends". I say yeah, sure thing, why not? I mean, I’m here to meet people, after all. 

So we set a date, the day comes, and I meet up with him. He’s waiting for me at the platform my train stops at. We fall into easy conversation the moment I walk up to him and we start talking. I feel at ease with him even though we’ve just met, and my nerves dissipate pretty quickly. 

Funny, because I was literally messaging my friend “Oh God, I’m nervous as fuck” like five minutes before the train arrives at my destination. 

It’s nice, we share laughs, and it isn’t like... Awkward? Maybe a little, but it isn’t as bad as the other times I met up with other dudes. Usually first time hang outs are fairly awkward and sometimes boring, but it didn't feel that way with him. Oh, also, he's also the "ladies first" type of dude, always urging me to walk before him AHAHA. I don't know how to describe it but yeah. 

So anyway, that's all good. We have a good time and get to know each other more. We go home after hanging out for the whole day, he tells me he had a good time, I say I did too.

We talk over text, and about a week or so passes before he asks me out again, so I say sure. It was pretty last minute; we set it up Friday night and then met up Saturday noon. That Saturday, he had planned on studying for his cert for either work or uni, but he comes out to hang with me anyway even though I insist we could do another day if he really couldn’t hang out (he said he didn’t want to study anyway so I was like, okay. We’ll go, then, if you’re sure). 

First half of the "hang out" is pretty normal. We go to an art gallery, then we slowly make our way to the Botanic Gardens, where we kinda stop to rest for a little bit. We’re out here talking and laughing, and when we feel rested up, we make our way to another museum/art gallery. We talk about our dating lives, I tell him about the guys I've talked to, we talk about our personal lives and our families; the lot. We share more laughter, and by this point (and take note because this does become an important point later in the story), I’ve broken the touch barrier with what I’d say is friendly physical contact — light slaps on the shoulder/arm, light pushes, etc. The shit I usually do with my friends in a playful type of manner. 

Keep in mind, at this point, he keeps saying “You can’t find someone on the apps, only friends” etc, etc, so I’m like… Cool. He wants to meet people and become friends, and I’m not opposed to that. I could do with more friends. And I’ve basically adapted the philosophy of “What happens, will happen” and I’m not going to try and force shit. 

So now, here’s the thing: one thing I’ve been noticing during the first meet up and moreso throughout the second meet up, during our walks, he seemed pretty… Protective of me? I don’t know if that’s the right word but like… I’d complain about the sun shining in my face and he’d try to walk beside me to shield me from it. He’d grab me before I crash into things like the clumsy bitch I am. During the first meet up, he was quick to stop me from walking into oncoming traffic because I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe he has quick reflexes, I’m not sure, but I do need someone to kinda check me on my shit sometimes HAHA. 

Anyway, after the museum, we wander around the city for a bit, I buy some Gozleme for us to share (he just started his full time job and his paycheck doesn’t come until like, next week, so he was very thankful about me shouting him food). 

After that, we couldn’t really think of anything else to do so I’m like, “Do you wanna go home and study?” and he’s like, “Nah, I will stay for a bit more. I don’t want you staying alone out here” even though I never suggested I’d be staying out there alone, but I was like, “…Okay”. I found that to be pretty sweet of him, ngl. 

I kinda don’t want to go home either because well… I’m stuck at home a lot these days because I’m still jobless (hopefully that changes soon or so God help me, I’ve been applying and applying and I’m on the brink of losing my shit), when a sudden idea pops into my head. Before I know it, I’m suggesting we go to the movies, and I tell him we could watch Across the Spider-verse (I’ve watched it already but I wanted to watch it again, so might as well) and he’s like sure, because he didn’t wanna go home and study anyway, among other reasons. 

So that works out for the both of us! It’s actually kinda funny that he agreed, because he didn’t watch the first one, but when I ask if he’s sure about this, he says, “Yeah I’m sure.”

(Funny side note: about a day ago, he suggested we watch the first one together on Disney+, via IG call this Saturday but I’m not sure if I’m free then so I’ll probably get back to him about that later.) 

By then, it’s around 5pm? I buy the tickets for us (we get a discount for the cinema’s anniversary or whatever event’s going on, so I only had to pay 9 dollars for a ticket rather than 24 dollars so it’s a huge bargain. Again, he thanks me for that and I’m like — “it’s fine.”). The movie starts at 6:40pm, so we stay at the nearby Starbucks to wait for the movie to start. He shouts me hot chocolate, and he uses that hour to study for his cert because he brought his laptop with him. 

This is where he starts returning the friendly gesture/touches. He hugs me as a way of thanking me for buying the movie tickets and for shouting him food; he pats me on the head and I’m sitting there like wtf; he keeps touching my knee with his hand — like, he would lightly shaking my knee and would let his hand linger there for a few seconds. And like, I’m fine with it, because again — those, in my definition, are friendly gestures, and I was already kind of doing that to him myself earlier on. And I’m feeling comfortable enough with him, so you know. I didn’t mind any of this. And I guess he’s pretty comfy with doing stuff like that, too. 

So ANYWAYYYY, we carry on like this for the next hour. I’m pretty sure I’m distracting him from his studies but he still ends up getting something done, and then we head to the cinema once the time’s up. We sit down, the movie starts, and… It’s fine. 

It’s all good. Nothing’s really happening, at least between us.  

I lean my head on his shoulder like I do with my friends. I’ll be honest, I’ve been wanting to do this the whole day, so I’m like fuck it, why not? 

I literally feel him pause for like a moment — like, he goes still. 

So fucking still.

The first thought that pops into my mind is “this is uncomfy.” Turns out leaning your head on someone’s shoulder when you’re sitting in squishy ass cinema chairs isn’t exactly comfortable, so after like, not even a minute of doing that, I sit up properly and fix my posture. I decide to lean forward; elbows resting on my thighs, upper body leaning forward because that’s usually how I like to sit when leaning back into the seat isn’t doing me any good. 

And uh… THIS is where something a little more significant happens — he kind of just wraps his arm around my waist and literally scoops me back into him (and in my head I’m literally like “so fucking close, holy sHITTTT LNKEFLEKWNFWKLNFKLEWNKLFEWN”), and tells me to rest my head on his shoulder, saying shit like, “Sitting like that isn’t good for your back.” 

LIKE BITCH. HELLO?? THE AUDACITY WLKNFELWKFN. This isn’t my first rodeo, it’s happened before with another guy but THIS GOT ME FEELING MORE NERVOUS RATHER THAN UNCOMFY. Maybe uncomfortable because of the stupid seats but not uncomfortable because of what he’s doing, you feel me? 

So I’m like… Okay? He has his arm still around my waist, quite tight I must say, and I’m just kinda awkwardly resting my head on his shoulder while his arm becomes a backrest for my back (which isn’t really that comfortable, to be honest), and it’s kinda just wedged between my seat and my back. And I can FEEL the sudden nervousness coursing through me, distracting me from the movie, so thank fuck I watched the movie by myself the first time around or I would have missed some parts of the movie (because this isn’t the only thing he does — there’s more). 

Anyway, at one point, I slightly lean away from him because sitting like that isn’t very comfortable. He still has his arm around my waist, although it’s loosened a little by now. 

The movie’s still running, I’m sort of in my own world, because all I’m thinking is SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT, when he kind of starts… rubbing his cheek against my shoulder?? That’s the best way I can describe it lmfao, and my fried writer brain isn’t HELPING.

AND I’M LIKE OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD and that’s when my heart starts beating erratically. LIKE BRUHHH. And then he asks, “Is this too much?” (or he asks “Is this okay?” but I can’t exactly remember which one it is so you’re just gonna have to believe it’s either of them) and ahahahahaAHAHAH…

My dumb fucking ass responds to that with an, “Uh, your arm around my back is a little uncomfortable.” BECAUSE IT’S TRUE, OKAY??? But I’m feeling too awkward to pull away AND I’M ALSO FEELING TOO AWKWARD TO MAKE MYSELF MORE COMFORTABLE BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN I’D HAVE TO LIKE… FIDGET AROUND AND SNUGGLE UP AGAINST HIM TO MAKE MYSELF COMFY AND MY CHICKEN ASS COULDN’T DO IT LKNFEWLKFNEK (even though I wANTED TO UGH. THIS IS THE PROBLEM. I WANTED TO DO THAT SHIT. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME—)

So yeah anyway, aha… He kinda pulls away from me fully, and stays in his seat and doesn’t really lean over again. 

And I’m thinking… Well. Nothing else is going to happen, I guess. 

Cool.

I guess. 

…WELLL, BOI WAS I FUCKING WRONGGGG HAAHAHAH. 

Throughout the rest of the movie, he’d grab onto my arm during the more tense scenes; he’d link arms with me and pull me closer to him; he’d lean against me, head on my shoulder, and I’d just kinda… lean my head on his head at times LMFAOOO (returning the favour HA), and my heart was being a fucking asshole half of the time and beating a hole through my chest and I was like oh gODDDD PLEASE DON’T LET HIM HEAR THIS SHIT PLEASE DON’T LET HIM HEAR THIS SHITTT— 

Anyway. 

He’d pull away when I’m not reacting to his touch, but then he’d come back in for more. Sometimes I’d react by reciprocating, sometimes I won’t. 

There is one point when I felt his fingers brushing against my knuckles while our arms are linked, and I’m ngl, when he was doing all of that stuff prior to this moment, I was thinking OH GODDDDD is he gonna hold my hand is he gonna hold my hand is he gonna hold my hand— AND LO AND BEHOLD, MY THOUGHTS KINDA CAME TRUE. 

AND THE CRAZY THING IS: I WANT TO LET HIM HOLD MY HAND, but my hands are sweaty and disgusting because I’m feeling so fucking nervous for whatever reason, and so I just pull the fuck away before he could hold my hand LMFAOOO 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 

AGAIN. Not my first rodeo. I’ve had another guy do this (the same dude I was talking about before) but in a much cringier way, and I was definitely not as comfortable with that dude than I was with THIS guy. 

So uh. Yeah. That happens. He kinda leans away after that, and I’m thinking… Hm. He isn’t gonna initiate any more physical contact, is he? But nah. I was proven wrong on that department, once again. He’d grab my arm lightly at times, but I kinda just didn’t react by that point because I’m like…. UH. whAT IF HE TRIES THAT AGAIN AHHH.

Like, don’t get me wrong. I want to hold his hand but ALSOOO PALMS SWEATY KNEES SPAGHETTI FRRRRR. 

But anyway, the movie comes to an end, we get the fuck outta there and I feel relief washing over me because JESUS, that was intense. 

It’s like nearly 9pm at that point, we’ve spent a whole day together and I’m out here feeling a little flustered after all of that. 

He starts apologising profusely, saying he’s sorry, etc, and I keep telling him it’s fine, he’s okay, he’s not a creep (he kept calling himself one). He’s like, “You told me about that guy who was being too much with you and I didn’t want you to think I’m like him” (it’s the other dude I talked about before — the one I felt uncomfy with). And I’m like, “You’re not like him, please don’t worry.” (Because for fucking one, while I was definitely nervous when he pulled me close to him in the first instance, I wasn’t like… uncomfy with it because of him. Like, I would honest to God have stayed like that and let him hold me if the cinema seats weren’t so uncomfortable for leaning against someone LMAO, but oFC HE’S NEVER GONNA KNOW THAT.) 

So we walk out of the cinemas and onto the streets, and there’s this like… Performance going on, with a small crowd surrounding the performer. So, me being a curious little motherfucker, kinda beckons him over, saying, “Let’s go take a look,” and he agrees (side note: I’ve been noticing this guy is very agreeable. Like, I’d say “Let’s go into this store to check this thing out”, he’d be like “Sure” and tag along. When I go into these clothing stores, he would follow me into those stores instead of waiting outside, and when I see he’s tired I’m like, “You can sit down, you know?” but he would be like, “It’s fine,” and continues following me around. It’s kinda sweet ngl, but I do feel a little bad when he’s all huffed out and shit lmfaooo). 

We linger there for a bit, trying to see what’s going on. Mind you, it’s cold; there’s a continuous breeze blowing against our backs, and he kinda just… Stands behind me (while complaining about how it’s freezing) and I didn’t think much of it then but now I’m like… Is that his way of keeping me from the cold OR AM I JUST IMAGINING THINGS?? AM I GOING FULL ON DELULU???

AND ANYWAY, we’re still there, watching, when he gets closer to me and leans his head on my shoulder and rubs his cheek against my shoulder. So I’M LIKE AKJBFEWJLBFJKFEJK, and I rest my head on his (i COULDN’T RESIST, OKAY???) and we kinda stay like that for a moment, and it feels so nice. Annnnnnd then I’m pulling away and suggesting we go home. It’s been a long day, and the night’s only getting colder. 

So we make our way to the train station, he apologises more, I say it’s fine. We gotta get on different platforms to go home, and FOR A VEERRRRYY BRIEF MOMENT, I consider hugging him before we part ways BUT I DIDN’T. I FUCKING DIDN’T AND I WISH I DID, BECAUSE I REALLY WANTED TO. 

I wanted to hug him is the problem here, and I’m not usually someone who wants to hug people, unless they’re family or close friends so like… BRUH. 

I get on the train, and then I receive a message from him — and he’s apologising AGAIN for being a creep and I’m like bruh it’S FINEEEEE. YOU’RE FINEEE. OMGG. (Not like that, though. I was more using the standard “It’s fine, please don’t apologise”.) We text for a bit and then, mustering up all my shitty courage, I ask him, “Did you want to hold my hand at one point?”

His answer: “PRETEND YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT.” lkneafklefnklnwfe LMFAOOO, such a shy boi HAHA. 

We’re kinda touching on the topic of boundaries, he’s telling me how he’s a physically affectionate person, so at one point I’m like, “Well, we can hold hands as friends, ya know?” Because these actions don’t have to be romantic. They can be platonic. Annnnnnd he agrees, and basically tells me, “Next time, hug me first. And you can hold my hand too, if you wanted to.” (I feel like a giddy high schooler typing all of this out LMFAO.) 

SO YEAH. TO SUM IT UP, I’m in a dilemma because I can’t tell if he actually wants to be just friends (he kept stating that at the start, but his actions and body language are like… contradicting what he’s saying), or if he wants something more. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe he’s just a really, really affectionate and protective type of friend, and is like this with fuckin’ everyone. 

I DON’T KNOW. 

BUT ANYWAY. THAT’S ABOUT IT. He’s still dry over text, but he’s good to hang out with, and it seems like he wants to continue to hang out with me. Oh, and also, he also keeps sending me selfies of him lmfao. 

And now idk how to feel because I kinda ended up reconnecting with long distant dude (it’s a long story lmfaooo, a lot of my prompt lists are made because of him) and like… I might have lingering feelings for him? BUT NOW I FEEL LIKE I MIGHT BE DEVELOPING FEELINGS FOR THIS MIXED SIGNALS DUDE. OR MAYBE I’M TRIPPING??? LIKE I went into this thinking, “Oh, he’s probably gonna be someone I’m gonna meet up with once and that’d be it” BUT HERE WE ARE, WITH HIM SAYING HE WANTS TO BE FRIENDS AND THEN PULLING SHIT LIKE THAT AND THEN MAKING MY HEART AND HEAD GO WNFLKEWNFKLENWFLKN—

THE FUCKING AUDACITY!!  

And it’s only been such a short while tooooo OMGGG, and I understand it’s only the second time we’ve met up BUT JESUS. 

I don’t know what to think or feel or do and I’m juST WLKNFEKN BECAUSE NOW HE’S THE ONE WHO’S GOT ME WAITING FOR HIS GODDAMN TEXTS LIKE A FUCKING DUMBASS UGHHH. And I already wanna see him again sooo… HOW FUCKED AM I AHAHHAHA FJSJSJJSJ (As that one song says: This is the part where I’m gonna get HURT, LMFAOOO.) 

Though, to be FAIRRR, I did tell him briefly about long distant dude and he was like “awww, you guys are like soulmates” SO IM LIKE AHAHHA 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 (he did switch topics pretty abruptly when I tried to talk more about him lmfao, but he skips over shit pretty frequently so maybe that’s just how he is). Perhaps I am over thinking this AND MAYBE HE DOES WANNA BE FRIENDS ONLY but imma see how things progress 😃👍

Now, I’m going be serious for a second: he just got out of a two year relationship three months ago so MAYBE he’s craving physical connection which is why he was acting like that? So I could be completely wrong and he genuinely does want to be friends only so… Yeah. I’m gonna tread cautiously, despite everything I’ve said before. Like, I’m open to whatever happens, but I’m also not looking to get my feelings hurt again. 

With that being said, we’re seeing the Barbie movie next week. It’s kinda funny because I did mention it when we met up last week, and he was groaning about it. 

Earlier today, I messaged him and was like, “Imma buy tickets, did you want to come along or no?” (because if he didn’t want to come along, then I’ll just buy a ticket for myself and watch it myself, no biggie — but I also did kinda wanna see him again so I asked just in case LMAO) and he’s like, “I’ll go with you” with pretty much no hesitation. 

Then, I’m out here making sure he’s okay with it because I didn’t want him to feel like he’s being forced to come along aND THEN HE FUCKING HITS ME WITH THE “I’ll do it for you”.

LIKE, BRUHHHH??? “I’ll do it for you.” BITCCHHHHHH, LET ME JUST CRY BECAUSE WHY CAN’T I HAVE A MAN WHO ISN’T GIVING ME MIXED SIGNALS LIKE THAT IN MY GODDAMN LIFE. 

THE AUDACITTTTYYYYYY SLDKFNDWLKNFWKELFN AHHH.

And then he’s like, “I owe you a lot” since I’m the one buying the tickets again (like I said earlier, he just got a full time job and his paycheck doesn’t come until like next week so it’s whatever if I’m the one paying for us for now) and I’m like, “You don’t owe me anything, and it’s not like you wanted to watch the movie in the first place” and THEN HE’S ALL LIKE, “Yeah, but I wanted to accompany you” AND IT’S LIKE BRO???? HELLLLLOOOOOO????????

Like, talk about being accidentally smooth LMFAO. 

He also has like, work that day, so him agreeing to accompany me just adds a layer of sweetness to this dhsjsjsj

And he started calling me by my nickname outta no where and I was like tf—

SO YEAH. DO FRIENDS DO THIS JFDFNDKLN. AM I TRIPPING. AM I OVERTHINKING???

And yeah, this is basically where things are at right now and I’ll probably provide another update later if anything significant happens, so you might see me popping up with something else in a reblog of this post lmfao :DDDDD 

So… Yeah. Moral of story is: don’t go on dating apps or you’ll end up playing yourself like a goddamn fiddle. 

(I also just realised I wrote a whole fic, basically, because I failed to be succinct lmao, I’m sorry and I’m gonna be so surprised if anyone reads the whole thing.) 

TL;DR: Dude I met up with two times keeps giving me mixed signals. Says he wants to be friends, but his actions contradict his words. I’M CONFUSION. And might  also be catching feelings but we’ll hold onto that thought for a bit because I think I still like someone else?? And maybe it's been too short of a time to be catching feelings in the first place. So yeah. Fun times. 

[nobodysdaydreams]

I FINISHED SEASON 1 OF WOLF359 AND THIS IS NOT OKAY (Reaction to Episodes 11-13, plus mini episode 1)

So basic info on the tags and how to follow my reactions below, but I'm honestly too emotional to type much more than that. What the heck was even that? I gotta get going, so I'll let past Bods of a few minutes ago do the talking under the "Keep Reading Button" but YIKES this was a LOT.

I currently have Wolf359 Tags blocked to avoid spoilers and will try my best to react blindly. I also made this meme to describe my recent feelings.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

So for these last few episodes, I'm just gonna live react since I have the time to sit down. Sorry for inconsistent formatting.

Episode 11: Am I Alone Now?

Um... Hilbert? A grey door where no one ever goes??? Well...where does it go? "Open in Emergency When You're Alone"... what does that mean?

Oh the joke about the genie. I've heard this one before: "I wish my friends were back with me". Yep, that's it.

Wait. Wait. Is that what the door does? Does it somehow...bring them back? What is this metaphor trying to suggest? Or...does it only make you think they're back? So that you don't go crazy? Or is it a door that leads outside the ship? Like...a door that gives you the option to, for lack of a better word, "give up" if the others die and you're left alone in space? Because that would also be dark.

Okay, Hilbert, I agree, fear can be adaptive. Uh, not sure about the gun and war thing, that's not exactly what I meant...wait bombs? Hilbert, no, you SHOULD be afraid of yourself.

Working on the fear of death? Uh...Hilbert? Are you uh...working on reanimating corpses in space, because that sounds like a bad idea to me.

"Alone should be afraid of us instead there is a door incase I am ever alone." Well what about the others?

I agree Hilbert, alone can be a good time to focus, but I gotta say, not sure I like how you're spending your valuable alone time.

"The scary part is the part of your mind that whispers back: how can you be sure?".

Oh. Now what's interesting about that quote is that in the "Alone should be afraid of us" sentence it personifies alone. The only way to really be comfortable being alone is if you are confident that you are stronger than whatever might be there if you aren't alone. But how can you ever know 100% that you are stronger than the unknown? Also there are sound effects that sound like someone moving about. Don't like that.

Is it Blessie?

"Someone must think they are alone when they are not, there must be monsters underneath someone's bed". Okay, Hilbert, clearly going for the creepy quote of the episode award.

Why is there knocking?

Uh...Empty Man?

Um...why is WHO here Hilbert? What other missions???? Was Hilbert on another mission? Hello???? Hilbert? EXPLAIN????

"You weren't here last time, but now you are here waiting for the day, open in case of emergency, open only when you are alone."

Does the empty man want them to open the door? When they think he's not around? Why?

Uh...I don't think that joke is very funny Hilbert. And no, I'm not laughing, you're dodging my questions.

Oh now we're onto Hera. I like this. We see a lot of Doug alone but not the others.

Yeah, Hera you should NOT trust the code Hilbert gives you. I wouldn't be surprised if he's experimenting on you too.

HERA. WHAT DO YOU "SENSE UNSEEN?" And yeah...Hera I know how programming works. If I don't unblock the wolf359 tag, tumblr.com isn't gonna just show me wolf359 posts, or tell me "hey here's one you should look at". But let's just say, hypothetically, that one of my mutuals draws some wolf359 season 1 fan art that doesn't spoil anything for me. Then I would trust that they might message me, and tell me that it's okay to view their wonderful art, but I won't know that unless they tell me because the tag is blocked. Not the best metaphor, but the point still stands, Hera I guess you don't HAVE to tell them about the "empty man" roaming the ship unless they ask you for that information. But as their friend, you probably should. What motivation would you have for hiding this? Hera seems to have very human attributes in terms of her ability to have social connections. She also seems to care about them to some degree. At least, she seems fond of Doug and has some tension with Mincowski and Hilbert. She's pretending to talk to Doug, which is a very human thing to do.

Ah yes. Good for you for finding loopholes in your programming Hera. I like riddles too. But...what exactly are you going to do with these riddle answers you've acquired? Are you going to help the rest of the crew? Blessie? The empty man? Or do you have your own agenda?

"Somedays I wonder if I'll miss you after you go away forever Doug." Aw, Hera. 🥺.

"I doubt it". No, I think you will Hera. The fact that you, a robot, are even wondering about missing Doug makes me think you will. Especially since you could, theoretically, live until the heat death of the universe, which is a very long time to be alone.

Wait. WAIT. The storm is happening on a part of the spectrum that their minds can't process...is that what the empty man is? Is that why they can't see him? But Hera can't see it either so her programming must either not be able to see it or it's being blocked. But weirdly enough, only visually it seems. Huh.

Hera seems frustrated with humanity, but also seems to care about them, maybe envy them a little bit. I love this level of complexity with her. "Once the game is over, I'll come up with some names for these colors." Yikes, Sophie, when you said that I was writing the Whisperer very similarly to Hera, I didn't realize it was gonna be that spot on, but okay, especially with her calling this a “game”. It’s kinda like a darker version of what I’m writing or at least, it seems to be leaning darker, probably because it’s adult media. It also makes me wonder who Hera's creator is and what they want, or maybe that just doesn't matter in this story.

"Someday. After you've all gone away..." Um. Hera. Did you open the door?

Or are you the genie in this metaphor?

Ah now we're with Doug.

INCINERATED? What sort of psych evaluation is this? And these questions are NOT standardized for space. When coming up with psych evaluation materials, you need context. Answers that are normal in a warzone or in space are not normal in everyday life.

WHY IS HE SEARCHING FOR ALIEN LIFE IF HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE HERE? Doug, I know pizza hut might not be paying much, but you gotta follow your passion, and this clearly isn't it.

10 things you miss about earth and not one person? No one? No family? No friends?

"Great listener"/"I empathize too much" ok Doug.

Hm. Not too sure about Doug's answers. Honesty is only overrated when you're not the one being lied to Doug.

It also makes me wonder what you really miss about Earth.

Wait. Mission = Punishment? Spaceship = Prison? Is Doug...are they...are they doing this because they are completing a criminal sentence? If so, I can see how Hilbert and Mincowski got assigned to this as a punishment, they have science and military backgrounds, but what on Earth is Doug's story? "He was a former tech genius kid who burnt out got into drugs and alcohol, worked at pizza hut, did a crime, and now they sent him to space?" And since when do space missions fulfill court mandated community service? Also Doug I think technically has arms training, because if I recall correctly, Mincowski gave him a gun but refused to give one to Hilbert. Like...who are you Doug? What is your deal?

Alone...again. Yeah, just Doug and the voices in his head. Forgot about those. There's a lot to keep track of for a small cast of characters.

Let's do a quick run down before we hear from the commander:

Doug Eiffel- former pizza hut employee, no family/friends to speak of, possibly serving prison sentence, apparently knows how to use a gun and a lot about communications

Dr. Hilbert- doing VERY unethical space experiments, sees himself as a genius despite being a huge liability whose mind was nearly over taken by a killer plant. Obviously knows SOMETHING the others don't, so I don't trust him or his spinal fluid stealing ways.

Commander Mincowski- stereotypical by the books commander, I like her, but she also has a ton of unanswered questions and vague backstory so ???

Hera- seems nice, I wish people treated her better but also clearly keeping secrets from the others including Doug who is her friend so Hera what are you doing?

Percival The Plant aka. "Percy" aka. The Blessed Eternal aka. "Percival B. Eternal" aka. "Blessie" aka "Specimen 34"- a plant that thinks of itself as a god. Where did it come from? Even if it did take over the ship, what is it's plan? No one knows.

The Empty Man???- may or may not exist, seems to be off the visible spectrum even for robots and AI. He's hungry or as the messages put it "the empty man hungers" and that's about all we know about him. What we don't know is what his food source is, and I find that rather troubling. Maybe Doug can make him some pizza. Oh, and one other thing: he knocks. Which...is surprisingly courteous behavior from a dangerous man that can't be seen. But why would they open the door for him, unless...oh. Unless they are so desperate not to be alone that they embrace the empty man. But like...how would that even...I don't even know. Also apparently the empty man was asleep, because the first message said he'd awoken. Awoken from what? Hyper sleep? Was he in the box? Apparently he can see them even if he can't be seen, and I don't like that.

The voices in Doug's head- they say "he's not the first". Which is kind of crazy, because Dr. Hilbert was talking about "other missions". So um...what other missions? Who are the others? Who are the voices? Is something being transmitted into Douglas' head?

Captain Lovelace and that scientist lady (don't remember her name) from the sealed off lab- are they still alive? Were they on a previous mission? Why did they want to make spiders bigger? What was the point of these experiments? I SWEAR I saw people posting about Lovelace before I blocked the tag, which makes me think she's important.

The Spiders- presumed dead. Let's hope so.

The thing in the box- weird that the box was 953, which is 359 backwards. Weird that it had a heartbeat. Weird that it was labelled "for Doug Eiffel" with no other information. Odd that there were so many other seemingly nonsensical boxes in that room.

Whoever sent the “Empty Man” messages. Because I’m starting to suspect it might not have been command and there might not have been a psychological experiment. Which means the messages were meant for someone, but whoever sent them didn't want the others to know about it. ...but who were the messages for? Hilbert? Hera? Hilbert? ...Blessie???

Whoever sent that jazz music earlier. It's good music, but why?

Also important to note that multiple characters on this list might be the same people, people pretending to be the same people, or different versions of the same character due to cloning or time travel experiments thanks to weird space magic and also Dr. Hilbert.

Now let's here from the captain.

I um...I wouldn't call the talent show a success. Dr. Hilbert didn't get to make the ice cream! We never even got to find out what everyone's favorite flavor was 😥

3 minutes. Okay. Let's see what Captain Mincowski says.

I wonder who she's talking to.

Yeah, the plant being, it's weird that that's not a priority here, I agree Captain.

Huh. The weather is weird. VERY weird that Hilbert is ignoring it, and VERY weird that he has human tissues samples and jars with dead things after giving a monologue about trying to conquer death. Don't like that one little bit.

Soap? Hilbert you need to get better at lying. And yeah, captain given that he's talking about "other missions", I think he might have been lying for longer than anyone realizes...

Things moving around and turning up in odd places...it seems the empty man and Blessie (one of the two) enjoy furniture rearranging...yeah I do think there's more than the three of you, my list had at least 10 with some possible overlap.

I'm sorry what. The station changes? THE DOOR TO A SECTION JUST VANISHED? Terrarium? That might be Blessie, but still...that's weird. Eiffel...huh. Unsure if this is a case of him being so absent minded he didn't notice or remember the terrarium, or if he legit can't remember. Wait Wednesday started over? Clocks turned back at midnight? FOOD RETURNED? Okay you can change clocks, but you can't...okay time is being warped now. Maybe. Possibly. This is gonna be one of those things where you don't know how much is in their heads and how much is actually happening right? Oh boy. But also...how can one remember a time loop and the others don't...unless they are all remembering different loops...oh goodness, is this like Netflix's Dark, where I'm gonna have to start drawing maps or something?

"I don't know if there's anyone else I can trust": yeah, commander, and with the others in the same boat, it looks like you all really are alone.

Wait "MARRIED ME?" Who is she calling? Aw. Happy Birthday. That's sad but sweet. I hope she makes it home to whoever that is, but...for some reason I doubt.

Also...with the time loop stuff...is that what they mean by saying Doug isn't the first? Is Hilbert trying to escape the time loop is that why he remembers the other missions? What are the missions for? What does Hera know? Man I gotta stop doing these as study breaks or I'm never gonna quit.

But. Wait wait. Okay, I know I’ve had about 600 different insane theories already, but one more: I don’t know who sent the empty man messages. But. Is the empty man… a vessel for someone? Hilbert was talking about cheating death, time warp stuff is happening, maybe this is an invention of future Hilbert. If it came from the box, it might be for Doug. Like a… backup body for his consciousness or an… invisible clone or something? It makes the “you’re not the first” stuff make sense too. Doesn’t explain Hera’s behavior or why Doug is in space, or why the empty man is hungry and knocking, but… you know what never mind idk where I was going with this one.

I think I'll react to the rest tomorrow, because it's late, and I'm tired.

Episode 12: Deep Breaths

Update: It is tomorrow. :)

Why so doom and gloom Doug? Oh it's Christmas. Well someone's a bit of a scrooge. What else besides celebrating a nice holiday Doug? What doesn't the commander remember?

No Doug, don't hint at stuff, explain it. Normalize explaining things.

Doug. A cigarette cannot be all you are living for. You need help. You all need help.

Don't cry for me Argentina? Do not go gentle into that good night?

Doug is so dramatic. I'd hate him more, but I'm in this picture, and I don't like it.

Hilbert. Why do you need him for your experiment?

DOUG DO NOT LIT THE CIGARETTE.

Hera tell him.

Everyone needs to listen to Hera more. And also ask her more questions.

Oh boy another recording!

Sounds like music, less clear this time...oh. A band!

Aw, Hera remembered his birthday! 🥺 Wait...were those words via the transmission!

Oh Hilbert hush up.

Why would it matter if they were all music or always old transmissions from the 10s or 20s?

Hilbert. Okay. Look, 7.8 light years away, I get that...but...now hear me out...isn't it possible that you could be picking up music on a station that plays music from an older decade? Like if I picked up the song "Let it be" by the Beatles my first thought would not be "Hey! That song didn't come out 8 years ago. ALIENS." it would be "oh we pick up a 60s/70s radio station". Now obviously something deeper probably IS going on here, but still a bit of a leap.

Uh. Making a return trip to...where?? Also this is some pretty clear music. Also good quote "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left no matter how unlikely must be true."

Also I recognize the music playing. Is that...hold up is that Church music? For Christmas? Wait now it sounds like a ballet?

Um...what is that.

...and why did it happen as soon as they talked about trying to find the aliens?

Let's see. A little weird that the station can receive transmission better than it can send. 40 light years away? That's pretty far.

And um...I don't know if I'd be so optimistic about this. We still have a lot of unanswered questions.

What is lock down protocol 24c and what is indigo39? Hilbert. HILBERT. Were you lying about the aliens to experiment on Doug Hilbert?

Oh poor Hera. Alpha victor? What... how does Hilbert have all these codes? Why can't she let Mincowski in? Hilbert. Are you taking over the ship? Is this a one man mutiny? It is treason. WHY DOES THIS ALTER THE MISSION? LAST HALF HOUR OF OXYGEN? NO NO NO NO NO!

Yeah Eiffel, he IS crazy.

Oh no Hera.

Minutes? How does he have a way to contact Earth? Who is YOUR superior Hilbert? The devil? He must be since you are RUINING CHRISTMAS AND DOUGLAS' BIRTHDAY THAT NO ONE BUT HERA REMEMBERED. How hard is it to save your evil plans until after the holidays? How hard is it not to betray a man on his birthday?

Hera. Hera PLEASE tell me you found a way to win the game. PLEASE tell me you found a way around this.

...Hera?

Uh-oh.

Episode 13: Gas Me Twice

Well that was a bummer. I swear, Mincowski better not die she has a family.

I hate Hilbert so much. Dude is the WORST.

Wait! The oxygen mask! For the cigarette! Douglas your stupidity has saved you again!

...oh my gosh I really am in this picture, and I don't like it.

Oh no. Hera. Hera you need to help him. Yes Douglas! Have faith in her! Even though she's actively withholding information, she still seems nice! HERA! It hurts her? Oh no... oh Hera no. 🥺

22 minutes of air? Well, at least she's still alive.

Incoming pulse beacon? Interesting...

Hephestus station please respond? ...Who is Cutter???

Contingency scenarios? Data series? Transmission from deep space? Origin source? Who are these people? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING FOR?

Oh...wait why would he know about Eiffel being alive? Haha...oh Eiffel. This was a good plan. But you might have wanted to get a little more information from him.

Death was no immediate? Okay so Hilbert was under orders to kill, but it seems Doug is his own experimental side project? Interesting...

Oh dear. A fire. Looks like you have to let Hera have control back.

Yes! Mincowski is still alive! :)

YES HERA! Emergency response overrides it! For 20 minutes? Great. Kill or capture Hilbert now.

MADE HIM DO WHAT? NO HERA NO!

HERAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Restarting... no. No. Hera. You killed her. 😢😟🥺

This gif I found pretty much approximates my feelings:

HILBERT NEEDS TO DIE.

Shut up Hilbert. No one wants to hear you speak.

Oh...hello Mincowski :)

NOW BEAT HIM UP!

And yeah...it's okay Mincowski. A lot has happened. Christmas was ruined. You lost a crewmate. It's okay to not be okay.

Can you hear me? Well Hera did say she could always hear him. Maybe a part of her mind got saved somewhere. At least, we can always hope.

Lobotomized her? No you need to fix her. 🥺

Hilbert you bastard. I don't swear much or at all on this blog, but if there was ever a time, it is now. And um... given the plant situation and the other mysterious stuff on the ship...look I don't support murder, but maybe you could just send Hilbert off by himself in a little pod and let nature take its course.

You deserved a good dinner Mincowski. Aw, Doug is 32. Happy Birthday Doug.

Hm. A communication from Hilbert's commanders. This is awkward. But better open it. And yeah, you both deserve answers.

But who is on the other line?

...Why does it sound like an telephone?

WHAT.

How dare. How dare they end on such a cliffhanger?

Mini Episode 1: Are space suits itchy?

So I'm not sure what this is, but it's on my podcast list as the last episode of season 1, so I'm gonna listen to it? Let me know if it's not canon or something, but hopefully it will be nice, even if I don't get any answers.

Aw, third grade questions. "What do you do when you're crewmate betrays you?"

IDIOTIC QUESTION? Doug what is up with your family? Be nice to Stephanie, it was a fair question.

Yeah, no don't see your doctor. He's nuts. I feel like I might be listening to his out of order. Which is a good thing. Otherwise Doug would be on the podcast telling third graders to not call their doctor lest the doctor try to kill him.

Oh boy the censorship 😂. Mincowski is the better person for this.

Well that was a quick one, but nice! Oh okay, so it was like a mini episode that aired during a break, okay. Well I hope that soon enough I'll be able to listen to more. Because I need answers. Hera needs to get better. And Hilbert needs to go to jail. I want his degrees revoked! I want him rotting in the slammer! I want the world to look upon him with nothing but contempt and disgust!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, see you all next time.

Wait no, wait hold on. What about the door? The door that Hilbert was supposed to open once he killed all of them? The grey door, the one he kept giving ominous monologues about? And...he knew about the empty man, or maybe the transmission were to tell him about the empty man. But what is that? What does that mean? You know what, we can figure that out later, I'm still mad at him.

[dreamsy990]

im trying to draw your little guy because they're so cool but i have done 4 arts total and i have no clue how the hair works here , , (not that its bad im just terrible at perception and brain visual)

OKAY HERES AN OVERLY COMPLICATED STEP BY STEP GUIDE TO HOW I DRAW MY HAIR

basically everything is designed to be as easy and quick to draw as possible and it can all be broken down into 3 shapes. every one of them is meant to be drawn in one stroke for simplicity but if you need to take it one line at a time thats okay!

first things first is the big, defining shape. i usually draw it on the viewers right, since thats the way im most comfortable drawing curves, but it can be switched (see: my pfp where i did it the other way). the starting point/root should be at about the middle of the head, if you care much about spacing. i dont but ill try to pay attention to that here. from that you curve up and out, make it as exaggerated as you feel like. this line is supposed to go off the head for silhouette/cartoony reasons. also its fun to draw big exaggerated shapes!! after that, you pull it in for two spikes. if you cant draw the whole shape in one line, try to get these at the very least.

next shape is simple too. youre gonna start roughly where the first shape meets the head on the downward curve. then from there, its straight down, ending in another (much smaller but sharper) curve. two more spikes, and then right back up.

repeat on the other side, starting the other one pretty much wherever you see fit, so long as its pretty close to the other side of the head.

THAT LEAVES YOU WITH THIS BUT WERE NOT DONE YET BECAUSE THERES STILL A PONYTAIL!! luckily its more of the same

you start somewhere behind the start of the curve of the bangs? roughly the midpoint but it doesnt matter too much. here you get to draw a little oval for the start of the ponytail,,,, so little,,,,,,,. then its up a little bit and then down, then going right out again for two more spikes. the culmination of everything youve learned over the last. hold on lemme check my watch. okay its been like 6ish minutes for me but like 30 seconds ideally this shouldnt be too hard to draw.

and then its down to the dead eyed expression and hoodie that hasnt been washed in 1-2 weeks at an given moment, headphones are a give or take. and theres me!! being tired, mostly. oh so tired. and a bit sad. BUT THIS ISNT A CRY FOR HELP ITS AN ART TUTORIAL!!!!!!!!

these features basically stay the same for drawing me from any angle. mostly because im too lazy to think about how it should work in a 3d space. this is cartoon logic not real life logic. hair looks weird from a certain angle? jUST DONT DRAW IT FROM THAT ANGLE!!!! SWITCH THE BANGS AROUND IF YOU MUST!!!!!! THERE ARE NO FUCKING RULES

also hair down ash looks like this. and also what id look like in an ideal reality

okay thats it.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Sorry about your uni related stress!

I would love to see your take on "rebellious teenager who’s failing all their classes is assigned a studious tutor" for rebelcaptain.

I'm effectively burned out on high school AUs after "A Little Hope", as it turns out, but I tried my best!

.

“I am hardly failing all my classes, Baze, don’t be so dramatic.”

The school counsellor throws her a pointed look. “I am the least dramatic person in this building, Miss Erso. And I never said you were failing all your classes. But you are well on your way to failing Art History –“

“Can you blame me? It’s the most boring thing on earth.”

“- Draven informs me you’re on shaky ground in World History as well. Actually, he says to remind you that classes are every Tuesday at ten. He worries you’ve forgotten.“

Jyn sighs and rolls her eyes. “Look, fine. Tell him I’ll ‘apply’ myself. That’s the term, right?”

“I’m also to let you know that you could fail AP Spanish,” Baze Malbus goes on flatly, ignoring her olive branch.

Shit. Looks like she miscalculated on just how little the old crone cares about her job in her last year before retirement.

“Jyn, I know you’re not stupid,” Baze says with a sigh. Now he is using her first name. That’s a bad sign.

“I know you’ve had a very difficult time this past year. But most of your teachers are already cutting you slack –“ Jyn scoffs, but Baze goes on before she can argue, “ – and I can’t smooth things over for you from here to graduation, alright? And I shouldn’t have to. We both know you could pass these classes in your sleep if you wanted to.” He adjusts his stack of notes with a sigh. “Ms Spinelli will let you pass in return for an additional twenty-minute presentation in class, and Draven said you will scrape by if you manage a B in the final two tests. Regular attendance is also non-negotiable,” Baze adds drily, and Jyn rolls her eyes again. She didn’t even skip his class that often. The man had such a stick up his ass.

“But Ms Lopez insists on an oral exam at the end of term, no getting out of that one, kid. And if you don’t ace the last physics test, Krennic is going to fail you.”

“Oh, come on, he’s got it in for me! There’s no way to make it past a C in his class!”

“Yes, there is. By giving the correct answers on the test.”

“But –“

“No. I will put you in contact with a senior who is willing to tutor you, and then the ball is in your court.”

Jyn scoffs. “I am not getting tutored –“

“Jyn, either you agree to sit down with this kid twice a week, or I’m mailing all those reports to your father.”

She glowers at the counsellor. “That’s not fair, Baze.”

“It’s very fair. We had a deal. You follow my advice and I keep this kind of thing between us as long as I can. So now I’m telling you to get a tutor.”

He doesn’t so much as bristle under her glare, so after a moment, she resigns herself to her fate with a heartfelt sigh. “Okay, fine. Who is it?”

.

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Jyn groans and prods at her potatoes with her fork.

“You’re getting tutored by the guy you threw up on at Han’s? Twice? And he agreed to that?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thrilled,” she says, spearing a mealy potato with decidedly too much vigour, and shoots her friend a withering look. “And also, the second time was his car. Not him.”

“Well, in that case…” Bodhi is still grinning. “How much is he getting for it?”

Jyn grimaces. “A twenty an hour. And my dignity.”

Her friend shrugs, the grin softening into something a little more serious. “Come on, it could be worse. He seems… nice –“

Jyn makes what was meant to be a derisive scoff but comes out like a hysterical little giggle. Nice. Sure. A lot of descriptors come to mind with Leia’s eternal academic rival and dark horse of the student union. Some she wouldn’t admit under torture (soft hair or beautiful eyes, to name a few), most are more along the theme of stick up his ass – nice definitely isn’t the first.

(He was nice, at that party. Nice enough, anyway, not to yell at her when she barfed in his car, or on his shoes. So basically saintlike. And he drove her home, even though nobody had asked him to. That was probably nice.)

But she is way too embarrassed about the whole thing to let herself remember anything about Leia’s birthday party, and anyway, he’s still insufferably studious and he used to play tennis with Leia and he’s doing triathlon and he’s an editor on the student newspaper and she’s pretty sure he did Model UN.

She’s pretty sure even Cassian Andor isn’t hot enough to make up for that.

And he’s going to be a nightmare as a tutor, if his sweatshop of a local news section is any indication.

.

To Jyn's immense shock, it turns out he isn’t. And it turns out that is worse.

Jyn was perfectly prepared to sit through some condescending lectures for a few weeks, stew in quiet resentment and roll her eyes at him when his back was turned. That would have made the embarrassment of that repressed memory of his hand on the back of her head when he helped her into the car pretty much bearable. And she would have caught up on her classes all by her lonesome afterwards, and have the satisfaction of knowing he hadn’t helped her at all.

She was not prepared for liking it.

He decided that they can kill two birds with one stone if they go through the World History curriculum in Spanish. It’s hard, but she always liked a challenge (a little too much, according to Bodhi and Baze), and Cassian is exactly as demanding as she thought he would be. Except… that kind of makes it fun. He’s ruthless when he wants to be, but in a way that tells her he thinks she’s holding out on him. It’s trust, weirdly – he just always assumes she’s up to the task, that he can push just a little further. And he seems to enjoy doing that, somewhere behind his quiet, reserved manner. He’s even – as much as she hates to admit it – funny, in the same underhand way.

It's… unfortunately attractive. She’d love to blame it on the language (he does have a nice voice), but she finds herself trying stupidly hard to impress him, just to catch that intrigued glint in his eyes again.

He even makes being good at physics look hot, a thought that makes Jyn want to sink through the floor whenever she catches herself thinking it. Which she has four times so far this afternoon. (Seriously, a guy being able to do complex math in his head shouldn’t be this hot. Right?)

This isn’t the type of embarrassing she’d expected from this whole tutoring thing.

.

.

bonus outtake:

“Oh, hey, by the way, I’m… I’m really sorry. About, you know. Vomiting on your shoes at Han’s that one time.”

“Oh, don’t –“

“No, really, I’m sorry! It was disgusting.”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“A bit?”

“Honestly, the car seat was worse,” he says with a shrug.

“Oh my God –“

“It’s fine, Jyn, it… Really. It was… my own fault.”

“Me getting drunk and puking in your car was your fault how, exactly?”

Another shrug. “Well… if I had worked up the courage to talk to you when you were sober, I guess I wouldn’t have got puked on, right?”

Pick an AU and get a one-shot (at some point in the future!)

[adultswim2021]

Fat Guy Stuck in Internet #1: “Threshold” | May 14, 2007 - 12:00AM | S00E01

Fat Guy Stuck in Internet was the third-most-voted pilot on the Adult Swim website poll, as part of the Night of 1000 Pilots event. It was based on a webseries called Gemberling, named after the main character and star John Gemberling. Curtis Gwinn, who plays the bounty hunter Chains, was a co-creator. The show is about an arrogant hot-shot computer programmer who gets sucked into his computer and gets trapped inside the internet. What a jerk!

The premise of the show is that Gemberling is trying to find his way home. Meanwhile a shadowy figure that heads the company he’s working for (who is like the Emperor on Star Wars) is trying to get him back using the services of Chains the bounty hunter. Fat guy Gemberling gets wrapped up in some plot after meeting Bit and Byte, a pair of siblings ensconced in some sort of fight between good and evil in the digital realm. We also meet a wizard guy who tells Gemberling that he’s some sort of chosen one, and a little head guy who bounces around on a heavy console computer. Those last two are left behind in this episode, when the wizard dude dies and the computer guy is deemed too heavy to bring along. The Wizard’s death scene is reasonably amusing, with him lamenting that he can’t relay important information to Gemberling because he’s dying, while also dragging out his death to redundantly repeat his lamentations while Gemberling loses patience with him.

I feel like I’m forgetting huge swaths of story. I don’t care! I’m tired of writing insanely long write-ups! Seriously, I am spending way too much fucking time on this blog (which may or may not be why I randomly didn’t update last night. Sorry). I remember watching this episode and the second episode (which debuted during an April Fools stunt or daylight savings event or some such thing), and I remember little else about the show. I feel like I mostly did NOT watch this program. Looking back, it’s not as bad as I remember it. I didn’t laugh at a single thing in the entire episode, which is a bad sign for a comedy show. But the thing that I respect about this show is that it’s not arrogantly pretending to be low-budget schlock like Saul. It just IS low-budget schlock.

The difference between those two things is that they don’t seem to make a joke out of the chintzy nature of the show almost at all. They’re trying to make this shit look presentable to the best of their abilities, which is why shows like this are charming in the first place. I admire this choice. It’s a good way to produce interesting art. It’s like if you were filming a sketch where the joke is that you can’t sing very well, and you don’t happen to be much of a singer, it’ll probably be funnier if you just tried really hard to sing well and failed than if you jokingly put on a bad singing voice.

I guess that’s my main takeaway: the show is reasonably fun and well-made (considering), and I’m willing to give it a fair chance. I did watch the first episode of the web series Gemberling, which is a mild pain. The episodes are downloadable from the Channel 101 site in .mov format, and you can play those on VLC. The first episode of that show is about five minutes long, and is roughly 80% the same as the first few minutes of this. I have vague recollections that the wizard character was Bill Cosby in the web series, but I literally don’t feel like watching more of it to find out! Sorry!

The title! Why is it called that? Because: I thiiiink it’s meant to evoke the then-viral movie Snakes on a Plane? Remember that movie? It went viral, so the producers self-consciously tried to make it into a wacky cult movie. I don’t think it worked. I famously never saw it. But that... that, my friend, is a story for another time...

MAIL BAG

Oh yeah, Ephemera Corner. It’s the web series that I already linked to. Please I don’t wanna make or find a screengrab. Okay, Mail bag time now:

Idiot. Drew Carey had three great themes songs. Don't second guess yourself because you have the confidence of a titmouse.

(timidly) chirp.

I'm not gonna lie, I kind of like how fucked up Drinky Crow looks. Maybe the only thing I like about it because the actually show ain't funny. Looks like a PS2 game.

I think it’s unforgivably nasty but to eats his zone

Love the blog but please don't make it a habit to review SNL stuff on this blog. I simply detest Lorne Michaels.

Looks like we have a hater bitch in the blog. Lorne rocks... fuck you pal!

Step off with the David Herman slander my dude. Us Herm-heads don't f around!

David Herman is an idiot (just kidding I like him, he called into Seven Second Delay once as a fan)

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 32

Crossroad Blues/Tooth and Claw

I think I'm in for two good episodes tonight...

"Crossroad Blues"

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: Are we getting our first glimpses of hell hounds? (as far as we really get glimpses of them anyway) Sorry to this man, but you don't trade away your soul for the ability to play an instrument (if that's what you did). You better be the best there's ever been already when your soul is on the line. Yet to be seen...but I don't think I'd be selling my soul, so they wouldn't be after me anyway...

Dean, that's definitely a "you're right but you didn't have to say it" kind of thought. Not every...no, I don't know that there are very many people who would be thinking about how much or...how hard a hell hound could hump your leg...

DEAN DOESN'T KNOW WHAT MYSPACE ISSSSS. Poor thing. Also...omg MYSPACE being relevant. But '06 is about right. Facebook is still pretty much just for college students. They MIGHT have opened it up to high schoolers by then.

Man, this demon was just making deal after deal at that bar. Makes sense, I promised to name my first born Red Gyarados while at a bar with friends once.

Ok. I get it now. The demon at this particular crossroads is REALLY, REALLY PRETTY. But you wanted to make that pact BEFORE you saw her, sir.

OKAY. If so few people believe in the supernatural in this fictional universe, how are all these people making this many pacts in so little time?

This guy's the only one..........oh, sorry. It's an "Oh, Dean" time for me. Them piecing together and stewing over the fact John made that deal.

This demon is good....at being a demon, not actually good.

This...music is not sounding good for this demon. Don't worry, Dean. You will know sooner or later (end of next season) what Hell is like.

Sam's worry and uncertainty as to what Dean was planning on doing when he trapped the demon is...I wanna give him a hug

Not a bad episode. The information they got was important, but there was just a lot of "this person made a deal and so we need to track them down" that...just didn't interest me

"Been On My Mind...": The demon kisses to seal their pacts, but otherwise...nothin'

"Tooth and Claw"

...why do I feel like I've turned on the wrong show?? Seems like it's at least from the right country, but this opening scene is....just...wtf. Why was there a huge martial arts fight??

Ok. I am actually watching the right show. Still. What. the actual. fuck. was that opening?!

Hearing David get to use his natural Scottish accent IS in fact doing things for me. And Rose trying to copy and FAILING MISERABLY is perfection

7 minutes in and I couldn't agree more with the post I reblogged a few days ago. Those two definitely fucked since the last episode

Oh...oh. THIS is where Torchwood as a concept begins (physically, it's already been mentioned several times in the show, even if I didn't. Somehow, I never watched Torchwood.)

OH THAT TELESCOPE. it's BEAUTIFUL.

For a scene that consists of food being prepared and Rose going through the lady of the house's closet, the music is INTENSE.

Ooooo jumpscaaare. Maid in the closet. Starts telling Rose everything as all the guards get drugged. This is a WEIRD episode for on that deals with time travel and not space travel.

So...the werewolf is actually an alien possessing a human?

One of my favorite things about Doctor Who especially in this era is how fake the CGI monsters look. Like, I love practical effects when you can do them, but there's something about bad TV CGI that I really do like. It's charming, in a way that bad CGI in movies isn't

Watching the Doctor figure out that there's a trap within the trap for Queen Victoria that's meant for the wolf is like watching Brian David Gilbert try to reconcile the Legend of Zelda timeline, and I have to wonder if he got any inspiration for his whole thing for Unraveled from this.

The diamond...as soon as I saw it, I knew it was meant to go in that telescope

Also the piecing together historical fact with what has just occurred in the episode, making the royal family werewolves this time around is always a fun time.

(I think I wrote too much the other day and I'm suffering because of that)

[fwt-week]

We are happy to announce the prompts for the FWT Week 2022! The event will start on the 12th of December, which leaves everyone a lot of time to prepare!

The event's main theme is "Last Minute", so if you participate, it'd be good if you included that in your works! It's not a hard rule, though, the most important thing is for you to have fun!

If you decide to contribute, please tag this blog and/or tag your post as #fwtweek2022 so that we can see it and reblog it here!

If you decide to participate via posting on AO3, please tag your work as 'FundyWasTaken Week | FWT Week 2022' and optionally 'FWTWEEK2022_DX' (instead of X write the number of day you're writing for)

If you have any questions, you can send an ask and we'll clarify anything you need!

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December 12 - College AU

December 13 - Fraternize with the enemy

December 14 - Sneaking Out

December 15 - Fake-out Make-out

December 16 - Practice Kissing

December 17 - Fake Daring

December 18 - Getting back together

Bonus! December 19 - AU of your choice!

[harfanfare]

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

 2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

 3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

 4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

 5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

 6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

 7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

 8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

 9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

 10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

[wincore]

runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

summary: there are some things that come with dedicating your life to fashion: a taste for finer fabrics, a splash of love for art, and an appreciation of the human body. none of these are supposed to include the hottest model you have ever laid eyes on, or the fact that you completely, utterly hate his guts. 

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, light smut, comedy-ish

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

a/n: woohooooooo she’s finally here!!!! i cant believe this!! everything aside, i do not have first hand experience working in the fashion industry so please do take this with a grain of salt. i’m also going to pass out. good night <3

A list of things you appreciate: colours, satin, comfort.

A list of things you do not appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.

The hum of the car engine has little effect on you; you travel like this almost every day. Tall buildings, scorching pavement, the blare of traffic—it’s Seoul, after all. You sigh, more of a short expression of annoyance, scrolling down with your thumb and back up again. Since when did he get permission to post pictures from pre-fittings? And one of your works, no less. 

His feed is so messy. You click your tongue. For a model, that is. 

You open the story again and consider messaging him. It’s your cherry red coat, or rather the collar of it, golden thread sewn in swirls of patterns, and a sheer floral shirt extending all the way up to cover Jaehyun’s neck. You frown. It’s meant for showcase, not teasers. Even if the picture extends just from the curve of his shoulder to his parted lips, you can’t stand the sight of it on him. It’s not bias, you try to tell yourself. This is business. You tap your fingertips rapidly against the back of your phone. This is obviously business. 

Seoul Fashion Week is the height of your anxiety, which means you have little regard for anything else decorated around you. With a new frenzy arising in every minute of your day—you don’t have time to think, a sense of madness in the way you keep busy. Your Elixir collection is more than what you had hoped for it to be, a twinge of satisfaction sitting at the pit of your stomach. It nicely puts together everything rich and extravagant, humanity’s first love—everything you despise really, so Jaehyun wasn’t a bad choice for a model. 

You backspace on your text. Is this rude? Should you care if you’re being rude? How unprofessional, you imagine his voice saying. It wouldn’t be the first unprofessional thing you’d done.

The final text reads ‘Glad you’re enjoying my designs, but they were not meant to be publicly displayed before the official show, as common sense predicts.’ 

No, of course you’re not trying to be snarky. It’s perfectly formal. All that time writing professional complaint letters to companies for ripping off your designs paid off, you suppose.

You exit the Uber, thanking the driver quickly before you rush into the building, checking the time on your watch. It’s sunny, and hotter than you anticipated. You can only hope it’s cooler tomorrow so the heat doesn’t suffocate your models.

The company building is another madness in its own. Joohyun greets you with a quick smile, a bunch of fabrics being handed to her before she can make any conversation with you, and the rest of the workers bow in greeting before getting back to their own individual windstorms. You step over a few boxes on the grounds, beelining to your workspace so you can settle down your bag.

You’re team leader, you tell yourself, a short breath tumbling out of your mouth. Even so, you don’t do very well under several pairs of eyes on you at once. Some part of you is still the timid fashion designer, packing your entire identity into a small sketchbook.

The sunlight is blaring out of control in the place—it’s meant to be spacious and sunlit, of course, but the heat makes you adjust your collar before you can move forward. The bustle of the style and design team along with the production team in the same place is akin to a nightmare, and you trace your steps quickly.

“Guys,” you begin, fidgeting with the leather strap of your watch as you continue, “Firstly, good job.”

There’s a bunch of short cheers and clapping to interrupt before you can continue. 

“As for tomorrow…stylists, I need you to touch up the collars in all the Western-style coats. The detailing needs to be kept clean and sharp. I want the audience to be able to see it.”

You pause, your tone still neutral. “And let’s not start again on the lacing. We had that discussion yesterday.” 

There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation. 

“Production team…I don’t think I can say much to you without Doyoung getting on my case.”

There’s collective laughter and you crack a smile. With a few more rapid words, you dismiss yourself, walking over to your colleagues to help them out. You’re team leader, the one with the final say in all the designs, but you can’t possibly imagine completing it without Joohyun or the others. 

“Good pep talk there, (name),” Joohyun says, walking over to you as her hands sharp and steady as they go through the clothes rack. 

“They think I’m an asshole,” you say, breathing out. You know your words are too direct. Drunk co-workers on a Friday night are not the best place to discover facts about yourself. Sometimes even you think you sound bossy. You check the key parts for each item, knowing you’ll be doing this once again before the show.

“We wouldn’t be going anywhere without direction,” Joohyun responds, laughing as if you’d said something silly. “We’re all glad you’re here, (name).”

Words like these are so easing for a mess like you, not that you’d admit it. Joohyun has always been a sort of mother figure to you after you entered this company, followed by Doyoung. A good few years senior to you, she started out as a model before she moved on to designing. 

It’s her last year working in this place. But of course, it’s a given when she’s starting her own label (mom clothes and children’s apparel, she’d called her clothing line, rolling her eyes) and one of the most well-known names in South Korean fashion not having her own label is sacrilege (according to your colleagues anyway). She’d said to contact her when you start your own family, and maybe she’ll send a congratulations package for both you and your baby. You’d laughed. Out of all the insults you could ever receive, that was perhaps the loveliest one.

Ridiculousness aside, you’ll miss the comfort of her presence. You were still in school when your designs led you to a showcase in New York Fashion Week, your sponsor more than generous. You stepped into it too soon, too eager. It was breath-taking and awful all at once—and the first time you saw a world outside of your own. It was overwhelming. There are few people in this new world as kind as Joohyun.

The sound of your notification snaps you out of your thoughts. You swear you kept it on vibrate, a little irked at having to search for your phone when your hands are full. The notification itself brings on a stronger wave of vexation.

_jeongjaehyun:

My manager told me it was good publicity

But I could take it down for you

The ‘for you’ adds an unnecessary effect, you think as you hold back a scowl. And what does ‘could’ mean? A miscommunication with the sales team isn’t even on the list of things you need to worry about. Honestly, you don’t have time to fight him, quickly typing out a ‘whatever. it’s okay’ before looking back up.

You jump, the look on Joohyun’s face a little suspicious for what might come out of her mouth.

“It’s not a crime to text people.” She shrugs, shuffling through the rack one more time to take the clothes for transportation. 

You’re quick to jump to your defence. “I have nothing to do with him.”

Joohyun looks at you, amused. “He’s not a bad person, you know? How long are you going to keep hating him for one thing he did?”

“It’s not one thing,” you groan, averting your gaze to the clothes so as to help her. “I just- he’s so- so- oh come on. You know how I feel about him.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have any reason to. Everyone’s different from what they appear to be. Especially in this line of work.” Joohyun balances the clothes you give her across her forearms.

“So he’s fake. I hate that even more.” You sigh, pulling out the blue silk overcoat, the colour matching Joohyun’s work dress.

“You mean unreal? Models tend to be that way—don’t be so harsh on him, honey.”

You simply shake your head, words entering one ear and out the other. Joohyun presses her lips into a line but lets it go soon enough. She knows you’re capable enough to separate professional from personal and that should be enough. You’re not keeping a tab on something as warming as spite. 

You can’t believe you’d ever been within five feet of him without turning your nose. You can’t believe you’d smiled at his jokes once, even if it was just that one night. He was the godsent Prince Charming, just perhaps not yours. Paris surely had a distressing effect on you that year. 

You don’t make the same mistake twice.

You walk back to your desk to take a seat and scavenge through your belongings, most of the people already outside. Fashion Week, which once upon a time was a faraway dream, now is part of life—exciting and exhausting. It’s almost always over in a flash, your love for it whisked in peaks of bittersweet. (“You work your ass off for six months and it’s, what, fifteen minutes long?” your mother had asked after you’d brought her to one of the shows.)

This line of work is a nightmare without mental preparation. You have a degree, you have experience and yet it doesn’t feel enough, confidence easier to drain in a person than blood. And you’re not very fond of pale cheeks.

It came to asking yourself if you really have it in you for a few months—a test of sorts everyone puts themselves through at least once in their lives. At that time, your favourite professor, a bald man nearing his retirement years with the wrinkliest face you’d ever seen, had asked you just one question. 

Do you love it? 

Of course you fucking do. 

You couldn’t say that to his face, sure, but you know he saw it in you—either the effort you put out every day of the semester or the way your hands moved across fabric like a machine, your designs made with the persistence of nature. Your final year project landed you an internship at one of the largest clothing brands in Seoul and your internship landed you a job at the same. Your job, well, lead you to Jaehyun, among many other things. 

You scowl at the image of his face that appears when you close your eyes, massaging your forehead—it’s hard to not see it everywhere already, from Cosmopolitan to Vogue.

While you were biting your nails in New York, Jaehyun had flown out to Paris with Saint Laurent, one of the younger male models to show his face for the first time. He’d taken the whole place by storm, you had heard from a friend. To say half the world had fallen in love—either with his dimples or his confident walk—would be an understatement. A privilege, to be gold-plated in a mercenary world.

You’d briefly made eye contact at the airport the first time you saw him, a year later, when you were arriving in Incheon and he was leaving it. It was London, that time. For him, Milan. As much as you couldn’t believe living a fashion student’s dream, Jaehyun’s face was truly, unironically much more unrealistic. Your classmates’ gabs and gossip in sewing class had suddenly made sense. You taught yourself to not be swayed by faces, even if they look like they’re stitched together by Aphrodite and Apollo with their bare hands—friendly advice from seniors at the orientation night ‘party’. 

You’d met him formally in Paris, after you’d graduated from fashion school. He was certainly the most beautiful face in the room—and you weren’t the only one aware of it. The entire night you’d been starting conversations you couldn’t relate to, till he came along with his charming dimples and a faux connect. You were naive, and a little tipsy. The attraction was obvious, and it had been you by the bathroom pulling him in for a drunk kiss till he’d snapped out of the daze—as if it were some joke you’d been playing. He’d apologized before leaving, like it wasn’t a big deal, with silken lips parted in a gesture of remorse and a short, firm bow. It didn’t settle very well alongside the merlot in your gut.

You. You’re a big deal. 

You were alone in a room full of painted faces and he sat atop the throne they worshipped. Why had you expected any more from him—in the understanding nods or the few kind words that escaped his lips? You felt stupid. He made you feel like smiling for the first time that night and you hated him for it—you’re sure he doesn’t care either way. Or maybe he does, with the wonderfully irked responses he graces you with. 

Jaehyun made something out of himself in these nine years, just as you have. Runway supermodel to the face of South Korean men in fashion to an entrepreneur, he might as well have a documentary on him—and he would if he didn’t evade paparazzi and reporters like his life depended on it. Enigmatic, the articles wrote. You scoffed. Conceited, more like. After the initial years, he decided to settle in New York, frequently flying to Seoul and other fashion capitals for business and contractual events. Some of those occasionally include your shows.

Having Jaehyun gets more attention but it’s not like you’re a new, doe-eyed kid. Your works have been featured for popstars and foreign celebrities, and you’ve been invited to several interviews with big magazines. You’ve gone global (albeit under the brand’s name) and you’ve been to places you’d only seen pictures of in the very same magazines you looked up to. They can describe your work as unique all they want—and you don’t mean to sound fucking pretentious—but your job is nothing more than an expression of the self. It’s a part of you; you first started sewing patches onto things simply because your closet lacked colour. And eventually, you found yourself searching for more—colours, fabrics, dreams. You’re devoted to your job because you love it, you want to do it. You’re allowed to be a little arrogant about it. 

If only trying desperately to be arrogant did something about your insecurities.

You hope your works redefine themes, your need to stand out contrasting with your fear of it. Eye-catching is always your forte; this time it’s fairy tales and royalty in a mix of East meets West. 

D-1. Same feeling, new season.

The press is here, you take note. Photographers. Models. Students. Vloggers. It’s a burst of colours down there.

You hate running late, rushing down the stairs to the plaza through the crowds of people. Some recognize you, as they make their way to you but you end up walking a little faster to minimize your presence.  You curse yourself for wearing the jacket. It goes nicely with the rest of your outfit and March isn’t supposed to be this hot. You wipe the sweat from your hairline, hoping the makeup is waterproof like it said.

You consider stopping at the café for a fix of coffee but stop when you notice Joohyun holding a bunch of cups by the venue. She doesn’t look too happy about the sun, or the burdening errand of fetching coffee. You adjust her little red beret at her request, smiling at her annoyance but trying your best to keep it hidden. You don’t want to get cussed out by Joohyun. 

“Someone tell Doyoung to get his coffee,” Joohyun complains. “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” you say, sipping your coffee. The taste fills your senses with a pleasant dose of energy and you hum out a satisfied note. “Why are there so many students out here? Influencers? Did we sponsor this many kids?” 

Joohyun shakes her head.  “Jaehyun just got here.”

You suppress an eye-roll. “Wonder why he still comes back for Seoul when he’s booked full for New York.”

“It’s his hometown.” Joohyun shrugs. “I’d come back too. Even if I’m paid more out there.”

You finish your coffee and duck into the fitting room, much to Joohyun’s displeasure as she’s left alone again. Doyoung’s in for an earful, you chuckle thinking about it.

It would look like a hell of a mess to anyone not accustomed to this. Everyone is a flurry by themselves alone but if you mix them with the eclectic crowd you find at a Seoul Fashion Week backstage, it’s more of a disaster. A colorful one, at the very least. 

New York was worse. You were too young, in a world that was too big. It’s a miracle you even received an opportunity from so big a name. But, you suppose, it hardly matters now.

You no longer live in a world where Seoul is far from Paris. Fashion and art are things unmarked by place of origin.

It’s easy to spot Jaehyun in a corner, two people adjusting his coat for better fitting at the waist. His makeup’s done, you notice as you get closer. Good, you think. If any makeup were to get on the fabric, you’d go feral (although you do have full confidence in the makeup artists here and their choice of product).

“Jaehyun,” you greet. Your co-workers give each other a look before excusing themselves. You raise an eyebrow, too late to stop them. They didn’t finish the looping of the belt properly, you take notice. You wrinkle your nose. Sloppy. 

“(name).” He responds with an equal lack of amusement. 

You pull the belt at his waist, Jaehyun stiffening at the contact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“My job? What do you think, genius?”

Jaehyun presses his lips together and lets you complete the altercations. The chiffon shirt allows you to see the hazed definition of his core, a rather flustering thing to be exposed to for anyone with eyes. When you look up in a moment’s mistake, you’re reminded of why his face is everywhere. Flawless, almost. You hate it. Averting your eyes, you fix the collar so the pattern stands out more. You can feel his eyes over your outstretched hand all the way to your face, subtle as ever. If Jaehyun thinks you’re bothered by it, he’s an idiot for believing so. 

You take a step back to analyse the coat. The golden threads are flawlessly detailed, spiraling in patterns of different flowers and vines around the collar, gradually getting larger as they twine at the base of the neck. They meet the polished rhinestone buttons a little lower. You almost smile. You’d sewn each thread and each button in yourself the first time. It hardly looks the same now.

Bright red is an eyesore if you look at it longer than five minutes, you realize. The frown that’s been itching to show up finally does. Suddenly, you’re glad Jaehyun is modelling this piece. You shake your head and look back at his face, from his deep-set brown eyes to his full, tinted lips before pausing. The little Swarovski pearls line strands of his hair in a starry display, perfect in every angle of it. It’s easy to appreciate the human beauty when you see his face, and even if you claim your vehement dislike for him, you’re not a liar nor an idiot. 

How infuriating it is, to let things be. Bad blood can only dry to an ugly, unusable brown.

You narrow your eyes at the thinning layer of glitter on his peach-blushed cheeks. He doesn’t exactly need much more of it but the unevenness bothers you.

“Your makeup needs retouching,” you say, frowning. “Did you touch your face? I thought you were a more...professional model than this, Jaehyun.”

“You walked in,” he replies, casually. “I was distracted.”

You feel your cheeks colour. “That’s- that’s not a reason.”

He smiles politely. “I suppose I’ll leave you then. You must have other work to do.”

You hold back a biting remark. His playfulness doesn’t sit well with you; he’s polite just enough to annoy you and straightforward just enough to make you want to throw something at him. He could’ve directly told you to fuck off maybe—but oh no, it’s Jung Yoonoh, seamless and radiant, with only the sweetest collection of words on his tongue. You think of the first time you met, something warm in the corner of your heart. You’d mistaken it, of course. 

He didn’t care for you, or any of the people trailing after him and his silver flute, or the rest of the shallow carcass of a world so undeniably obsessed with him. It didn’t hit you till he’d left you hanging, mangled memories of something close to hurt. You’re glad you didn’t kiss him. You wouldn’t be able to get over the embarrassment, the blow to your pride had it escalated any further.

And of course, the one thing he did to make you absolutely certain of his distaste—was simply choose another designer’s work over yours when given a choice. It seems silly, unprofessional even, but the lack of response to your Fall/Winter ready-to-wear collection had been embarrassingly low, someone else’s designs sold out at an equally awful rate. You—your insecurities—wanted to blame your own failings—maybe it was the lining of the coats, or the colours maybe— the fabric? Perhaps, you hadn’t focused on comfort all too well. But it was clear, a word from Jung Yoonoh could change the minds of a fashion-forward youth as easily as his face and physique scored contracts with the biggest brands and labels. And it was clear he didn’t like you very much.

You walk over to the other models, eyes scanning down to the T. You glance over one of Joohyun’s designs, a modern men’s hanbok. The blood red paired with yellow is certainly easing on the eyes, though the shades vary from top to bottom, like a sunset. The dark grey chunky shoes fitted under dark tights complete the entire future oriental look you suppose she was going for. She’s only showcasing two of her designs this year and they’re just before the centrepiece. You shake your head, clutching the fabric of your jacket sleeve. You hate seeing other designs before a showcase, even if they’re a friend’s. 

You turn your head to make eye contact with Jaehyun across the room. It takes a few seconds but you snap your head in another direction to break the spell. 

How strange. You haven’t had nearly enough coffee to feel jittery under his gaze.

You’re forced to take a breather away from this jungle of liveliness. 

The amount of people outside the venue gives you yet another headache. Excited college students and fashion vloggers stand outside expectantly, and you give a short bow and polite ‘hello’ to anyone who approaches. You desperately want to be left alone. Even if it’s for a few seconds.

You walk quickly, your feet soundless against the floor. Your mask performs considerably (and surprisingly) well in hiding you. You consider visiting the Design Market to enjoy a seat alone and charge your phone before it’s show time.

Open spaces. You need open spaces. Suddenly, the DDP seems to be suffocating you despite its tremendous size.

“Hey!” You’re greeted with a sudden force to your right side, an arm wrapping around you. You look up to see Johnny, a wide grin on his face and you let yourself mirror it, shaking your head.

“Big day,” he says. “Want me to take some pictures? I’ve got some time between shows—lovely outfit, as usual.”

It’s strange how Johnny’s the photographer and not the model—you’ve heard he receives a lot of requests to get on the other side of the camera though he always refuses. He doesn’t visit Seoul as often, but he has much to do in uplifting the mood with his strangely effective sense of humour. The coffee-coloured shirt he’s wearing goes well with the plaid grey coat, reminiscent of Fendi’s Spring collection, and sometimes you wonder whether a job as a fashion photographer ever had much to do with his style. Johnny has always been effortlessly impressive. 

You politely decline, your mind still focused on the smooth running of things. Nothing’s ever on time when it comes to Fashion Weeks—yes, it’s called fashionably late but it just makes you annoyed. You consider ducking back to your venue, adding some final final touches and any more last-minute altercations. Years have passed and you’re still not used to it, fingers itching to do something about everything. You’re grateful the company gives you your creative space but it only makes you wonder just how far the limits are. 

Johnny accompanies you to the charging station till he’s distracted by some of the children in the latest Fendi kidswear and you make a mental note to never bring your kids to Fashion Week, if you ever choose to have them.

You breathe in and out for a few moments, feeling lightheaded before the sense of reality touches on you. People walk in and out of the stores lining the pathways, a soft buzz of conversation in the air as your eyes follow their movement. You wonder if you’ll have your own stores opened in plazas like this—here, in Seoul, and on brightly lit streets of the world outside. After all, colourful dreams are the hardest to get rid of. You sit quietly till you get a text from Doyoung asking you to get your ass over there quickly with several exclamation marks. You smile to yourself. Joohyun might have had a sour effect on him.

You arrive back at the venue, trying to tear your eyes away from anything that might want to make you fix it. You avoid Jaehyun’s eyes even more so, like you’ll jinx something right before it’s showtime. 

The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.

The show finally starts. And it’s over. Twenty-two minutes, this time.

That’s the way it goes. You hold your breath till you’re sure it’s safe to let go, blind to everything that goes on in between. Sometimes it’s underwhelming, sometimes you can’t give a fuck when you love doing this anyway.

You breathe a sigh of joy when everyone gathers backstage, Johnny making all the models pose together for one giant group photo. It’s like a ritual for him, always finding time for a backstage picture with the models goofing off.

Jaehyun looks at you instead of the camera, a nervous shiver running through you. His gaze is not something of inconsequence, eyes piercing into you with words hanging in the air that you don’t care enough about. You think he sends you a smile, cockier than you’d like. Despite your efforts, you have to look away.

Now, what should your dear Fall collection look like? You exit by yourself, relief humming through your veins when you think of getting back to your apartment, papers to be sketched on in your hands, soft fabric to be sewn on your table. Maybe they’ll display your works in the front rows of the stores, maybe you’ll even have displays outside of Seoul. You’re not a student anymore and your job has taken you enough places. 

Even so, Paris and Milan sneak into your dreams often. You used to dream of them so much that it was hard to consider them reality—finding yourself in those streets, in between all those beautiful picture-book monuments.

You prefer Seoul, you decide after conscious thinking. You don’t have to worry about the world outside. 

Afterparties are not your thing. 

You somehow still find yourself in them, hoping to catch a drunk video of Doyoung for blackmail or make eye contact with an attractive stranger only to stop at exchanging numbers because you never find the time. 

It’s a social event. You’re supposed to be doing social things. It’s exhausting.

The last person you expect to bump into is Jaehyun, drinks in hand as he looks down at you with a greeting of surprise on his tongue. He’s wearing a simple dark Oxford button-down, two buttons at his chest undone, and tucked neatly into his pants. His hair looks untouched since afternoon, parted in messy waves, minus the pearls. The music changes to something with slower beats as you stare at each other for a few moments.

“What are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow. There are other afterparties he could be attending. Big ones.

Jaehyun tilts his head, cracking his neck before smiling. “Charming, as always. I’m here because I want to be here, obviously. So does everyone, I’m sure.” 

“Fucking narcissist,” you mutter to yourself. You think Jaehyun might have heard you because you get a dirty look thrown your way, masked with the signature apathy across his relaxed lips.

“That’s a little rich from you,” he mumbles.

The muscle by his mouth twitches but he doesn’t say anything more. This is probably the most emotion he shows, you think. Wouldn’t his lovestruck magazines relish seeing him riled up like this? They’d still find a way to fall in love with him.

You could have, too.

No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous. 

You’re aware he’s booked for at least three other shows this week. It’s a miracle he agreed to yours, considering your mutual distaste for each other. You suppose it had more to do with his agency than himself but it wasn’t like you were the keener one. Jung Yoonoh is the face professionals look for and your company loves the publicity, although you keep telling yourself your designs would still shine without him. 

Jaehyun excuses himself before you can get on with any unpleasant conversation you might have. At least you have something in common—that is, trying to avoid each other as much as possible.

A few minutes (and uncomfortably snaking through swarms of bodies) later, you find Doyoung, unfortunately sober and intending to remain so, people congratulating him with claps on the back for securing the position of PR Head. You think it was supposed to be a secret, but someone higher in the ladder must have spilled early. Joohyun never attends these, and honestly, good for her. 

Afterparties are not your thing.

You shouldn’t have taken those shots but you’re on the dance floor now anyway—what more could happen? It’s easier when you’re not paranoid about all the eyes on you, dancing against a stranger with a lion tattooed against his neck. Maybe you’ll go home with him, maybe you’ll leave at the first signs of attraction. Romance isn’t quite on your to-do list, but an occasional intoxication with the skin works just fine. You could live like this for a few moments.

Your back runs into someone else’s rather forcefully and you turn around, apology bubbled up to your tongue already, mixing with the alcohol.

“Oh look.” You roll your eyes. “It’s the prince of high fashion. What can I get you today, sire?”

Jaehyun drives his tongue over his lips, quite definitely over your antics. Soft breaths leave his mouth in a rhythm irrelevant to this box of laughter and blaring music called a party. You love how he never knows how to respond—what new words will he choose to keep false dignity? If you think about it, he’s the embodiment of why you always thought everything was so out of your reach—big names, exclusive parties, not for kids like you. They were never for fashion students too honest to know their own worth.

“Jealousy isn’t a good colour on you,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear.

You scoff, a pang of annoyance sizzling through you. “Jealous? Of who? You?”

You sneer at the last part, Jaehyun’s frown deepening. Some days you just like to think you’ve won. A few moments pass between you two, the sound of pop music filling in the gaps. 

Jaehyun presses closer to you, your chests almost touching as your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you know what makes success?” he says, head dipping lower to look you in the eye. The smell of alcohol disturbs you for a second before your heartbeat gets loud enough to drown it. You try to not focus on how his mouth is so near yours—and perhaps if you were drunk enough, you might commit a mistake against the very core of your being, something you’d been dangerously close to once.

You stay quiet, the pulsing in your ears too loud in the shallow distance between the two of you. You swear it’s always the two of you pressed up like this once you’re drunk enough, the dislike growing stronger and stronger with every breath exchanged. You’ve intertwined each other into a strange garden of contempt, easy to forget when you're facing him. Jung Yoonoh has the prettiest face in the industry, and the only one you can’t bear seeing. 

“It’s confidence,” he answers, as slow and steady as ever. “And there’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance I intend to keep. I’m not so sure about you.”

The rest of the night passes without conflict and you retire early, Jaehyun’s breath still hot against your face. Only when you collapse on your bed do you get an urge to shout, yell, anything that doesn’t make you call him up and scream at him. You have your precious dignity too, something he seems to look past. The effect he had on your breathing, the crawling over your skin—God, you hate him. You’re too stubborn to not continue doing it.

“What’s this?” you ask, your eyes darting in between the director of design and Lee Taeyong.

To say you were surprised to see him would be an understatement. You note the simple dark rimmed glasses in contrast with his light dyed hair, the mellow blue of his cashmere sweater sporting his own label’s logo—Lee Taeyong is a household name. You feel yourself shrink the tiniest bit.

This industry’s all about names, you think miserably. You meet people and you remember the ones who can get you ahead. It’s tiring.

Taeyong started his career even earlier than you did, and before he had changed his major to fashion. He’s a little older than you, though he doesn’t look it and he had begun with working exclusively on jackets. Several rejected designs later, he had popped up as one of the designers to look out for in Seoul Fashion Week. Now he has his own global label slowly turning brand, several worldwide stores and everything dreamers in the same place as you look up to. You think you’re fine here, you tell yourself despite that.

The director smiles at you, her hand gesturing rapidly at you to come forward.

“You’re going to be so happy,” she says, signalling Taeyong to continue.

“Uh, hi,” he greets.

A little awkward for a world-class designer, you think.

“I’m Lee Taeyong. You might have heard of me—”

“I know who you are,” you interrupt, ignoring the disapproving look of the director.

“Oh, that’s good!” He smiles. “I’ve seen your work—I’ve been following your work for a few years now…and, well, I’d love for you to work under my label—in a collaboration of sorts. You’ll have full creative freedom, of course! I’m just there more or less for supervision, really…”

You think you feel your heart stop for a few moments, Taeyong’s sudden stream of information fading out. The pinnacle of your career, you believe, had been Paris Fashion Week four years ago and you’d been dreaming of it ever since. This is a business contract, you’re sure, and you don’t know if you have a real choice but maybe you could take that step forward you’ve always wanted to.

“Isn’t that great, (name)?” The director interjects. “You get to work under the Lee Taeyong label. And…surprise! You’ll have your work presented at New York Fashion Week in September. They’ll hit the stores a week later.”

You freeze. 

“New York?” you manage to squeak.

“Yep!” Her voice a notch away from annoying. She’s not the first person you’ve met who sounds so goddamn manufactured. “Pack your bags, darling. You’re flying next weekend.”

You must be looking like a deer caught in the headlights because Taeyong opens his mouth to say something, alarmed. You speak before he does.

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than them. It should be a good thing. It’s supposed to be a good thing. Even so, you feel the anxiety in your ribcage threatening to overgrow into thorns. 

“I’ll- I’ll do it,” you clarify. Looking from your manager’s bright yet stern face to the hopeful smile on Taeyong, you don’t think you have much of a choice.

New York, huh. How long has it been? You shudder at the memories, your focus a little off for the rest of the day.

Joohyun visits you a day before you leave. She places the box of chocolates on the coffee table, that Doyoung apparently sent for you. 

“You know, I’m really happy you’re getting this chance,” Joohyun says, crouching down beside where you’re splayed, trying to count the travel essentials and everything else on your messy checklist.

“He gets promoted and now he can’t even come visit me, huh?” you say, shifting to grab the box and tear off the clear wrap.

Joohyun laughs. “He’s certainly enjoying his duties. I can’t wait to boss him around again after I leave.”

Your shoulders hunch, a sigh leaving your lips. “Great. You’re leaving. Doyoung’s too busy to annoy. And now I’m a part of this godforsaken project for almost six months.”

Joohyun softens a bit, running her hand through your hair. “I heard you accepted it. All by yourself. You’ll do just fine, don’t worry.”

You feel yourself turn pink, a feeling of warmth you’ve been missing for a week. It’s cozy in your apartment, always the right temperature with a tinge of happy memories. You wish you could find comfort in people as easily as others do. Everything happened so fast, you can barely remember the conversation you had with Lee Taeyong. A few moments pass, Joohyun and you picking out chocolates before you can rummage through your suitcase again.

“I hate New York, Joohyun. Just what else can you throw into the mix to make me hate it even more?”

She freezes for a fraction of a moment, pressing her lips together before clearing her throat. “Oh. Uh. I probably shouldn’t tell you what I was about to tell you then.”

You turn your head to her, eyes narrowing. “What?”

She shrugs, eyes not meeting yours. “You know. New York. Fashion capital of the world. Lots of things to love.”

“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”

She sighs, defeated. “A certain someone might be on the same flight as you. I was about to give you his number in case you needed help.”

You pause to think, curling your lips. “It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

You groan, dropping your head back and yelping when it hits the coffee table. Joohyun moves to rub your head and ease the pain as you let out a stream of complaints.

“You really thought I’d call him for help?” you yell. “Him? Of all people?”

“I think you’d rather have a known face there. Besides, he’s a good kid,” she reasons, looking you in the eye. “And stop yelling.”

You quieten a bit at her glare, gulping. She adds the number to your contacts, saving it with a professional ‘Jung Yoonoh’ before she helps you clean up, advising you on how to manage your finances abroad. You know she’s trying to ease you, but how could she—after dropping this awful news on you like it shouldn’t matter at all? She doesn’t even know what happened—almost happened in Paris, or the fact that your honeyed feelings had turned bitter so easily. She’s worked with him before, you know this, when he was a much younger model and she trusts him more than you ever could. 

But maybe, just maybe she can’t see what you see—after all, she’s also part of the elite, crème de la crème of this industry, more so in this country. It’s frightening, and so vague what goes on up there, at the top of the chain; and whatever you have—it might never be enough. 

You’re you. Sometimes, that isn’t enough.

You jump at the water rushing from the shower, too cold for skin and scramble to twist the knob the other way. This time, the water’s too hot and you yelp, shutting it off altogether.

You press your hand against the shower glass, breathing heavy. You’re trying—you’ve been desperately trying ever since you landed a week ago. Change is not something you can take lightly. You miss the dim lights of your apartment in Seoul that Joohyun always warned would get you some brand new prescription glasses. You miss walking down the streets to your favourite convenience store at three in the morning to get honey butter chips. You miss picking fights with Doyoung over which detail to scrutinise during your project discussions. This project seems to have torn apart several things that belonged to you.

You can’t seem to get your head into it either—even spacing out during the meeting you had with Lee Taeyong among several other things. You can’t remember a single design detail he’d specified or what the theme was even supposed to be—a bunch of bright foggy lights replacing whatever fuzz was growing in your head. A twenty-something-year-old shouldn’t be letting homesickness affect them like this. 

You finish the rest of your shower with a heavy heart and a clouded head. 

Taeyong booking a luxury suite for you was a bit…much. Not that you’re complaining, but it gives more fuel to the profound sense of emptiness you keep drawing. There’s no intimacy to this place, no love. It’s a little hard to create things without love, and comfort.

Still, you grit your teeth and get dressed into something more comfortable for the night. If not today, then tomorrow. Something will have to give, even if it costs you—whatever the hell your parents keep telling you when you’re going through problems. What if you don’t want to be cost things? Compromise isn’t as delicate as it sounds. You try to comfort yourself, rocking yourself on the much too large couch, hugging a pillow close and trying to think of things that don’t immediately make you want to throw up.

The memories of your first visit are a little less than pleasant. You think you cried after the entire ordeal because you thought you did a bad job of talking, socializing, the most ordinary things. There are some people who are good at wearing masks—good at making copper look like gold, good at shining under dim lights, and good at using words that don’t have much meaning to their existence other than being pretty. 

You were not one of them. 

The intense need for everything to be perfect was still there, even when you couldn’t possibly have achieved it. You wanted to make things and show them to the world—what was so wrong with that? Why did being there make you feel like you could never even touch your dreams? You were so out of place, feeling completely out of touch with yourself. There were people from the top there, established and famous. It felt out of your grasp. You felt fake.

The city lights twinkle with life but there’s no sound, the windows shut tight. The ambience of the room is kept to a caramel minimum—the best you can do to honour your sweet little home back in Seoul.

The hatred for everything pretentious was born with your first step into this place, into the game that the big boys play. It showed in your designs, your choice of fabric, your distaste for certain people. You wanted reality—you wanted a taste of life in your everyday clothes. You wanted that flavour you feel on your tongue in a room full of strangers or the one on a quiet night by yourself at your apartment rooftop. You didn’t want dignified fur coat ensembles, you wanted the naive chaos you feel every day and you wanted to make it look good. It’s driving you insane just how much you feel like you’re losing now.

You take out your phone after what seems a few minutes of contemplation. 

Jung Yoonoh. Your finger hovers over the call button. What would he say if his night is interrupted by your voice?

You’d met at the airport after landing, though you were only two seats away in the plane. You’d made no error in acknowledging his presence, browsing through the inflight magazine half-heartedly. Truth be told, sometimes you couldn’t really seem to get over him. Sometimes the thought of him made you so pissed, you had no idea what to think of it. 

“Welcome to New York,” he had said shortly after you’d exited, a giant crowd of people greeting out-goers, holding up placards with names of people, in numbers you’re unaccustomed to. Or, used to be accustomed to.

You hadn’t talked since—and really, you weren’t expecting to.

You press your home button, any lingering thoughts of him vanishing at the force with which you tell yourself it’s not worth it. How is Jung Yoonoh better than anyone else you know here? He might have been living in New York for quite a few years now, and he’s probably the only one you’d feel comfortable enough to swear at—that doesn’t mean you’d actually ask for help. That doesn’t mean he’d actually help. Joohyun must have had her hopes far too high to have convinced you for even a moment.

The couch feels colder all of a sudden, and you turn down the air conditioner. This place will never adjust to you, and your stubborn little self won’t either.

You think of Jaehyun from the afterparty, loose shirt and knowing eyes, and you wonder if he feels just the same frustrated agony, if not more. You think of his parted lips and breathing words close enough to be provocative, discomfort growing at the base of your stomach. Who does he think he is? He might have the airs and dignity of someone way up in the hierarchy of society but you know what people can be like. You know envy, you know malice, and you know lies. He has to fit in there somewhere—and perhaps you would have hated him less if he did.

Even if you’d scoffed at the idea of jealousy, that might very well be the closest to what you feel, what you keep hidden in the darkest corners of your locked chest. When you first met at that star-spangled dinner, you’d felt what it’s like to watch a fireworks show or a big musical opening; but the fireworks are being blocked by skyscrapers and you’re only the helping staff at the theatre, watching from a balcony at the very back. Jaehyun was impressive with barely any words. It annoyed you so much and somehow, the only solution you arrived at was the tremendous need to understand him, pick him apart and see what made him.

No. That’s wrong. You were annoyed because you still wanted to kiss him after he’d pushed you away, his dislike steaming clear. It strikes you as gently as lightning that the only reason someone would have to hate Jaehyun is being attracted so violently to him. God, you hate making a fool out of yourself.

You pass the night in quiet contemplation, promising yourself a better tomorrow. After all, no one else is going to do it. 

You walk with your chin up as if you don’t feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. You picked out your black Harrington jacket to look at least a little more professional, but you might have miscalculated the size and the material in the equation because you look completely and utterly ridiculous in it. No one would look at you and think you even work in fashion, much less be competent in that line. 

(To be fair, you wear the same beige sweater and black corduroy pants to work and if your coworkers choose to judge you, you wouldn’t blame them.) 

It’s only been a month and somehow, it translates to forever to you. You think you’re adjusting better now, and you pat yourself on the back for it. It’s not raining today at the mercy of the skies, a tidal wave of sunlight splashing through the buildings every time you take a turn. The city doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. It’s a good day, for once.  

You lean your head against the car window, eyes trailing up and down the reflective blue of each skyscraper. You can barely see any clouds, and the sky’s endlessly the same, comforting blue. Just like back home, you think for a moment. Your eyes move back to the sidewalk, people passing by—mothers with their babies in strollers, kids clutching the strap of their school bags as they run, men and women in all levels of professional clothing. No one stops in this city. Except the fucking traffic apparently.

You sigh, glancing at your watch. Only moments ago, you were moving and yet again, you’ve stopped. The cycle keeps repeating and you’re trying to keep patience focusing on things around you that you can appreciate. 

Maybe you jinxed it when you said it was a good day.

You reach Taeyong’s studio just in time (not that you’d get yelled at or anything, he’s too nice of a guy). Your eyes fixate on the numbers that light up on the elevator one by one till it finally reaches the first floor.

You walk right into someone’s chest, an apology tumbling out of your lips as you bow out of habit. 

“(name)?”

You look up to find Jaehyun in the elevator of Taeyong’s building, a casual white shirt clinging to his frame that’s tucked into his jeans to look somewhat formal. A pink overshirt hangs at his forearm and from the windswept styling of hair and his perfected dark locks, you’ll assume he’s here for a shoot—even without it, he looks like something from a teen magazine, someone people would see and instantly daydream of. Best known for high fashion, Jung Yoonoh is still a spectacle in casualwear. 

“I can’t believe I have to see your face here too,” you mutter, getting into the elevator. You’ve had your share of moments with him.

“Good to see you too,” he says, bemused. 

You make a sound of acknowledgment, taking out your phone to turn the damn notifications off so you don’t feel it vibrate in your pocket every few minutes. You feel eyes on you for a moment and snap your head to the side.

Jaehyun has his eyes focused on the door, quiet breathing fresh against his lips and you hesitate before concluding you might have been mistaken in your perception. 

“You’re here for a shoot?” you ask, curious about his relationship with Taeyong. 

“What else can I be here for?” He says nonchalantly. 

“Sarcastic. Very nice.”  

“It’s a little weird, you trying to make conversation with me. You’re usually raving about me too much to actually talk to me.” He smiles, the dimples provoking and eyes the familiar beguiling brown. 

“I’m not trying to make conversation,” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re only a person in front of cameras.”

Jaehyun takes a sharp breath before turning to you, a not-so-happy look on his face despite the calmness over his features. You’ve seen it enough times.

“How long are you going to keep up the pretentious this and pretentious that before you face it, really?” He looks at you with tight lips, poisonous implications in his question. “Why you love to get up in my case all the time?”

The words take time to settle in. You shake your head when you realize, a sardonic laugh leaving your lips. Of course he’d think that.

“Oh my god,” you scoff. “You’re so full of yourself. You think I’m interested in you? Don’t let what happened years ago get to your head.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, what did you mean then? Pray tell.”

“First of all, stop cutting me off,” he says, taking a step towards you. A certain feeling of uneasiness runs through you when you detect annoyance in his quiet statement.

“Secondly,” he says, taking a another step forward just as your back hits the wall of the elevator, “Stop treating me like I’m the bane of your existence. I have nothing to do with you.”

He’s right, of course, but the words sting where they hit. Asshole, you think. He has no business telling you what to do and what not to do. But in this moment, you can’t fish for the correct words—you don’t have the strength to when you’re so close to each other like this, the scent of his cologne syrupy and sickening. His tall stature is intimidating, with his straight shoulders and proud jawline.

The elevator dings at the seventh floor, Jaehyun stepping away from you without a glance or care, striding out just as smoothly as on a runway.

You take a moment to breathe, unsaid words burning holes into your tongue. You wish you could’ve said something better, anything that didn’t make you feel so pathetic. Maybe you should’ve told him to stick his words up his ass, sounding vulgar being the least of your worries. You wait patiently to reach the last floor, each ding souring your mood little by little. 

You are so glad you didn’t call him that night. To think he’d ever help you knowing it’s mutual, the whole hating each other’s guts. You just can’t believe the audacity of him—to accuse you of, what, romantic feelings? In an industry where you can’t tell apart gold from copper? Where all the people warming up to you are fair weather friends and competitors? He must have let all that attention get to his head. Runway faces aren’t as easy to fall in love with as he thinks.

“(name)! Come quick!”

Taeyong’s voice urges as soon as you enter and you settle your bag down, rushing to him. His smile drops when he sees your seething figure place your bag on the desk with a loud thud. You turn to him, without a hint of sweetened formality and ask him the day’s schedule.

Taeyong gulps before responding, undoubtedly afraid of your lips, a twitch away from a scowl, but he explains nicely nonetheless.

“Can you do a rerun of these designs for me?” he says, arranging the papers on the desk. That’s how he says these need improvement. No wonder the interns love him.

Taeyong’s in his usual attire, still too chic for you but strangely comfortable to look at. You nod, immediately scrutinising them, your (almost pointless) years of training trying to give you hints as to where you went wrong. You’re not really expecting to find big flaws or anything—just details you can enhance. You’ve learned enough about Taeyong in a month and it’s that his sense of style encompasses comfort, even in the most abstract of concepts. You respect him for that. It doesn’t change the fact that you think it’s a little overdone maybe.

Taeyong laughs, breaking you out of your daze. You raise an eyebrow.

“Is- Is something wrong?” You look at him, perplexed.

“It’s just that- It’s just you remind me a lot of the fashion students.” He smiles at you.

Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.

“Oh.”

Taeyong rephrases himself quickly, waving his hands about. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing! It just means you still…love doing it.”

It sticks with you longer than you’d expect, as you work throughout the day. You think Taeyong is too nice to criticize you properly but he eventually gets the point across—stick to the theme, written in Taeyong’s dainty handwriting and pinned to the softboard. 

Secrets. 

What an atrocious concept. Firstly, it makes no sense apart from sounding like a fucking lingerie collection. Secondly, when you went over Taeyong’s designs with the layers and patches, you supposed he wanted to focus on the inside of things because everything he’d drawn was inside out. Thirdly, when you heard him explain it, you were a little taken aback to hear it was going to be all about you, us. The designers, the models, the photographers, the magazine editors—there are millions and millions of people working to make sketches come to life, for a few items of clothing in someone’s closet. It feels nice to hear that from him. You promise you’re going to perfect it. 

And perfection is your dear old friend. 

It’s what you always strive for, but end up with something else that’s a little less beautiful. You take slow breaths, removing and adding details (after all, art is in the details). But perfection can easily grow tiresome. It makes you increasingly frustrated and you don’t think you have the heart to tell Taeyong everything in his studio stresses you out.

“So, you’re working with Jaehyun?” you ask, trying to look less antsy.

Taeyong blanks out for a moment before responding. “Yes. Why? Is he- Is he making you uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable wouldn’t even begin to explain what he makes you feel. 

“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”

Taeyong smiles. “We usually work on summer shoots together. It’s like tradition.”

“That’s…nice,” you say, trying to reciprocate his smile.

“Oh, but we’re having terrible weather so the shoots keep going longer than planned. That’s why I’m having to compromise planning time with you. Sorry about that.”

You try to keep your posture despite the mild annoyance brewing at the back of your head. Great. Now you have to see Jaehyun’s unbelievably annoying face every time you walk in. Maybe if you plead enough, you’d get permission to leave early and not want to throw some insults at him. 

You decide to walk, despite Taeyong insisting his driver help you get home. He doesn’t act like it but he’s a busy man, with side projects and interviews coming up so often you lose count. It’s no wonder he had to, and you hate using this word, hire someone for the label’s next venture. You think articles like Lee Taeyong loses touch and hires designers instead of doing his job would make him upset but he seems to genuinely not let it bother him. It’s about ideas to him. His label, almost large enough to be a brand, is for ideas; what a pretty thing to base your business around. While you thought you were a big shot back in South Korea, you’re almost nothing more than Lee Taeyong’s co-designer—assistant here.

You feel drops of what you felt years ago trickling down your throat. Overshadowed. Powerless. Imposter. Something about New York makes you want to pull all your hair out. You wish you hadn’t been here in the first place, maybe then this would seem more of a fun trip than memories weighing you down. But then if you hadn’t been here, you might not have even started.

You hug yourself at the sudden downpour, clouds kind enough for it to be nothing more than showers but you’re soaked anyway. Kind, but still a little cruel. Running under the eaves of a store, you curse yourself for not bringing an umbrella the only day you needed it. You stand there for a while, just breathing.

Real life is never like movies, is it? Cameras lie. Pretty faces lie. Sometimes you end up stuck in New York rains without an umbrella or a friend to call or a lover to protect you. You end up getting an Uber, taking awfully long to arrive due to the traffic the rain had ensued and try your best to ignore the disgruntled driver mumbling about you wetting his seats.

You still don’t know how the goddamn shower works. 

You manage to complete without either scorching your skin off or freezing it to Greenland and back—a feat much more successful than whatever you had going on for today. You slip into the absurdly soft mattress, pillows and covers swallowing you into a state of sleep.

You start the day almost pouring coffee onto Jaehyun’s spotless white shirt. And you might have were it not for immense self-restraint, and the fact that Taeyong’s eyes were trained on the two of you.

“So…are you two…a thing or something?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“No,” Jaehyun responds calmly while you sputter it out.

Taeyong apologizes, a laugh following. “You seem to have worked together before. Jaehyun, you never told me that.”

“I…I thought you knew,” he answers, leaning back against the tabletop.

“Ah, well,” Taeyong shrugs. “Thanks for helping me out with this, (name). Maybe- maybe we can draw some inspiration for the collection from outdoors.”

“Of course,” you say as you smile wide, trying hard not to break the coffee mug in your hand.

If you’re being honest, you had a gut feeling you’d be asked to help with Taeyong’s (apparently) infamous summer shoot. He walks into his studio every morning with hair in a disarray, talking to more people than he might enjoy and the entirety of New York weather against him. There’s only so much time a man can have and under pressure, he’s going to have to choose. It’s easy to feel sorry for someone like him.

This should be the stylist’s job. Jaehyun stands with his chin up as you adjust the fitting, smoothing out creases and making sure the cerulean shirt is pinned right, satin feeling cool and nice under your fingers. Sleeveless is back in trend this summer, and so are low-cuts.

“Careful there,” he says when you hand brushes a little lower, just below the full-grain leather belt.

You hope your face isn’t steaming from the rush of heat but you manage to limit your emotions to a sound of discomfort, remembering the horrendous accusation he’d thrown at you. “I don’t care about your dick, twit.”

Jaehyun laughs, bending a little to whisper. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“You look like you’re having a wonderful time making me uncomfortable.”

“You’re just so easy to work up.”

His dimples are getting on your nerves. You reach up to button his collar, perhaps a little too harsh because he chokes, an uncharacteristic sound leaving his mouth as he winces. You suppress a smile, glad you managed to do something about the look on his face.

The sunlight over this park feels like Christmas come early, with the way Taeyong is flitting from model to model and stylist to stylist with the intensity of a five year old after an ice-cream truck. 

“Is he- Is he usually like this?” you ask, eyes on the makeup artist getting directions from Taeyong.

“I just assumed all of you are this way,” Jaehyun, responds looking at the same sight.

You roll your eyes. “We’re not all crazy.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” you correct yourself, watching Taeyong almost trip over someone’s bag in order to greet the magazine’s style director. 

Jaehyun chuckles, eyes meeting yours for a moment before the two of you go about your own business.

You like magazine shoots for the most part. You never find a glass of water anywhere, but some intern or the other will definitely be there to fetch you Starbucks. There’s at least three people fussing over each model and at least two exasperated photographers trying very hard to snap clean shots. The stylist and designer look as though they might explode any minute, although the relief on their faces after it’s all over is something worth looking at. The skies are so bright and blue, you think, for a cosmopolis. The trees and shrubs lining the park are in a state of tranquility compared to the chaos it encircles.  

Magazines might not be as important in an age of social media advertisement, almost part of nostalgia now—but maybe some of you are not yet willing to deny kids the thrill of reading a magazine under their blankets in the middle of the night. It often gave hope to little boys playing dress up and little girls sewing their own clothes. 

You’d forgotten just how exhausting shooting with magazines is. The models must be having it worse but their masks don’t come off easy. If you had ever underestimated their job difficulty, it comes back to throttle you at full speed every time you’re at a shoot.

 Looking good in front of a camera is pretty damn hard. 

They don’t even get to keep the clothes, unless some asshole of a designer decides to pay them in apparel instead of actual money. Most models leave New York in debt. Men are paid even less than women. You’re surprised Jaehyun is as celebrated as he is—or the fact that he was clever enough of a businessman in launching his own high fashion-themed restaurant. You’ve heard he barely visits it, like a careless afterthought. But you’re not one to get carried away by sketchy articles on the internet. All you’ve needed are more reasons to hate him.

You sip the iced coffee, its effect pretty much worn out during humid afternoons. It’s time for a break, but no one’s willing to break momentum. You find yourself feeling a little awkward, as nothing more than a guest with creative advice, and so you sit under the comforting cool of the giant green umbrella at one of the tables. You could sink into your chair were it not so damn uncomfortable.

Jaehyun takes a seat right beside you to your surprise, offering you a box of diced mango before you fervently decline. You still think he’s an asshole. It doesn’t make any sense—why accuse you of unsaid affections and then flirt with you like he never said it? It’s not like you’re even friends, how ridiculous. There are quite a few jerks you’ve met in your life, but Jung Yoonoh really takes the cake.

“What?” you snap when his gaze gets on your nerves.

“I didn’t say anything.” He raises his hands defensively, eyes still on yours. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I enjoy the air conditioned suite Taeyong booked me more than this, yes.” You sigh, leaning back. “I don’t really have anything to do.” 

“I’m assuming he booked you the luxury suite on the fifteenth floor,” he says, chuckling.

You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not impossible that Jaehyun knows Taeyong’s favorite suite to book for guests.

“The view’s pretty nice from there, right? Oh, and you must be enjoying the silence.”

“I actually like the outside sounds,” you defend. “It’s calming.” 

“Not when you’re on the third floor,” he says, shoving a piece of mango into his mouth with a fork. “All you hear is middle aged men screaming.”

You rest your elbow on the table, placing your chin against your palm. The shade is separated from sunlight by a thin line against his chest, pale blue satin glimmering where the sun meets it. Jaehyun’s eyes shine a darker hue of honey under the shade, moving to the box in his hands occasionally before trailing back to the background noise again. Taeyong really does love pretty fits, but this might just be one of the most gorgeous pieces you’ve seen this summer (and you’ve already been through all the ready-to-wear lookbooks you possibly could). A thought passes you in a breeze, that maybe it's the model making it seem that way.

“You’re talkative today,” you note quietly, the sun harsher on your cheeks than before.

Jaehyun shrugs, hurrying to finish all the pieces. He suddenly pulls a face, one you don’t see very often in high fashion websites and Instagram pages. It’s almost cute. 

“Sour.” 

You find yourself laughing, a gentle influx of peace filling the inside your chest. You quickly recover, looking back up to see Jaehyun simply staring at you, breathing. He looks caught off-guard, no camera to warn him. You straighten, your cheeks flushing with heat.

“Is- Is something wrong?”

He immediately shakes his head, more to himself than you. There’s a pause before the two of you are happily distracted. The style director appears to be gesturing at him from the other side and Jaehyun responds with a curt wave.

“You’re doing two different concepts today?”

“Three, actually.”

You raise your eyebrows. Well, they’re definitely taking advantage of the good weather. They could just photoshop it, in your opinion, but authenticity is everything when it comes to magazines nowadays. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you back,” you say, your tone dismissive. “Go get changed into whatever pretty shirt Taeyong has up next in his collection.”

“The next shoot doesn’t have a shirt,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

You almost choke on your coffee, blaming the heat for your weak state of mind. You’re just having one of those strange days—just that, nothing else.

You finish the rest of the coffee, cup resting in your hand till you find the energy to get up and find a trash can.  

Jaehyun was right. This time the shoot’s a little too wet and a little too much skin for you to enjoy. The only thing added to Jaehyun above the waist are a dainty red scarf knotted over his neck and a small, flat hoop earring on his left ear. The velvet fingerless gloves, although you’re not very fond of them, complete a rather rugged yet soft look. You didn’t expect Taeyong to come up with something like that. 

Jaehyun’s well-developed physique, while you’ve seen it in other shoots and online articles, is completely different when you’re a few feet away from it. The dark blue cargo pants, silken, are a signature style of Taeyong but the details don’t distract you easily enough. Funny, this is the first time you’re feeling somewhat flustered in a place full of half-naked models. 

You suddenly think of reds and oranges, lilac shrubs and a hint of Burberry men’s perfume. In a way, it reminds you of the strums of the guitar your roommate used to play while you stayed up late, coming up with concepts. Cherishing, soothing—and special, just enough. The corner of your lips twitch and you take out your pocket sketchbook. It’s never too late to add a design to the collection, right? After all, you have secrets too. Maybe Taeyong was right about the outdoors for inspiration. 

Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.

The next time you walk into Taeyong’s studio, you feel the sun on your face better. Everything seems to be fitting into place, as you smooth through designs at a pace your student self would be jealous of. When Taeyong praises your work, you feel a rush of pride smearing the inside of your chest and you finally feel like everything’s not falling apart. It feels good. It feels like you’re someone.

The days go by in what seems like barely seconds—you know what they say about New York minutes. The mustard cloth draped over your desk to the cottage blue of your curtains, the colours around you change as quickly as the wind. Sometimes they’re abstract—and other times, well, they have more to do with a stranger’s eyes, or the swirls within a coffee cup. It’s the way in which transition occurs around you, that you often forget it moves something within you too. 

You’ve put together some samples with Taeyong, most of them by yourself; the process of making is ever comforting, fabric even more so. You’ve sent the revised designs for production, feeling giddy about whatever is to come like it’s something new. (It shouldn’t be.) 

You fucking hate how different this is. Seoul is nothing compared to New York. The anxiety is nearly ten times worse, the streets are far more attractive when it comes to inspiration and the figure of Jung Yoonoh is no longer as easy to ignore. 

Even after the summer shoot’s over, Jaehyun often comes by to hang out at the studio, dressed in what you would call the simplest fucking thing you’d ever seen and still managing to look just as gorgeous. He blends in well with university students, often wearing the ugliest baseball cap you’ve ever seen, and the look of his face feels much, much worse than ever before. It’s at ease, smug even, but never failing to smile at you when you’re trying to focus. You don’t care how good of friends Taeyong and Jaehyun are—you want to tell him to leave. 

But you just can’t bring yourself to. It’s not that you don’t trust yourself, you certainly do, but whatever New York has done to you, includes making you feel a different way about him. Sometimes you find yourself pressing your legs together harshly, stiffening at any proximity with him and a pool of warmth at the base of your stomach you’d rather not feel.

It’s embarrassing to even think about it—the fact that he makes you feel that way, so hot and bothered like it’s your first time. You blame your lack of going out these few months because after all, anyone could fall in love with runway faces. It doesn’t have to mean it’s him you want. You carry on doing what you’ve been doing for the most part of your career, your best to avoid him. There are more pressing matters, and your head might just implode if you keep on worrying about things (a man, of all) you need not. 

Time passes even faster when all your thoughts revolve around the same thing.

One month. D-30. Whatever the hell you call time before the end of the world.

Your palms sweat a whole lot easier here. It’s a little weird, considering you don’t find much difference in humidity between Seoul and New York. Your heart often catches up in your throat too. Not a great feeling, your heart choking the breath out of you, but you’re used to it. You cope and you learn, that’s what it means to be human.

You pull your hand down before it reaches your teeth. The day ended in a meeting with Taeyong’s production team—everything’s running smoothly so you need not worry, he said. 

Why are those the words that make you worry the most? 

You check the time on your phone. 23:05 and a whole month to go. You better get some sleep for all the meetings you have scheduled tomorrow. You close your eyes and for a while, everything falls quiet.

You dream of New York Fashion Week. People come here to feel included. Everyone wants to be a part of something they don’t understand.

The models walk down the runway in increasingly uncomfortable outfits. You didn’t design any of them. Where are the ones you worked on? You can’t move from your seat, or turn your head from the runway, anything at all. Something’s wrong, everything’s wrong. You don’t belong here. Thunder strikes outside the venue and you wake up with a gasp caught in your throat, and the clock on the bedside table flashing 2:14.

You’ve had enough. You swear you’ve had enough.

You get up out of bed, pacing the giant bedroom, the empty spaces making you feel more and more miserable. The city twinkles with innumerous stars beyond your window, curtains half drawn so they can comfort you whenever you need—but these lights don’t shine for you, or anyone else. They shine for themselves. That’s what it means to be in New York again. 

What time is it in Seoul? Could you call your mother? Joohyun? Everyone must be busy right now—you don’t know what to do. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so helpless. There’s a reason you’ve been avoiding New York for this long and now it’s come crashing down on you. 

This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake.

You look down at your phone, the light hurting your eyes despite being set to the lowest brightness. You think a little, and then some more. There’s no one else you can call. Even if he’s busy charming all the other employees whenever you see him, even if half the world is in love with him, there’s no one else you can call. This time you don’t stop yourself.

You tap the call button beside the Jung Yoonoh saved neatly. Tapping your foot against the floor nervously, your mind goes blank for a few seconds or so. He answers when you’re just about to hang up, breath hitching in your throat at the sound of his voice.

“Hello? Hello? If this is a reporter—”

“It’s me, Jaehyun.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and your voice overlaps his before he can begin.

“I- I didn’t mean to call so late. Sorry…uh.”

You scrunch up your face at your own voice. This is not getting you anywhere.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, voice lower.

You fall silent, unable to answer without breaking down into tears. You did not call Jung Yoonoh for that. 

“Yeah,” you choke out. “Fine. Completely fine. I just…”

You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.

“I’ll send you an address. Be there in an hour.”

You blink back tears, confusion adding to the burning pile of worries inside your head. 

“What?”

“Address. I’ll text you. Be there. One hour.”

“I’m not stupid, Jaehyun,” you snap, strength refilling your voice. “Why?”

“I’m not answering questions, just be there.”

With that, the line goes flat and an embarrassing amount of ‘hello’s get you to realize that he hung up. A notification pops up a minute later and you’re too groggy to decipher it, logging it to Maps instead so you can follow. It’s fifteen minutes away, you realize with a sigh of relief, so you can at least present yourself within the given constraint. 

You can’t grasp what you feel in the moment, the night air and warm streets beckoning you to leave the clamped apartment soaked in fear. You think this is unlike Jaehyun, what he’s doing, but you’re too shaken to care. You need some respite, even if it comes from somewhere you can’t picture.

“You…wanted to meet me at a Korean barbecue restaurant?”

Jaehyun’s ears turn red, as they often do when he doesn’t know how to respond to you.

“I-It’s not that I…Never mind,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the cloth over his shoulder. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”  

We? You think, eyes scanning his face in confusion. If you want? Where’s the uncaring Jaehyun you’ve known, foreign eyes and impassive lips? He hardly looks the part he’s meant to play—a billboard face with a confident jawline and nothing more behind it. Outside of work—you don’t even know what else to call this—Jaehyun looks hardly intimidating, or abrasive. He seems different, gentle almost, although the dark circles under his eyes might have something to do with it. Maybe he’s too tired to say anything more and that’s it.

But he still came all the way here.

“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?” 

There comes the remark you were hoping to not hear. You just wanted to look nice; you’d hardly call this overboard. The loose, mustard-colored chiffon shirt cinches at the waist, paired with your nicest (only not faded) pair of light blue jeans and shoes that haven’t seen the light of day since you arrived here. You barely ever design clothes for yourself anymore but you thought you looked good in this.

“No,” you defend quickly, feeling your face grow warm. “You’re underdressed.”

You say that, but he clearly looks good in anything he wears. Could you expect any less of  a supermodel? He doesn’t seem to have dressed in as much a hurry as you had. Clad in a plain black T-shirt that’s half tucked into skinny jeans, he’s added his hideous baseball cap and a pair of navy blue shades which looks just as ridiculous as it sounds. You really think he shouldn’t be leaving his house without the help of a stylist. 

“I…I just mean you don’t wear anything other than the same sweater and pants combination to work, so… please excuse my surprise.”

Jaehyun's eyes flicker over your figure before masking it with an awkward cough. You reach out and pull the shades over his head, the look bothering you more than anything else. He doesn’t respond to it, at least not in a way that’s obvious, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do—you fixing his hair and unquestionably awful sense of style.

“There’s a soju place a few blocks ahead. Or if you’re not into that, there’s a noodle shop just at the edge of K-town,” Jaehyun rambles on, not meeting your eye. “If you’re looking for something inexpensive—"

“You came all the way here to give me directions?” You raise an eyebrow. You might even be enjoying this, although your inner voice bites back at you, denying it.

Jaehyun shakes his head, the red in his ears pulsing back up. “No. I…I needed some fresh air.”

“You…have someplace to be then?”

Jaehyun might not realize it, but the answers he gives always have room for teasing. Aloof. Vague. Yet somehow sweet.

“And you’ll go alone? At this hour? No, I’ll accompany you,” he says out loud, trying to play off the sudden vocal inflection. You sigh. Boys will be boys, as they say. Even if they’re twenty-six.

You let him keep you company. Though the first few minutes are painfully quiet, neither of you knowing quite what to say without starting a disagreement, you continue your walk through a city that never sleeps. It’s awkward even, being side by side without you seething at his charming, (undoubtedly) fake smile. He feels real, for once, and you don’t know how to react. There seem to be some gold-tinted cracks appearing in your reality, slowly but surely, and you’re not very good at patching anything other than fabric.

“You know, it’s actually a little relieving to see Korean letters here,” you say, sighing. You never thought you’d be so corny, but it really does feel good being here. 

Or is it him? 

“Thanks,” you add quietly, hoping he doesn’t hear. No, maybe you do. You can’t tell at this point.

“I…I know what it’s like,” he says, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind. He clears his throat, an ‘ah’ escaping his lips as he stops abruptly.

“We…We missed the turn,” he declares, a little sheepish as he scratches the back of his head.

You look at him in disbelief. “Jaehyun, how long have you lived here?”

“Oh, I was born here actually,” he says, tilting his face to look at you, blunt sarcasm evident on it. “How many times have you lost your way to the convenience store in Seoul?”

“Literally zero times.”

Jaehyun puffs a cheek before going back to normal and turning a hundred and eighty degrees down the street.

“Hey, wait up!” you huff at his increased pace, half jogging to keep up.

You reach the acclaimed noodle shop, your breath barely within your lungs and swearing at Jaehyun who looks like he wasn’t bothered one bit. He reaches his hand out to help you and you swat it away, chest still heaving with your hands on your knees.

“Dickhead,” you hiss.

“I don’t think I deserved that,” he responds with a widening smile. 

“Asshole,” you say, standing up straight to glare at him.

“What would Seoul say hearing their beloved designer swear like this?” Jaehyun looks almost amused, as if you hadn’t shared an awkward time together, like two teenagers who were forced to walk home together from the bus stop.

“They can go to hell,” you retort. “As can you.”

Jaehyun laughs, a strange sound to hear and you blink a few times, unsure of what to do. You wonder if it’s the night playing tricks or if Jaehyun really is an actual person, not the basket of preprocessed insults you were used to. The cracks are widening—you’re not sure if they’re meant to be patched.

Perhaps you were a little eager to enter someplace warm, but you feel immense relief in this little shop, despite the smell of chili paste and noodle soup wafting through the air. It’s a little empty; in fact, you two seem to be the only people there apart from some students at the other corner, but you sit there in your own bubble, talking with Jaehyun of all people about which singer is better. He laughs occasionally, still managing to catch you off-guard with how honest it sounds and you wonder for a moment, how nice this feels. For the first time in a month, your heartbeat seems to have settled at a normal rate.

“What?” you enounce, a little offended. “What’s so wrong about my love life?”

“You just- You just don’t seem that type,” he explains, his ears as red as the bowl.

“I don’t have time for commitments, Jaehyun,” you sigh. “It’s what happens when you’re good at your job.”

Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response. 

“So, your, uh, what is it? Training camp? What’s that about?” you ask, in between blowing your food.

“You could really Google things once in a while, you know?” he replies, bringing his chopsticks close to his mouth.

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not one of your creepy stalkers, Mr. Jung.”

“Nothing to do with that,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s for kids interested in fashion, modeling, photography—stuff.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I just sponsor them. You know how difficult it is to get noticed in…this industry,” he explains, like it’s not a big deal. Nothing ever seems to be a big deal to him.

You nod, unable to help the smile. Maybe it isn’t a big deal, but you’re sure now that you were mistaken. Just a little bit. 

“I was lucky,” you mumble. “I can’t believe they saw those ugly embroidered patches and decided to sponsor me, oh my god. That sweater was hideous.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly. “They saw me cleaning outside my school and decided to pick me up and ship me straight to Paris.”

“Nothing’s worse than the first day.” You take another mouthful, the taste savoury and filling. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure they photoshopped my ears out in the first magazine shoot I had.”

You laugh, leaning in a little closer. “Your first year was rough, huh?”

He hums, his eyes flickering from your nose to your lips. It makes you a little self-conscious, blood rushing to your cheeks at an unexpected pace. Who knew Jaehyun could have such an effect on you? 

Your eyes flutter over his face once again.

He’s handsome. But it’s the sort of handsomeness that tells you, you don’t know much beyond it. You look back at your bowl, sobering up and completing the rest of the noodles.

It’s still midnight blue in the faraway sky as you walk down the streets. Most of the people you see out and about are those drunk off their faces from club hopping or a particularly enthusiastic group of tourists. The watermelon soju, while better with budae-jjigae and arguably the best soju flavor, somehow had little effect on you with the bitter aftertaste still settling in. The crowds in other places would make for great people-watching but you walk in a lonely street that calls for proximity. Beside you, Jaehyun sneezes, the sound of it making you jump on the quiet sidewalk.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun,” you huff, wincing at the sound, “you sounded like a fucking tractor.”

Jaehyun laughs, looking down at the pavement. When he looks back at you, the circles underneath his eyes seem to have darkened and you wonder if yours are the same. Yours can’t possibly be as important as his, though, and you wonder if it’s appropriate to laugh at how dorky he looks.

You find yourself not wanting to walk back into the safety of your suite. Jaehyun has a look of calm across his features, drawing over the landscape around you. New York lights don’t faze him, they only reflect in his eyes. 

The way his soft breaths fan out against his lips remind you that he is human, after all—he has a soul and body, thoughts and its beautiful intricacies. When he turns back to you, you feel those criminal feelings all over again, except this time it’s even louder. It feels so wrong, and yet you can’t help but think of the liberation that could come with his lips on yours. 

You could swear out loud, all the colorful words ready at the tip of your tongue.

“Your collar’s…”

Jaehyun’s voice trails off, his hand moving to fix your flipped collar, and when the heat of his skin brushes your neck, you try to not think of where else his hands could be, his lips could be. 

In fact, there’s a moment within where it’s perfectly reasonable for him to kiss you, the taste almost on your tongue. But Jaehyun moves away, an indecipherable look across his face.

“I should get going,” he says, “I have a- I have a shoot early tomorrow—today.”

You nod, cheeks coloring at your own unsaid thoughts. Just what have you done to yourself? Why is your skin searing, why does your stomach feel upside down and why were you so ready to give in to him? To Jaehyun? You’ve never felt want like this before, this need to press skin against skin in a manner so illicit. 

You part with a short goodbye, the sudden loneliness in your path making you want to backtrack, ask if you can go somewhere else again—maybe there’s a club nearby so you can see him through a round of shots as you usually do. Maybe the bitter feelings will return then. 

When you think of the words you exchanged over the course of so unusual a night—your former unforgiving words contradict you. You hate the realization but being so obscure in front of a camera doesn’t have to mean he’s pretentious. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe someday you’ll even admit it.

You feel a flash of heat in your face. You are not running to Jung Yoonoh—what an embarrassing thought. If the very core of your being isn’t repulsed by it, there’s something wrong with you. 

There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.

You breathe sharply, trying to organize your thoughts. As if the paparazzi wouldn’t have a treat out of this meeting you had with him if they got to know. You’d better limit it to the only one.

You bite your nails out of force of habit. It’s not going to help. You know. But there’s hardly anything else to cool your nerves.

Front row tickets to New York Fashion Week—the most mortifying dream out of all the ones you’ve ever had. The way Taeyong fidgets, you want to believe he’s in the same boat as you—it makes you thankful even. 

Even outside of New York, Lee Taeyong is known for booking out exclusively intimate spaces. There are some props for the pre-show photography, including inked sketches on giant vertical banners stuck to the walls and tables with a messy collection of coffee cans, pencils and a sewing machine. Diverse types of fabric roll off the table in long strips, gently lining the floor till they end midway to another table. It’s a mess—a mess you made look good.

You’d left that and the backstage behind now. All eyes are on the sparsely lit runway, your aspirations coating the air in a thick veil. Are you ready? You won’t know till the first model steps out and till you can elicit a response from the audience.

Jaehyun’s at another venue—career before friendship, or, heaven forbid, attraction. You’d seen the fitting, cape skirt doing daringly well with his long legs clad in black pants, and a classy vest over a ruffled white shirt. You hate seeing other designs before a show, but god, were you glad you’d visited Givenchy to meet Johnny. 

But you’re relieved even, that Jaehyun isn’t here. You don’t have the strength to face him anyway, all your energy directed into this chasm of whatever you’d call six months of effort. You want to call yourself accomplished. You want to be proud of yourself.

So this time, you remember all twenty-six minutes of it.

God, they look so beautiful up there, when they’re being looked at, seen for what they are—you’ll never get over it. There’s still hardly much to remember, except this time you’re happy to do it all over again. Effort only exists if it’s acknowledged.

It settles in quite a while later, the weight of all you’d done. You could almost cry, but that’s better left to pillows and the unrelenting skies above a midnight-coated rooftop. This is your moment. For once, you’re anything but afraid. 

Afterparties are still not your thing. 

However, you had your nicest outfit picked out and Lee Taeyong’s fancy, themed afterparties are something notorious among your colleagues. You’ve heard designers tend to go all out, wearing the best things they’ve designed even if it makes them a little embarrassed to be wearing their own work.

You feel a sigh leave your lips as you finally find a place to sit, your earlier conversations leaving you drained of social energy. You don’t feel alien—it’s strange—and their compliments feel almost warm. The music playing over the speakers is something, you’re sure, from a 60’s American movie, and while it has its own strange allure, the champagne gives you a larger dose of relief. 

In fact, if you’re not mistaken, it’s quite like the ballroom in Paris, although significantly smaller. Burgundy wallpaper and lit up crystals hanging in hexagonal shapes across the ceiling—it’d look lovely on a dress too.

Taeyong’s speech, of course, gives you a spike of anxiety with the sudden announcement of his label’s future, a brand now. He smiles on the small podium, everyone admiring his radiance when suddenly he gestures at you, the glass in your hand feeling hotter and hotter.

“…I couldn’t do this without the only designer I felt was up to this—the first designer to work under my brand, as of now…” 

You try not to blush under all the pairs of eyes that turn to you. 

“(name), thank you.” 

Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.

Everything feels natural, as if a dream gone right. You’re no longer afraid of the world you stepped into, or the accumulation of feelings that molded you into the person you are now. The confidence you so chased after as if it were morphine, you’re going to be keeping an eye on it before it can run away again.

There’s still one little problem to your night of triumph, though. 

Jaehyun hasn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you entered, a conversation yet pending. You already know he looks good in the plainest of T-shirts, so it might be a no-brainer that he looks absolutely stunning in a suit. The crystals lining the lapels of his coat glimmer amidst the crowd he’s gathered. It’s hard to come in contact, however. He’s magnetic, almost formidable in the way he attracts attention, and you know it’s something that comes with being a man of few words. 

“You’re not enjoying the party?” you ask, taking in Jaehyun’s figure on the veranda overlooking the garden. He sits on one of the mahogany chairs, swirling the glass of champagne with a look of indifference coating his eyes and lips.

“I am,” he says, turning to face you. “Needed a short break.”

“I suppose being the most attractive man in the room needs a break,” you say, taking a seat beside him.

A wry laugh leaves his lips, as he lays his eyes on you. “You don’t seem bothered by it though?”

“I believe that pretty is as pretty does,” you say, your lips twitching.

Jaehyun smiles, furrowing his eyebrows yet still. “You think multimillionaire companies are built on things like inner beauty?”

He’s right. What’s inside is beautiful—it’s too idealistic a phrase. You sigh, adjusting your sleeve. It’s a difficult life, walking the runway no one dares to step on. 

I think you’d make that cut too, you want to tell him.

“You know the best thing I got told today?” you ask, diverting the stream of conversation. You think he’s a friend. Even if it could be the champagne talking. Even if you want something more than the innocence of friendship. 

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Did Cristóbal Balenciaga’s ghost show up to compliment you?”

“No,” you emphasize, laughing at his pronunciation. “It was this girl. A student. Said she wrote an essay about me.”

Jaehyun hums, dimples marking his cheeks. “I didn’t know a student could get you so giddy.”

You laugh, looking down at your hands before resting your gaze on him again. He leans forward in his seat, strands of hair falling over his face from the rest and a contemplating look over his features. He looks much, much different from when you first saw him, and even handsomer, if that were possible. He’s grown up from the awkward boy you saw in the press release pictures of the Saint Laurent Fall Collection—he looks sharp and valiant on front covers, his shoulders broad and his eyes darling. Jaehyun is still unironically the most breathtaking man you’ve ever met. He might even be one of the sweetest, inside out. 

You look to his lips, full as ever. Perhaps you have something to confess. Secrets aren’t meant to be kept so long.

“Jaehyun,” you call, bringing his attention before faltering. It’s not like you’re the only one fawning over his smile. You get up instead, excusing yourself. “I’ll see you inside I suppose.”

“You know I like you, right?”

You turn around. “What?”

Jaehyun gets up, brushing his suit and fixing the lapels. The gentle night haze and the contrasting calls of the brightly lit party inside brush over an effect you’ve never felt before. “I…I like you. It’s pretty straightforward, I think.”

You deny it, or rather, some repressed little emotion inside you denies it vehemently. “Jaehyun, really. I admit I was a complete asshole to you and- and...it was…kind of you to accompany me that night but—”

“Stop. Don’t- Don’t call that kind. You’re not seeing the full picture.”

You stand there, unsure of what to do as you feel your chest grow warmer. Jaehyun turns his head upwards, letting out an audible breath. You can see conflict on his face, the struggle of someone still mulling over the perfect words.

“I don’t hate you. I never really hated you even if I wanted to.”

You suppose it wouldn’t be the right time to say that you might have indulged in that.

“I did,” you confess. “I hated you for a very, very long time, Jaehyun.”

“I know,” he whispers, looking straight at you. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging—”

“Jaehyun, I don’t care about that,” you say, your voice rising, “You told me you felt suffocated in bow ties and laughed when I asked if you wanted to run away with me. I just ended up thinking you were a goddamn liar.”  

“Fine,” he says quietly in his baritone timbre, sounds of the chatter from inside numbing away. “Then let me be honest.”

“When I met you, I thought there was someone like me doing just the same—so…suddenly in the midst of everything. Even if you were a complete asshole to me. You were still real.”

He phrases it delicately, lilting, as if that hasn’t been your whole purpose here.  He’s only a breath away from you, but you don’t want to push him away this time. There’s a moment’s pause.

“Between work and myself, which is more important? For once, I thought I could answer that question.”

Your breaths are soft and shallow as they fall, trying to understand his words.

“And then you just fucking stopped. You stopped flying out and I’d barely see you outside of Seoul like you- like you gave up or something. I didn’t understand—what happened to you?”

Jaehyun looks at you with a hardened expression, ears turning red as if he hadn’t expected this outburst of truth. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It’s not like him to open his mouth and let out words that are raw and honest; it makes you feel the weight even more. You were still kids that night. You’re not anymore.

“Jaehyun,” you whisper before reaching your hand out and placing it against his cheek.

It’s so hard to not take in the details. The prominence of the muscle by his mouth when he speaks, the fine lines by his nose which appear sporadically or the look of complete reverence in his eyes when he’s staring at you like this—everything those runway shots can’t possibly capture. Your eyes trail to his lips, your own drawn to it with a desire you don’t know how to comprehend—and don’t quite wish to, either.

You want to believe he made the first move but you give in so easy, it’s alarming. Your lips move against his in a rhythm new and frantic, his hands gripping you with full strength at the waist and you part your lips to allow a deeper kiss. Your hands are free to roam his perfectly styled hair, tousling it in a fashion that makes him groan, only to push you harder against the wall. 

“I should’ve- I should’ve let you kiss me that night,” he mumbles against your lips. “Maybe I…I wouldn’t have made you hate me.”

“Maybe you should shut up and kiss me right now,” you respond, your tongue pressing against his, effectively doing the job.

It’s not difficult to see stars when his hips press against yours, his hand resting on one thigh to pull it up slightly. You feel the impact of it head-on, almost moaning out loud when his fingers press harder against the back of your thigh.

“Tell me- Tell me you want this,” he breathes out when he breaks the kiss.

You respond with reconnecting your lips, your tongue sliding against his in fervent affirmations. You’ve already forfeited your modesty, there’s no reason to stop.

You leave early, getting into the car you’d booked for the night. It would be far more embarrassing were it not for the separation between the front and backseats, when Jaehyun’s hands are up your clothes and his lips rough against your neck. The lip colour has smudged by the side of Jaehyun’s lips, a short giggle escaping you when you notice. It’s not enough to halt the kissing, or feeling each other up —something that feels long overdue. You try to keep your sounds to a minimum but Jaehyun seems to not care about things as worthless as shame, at least for the moment.

“Well, you’re about as graceful as a sea lion when you’re off the runway,” you hiss when Jaehyun’s teeth prick your skin.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he responds in a low tone, the rest of his retort pushed away by his lips against your mouth.

You don’t have time to take in the details of Jaehyun’s apartment because he’s already carrying you to the bed, your legs around his waist and continuing to kiss you as if making up for something. All those years, you could have been doing this. Maybe you do have some regrets.

The material of his dress shirt feels expensive but clothes are not what you need right now. His phone rings once but he drags a finger over it to reject the call, his mouth still pressing against your collarbone. The only sounds you hear are rugged breathing and you fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you pull it over his shoulders. The city lights below you reach through the drawn curtains, all the unrelenting complicacies left behind in those faraway streets.

Jaehyun makes a sound of annoyance at the phone ringing yet again. He breaks apart from you, receiving the call while his fingers massage his temple.

“Hyung, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later—”

“I was just wondering where you disappeared and you don’t even grace me with a hello?” Johnny’s voice rings clear in the all too silent bedroom.

“Hyung—”

“Wait a minute.” There’s a pause within which Jaehyun seems to tense up. “Are you fucking? Like did you leave the party to get la—”

“Hyung. I’m hanging up.” 

The coral pink spread over his ears is almost as pretty as the look of pure annoyance over his face.

“That—”

“Didn’t happen,” you complete, giggling. If someone were to tell you’d be seeing Jaehyun like this a few months ago, you wouldn’t know whether to be embarrassed or exhilarated.

You place your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

Sex is barely ever beautiful—even if it’s Jung Yoonoh over you, planting kisses from your mouth to jaw, neck to chest and whispering sweet, delicious words against each part. He certainly knows how to use that tongue of his, better than you’d expect from a boy so pristine.

It doesn’t matter if it’s not beautiful, when it’s just like a slow dance—in shared solace and love out of time. You bite your lips to stop smiling too often for it to feel as serious and indifferent as all the other times. Sometimes you feel Jaehyun grinning into the crook of your neck, the giddiness of love taking over the movement of your hips against his. The perfect anatomy of his, paired with his candied words makes you think that maybe you do fit together.

Jaehyun pushes into you at a steady pace, your fingers digging into his back and over his shoulder blades only to draw out sounds more pleasing to your ears. You let someone else take charge for once, his praising whispers of ‘that’s my baby’ or ‘you just look so good’ far too teasing but he follows through, your body barely able to respond apart from shaking and shuddering till you reach your high. 

The sound of skin against skin dies down well into the night and you get cleaned, still blissed out from making the summit of all your senses. It’s warm inside, despite turning the air conditioner on.

“Jaehyun,” you call, lowering yourself to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

“Hm?” He gives you a drowsy smile, arm under his head and hair sticking to his forehead funny.

“Did you really not hate me? Not even once?” You rest your cheek against your palm as you lie beside him.

Even under the dim lights, it’s not hard to spot the blush on him when he positively glows. Jaehyun reminds you of warm auburn and the touch of cool satin—it’s easy to make things, find inspiration in love.

“Oh my god, you were lying!” you accuse, sitting up straight. “There’s no way you didn’t hate me. I called your modeling as good as a coconut’s!”

“As you so love to remind me,” he mumbles.

There’s a brief moment before the two of you crack up, his deep laughter perfectly mismatched with yours. There’s hardly many sounds on the eighteenth floor, but maybe you’ve always been yearning for this privacy—this proximity in shared laughter and warm touches. 

“No, I didn’t,” Jaehyun answers your question after it’s quiet once again. “I thought...I think you’re…”

Jaehyun trails off, his eyes flickering over your face before fixing on your lips as his own tug into a smile. He gulps. “I think we’d be in trouble if the paparazzi saw us throwing choice words at each other, don’t you think? You were barely out of school then.”

“Me?” You laugh. “You were thinking about me?”

“And a little bit about me.” 

You fall asleep against Jaehyun’s chest with the certainty of kinder tomorrows, a thing he teaches you through whispers against the pillow and fingers playing with your hair. There’s something private in the way he holds your face, something delicate and homely running from his long fingers to his flushed knuckles and the rest of his hand as it presses against your cheek. It’s warm here, and safe, and maybe home is where the heart is, after all.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit sad I’m leaving?” you ask, placing your hand over your heart. “Who’s going to help you when you’re getting bullied in the workplace now?”

Doyoung huffs in annoyance, placing the box down beside the moving truck. “You’re the only one who bullies me in the workplace.”

You adjust the ugly baseball cap on your head, the one Jaehyun had pulled over your head in an attempt to stop you from complaining about his messy apartment. You hadn’t realized you’d worn it all the way to Seoul till the articles about your questionable choice of accessories had surfaced.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,” Doyoung says, making a face as he picks your phone up from the box near him. “I can’t even believe this. All those years of flirting and—”

You snatch it from him, glaring at him for the choice of words. He raises his hands defensively, rolling his eyes at your sudden movement.

“Are you sure you don’t want me flying to Seoul?”

“Unless you’re planning to work in a truck rental.”

You hear Jaehyun laugh on the other side of the line. Is it normal to have blood rush straight from your chest to your ears at the sound of laughter? You hope that doesn’t change.

You’d visited him a day before your flight. It hasn’t been all that long but Jaehyun certainly makes it out to be, just so he can use his cheesy one-liners. You try not to smile thinking about how he had flung his hair band out, immediately tousling his hair back into a pretty mess and struggling to keep a straight face when you’d visited out of the blue. Jaehyun wakes up at one in the afternoon when his schedule is empty and it had appalled you enough to help him out with basic chores before you left. (It didn’t end well. He kept putting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his arms around you while you did the dishes.)

“(name)? (name), are you daydreaming again?” 

You sigh. “You can’t wait three more days, Jae? It’s, what, one in the morning there!”

“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t think I can sleep without waking up to your face.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, unable to grace him with a response. The dreamy languor in his voice is more than recognizable and if you’re not mistaken, he’s going to be saying something highly inappropriate.

“Do you know what dream I had last night?” he asks, the smile almost evident with how suggestive it sounds.

“Jaehyun, no,” you warn before lowering your voice. “I swear if it’s another dirty dream—”

“Come home and I’ll tell you all about it. With demonstrations.”

This time you can’t help the laughter, trying to mask it with a cough only to fail. You push the back of your hand against your cheek in order to soothe the involuntary blush. Your perfume smells just like him, and you realize suddenly why he’d gifted it to you.

“That definitely makes me want to leave faster,” you quip.

“I certainly hope so.”

It’s different now, especially if you remember your feelings just last February. Change feels easy for the first time in your life. You check off your list of items, counting the boxes as they’re lifted onto the truck. It took a good amount of thinking, and a bunch of fights before you could decide. New York isn’t so bad. Not when you have reason to be there. You’d like to call it love.

A list of things you do appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.

[queenshelby]

A New Life

Part Two: The Hangover Date

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,510

Warning: None

It was about 10 o’clock in the morning after the party when you slowly crawled out of bed as you were woken up by a loud banging noise coming from the downstairs living room.

You were staying in the guest room of your brother’s house since Max had a sleepover there with his cousins so that Janine, Evelyn’s sister, could look after the children for the night. She always had been your brother’s go to babysitter and you’ve known her for many years as well.

‘Morning’ you said with a hasty voice as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and staring out of the window. Clearly, you were hungover after having had too much alcohol to drink the night before.

‘Morning’ you heard from the small butler’s pantry and, whilst this voice wasn’t your brother’s voice, it sounded very familiar.

‘Jesus’ you eventually huffed out as, suddenly, Cillian appeared in front of you, holding a box of marshmallows.

‘One would have thought that your brother kept those on the top shelf, out of reach from the kids’ he chuckled just as you were looking at him rather stunned and embarrassed.

You were wearing one of your brother’s old t-shirts, black cotton panties and a pair of fluffy bed socks which Evelyn had lent you. Your hair was messy and the remains of your mascara was smudged beneath your eyes despite the fact that you had removed your make up the night before, before you went to bed, at least so you thought.

Cillian, on the other hand, clearly had been up for a while. He was wearing a black hooded jumper and blue jeans which, clearly, needed to be stitched up around the knee area. His hair was freshly washed and messy and he didn’t even have bags under his eyes despite the fact that he had left the pub just before you did.

But, what stood out to you, were his colourful purple striped socks which didn’t match his rather trendy outfit whatsoever.

‘Uhm, have you seen my son, Max?’ you eventually murmured concerned as it was clear to you that Evelyn’s sister had already left and, whilst you heard the shower going downstairs, you didn’t see anyone else around.

‘He is in the living room, having a hot chocolate. Apparently, I forgot the marshmallows though’ Cillian said with a warm smile and you followed him into the living room as he did.

‘Cill, shit, Max is lactose intolerant’ you panicked as you saw him sip on his blue sesame street cup.

‘I know. You mentioned it to me last night so I gave him soy milk’ Cillian then said and you were somewhat surprised that he had remembered your passing remark about your son’s intolerance to dairy.

‘Thank god, because this would have been one hell of a day’ you said relieved which is when Max told you that Cillian had made pancakes for him and his cousins too.

‘Oh wow, that’s lucky’ you said before thanking Cillian for making Max and his cousins some breakfast.

‘So, uhm, what are you doing here so early in the morning?’ you then asked, curious as to why he was at your brother’s house.

‘Early? It’s 10 o’clock’ Cillian then chuckled before telling you that Cian, Evelyn and him were going to see a mutual friend’s new art exhibition in Dublin at noon.

‘I knew Cian would be hungover, so I came over early to force him to get ready’ Cillian then explained and you couldn’t help but laugh before sitting down with Max. Cillian obviously knew your brother well and, once he started drinking, there was certainly no stopping him especially when it comes to beer.

***

It wasn’t long until Evelyn and Cian walked into the living room and, whilst Evelyn didn’t look much better than you, Cian had managed to have a shower and had gotten dressed.

‘I don’t think I am going to come with you guys. My head is pounding’ Evelyn said.

‘So, you rather hang out with my mother? Fine by me’ Cian laughed and, sure enough, it wasn’t long until the doorbell rang and Cian’s mother arrived in order to help with the kids.

‘Do you like modern art?’ Cillian then asked you.

‘It depends. Some I do, some I don’t’ you explained and that was when Cillian asked you whether you wanted to come along instead of Evelyn.

‘Dude, this could have been fun now that we ditched my wife and now you invite my sister along instead? Common’ Cian joked as you agreed reluctantly to tag along with them after Evelyn and Cian’s mother offered to watch Max for the remainder of the day.

‘I need to go home and get changed first though. I would have to meet you there’ you explained.

‘It’s pouring outside Y/N. I can drive you and wait, if you like. That way, you don’t have to walk and catch public transport. Surely, you won’t take more than 20 minutes to get ready, right?’ Cillian then offered.

‘That would be great, thank you. I think I can manage to get ready in 20 minutes’ you confirmed before quickly grabbing your stuff.

‘Are you coming man?’ Cillian then asked Cian as you were ready to leave.

‘Mate, just pick me up on the way into town. You have to come this way again anyway. I am still not feeling so flash’ Cian then said before asking you to grab some of Max’s sickie bags from your house for him to use in case he needed to vomit.

‘You better don’t throw up in my new car man’ Cillian then chuckled before following you out of the door.

***

When Cillian pulled up in front of your apartment five minutes later, you offered him to come inside and make him a cup of tea while he was waiting for you to get ready.

You desperately needed at least a quick shower and it felt rude to leave him sit in his car after he had just gone out of his way to drive you.

Cillian gladly accepted your offer and, just as he sat down in the living room and you handed him a cup of peppermint tea, he apologised to you for talking to Robert and forcing you on a date with him.

‘It’s not your fault Cillian. Cian already explained what happened and I appreciate that you tried to hook me up with the man you thought I might be interested in. The truth is, I am not. I am not interested in any sort of relationship at the moment and, whilst he is nice, he is also a little too young for me I think’ you said carefully, not knowing what Cillian’s relationship with Robert was like.

‘Too young? Isn’t he a year older than you?’ Cillian said before admitting to you that he had googled your name the night before after you met because he was curious.

‘You googled me? Okay, so you are well aware of all the bad press back home’ you said, thinking back about the bad things the papers back home had written about you following your recent break up with your ex-boyfriend who, clearly, wanted to make a name for himself.

‘I don’t tend to read gossip Y/N. Over the years I’ve learned that only half of the shit the papers say about someone is actually true’ Cillian said reassuringly, making you smile.

‘That is good to know. I wish everyone had this sort of mindset’ you said with a warm smile before looking at your watch.

‘I better get ready’ you then said, causing Cillian to nod.

***

You had quick shower and washed your hair which took five minutes at the most and, when you were done, you tippy toed through the living room into your bedroom, covered only by a white fluffy towel.

As you walked through the living room quickly, you could hear Cillian inhale sharply. He was clearly watching you and you certainly didn’t mind.

But the fact that he did watch you bothered him. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should look away. You were his best friend’s sister and much younger than him.

Eventually, after another five minutes, you emerged from your bedroom wearing black jeans and a grey jumper. You put your semi wet hair into a bun and applied some mascara and lip gloss.

‘Is this alright, you think?’ you asked, seeking some reassurance from Cillian.

‘You look nice’ he then said almost shyly before you both headed off and picked up Cian.

But, little did you know that Cian wasn’t the only person who you were picking up on your way to the gallery.

Cillian also made a small detour to collect Laura who, when she saw you sitting in Cillian’s car, was rather surprised and also a little annoyed.

Whilst it was not clear to you last night, you realised now, that Cillian was Cian’s friend who she had her eyes on and this was meant to be a double date which you had ultimately just crashed.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @ @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[t0wnspersonb]

Hot Springs (Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader)

Word Count: 2,570

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT, bad language, public, my shit writing, Ushijima being a beautiful man

Summary: You couldn’t remember the last time you and Ushijima got to spend proper time together, so when he suggests going to the hot springs for a date how could you refuse? Although, you two are doing a bit more than just enjoying the hot water. 

~~~~

GUYS! I know it’s been a fucking minute😫 I’m still trying to get my shit together for school lmao. BUT I’ve been working on this fic for a while tbh, I was just never motivated to finish it until recently. I apologize in advance if it’s trash😂 BUT, I do have a couple of things to go over. First of all, thank you guys so much for being patient with me the past couple of weeks, I’ve definitely missed putting content out to you guys, I’ve just been super busy with life and school. Second of all, I know I have requests sitting in my inbox, I will do them. Eventually. The only reason why I’m even posting something new is because this story was already in the works, so since it’s done I decided to post it (it’s probably garbage idk lol). Third of all, I love you guys so much  😘😘😘😘 it’s been such a joy writing for you all, and I hope I continue to put out content you guys enjoy! As always, this story is dedicated to @sunshinewitchz​ because she’s the biggest Wakatoshi simp I know, and I love her so much and her endless support. 

I hope you guys enjoy the story! Please let me know what you think of it😊😊

~~~~

“- Would you like to go?” Ushijima’s deep voice filtered through your ears; although you only heard the last part, you had no idea what he had said beforehand.

 “Hmm?” you finally looked up at him, the paint brush in your hand stilled.

 A soft frown coated his lips, sometimes you were far too engrossed in your art projects. Usually he didn’t mind, today was different though. It had been two weeks since the last time he had seen you, both of you far too busy to make time to spend together.

 Of course, he would want your undivided attention, he missed you. 

 “I’m sorry Toshi, what were you saying?” you smiled sheepishly at him, carefully setting down the paintbrush, your eyes focused on him completely now.

 “The hot springs. Do you want to go?” He asked again, his eyes flickering over your face.

 Your lips pursed, your brain wracking through the dates to make sure you didn’t already have a prior commitment. “When?”

 He let out another sigh, Ushijima loved you deeply, but when painting was involved… well, you were in a completely different world to the point that it was hard to hold a conversation with you.

 But he also loved your passion for it, he loved how talented you were, how confident you were in your skills. It was proven time and time again whenever you produced your master pieces.

 Although, all your artwork in his eyes were masterpieces.

 You were the best masterpiece of all. Ushijima could stare at you for hours, he could watch you paint for hours, but right now, he wanted to be your sole focus.

 “Do you want to go to the hot springs with me tomorrow?” he asked once more.

 “Okay.” You smiled brightly at him, you didn’t have anything to do tomorrow, except to drop off a painting. Any chance you got to spend with Ushijima you would take. 

 “Okay.” he repeated, a soft smile coating his lips. “Finish up, we’ll go get food once you’re done.”

 You definitely loved Ushijima.

 ***

 “Ushijima-senpai! Y/n-senpai!” Goshiki exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here!?”

 “Your grandma asked for a commission piece! I’m just dropping it off now.” You smiled widely. “I didn’t know you would be here today!”

 “I-I’m just visiting.” he stuttered out, his eyes awkwardly flickering over to Ushijima who paid him no mind, his eyes scanning the outer exterior of the house.

 “I need to collect the money; do you know where she is?” You asked sweetly.

 “She’s out in the garden, please come in.” He said awkwardly, stepping aside. 

 “I won’t be long Toshi!” You said cheerfully, pardoning yourself before you entered the home, leaving Goshiki and Ushijima standing at the entrance.

 “This is nice wood, is it oak?” Ushijima asked suddenly, his eyes tracing over the large door.

 “I don’t know Senpai…”

 Silence once again surrounded them, but like you had said, the exchange didn’t take too long as you came walking up to the volleyball players cheerfully.

 “All set Toshi! Let’s head out yeah?” you smiled up at him.

 He nodded before taking your hand into his and waving goodbye at the male.

 “Bye Goshiki! See you around!” you called out behind your shoulder.

 Sometimes it was a wonder how you and Ushijima ended up together. The concept of “opposites attract” seemed to be in play for this. 

 Your bright and bubbly personality contrasted greatly with his. Ushijima’s blunt and rough exterior was the complete opposite of your gentle and easygoing one. 

 However, you guys shared one trait, and that was the undeniable confidence you guys had in your skills. Ushijima with volleyball, and you with art.

 But despite the contrasting personalities, your relationship worked, the love and respect you guys had for one another was always present.

 “That was really nice of that lady to give us our own spring. I didn’t even know that a place like this could have private ones!” You said happily as you guys walked towards the changing rooms.

 “Yeah.” Ushijima nodded briefly, “see you in a bit.”

 You grinned at him widely before skipping off into your own changing room. 

 You bummed softly to yourself as you began undressing. The showers felt incredible against your skin and you couldn’t help but sigh in content, a trip to the hot springs was something that you definitely needed after working so hard on your commissions.

 You carefully wrapped yourself in the towel and started heading towards the spring. The change in temperature caused a shiver to run through your body, shuddering gently as the steam curled around your damp shoulders. You breathed in the soft scent of earth, sighing softly as your body relaxed in the hot springs air. 

 Your eyes scanned over the area, before pausing on a figure that left your heart racing and your stomach flipping.

 Ushijima paid no attention to his surroundings; his stare was focused on the scenery before him. But that gave you plenty of time to drink in the tall male before you.

 He was truly the most beautiful person you’ve ever met before. His broad shoulders and rippling back muscles were completely exposed to your greedy eyes. 

 How you ended up with such a beautiful man was beyond your comprehension. 

 “What are you waiting for?” His deep voice filtered through the air, your gaze met his olive eyes and you felt your face flush immediately.

 “Just appreciating the view.” You said cheekily before dropping your towel and settling yourself down into the water.

 A long sigh escaped your lips as you submerged yourself completely. This was heaven; you couldn’t remember the last time you had been to the hot springs, and the fact that you got to spend it with the man you loved the most, it was definitely pure heaven.

 “The scenery is very nice here.” he agreed, eyes scanning over the area once more.

 You laughed softly at his statement, your hand gently pressing into the bulging muscle of his bicep. “I wasn’t talking about the scenery. I was talking about you Toshi.” 

 Ushijima felt his expression soften considerably as he looked down at you. You were resting your head against his arm, your eyes closed in absolute bliss.

 This time Ushijima decided  to scan over you, and fuck… you were the best thing he’s ever seen.

 His eyes drank in every inch of your beautiful face, his gaze trailing over the strands of wet hair clinging to your face, wrapping around your collarbone and then your shoulders and…

 Oh.

 He shamelessly stared at your exposed breasts. He could feel his heart rate beginning to pick up as he started to register in his mind that you… no both of you were extremely bare to one another.

 Ushijima couldn’t understand this sudden shyness that began to bubble up in his gut. He had seen you bare so many times before, he’s touched you so many times before, he’s had you in every way that he could think of; and yet… What was this sudden rush of arousal spiking through his blood right now?

 Your eyes fluttered open and met intense olive colored ones staring right back. You felt your mouth go dry, your stomach twisting in a way that was all too familiar.

 The only times Ushijima has ever looked at you like that was when…

 “What is it, Wakatoshi?” You teased slightly, the flush in your face was something that you could blame on the hot water, not the fact that your hunk of a boyfriend was blatantly staring at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

 “You’re beautiful.” he said simply, reaching out to tug on a strand of your wet hair. His strong, thick fingers gently began trailing against the skin of your throat, skimming across your collarbone. Despite the hot water, you couldn’t help but shiver at his gentle touch. 

 “I meant… is there something that you want Wakatoshi?” You asked, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stared at him through your lashes.

 “You. Always you.” he answered simply; his large hand curving gently around your jaw, cupping your face carefully.

 Your stomach twisted pleasantly, an all too familiar burn bubbling deep within your gut, but also... your heart. Once again you were in awe of the man before you, the amount of love you held for him was far too much for your heart to contain, bubbling up and spilling over the longer you looked at him.

 “You have me.” you said quietly, carefully pressing yourself closer to him, your hands rested gently against the bare skin of his chest, strong and oh so broad.

 “Then kiss me.” he demanded, olive eyes burning into yours. Love and passion could clearly be seen in them.

 So, you did. Your hands grabbing at his strong jaw, forcing him to stoop down to your level so you could properly kiss him.

 Kissing Ushijima was possibly the best thing on the planet, his lips were full and strong as they moved against yours, unhurried, but incredibly needy and forceful. 

 His tongue licked against your mouth, hot and wet and deliciously perfect. You eagerly pressed yourself against his large body, melting against him completely. You were too hot, your body overheating immediately.

 It was from the hot springs, right? Not from the hunk of a man that was currently grabbing at your bare waist and yanking you tighter against him, right? 

 Your head spun dizzily, pleasure rippling through your body, a soft whimper tearing through your throat as you felt his growing member press tight against your thigh.

 Ushijima heard you, his grip on your body tightened slightly as he continued to devour your mouth. He began moving you, carefully backing you up further away from the deep end of the hot spring, and then your body was being lifted up until you were no longer in the hot water, rather, you were now sitting on the ledge of the hot springs.

 Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your nipples hardening into pebbles under Ushijima’s watchful eyes.

 From your perched position on the rocks you could easily kiss Ushijima and he could easily…

 “W-What are you doing?” you whimpered out, the back of your hand coming up to cover your mouth, your heart was racing, faced flush, as you stared at the tall male.

 His large hands were gripping your thighs, carefully moving them apart, his eyes gazing hungrily at your weeping cunt.

 “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked slowly, and then he was stooping down until his face was between your legs… a hot, fat, tongue sliding up your slit.

 You gasped loudly, eyes fluttering shut, as you leaned back on one of your elbows, your hand covering your mouth shot out and tangled into his damp hair.

 Ushijima hummed slightly, tongue gently flickering against your throbbing clit. 

 He wanted to do this here? Now?

 A thick finger slid easily into your wet entrance, causing your thighs to tremble at the sudden intrusion.

 Apparently yes. Yes, he did.

 When you finally opened up your eyes, the scene before you was absolutely sinful. Your swollen lips parted in awe as you made eye contact with Ushijima.

 His pupils were dilated, the soft olive color completely gone. His wet hair clung to his face, you could see his tongue flickering in and out of his mouth as he continued to eat you out.

 How was he so fucking perfect?

 “Toshi… please.” you begged, pressure beginning to build up, you were so close, but you wanted him. You wanted his thick cock to stretch you out completely right now.

 “Is there something you want?” he asked, voice deep and thick with arousal. His plush lips were wet, coated in your slick.

 Oh fuck.

 How did he look so fucking good between your legs?

 “You. Please. No more foreplay, I want you inside me already, please.” you trembled, watching as he stood to full height.

 Your eyes greedily ran down his naked body. He was just so… so fucking big, in so many ways.

 The strong muscles of his arms, his chest, his stomach, stood proudly on display for you. But as your eyes traveled lower; you could almost drool over the sight of his erect cock, standing proud and ready to be engulfed in your tight heat.

 His fist enclosed over his hard member, pumping up and down his shaft a couple of times before he finally stepped between your trembling legs. Carefully rubbing the head of his cock against your soaked folds, your eyes fluttered at the touch.

 But then with a quick snap of his hips he entered you, bottoming out immediately. 

 His lips slammed down against yours, muffling the loud moan that was about to escape your lips.

 Fuck, you were so full. No matter how many times Ushijima had you, you could never quite get used to his large size. 

 It was almost too much. But he knew that, which was why he waited for a moment, allowing you the time to get used to thick intrusion.

 One of his large hands grabbed at your hip, the other was resting near your head against the ground.

 After a few moments, your legs wrapped around his thick waist, a silent invitation that he could start moving.

 Ushijima didn’t even hesitate, his hips snapping forward, his cock pressing into the deepest part of your tight heat.

 The pace of his thrusts was unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to fuck you, despite the fact that you guys were at a hot spring.

 “Do you hear that?” he murmured; soft squelching could be heard from your lower region. You were absolutely soaked, drenching his thick cock as he slid in and out of you perfectly. 

 You gripped at his broad shoulders helplessly, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you trembled under his large body.

 It was too much… the hot springs, his body, his kisses, the grunts that were coming from his lips, the fact that your boyfriend was fucking you in a public place…

 “I’m close.” you squeaked out, nails digging into his skin. The familiar burn, the ache for release; was coming up quickly.

 His deep thrusts began to speed up, his hips hammering into you.

 “Then cum.” he demanded, his hand reaching down to rub harshly at your swollen clit. 

 So, you did, gushing around him easily, your slick coating his hard member. He grunted loudly, immediately pulling himself out of you, his fist once again enclosing around his member as he hurriedly pumped himself, searching for release.

 Thick ropes of his warmth shot onto your lower belly, hot and heavy against your skin. 

 You watched tiredly as he brushed the wet hair away from his forehead, his eyes trailing over your bare body, a soft expression easily covering his face now. Carefully he pulled you back into the water, situating you on his lap easily as you rested your head against his strong chest.

 You sighed in content as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

 “I love you Wakatoshi.” you said quietly, you peered up at him, a sweet smile coating your lips.

 “I love you too.” he said eyes flickering down at you, a small smile appearing on his face.

 A trip to the hot springs was definitely a good idea. 

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[undetectorist]

thank you @sanhaoche for the tag! i love to share my many thoughts on things. 

Rules: tag 9 ppl you want to know better

Last song: mikrokosmos by BTS. my “BTS favourites” playlist is literally over 7 hours long because they haven’t made a bad song in their lives, but if i had to pick my ultimate favourite it would be mikrokosmos. shine dream smile x

Last show: i think the last tv show i actually finished was i told sunset about you which i watched because the director of this film festival (who i’m obsessed with) was constantly posting about it on instagram and i was like okay king you’ve got me intrigued. i thought it was so beautifully filmed and the yearning was exquisite. all of those longing gazes! when they’re in the hammock and oh-aew says, “i think you know,” i was shaking crying throwing up. i will say that it gets a bit melodramatic and overwrought midway through episode 4—i was watching it with sarah in the room and after 20 minutes she was like they really haven’t stopped crying this entire time, which, like, yeah. however EYE also started crying when teh and hoon have that conversation in the final episode…. what can i say, i love gays and their siblings. anyway it really does capture that first-love-obsession so well, both in its crazy intensity and also in how you catalogue every single small touch and look and moment. plus i got to read this fic after which was so GOOD. 

also if this question was meant to be about concerts my last show was ATEEZ which changed my life, restructured my DNA and had me immediately searching for VIP tickets for the berlin and amsterdam shows. seonghwa being visibly affected by my sign and touching his heart???? yunho saying “i love you” directly to sarah???? no we won. there is truly nothing like seeing a band live at the very height of your obsession with them 

Currently watching: god so many things. 

the bear! very tonally chaotic but enjoyable. 

the sopranos, which abeera has been telling me about for ages and we finally watched the first episode on friday and i fear i’m going to be obsessed. seeing tony squirming in the therapist’s chair not wanting to speak about his family…..relate! 

kinnporsche because i simply had to know what was driving everyone so crazy. also hayley sent me a unionisation fic and so really watching kp is just background research i have to do so i can read it. anyway i’m 3 episodes in and if anything happens to porsche i will kill everyone in this room and then myself etc etc 

Currently reading: i’m going to cheat because the book i’m reading right now isn’t worth talking about but i recently read I HOTEL BY KAREN TEI YAMASHITA which was perfect. i was telling abeera about it yesterday and started stumbling over my words because i was so excited to talk about it. it’s a book of 10 interconnected novellas about the asian american/yellow power movement in the late 60s/70s, based on archival research into the many activist & community groups that were organising in san francisco at the time. it covers SO much ground: from the 68 student strike to the alcatraz occupation to the black panthers to lenin reading groups to the communist art in the coit tower to filipino fruit pickers. i’ve never read a fiction book that understands both marxist theory and praxis so deeply and so well. it’s about community, solidarity, putting your body on the line; poetry and love and art and food; and ultimately it’s about revolutionary struggle and how to dream it and do it. i cried! twice!

Current obsession: do i even need to say ATEEZ? stream guerrilla. the “kpop punk” playlist i have been meticulously curating, which is a list of kpop songs paired with thematically/lyrically similar pop punk songs. the cucumber plants on my balcony. this new LUCY song, which makes me feel like i am a character in a TV show during a montage where i Get My Life Together. a recipe for chicken adobo which is one of the most delicious things i’ve cooked recently. dalton day’s poetry. the moment of the day when It’s Time To BeReal. going bouldering! i just got new climbing shoes which is helping me move up a grade and it’s so satisfying to get stronger! the podcast episode i’m planning with @sanhaoche​ on mdzs, in which i will inevitably talk about jiang cheng for at least 20 minutes without stopping to breathe. my friends, obviously and always. 

tagging @jiminsproof @sportsbrataemin @evakant @perilously @daltoneering @phneltwrites @anakinkendrick​ @hstylesbians to do this if you would like to!!!!