#I will be making more but I can only build so many at a time

[salvadordante]

The only ways to really do something every day:

- make it fun and/or

- make it easy and/or

- make it pleasurable and/or

- make it preferable to any alternative

We were not built to suffer. Our bodies and minds obey the laws of nature. We flow downhill and from areas of high concentration to low. We do what is easiest, what is fun, what is aesthetically pleasing, or, failing all else, what is better than other alternatives.

On days that I can’t weight lift, I do the elliptical machine. On days that I can’t do the elliptical machine, I just dance to my favorite music alone until I feel tired and happy. On days I can’t even dance, I just walk. A few blocks, a mile. Whatever I can stomach. But most of the time, I still do something. Because I have been working out for so long, my body feels bad if I don’t. A walk is preferable to wallowing in my bed. This was a habit a decade in the making. And I’m so grateful that I will have the chance to build many more equally as hard-won.

I always refer back to, what is in my opinion, the best TikTok comment of all time:

here's some more unsolicited adult advice as someone in her 30s who knows there are a lot of twenty somethings and teens that follow her: if you're trying to build a new habit you really want, and are struggling, you have to break it down to the smallest building block possible. If you're failing, you haven't thought small enough. I know it's possible to hear stories of people who just snapped into new life mode one day by "just deciding", but truly what's happening there is a confluence of events and experiences that force the brain into some sort of epiphany. You cannot will an epiphany. It'll never work. For most times of your life, you will need to build habits intentionally, and that means not working against yourself and to set micro goals. like laughably tiny goals. because once that easy tiny goal is met, you can build off it, tiny goal after tiny goal until you reach your big goal.

so for example, if you want to be a morning person that gets up at ass crack dawn so that you can work out, eat brekkie, shower, and get to work at a leisurely pace, and you're not that person because you will hit your snooze button 800 times, you have to get the big picture goal out of your head. think smaller. "I want to get up 15 minutes earlier than I normally do." If you can't do that, make it 5 minutes. "I want to cook breakfast every day" hell no too big. "I want to eat something, anything, before I leave the house" hell yeah, fantastic. When you go to the grocery store to make sure there are things in the house for breakfast, if you keep buying bagels and microwave sandwiches that you ignore, you gotta think smaller. SMALLER. What's something so easy to eat that you'll never say no to. Is it a yogurt? Is it a handful of grapes? Is it a hostess ho ho? is it hot cheetos? FORGET the big picture of the fantasy put-together woman preparing a full nutritious meal that you'd be proud to admit to. Think only of the smallest goal you can achieve. If you know you can't say no to an ice cream sandwich, put a ton of ice cream sandwiches in your freezer and have one for breakfast every day until it's so instilled in you that you gotta get up to eat something you can start diversifying.

It sounds like, from the lack of habit place, that must take forever. But really it doesn't take too long to form the habit once the discipline kicks in. the trick is that you have to give your brain something easy to become disciplined to. If it's too hard, think easier and smaller. No one has to know. Literally no one in the gd world has to know that for 4 weeks when you were 22 you had an ice cream sandwich for breakfast every day. who cares. If it gets you eating oatmeal with fresh fruit in a few months who cares. you did it, yay. smaller, easier. if you can't do it, think smaller and easier. smaller!! EASIER!!! You are not thinking smaller and easier enough. break your brain thinking how small and easy you can go. SMALLER. EVEN SMALLER, SIS.

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - Caleb Edition

(Because I have no idea if I'll ever get around to writing his intro to the polycule so I wanted to shove some ideas into a post.)

Masterlist

- The one who has the most trouble adapting to the concept of the polycule.

- Reintroduced after the polycule is formed, a year after his death.

- His reintroduction is obviously a bit rough, not only is he actively combative with the MC, but his actions push them further into the comfort of the polycule like a wounded cat.

- After they have eased the relationship out, it's some time before they talk to him about the polycule. Not sure how to broach it.

- He already knew, and he already stewed about it for a long time. (He's still stewing about it.)

- They've mourned him, after loving him, and moved forwards though, he can't push and demand when he knows that without the polycule they likely wouldn't still be there.

- His first meeting is rough, he can hide as much as he wants behind smiles, but Sylus is very good at reading people, as is Rafayel, so they can see through him. (Rafayel is no stranger to fake smiles). Xavier is jealous so reacts most to Caleb, while Zayne is somewhat calm, but wary. On one hand he has a childhood friend back, on the other hand depending on how much he knows. If he knows about Caleb's involvement with EVER, a great deal of distrust, and some real anger (that he tries not to show).

- Clashes most with Rafayel and Zayne. Rafayel because the two are almost opposed in many ways (Caleb's lack of sensory input and reluctance to touch, vs Rafayel as a Lemurian where his senses are SO attuned to his lovers, as well as the memory focus, and also the fact that both hide part of themselves behind a reasonably jovial mask, but Raffy is a lot better at hiding.) Zayne because the two do not agree on the methods of protecting and caring for MC (Keeping them hidden/caged, and the actions of siding with EVER with the intent to keep MC safe (which Zayne consistently states is a stupid plan.)).

- Understands Xavier, still doesn't like him.

- Depending on the advancement of his story, he has the potential to come to terms with the fact that accepting help and acknowledging that he's not alone in his drive to protect the person who means the most to him, helps him step past his self assigned cage.

- With enough time and trust, he accepts the polycule's help tending to his arm. They tinker with it and work with specialists to try to make it capable of sensory responses. It's kind of an exchange that keeps them on good ground. A kind of 'look we're not enemies, you have to lower your hackles' kinda thing.

- He hates the situation a lot less when he holds MC's hand for the first time again, and can feel the heat of them through his cybernetics.

- Builds models with Sylus, though it's more he builds models, Sylus suggests ways to bring them to life as real mini robot weapons. If the two are left alone, they WILL create tiny weaponised planes.

- Rafayel has taken to using them as target practice for throwing daggers.

- One crashed into Zayne's office door, waking him up from a nap, and made him think they were being attacked.

- Xavier slept through the whole thing, and woke up to plane shrapnel in his hair (he's used his light blade to knock a few out if they have disturbed his slumber though.)

- MC does not get enough sleep, and almost banned the planes, until Sylus and Caleb both promised to stop flying them indoors. Hooked up lil cameras to the things and started flying them around linkon and as far as they could before the things ran out of signal. (They got some killer nature recordings.)

- Caleb is another member of the insomnia crew. He's woken up alongside Zayne a few times, and made tea for them both. (Only for MC to toddle in not long after, and curling up between them with their own warm drink, exhausted and miserable but also unable to sleep.)

- Caleb helps take over some of the cooking, he also tries to find tech Xavier can use that won't catch fire, reducing the amount of cooking incidents by about 50%. (If asked he'll say he's doing it to keep MC safe... Xavier's smile when he cooks a full and very good meal has shit all to do with it. He swears.)

- Is the most averse to affection, originally sees the polycule as a means to an end, after all other people are just background noise to his real focus. Unluckily for him, it's hard to keep that mindset up when you spend that much time with people who don't have chips in their head, and also don't want to hurt the things you care about. The anti EVER squad are best placed to combat his 'world for just us two' energy. As well as question his intent. (Especially with how important MC's independence is to them.)

- Will not begin physically and emotionally warming up to the rest of the lads before he finally overcomes the wall keeping him from MC. After he has finally stepped over the line, he basks in it, then begins to let himself become more human again.

- He and Xavier ARE the protection squad. You want to bother the polycule? Can't promise you won't end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

- Zayne does try to rein this in. Sylus finds it hilarious. Rafayel cannot comment because he was thinking about stabbing that dude too. MC thinks they might need to start taking migraine medication because please guys, one nice meal out.

- He's tidy and multi talented. It takes a WHILE before he finds a room for himself in the house, isn't really sure what to fill it with because he struggles to refind his identity as a person. It begins with filling it with model planes, it advances into photos and memories, as well as his DAA stuff as well. Becomes a place he can keep things that tether him to himself.

- Has mended clothes for the others, really wants to know how Raffy tears so many shirts. No he cannot get acrylics out of a white shirt, why did you let it stain!?!!

- His puppy dog eyes are a weapon of mass destruction. NO one is safe. All have fallen to those eyes. 'But he just looks so sad' 'I know he does but why does that mean we now have two puppies in the living room' 'MC wanted them!' 'Caleb we don't have the space or time!!!'

- Uses all his old social media accounts, like an absolute fool. (Aren't you dead dude why are you using all ur old numbers????) Unfollowed most people, kept MC. Didn't follow the polycule. Was missing cute photos and things they'd posted, grumpily and (not that) reluctantly followed them all.

- He and Zayne occasionally have a kamaoji-off.

- He has taken Sylus flying. He did turn his head away so the dragon man could have a moment of sad recollection.

- Does still compete constantly to be the best person to assist mc in their day to day. The competitions can get aggressive and over the top. The lads do get carried away.

- Is the most scared of losing everyone, it does keep him awake at night. Does plan eventualities with the polycule. Does feel comforted knowing that if he fails, he's not leaving MC to deal with everything alone. Assures himself and everyone that he won't fail. He has his tether to get back to, after all.

[alexanderwales]

Literary Greebling

Greebling is this thing from model-making where a flat expanse looks boring and unrealistic, so you add on some little bits and bobs (greebles) to break up the surface and make it seem "more".

I think this is a great concept to port over to writing.

For characters: You've got your backstory, your motivation, your emotional beats, all that stuff, right? Add in some quirks, some contradictions, some small, seemingly irrelevant details that make them feel textured and authentic. They don't drive the plot, they're probably not relevant to the story, they're not necessarily going to come up again, but they break up the surface and make everything feel like it exists at a higher resolution.

A character makes sure not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk, not out of superstition, but because he's just been doing it for a long time and likes being on a streak. A character carries around coins from different countries, fiddling with them while waiting in line. A character always knocks on doors to the tune of "shave and a haircut". Someone hums a song from a movie soundtrack.

For settings: It's pretty common for us to build up a setting in simplified terms, to have everything be a result of one thing or another, huge clashing forces. Real settings aren't like that, or aren't wholly like that. A city can have a unified architecture while also having a couple buildings that come from different traditions. A kingdom can have a tiny semi-autonomous zone inside it. You have, in theory, three branches of government, but in practice, there are edge cases where they're putting on each other's hats, and there are independent agencies which only answer to one of the three branches in a limited way, and you don't need too many of these things to have it feel rich and complex.

For magic systems: There's a beginner magic system where four to six elements are all perfectly set into a lattice, balanced against each other, perfectly mirroring each other. This works for certain applications, but I will submit to you that this is much better with greebles. You can have your lattice and your system of elemental weaknesses, but they need the little differences, the things that break up the flat expanse. Give your water magic a connection to the moon, let your fire magic affect rust, have it all have little knots and whorls and complications when you look closer.

Again, the point isn't that these things are plot relevant, they don't have to be, and maybe it's better if they're not. But the little non-conforming details help sell whatever you're trying to do.

[mrsnishimuraaa]

chemistry

PAIRING: riki x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: who knew a dance collab could create such a sweet bond between two idols?

GENRE: fluff , crack if u squint

this is not proofread (sorry) kind of short and a wee bit rushed but i have other works in the making i promise 😭

being in the idol industry was always going to be stressful why wouldent it be? but your worries almost always flush away when your able to dance. having met so many people that inspired you to get to where you are now enlightened you and encourages you to work hard. having danced ever since a young age and it being something you enjoy makes you love your job that extra bit more, and now you have the opportunity to work with nishimura riki who’s also known for his talent in dancing.

saying your excited is a understatement it’s so much more than that, but at the same time your nervous but you brush it off as you make your way into the HYBE building. the moment you make it upstairs to the practice rooms, your greeted by riki himself bowing and small hello’s fill the room as you both introduce yourselves. he leads you to the practice room where you assume your gonna be spending hours in for the next few weeks preparing for this award show, none the less you really don’t mind. the two of you sit in the middle of the room with a laptop, listening to songs and starting to think about what song your going to be performing. after what felt like a million years of search you had both come to terms with ���been like this’ by doja cat. as it was already getting late, you decided to meet back in the morning to get a full day of choreographing together.

the following day your met in the same spot, having decided that you both wanted to work independently with each other , meaning there was no staff and no choreographer, just the two of you to figure it out on your own.

hours pass by and you have the basic of it all choreographed now you just have to add all the fine details and peice it all together. “your really a quick learner” riki shoots the complement at you, taking a sip out of his water bottle “ oh thank you, could say the same about you” letting out a breathy laugh. “god it’s so hot in here” you fan yourself as you scope the room for a fan or anything. “i know, hybe’s cooling system is broken at the moment” he laughs at the way you throw yourself onto the floor and sigh at his statement. “is this company not making millions” you sit up and he laughs, taking his hoodie off, leaving him in just a tank top and his baggy jeans.

whilst having your break you both snack and chat, cracking jokes and telling purposeless stories. the two of you have great chemistry not only in dance but in general. and when you get back to practicing the heat really gets to you “can i take my jumper off?” you ask purely just to make sure he’s comfortable with you being half naked “go for it, i would be barely surviving if i were you” he chuckles as he re sets the song back to the start over at the laptop. pulling your jumper over your head and throwing it over to pile with riki’s , leaving you in a provocatively small sports bra and your sweatpants.

riki can’t help but eye your figure down for a moment, admiring your flawless body as you adjust your pants to put them back in their original low rise position. but he quickly shoves those thoughts away when you speak “okay i’m ready” your bubbly giggle makes him smile. the playful side of the both of you starts to peek through as you get more comfortable with each other , but when explaining a small detail of the dance to you that you don’t get ends you up in a position of riki’s hands gently placed on your bare waist as he guides the movement, you watch in the mirror as he corrects your arm movement, yet still keeping his hand on your waist. (safe to say it took a while because you 100% were not focusing on the move at all-)

the ending of the dance finishes with body rolling against eachother, the synchronised movements are so satisfying to look at and especially as his hand snakes to rest on your waist as you move together. the song finishes and he immediately buries his face into your shoulder, hugging your waist as he practically collapses on you. “riki! your heavy” you joke, laughing as you try to scramble away but he only wraps his arms around you tighter, his tall frame encapsulating you.

he spins you to face him and you look up at his face, dark hair sticking to his forehead as his face shines slightly due to the sweat, the heat generated between the two bodies doubles as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “so pretty” he smiles at you and you can feel your cheeks grow redder. he slowly rocks you both side to side, it stifles a giggle from you, causing him to smile at you, god why are you so cute.

you manage to break free from his hold, laying down on the cold floor, he eyes you down whilst smirking “what” you laugh and look at him in question “nothing im just admiring you is that illegal” he jokes, pulling your legs to spin you on the floor, your laugh echoes through the room “help me up” you pretend to lay helpless infront of him, he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to you, as he grips your hand pulling you up, he wraps his arms around you once more. but this time when you go to look up at him he takes the chance and presses a soft kiss against your lips, the suprised yet flustered look on your face as your heart beats like it wants out of your chest. you pull him back into a soft, slow and intimate kiss.

his hands draw circles on your lower back as yours find themselves in his hair, soft and wet kisses being pressed against eachothers mouths as the sound of kissing fills the room. you have to stand on your tippy toes as he’s far to tall compared to you before pulling away to make eye contact with eachother and smile. he presses a kiss to your forehead, the intamacy of the moment immediately recharges your energy, but makes the room a hundred times hotter.

luckily (even after all the distractions) you were able to both go home with an award 2 weeks later, the hard work paying off and fans adoring the interaction of their favourite dancers, begging for more collaborations.

[gdinthehouseee]

Neon Secrets: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: ji-yong catches you getting in your own head so he decides to shake things up and bring you along for a much needed late-night drive

word count: 5180

tags: fluff, denial, idiots in love - everyone can see it but them type stuff

ao3 link

All was silent in the rooftop practice room, save for the soft scratching of a charcoal pencil against paper. You sat curled up on the couch near the window, your notebook balanced on your knee, fingers gripping the pencil tightly. But the page in front of you remained mostly blank—just a few scratched-out lines and half-finished rhymes that didn’t feel right.

Sleep couldn’t seem to get a hold of you tonight—your mind raced with the same thoughts, replaying them over and over until they became a blur of frustration. You stared at the clock, wishing for a few hours of peace, but the ticking echoed in your ears, only adding to your agitation. 

The quiet hum of the building surrounded you, but inside your mind, chaos churned. The notebook’s blank pages mocking your every attempt to find the right words. Your thoughts were too scattered—too many ideas, too many emotions—but none of them seemed to come together. The pressure to create something meaningful weighed heavily on you, and the longer you sat there, the more frustrated you became. Naturally. You hated this feeling of being stuck, of not being able to tap into the creative flow that usually came so naturally. You had written countless lyrics before, but tonight, nothing felt right. Every word you jotted down felt forced, out of place, as if the inspiration you once had was slipping away. The longer you tried, the more you doubted yourself. What if you were losing your touch? What if your career was over before it truly had time to blossom?

"You look miserable."

You jumped slightly at the voice, snapping your head toward the doorway. Ji-yong leaned against the frame, his arms crossed and his dark eyes almost staring into your soul.

Your heart pounded, and not just because he’d startled you. "Keep your voice down," you hissed and motioned for him to come in, glancing toward the hallway. "People are sleeping."

He scoffed but lowered his voice as he stepped inside. "Relax, it’s just us up here. Unless you think someone’s hiding in the storage closet, waiting to snitch on you."

As much as you rolled your eyes, there was nothing you could do to hide the subtle smile forming on your lips. Hoping he didn’t see, you elected to return your gaze to the notebook. "What do you want?"

Ji-yong flopped onto the couch behind you. "To rescue you from whatever creative hell you’re stuck in." He glanced at the page over your shoulder, tilting his head. "Writer’s block?"

A long sigh escaped your throat. "More like ‘everything I write sounds terrible.’ I should just go to bed and try again tomorrow, but I can’t even do that for whatever reason, so I’m just kinda… stuck here, I guess.”

He was quiet for a second before drumming his fingers against the couch. "Or…"

"Or?"

"We sneak out."

You stiffened for a second, before turning around to face him. Only to realise he had leaned closer towards you. 

"You’re insane. You know everyone is asleep in the next room, right? And most of the staff? One wrong move and—"

Ji-yong held up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, I get it. But that’s what makes it fun." A playful smile tugged on his lips. "Come on. You’re stuck, I’m bored, and the walls in this place are suffocating right now. Let’s get some air."

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. This was stupid. Reckless. If anyone saw you, rumours would spread like wildfire. But at the same time… the idea of slipping away, of leaving all the pressure behind, if only for a little while—

"Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you." You quickly stood up, moving towards the door. You didn’t even bother closing the notebook or tucking the chair back under the desk. A dangerous move.

Ji-yong grinned even wider than before, already on his feet. "Deal."

He reached the door before you could, grabbed the handle and opened it for you to walk through, his typical mischievous grin never leaving his face. “Ladies first.” 

“Such a gentleman.” You quipped and walked through, not after checking the hallway first of course.

And just like that, the two of you were sneaking through the hallways, hearts racing with every quiet step.

The tension in the air was palpable as the two of you stood in the hallway, the soft sounds of your footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Ji-yong’s eyes were gleaming with excitement. 

"You sure you're up for this?" He whispered, glancing around as if expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

You hesitated, your gaze flicking nervously to the security cameras overhead. The building was still buzzing with activity, but most of the staff would be asleep by now. Still, the thought of getting caught was enough to make your heart race. "This is risky," you muttered, trying to stay calm. "If we get caught, we're in trouble."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against hers as he took a step closer. "That's what makes it fun," he said with a wink. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it attractive. Unfortunately for you, he was incredibly charming.

"Come on, I know the way."

The two of you moved quickly but quietly, sticking close to the walls to avoid being seen. The dim lighting in the hallways made it harder to spot you both, and every sound seemed amplified as you tiptoed past the security desk. The guard was hunched over, lost in the glow of his phone screen, completely unaware of the two figures sneaking past. Your pulse quickened as you tried to cover up your breathing as much as you could, but Ji-yong kept a steady pace, signalling you to stay low as you made your way toward the exit.

As you neared the door, Ji-yong reached for the handle, his hand steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them. He glanced at you one last time, a playful smile tugging at his lips once more. "Ready?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, biting back a grin. "Just don’t get us caught."

“You know I won’t.”

With one final look around, he pushed the door open, and you slipped into the cool night air, your hearts still racing but filled with the thrill of your daring escape. The moment you had stepped through the exit and carefully closed the door behind you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a sprint toward the car parked just down the street. The night air was crisp against the mostly bare skin of your arms and legs, the sound of your hurried footsteps filled the silence. Neither of you spoke—just the occasional glance over your shoulders to truly make sure no one had followed, accidentally making eye contact here and there.

Ji-yong reached the car first, fumbling with his keys as he yanked the door open. “Hurry,” he hissed, motioning for you to get in. You certainly didn’t need to be told twice. You practically dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you just as he did the same on his side. For a moment, you both sat there, frozen, chests rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. The street outside was quiet, undisturbed. You made it.

And then, as if on cue, you turned to each other, eyes wide with the weight of what you had just pulled off.

Silence.

Then—laughter.

It started as a breathless chuckle from Ji-yong, but the absurdity of the situation caught up with both of you, and soon enough, you were doubled over, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter. You pressed an ice-cold hand to your burning face, gasping for air between giggles. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leaned back against the headrest, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know, right? That was way too close.” He turned to look at you again, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You looked so scared back there.”

“Excuse me?” You began, “I was being cautious. Someone has to be the responsible one here.”

“And yet, here you are, sneaking out in the middle of the night with me.”

You rolled your eyes but, once again, couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips and the blood rushing to your cheeks. The adrenaline still buzzed in your veins, mixing with the warmth of the moment. Ji-yong shifted in his seat, tilting his head slightly as he studied you for a moment. His laughter had faded, but his expression softened, something unreadable flickering across his face before briefly looking away.

The laughter had faded, but the buzz of excitement still lingered in the air. He tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the steering wheel. “So,” he said, glancing over at you. “Where to? Or was the plan just to run away with nowhere to go?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment, leaning back in your seat as you gazed out the window. “Honestly? I didn’t think we’d make it this far.”

That made him chuckle. “Wow. Such faith in us.”

“I’m just saying, the odds weren’t exactly in our favour. But I guess you do have a way of getting people to do reckless things.”

“People?”

“Me. Specifically me.” You laughed.

His grin never left his face as he started the car, the soft rumble filling the quiet space. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering outside the windows, casting moving shadows across your faces. The world beyond the car felt distant, like a dream you were slipping through unnoticed. It was rare—to have a moment like this, away from expectations, away from the prying eyes of fans, staff, and friends alike.

Ji-yong snuck a glance at you when you weren’t looking. You were tracing patterns on your arm, brows slightly furrowed in thought. He wondered what was on your mind. He wondered if you had any idea how often he caught himself watching you like this—memorizing the way your eyes softened when you were deep in thought, the way you pressed your lips together when you were frustrated.

And if you knew, what would you think about the way Seunghyun, Taeyang, and Daesung teased him for it?

Ji-yong could still hear them now—Taeyang shaking his head with an amused smirk, Daesung’s knowing glances, and Seunghyun’s relentless, dramatic sighs. Just confess already, you’re embarrassing yourself. They never let him live it down, always pointing out the way his attention lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he always found an excuse to be around you. And as much as he brushed them off, he knew they weren’t wrong. The thought made his ears burn.

It had started one evening in the studio. Ji-yong had been half-listening to a new beat, scrolling through his phone when Seunghyun leaned over his shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Hyung,” Ji-yong muttered without looking up, already knowing what was coming.

“What is this?” Seunghyun said dramatically, tapping the screen of Ji-yong’s phone. “You’re literally smiling at your messages right now. Are you in high school?”

Ji-yong scoffed and pulled his phone away, locking it. “Mind your business.”

Daesung, sprawled out on the couch, grinned. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Taeyang let out a knowing chuckle from his spot near the desk, looking up from his own phone. “It’s always her.”

Seunghyun wasn’t letting this go. He leaned in closer, studying Ji-yong’s face. “Look at him. He’s already getting defensive. Next, he’s gonna say she’s just a friend—”

“But she is just a friend,” Ji-yong cut in quickly. Too quickly.

The room went silent for about half a second before all three of them burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, this is bad,” Taeyang teased, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Ji-yong lie so poorly in my life.”

Daesung grinned, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Bro, you don’t even talk about your crushes, but you think we haven’t noticed how different you act around her?”

“Different how?” Ji-yong challenged, crossing his arms.

“You get all… soft.”

Ji-yong rolled his eyes. “I do not get soft.”

“You do,” Taeyang confirmed. “Like earlier today, when she came by to drop off something for the manager? You barely spoke, but the second she left, you smiled to yourself like some lovesick teenager.”

“I—” Ji-yong stopped, trying to come up with a defence, but all three of them were already grinning at him. Busted.

Seunghyun clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “You’re screwed, bro.”

Ji-yong swallowed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. No. That was the last thing he needed. If you ever heard them talk like that, would you laugh? Would you tease him too? Or worse—would you start noticing the way he looked at you? The way he felt? And, as a result, would you distance yourself from him?

He had never planned for this—to care this much.

At first, it had been simple: late-night studio sessions, teasing exchanges, fleeting moments that he told himself meant nothing. But then he started noticing the way you made the air feel lighter, the way being around you felt like a break from the noise of everything else. And now, sitting here with you, watching the city pass by in the glow of streetlights, he realized he had been in trouble for a while.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice quieter than before. “So… what were you writing earlier?”

“A whole lot of nothing. Or… trying to write something, but nothing came out right.”

He glanced at her. “Typical writer’s block.”

“Feels more like an identity crisis,” you muttered, half-joking. “I don’t know. I just kept overthinking everything. Like… what if I don’t have anything meaningful to say anymore?”

He frowned at that, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “That’s not true. You always have something to say.”

You let out a small laugh, though there wasn’t much humour in it. “You sound so sure.”

“Because I am,” he said, glancing at you again before turning back to the road. “You’re one of the most passionate people I know. Even when you don’t say anything, you’re thinking—feeling. That’s what makes you good.” His voice was steady, sure. “You just don’t see yourself the way I do.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

He must have realized what he said, because his fingers drummed nervously against the wheel, and he cleared his throat. “I mean—uh, the way people who know you do.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, watching as he kept his eyes firmly on the road, as if avoiding your gaze would erase what had just slipped out. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Ji-yong.”

He shook his head quickly, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just figured something out.”

You tilted her head slightly, as if considering. “Maybe I did.”

He groaned, quickly running a hand through his hair. “This is why I don’t say things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but there was no denying the way your heart was now racing for an entirely different reason. Trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, you decided to change the subject when you realised he hadn’t explained why he was awake when he found you.

“Y’know, you never said why you were up so late.”

Ji-yong blinked, as if caught off guard. “Ah… I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is your reason dumber than mine?”

“No, just…” He hesitated before sighing. “Not that interesting.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

He hesitated again, longer this time, before answering. “Because my brain is a pain in the ass.”

That made you pause. “What do you mean?”

He let out a short, quiet laugh, but there was no humour in it. “I think too much. About everything. I’ll be exhausted, lying in bed, and suddenly my brain decides it’s time to overanalyse every stupid thing I’ve ever said, every choice I’ve ever made, every possible way I could screw something up.” He exhaled sharply. “It’s like I can never just… be.”

“You mean like anxiety?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like I panic, I just—” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “I second-guess myself a lot. Get stuck in my own head. It’s frustrating because I know it’s dumb, but I can’t turn it off.”

Something about the way he said it—the exhaustion behind his words—made your chest tighten.

“Why didn’t you just say this earlier?” you asked softly. The car came to a stop as you reached a red light.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to make it about me. You already seemed frustrated.”

“That’s stupid,” you said without thinking.

Ji-yong finally turned to you, caught between amusement and exasperation. “Excuse me?”

“You do it all the time,” you said, shaking your head. “You act like you have to be the one keeping everyone else together, but who’s doing that for you?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected the question. His fingers drummed idly on the wheel, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice quieter than before, he said:

“You.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Ji-yong let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of the way the air in the car felt different—thicker, heavier. “Realize what?”

He glanced at you again, something unreadable in his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else, something more, but instead, he just shook his head with a small smile. The traffic light finally turned green and he continued driving.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

But you wouldn’t forget. Not now. Not when the weight of his words settled deep into your chest, shifting something inside you that you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet. And judging by the way Ji-yong gripped the wheel like his life depended on it, staring straight ahead, neither was he.

At some point, the heavy weight of the conversation had lifted, giving way to laughter and much lighter topics. The city stretched out around you, a blur of neon signs and empty streets as Ji-yong drove aimlessly, neither of you wanting to break the spell of the night just yet.

The two of you talked about ridiculous things—the worst stage outfits you’d ever worn, the most embarrassing moments caught on camera, the weirdest fan gifts he had ever received. He nearly swerved when he burst out laughing at your dramatic re-enactment of a failed dance move during rehearsal, and you doubled over when he confessed to once getting trapped in a bathroom before a concert and having to be rescued by the rest of the guys and a few staff members.

The car was filled with easy conversation, the kind that only came when time didn’t seem to matter. But time did matter. And neither of you realized just how much until Ji-yong absently checked the dashboard clock.

“Shit.”

“What?” You turned to him, still grinning from your last joke.

He gestured toward the clock. 4:32 AM.

Your stomach dropped. “No way.”

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “We are so screwed.”

It took a second for the panic to fully settle in, but when it did, it was instant. You sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. “We have to get back now.”

He was already turning the car around, the easy-going vibe of the night replaced with frantic energy. “We better pray no one’s up yet.”

Your heart pounded as you mentally mapped out the best way to sneak back in, every possibility of getting caught flashing through your head. Staff members were early risers, and some of your groupmates tended to wake up for morning workouts. If even one person saw you—

“We can’t go through the front,” you said quickly. “There’s a security camera right at the entrance.”

Ji-yong nodded. “Back door. Less cameras, but we have to be fast.”

You could already imagine the absolute chaos if either of your groups or, worse, the company found out about this. You and Ji-yong locked eyes, truly realizing at the same time just how risky this had been.

Then, for some reason—maybe from sheer exhaustion, maybe from the ridiculousness of the situation—you both started laughing. Quiet at first, then full-on, uncontrollable laughter just like at the very beginning of this little side quest.

“This is so bad,” he shook his head.

You wiped the happy tears that were forming in your eyes. “If we survive this, we’re never doing this again.”

That was a lie. You both knew it.

And as the car sped through the empty streets, the first hints of morning light creeping onto the horizon, you knew this night—this feeling—was one neither of you would forget. By the time you had pulled into the parking lot, the sky had started to shift from deep navy to the softest hints of morning blue. Every second that passed made the risk of getting caught even worse.

You both moved quickly, slipping out of the car and sticking to the shadows as you made your way to the back entrance of the building. He pulled open the door as quietly as possible, wincing at the soft creak of the hinges.

“Go, go, go,” you whispered, pushing him inside.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every tiny sound feel deafening. You pressed your back against the wall, Ji-yong right next to you as you both listened for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

You exchanged a glance, and without a word, started moving.

The first challenge was the stairwell—safer than the elevators, but the risk of running into someone was still high. He went first, taking the steps two at a time, while you followed as quickly and quietly as possible. Every creak of the stairs made your pulse spike.

Halfway up, you heard a noise—a distant door closing somewhere above you. You both froze.

Ji-yong grabbed your wrist and pulled you down into a crouch against the railing, barely breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying whoever it was wasn’t coming down the stairs. The footsteps paused, then faded away in the opposite direction.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Ji-yong turned to you, eyes wide. “That was too close,” he mouthed.

You nodded frantically, your heart still hammering.

The two of you moved again, finally reaching your floor. Ji-yong peeked down the hallway before gesturing for you to follow. Your dorms were now just a few doors away, and you could practically feel freedom within reach.

You made it to the door first, pressing a hand against it for stability as you exhaled. Ji-yong stopped next to you, running a hand through his hair, a tired but exhilarated grin tugging at his lips.

“We actually made it,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You doubted me?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Ji-yong opened the door. As you stepped inside, you immediately realized you weren’t alone. The familiar voices of Taeyang and Daesung were already drifting through the room, and the instant you both walked in, the entire space fell silent.

The kitchen lights flickered overhead as you and Ji-yong froze. There, sitting casually in the lounge area, were the familiar faces of your group and his—Seunghyun leaning against the counter, a couple girls from your own group scattered around the couches, and Daesung and Taeyang, clearly wide awake.

You couldn’t even hide. You hadn’t even stepped inside before they all turned toward you.

“Well, well, well…” Taeyang’s voice rang through the silence, a grin tugging at his lips. “Look who decided to join us at five in the morning.”

Ji-yong cleared his throat, taking a step back, trying to play it cool, but his eyes flicked toward you, silently pleading for a way out. “We… just went for a walk.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow from where he stood, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A walk?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn’t find any words. The guilt, the tension, the fact that everyone was wide awake and clearly waiting for you two to walk in made it impossible to lie.

“You two are really bad at hiding,” Daesung chuckled from his seat on the couch. “Did you think no one would notice?”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving you a small, apologetic smile. “We didn’t exactly plan on getting caught.”

“Oh, but you were planning on sneaking in here, right?” One of the girls from your group smirked from the kitchen counter. “Because it’s not like we’re all waiting in here for you to walk in.”

Taeyang folded his arms, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You really thought you could just walk in and slip by us, huh?”

You let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that there was no escape now. “I guess we’re busted.”

Ji-yong leaned against the doorframe, shrugging with a small smile. “Guess so.”

Seunghyun leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied you both. “So, what exactly were you two talking about?”

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Ji-yong shifted next to you, glancing down at his shoes nervously.

“Oh, you know,” he said with an awkward chuckle, “just random stuff.”

Seunghyun snorted, clearly not buying it. “Random stuff, huh?” He shot you a look that you could read too easily. “I’m sure it was really random.”

“I bet it was super interesting,” Taeyang added with a raised eyebrow. “Just you two, talking the whole night away. So what was the real topic of conversation?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you avoided their gazes. “Nothing important,” you muttered, hoping to avoid the topic.

Seunghyun grinned from his spot, clearly enjoying every second. “Oh, we know it wasn’t nothing important.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Daesung, and the teasing only grew stronger. “In fact, I’d say it was pretty obvious.”

Taeyang tilted his head, glancing at Ji-yong with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, because you two are definitely good at hiding it.”

“Hiding what?” You shot back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice faltered slightly.

Ji-yong quickly cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “We’re just really good friends,” he insisted, his voice a little sharper than before, as if to convince not just them but himself too. He gave a small, forced smile. “Nothing more than that.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Mm-hmm. Just friends? Sure.”

“Not this again,” Daesung laughed mostly to himself. Again? What did he mean by again?

“You guys are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, trying to downplay the awkward tension growing between you and Ji-yong.

“Well, we’re not the only ones who think it’s pretty clear,” one of the girls from your group said with a knowing grin. “But if you insist…”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck again, his smile faltering. “I mean it. We’re just friends. It’s not that deep.”

Seunghyun looked at you both for a long moment, still not convinced. “Sure, Ji-yong. You’re just friends,” he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “But I’m telling you, it’s pretty obvious to all of us.”

“You’re really good at pretending,” Taeyang said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You quickly changed the subject, desperate to get away from this conversation. “Well, we didn’t exactly plan on getting caught by everyone in the kitchen.”

“I mean, it’s not like you tried very hard to hide it,” Daesung said, unable to keep his chuckle to himself. “You two always look like you’re in your own little world.”

Ji-yong sighed, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. “Can we not make this a thing?” He shot a glance at you, but you weren’t sure what he was thinking—was he upset with the teasing, or was he frustrated about something else?

Seunghyun raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright, we’ll drop it for now. But you know we’re not buying the ‘just friends��� act.”

You quickly turned toward your room, eager to escape the conversation. “Guess we’ll work on pretending better next time.”

Ji-yong followed suit, offering a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll do better,” he said, his voice lacking his usual confidence.

As you slipped into your room, heart still racing from the teasing, you exhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling lingering in your chest. It was ridiculous, really. Ji-yong was Ji-yong. One of the most sought-after idols in the industry, effortlessly charismatic, always surrounded by people who adored him. There was no way he’d look at you like that. You were just his friend—one of the few people he could relax around without the weight of expectations. And maybe that was why it stung a little. Because no matter how much your heart stuttered when he looked at you, you were certain he didn’t see you the same way.

Ji-yong barely mumbled, just out of earshot from you, before slipping into his own room, shutting the door behind him a little too quickly. He let out a quiet breath, leaning against it for a moment, rubbing his face with both hands. Why did it bother him so much? The way the others teased, the way they all acted like something between you two was so obvious. Maybe to them, it was. But to Ji-yong, it wasn’t even a possibility. You had never once looked at him like that, not in the way he caught himself looking at you. And why would you?

He sighed, pushing off the door and running a hand through his hair before collapsing onto his bed. You deserve someone better—someone who wasn’t always stuck in his own head, someone who wouldn’t second-guess everything the way he did. Someone who wasn’t him.

And so, just like every other night where his thoughts threatened to betray him, he shut them down before they could get any further. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that whatever he felt for you… it wasn’t something you’d ever return. If only he knew this is exactly what you were thinking about him, just on the other side of the wall. So close yet so far.

But that would be the least of both of your problems when you finally found out that a video of you and Ji-yong, with your hands intertwined, running to the car had gone viral. 

taglist (lmk if you'd like to be added!!):

@thanosscross

[inspireartnotwar]

Art. Can. Die.

This is my battle cry in the face of the silent extinguishing of an entire generation of artists by AI.

And you know what? We can't let that happen. It's not about fighting the future, it's about shaping it on our terms. If you think this is worth fighting for, please share this post. Let's make this debate go viral - because we need to take action NOW.

Remember that even in the darkest of times, creativity always finds a way.

To unleash our true potential, we need first to dive deep into our darkest fears.

So let's do this together:

By the end of 2025, most traditional artist jobs will be gone, replaced by a handful of AI-augmented art directors. Right now, around 5 out of 6 concept art jobs are being eliminated, and it's even more brutal for illustrators. This isn't speculation: it's happening right now, in real-time, across studios worldwide.

At this point, dogmatic thinking is our worst enemy. If we want to survive the AI tsunami of 2025, we need to prepare for a brutal cyberpunk reality that isn’t waiting for permission to arrive. This isn't sci-fi or catastrophism. This is a clear-eyed recognition of the exponential impact AI will have on society, hitting a hockey stick inflection point around April-May this year. By July, February will already feel like a decade ago. This also means that we have a narrow window to adapt, to evolve, and to build something new.

Let me make five predictions for the end of 2025 to nail this out:

Every major film company will have its first 100% AI-generated blockbuster in production or on screen.

Next-gen smartphones will run GPT-4o-level reasoning AI locally.

The first full AI game engine will generate infinite, custom-made worlds tailored to individual profiles and desires.

Unique art objects will reach industrial scale: entire production chains will mass-produce one-of-a-kind pieces. Uniqueness will be the new mass market.

Synthetic AI-generated data will exceed the sum total of all epistemic data (true knowledge) created by humanity throughout recorded history. We will be drowning in a sea of artificial ‘truths’.

For us artists, this means a stark choice: adapt to real-world craftsmanship or high-level creative thinking roles, because mid-level art skills will be replaced by cheaper, AI-augmented computing power.

But this is not the end. This is just another challenge to tackle.

Many will say we need legal solutions. They're not wrong, but they're missing the bigger picture: Do you think China, Pakistan, or North Korea will suddenly play nice with Western copyright laws? Will a "legal" dataset somehow magically protect our jobs? And most crucially, what happens when AI becomes just another tool of control?

Here's the thing - boycotting AI feels right, I get it. But it sounds like punks refusing to learn power chords because guitars are electrified by corporations. The systemic shift at stake doesn't care if we stay "pure", it will only change if we hack it.

Now, the empowerment part: artists have always been hackers of narratives.

This is what we do best: we break into the symbolic fabric of the world, weaving meaning from signs, emotions, and ideas. We've always taken tools never meant for art and turned them into instruments of creativity. We've always found ways to carve out meaning in systems designed to erase it.

This isn't just about survival. This is about hacking the future itself.

We, artists, are the pirates of the collective imaginary. It’s time to set sail and raise the black flag.

I don't come with a ready-made solution.

I don't come with a FOR or AGAINST. That would be like being against the wood axe because it can crush skulls.

I come with a battle cry: let’s flood the internet with debate, creative thinking, and unconventional wisdom. Let’s dream impossible futures. Let’s build stories of resilience - where humanity remains free from the technological guardianship of AI or synthetic superintelligence. Let’s hack the very fabric of what is deemed ‘possible’. And let’s do it together.

It is time to fight back.

Let us be the HumaNet.

Let’s show tech enthusiasts, engineers, and investors that we are not just assets, but the neurons of the most powerful superintelligence ever created: the artist community.

Let's outsmart the machine.

Stéphane Wootha Richard

P.S: This isn't just a message to read and forget. This is a memetic payload that needs to spread.

Send this to every artist in your network.

Copy/paste the full text anywhere you can.

Spread it across your social channels.

Start conversations in your creative communities.

No social platform? Great! That's exactly why this needs to spread through every possible channel, official and underground.

Let's flood the datasphere with our collective debate.

[parker-artio]

It’s snowing so much outside that there’s a snowstorm watch in my area, and I hate the snow. So now all I can think about is that person who was flooding and thought about Gotham during a flood. Which is making me think about Gotham during a snowstorm.

So please, enjoy me try and project my hatred for the snow onto Damian (since he’s one of my favorites).

The snowstorm just started, Mr. Freeze was out of Arkham, he was practically using the cold to make it easier for him to move around, but no one could even try to go stop him. It was snowing so much, people were getting stuck inside of buildings, and unable to get home.

Thankfully, Batman has snow shoes specially made so the Batfamily can all walk on top of the snow, and get everyone out and to safety. Snow plows were rented by Bruce Wayne for five times the initial price to run until they couldn’t no more from the snow.

The winds would definitely be strong enough to pick up anyone wearing their cape, making Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman, ect to all ditch the cape. Nightwing and Red Hood are taking much delight in how they’re reacting to not having their capes. They’re used to using them to just wrap up in when they’re cold, but unless they want to fly around like their kryptonian friends, they had to ditch them. But not Cass. I fully believe that even with her being on the smaller side compared to the rest of her family who are all tall asf and built like fridges, she could stand her ground against the wind. (Or she could just learn how to glide like a flying squirrel.)

The snow is getting in anyone’s face who doesn’t wear a domino mask or any eye covering (aka Steph), Spoiler keeps complaining and everyone will laugh. But then two seconds later they’ll get it up their nose or mouth. She laughs right back at them.

In the Watch Tower, Barbara ignores all of their complaints of being cold, and reminds them that ''It’s only 5°F. It’s not that cold''. Meanwhile she’s snuggled up in a couple blankets, the heat up to 82°, and she’s got her hot chocolate she put some whipped cream, cinnamon, and some grated chocolate on. No one finds her funny. (Dick might, but not until he ditches the rooftops where he’s lowering down ropes to help civilians out because all of the doors are blocked, and shows up to warm up for a bit.)

Jason is running around Crime Alley with about a box as heavy as he is, full of blankets. He quickly remembers that a ton of the roofs in Crime Alley have water damage and are falling apart, the walls and windows too. So what does he do? He helps them all get into a Wayne Enterprises homeless shelter for the time of the storm. Which is funded by Bruce Wayne (obviously). It has about 700 back up generators in case the power would go out, private showers, central heating (constantly set at 75°F), way too many blankets, too many pillows, about 200 mattresses that Bruce Wayne replaces every five years, washing machines, a huge room just dedicated to the clothes Bruce buys, and dozens other donate, shoes too. (It’s basically just better than any average home from low class to middle class families in the US.)

Duke is trying to fight Mr. Freeze, he’s got the best chance, since he can turn invisible and everything. Anytime he looked remotely in his direction, he shines a light off of the snow and into his eyes so he stunned. In the end Mr. Freeze will get captured, but he’s definitely seeing colors he didn’t know were possible to be seen. He saw so many bright lights. He hates any kind of light around snow now. Duke had to specifically drag him in too, the GCPD can’t exactly drive their cars and take him to Arkham, not when the roads are so bad that one wrong move he’d be free.

Tim is going around and helping people who were actually home when they got snowed in. If they’re low on food, he’ll bring them a basket of food that was pre-packed back at the Manor by Alfred. If their power is out he brings back a generator and gets the power back on. Their water heater is out? He calls a friend (Lucius) and he talks him through how to fix it so it won’t go out again. If their pipes freeze he helps in any ways he can. Basically he’s helping the damsels in distress (or dudes in distress).

Kate, Steph, Luke, and Selina are helping the people Batman, Robin, Nightwing, and Orphan get out of building back to their homes. If any of them report an issue at their home, they say it in the comms while getting a blanket (idk where it came from, just imagine they can fit it in their utility belt) and say that Red Robin will be there to help. Then they go to a meetup point where a couple civilians will be dropped off by Batman, Robin, Nightwing, or Orphan and help someone else home- or multiple people if it’s a family or a couple people from the same area.

Damian is not having a good time. Not even after the flow is set. Hes cold. He hates it. He prefers the heat, and honestly, he wishes his suit had both the thermal layer like his father and Todd’s, and the internal heater like Drake, Richard, Brown, and Cain’s. But nonetheless, his is just made to regulate his body temperature no matter the outside weather. He hates the cold, he hates the snow. He wants to go home and lay in bed with about a dozen blankets, the heat up to 90°F, a heated blanket, and all of his pets to cuddle. Just because he can easily withstand the cold doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Cass is helping civilians out through skylights, upper floor windows, fire escapes, if it’s not a front door or back door, she’s helping people out through it. She gets them to where Kate, Steph, Luke, and Selina are and then goes off again. The civilians are surprisingly having the time of their life. She grapples around while holding them, and it feels like they’re flying. (She also holds them effortlessly no matter how much they weigh- it will awaken something in a couple of them.)

Dick is switching back and forth between team A (Batman, Robin, Orphan, and him) and at the Watch Tower where he can warm up and help Babs with the queue of places Red Robin needs to stop by (maybe helping by doing a place or two), so she can focus on making sure no one else try’s to attack while all of them are focused on helping everyone to safety.

Steph is called anytime anyone is hurt beyond a simple injury anyone else can tend to. (I firmly believe she is a med a student- nothing will change my mind that this girl is not a broke college student who regularly has the intake of sugar and caffeine that could kill a hippo.) She usually tends to them as well as she can with her firsts aid kit and utility belt, before taking them to the ER (if they need it), and making sure they seen because of the coldness mixed with an injury could lead to hypothermia easier or even cause an infection from the snow that could lead to an amputation if not caught on early enough.

Alfred is back at the Batcave, also on the comms, but he’s racking together about 600 generators, 1,000 crates of food ranging from multiple kinds of milks, and way too many non-perishables. If anyone stops by the cave he gives them a weighted cape and those hand warmer things.

When things slow down, Selina starts going around and helping stray’s, she either takes them home or to a shelter she trusts. (Damian may or may not tag along and take a few home with him. If Bruce sees any new cats around the manor Selina pleads the fifth, and Damian pleads the first and fourth. Bruce does not win.)

Luke will stop by his family’s house and grabs stuff his dad made if it will help. (He’s doing it for Tim, but he doesn’t admit it, at least until he stops by one of the houses where the water heater is broken and fixes it in a quarter of the time it’d take Tim.)

Kate thrives. She prefers the cold, especially with how thick she made her suit by accident, and the amount of hair extensions she added to the suit don’t help much either. Sure she feels cold, but she’s moving way too much to react.

Bruce… well he just wants to go home.

[hoonieyun]

question and answer

welcome to, "is he mr. right?", the dating game! where a lucky girl who is looking for love has the opportunity to go on a date with four handsome and eager bachelor's who are also looking for love.

this is an interactive dating show au where the readers can vote on "yn's" decisions, ultimately leading to who she will be with at the end... but more on that later!

heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon

warnings: not much! lmk if i need to add smth though! 18+ not proofread.. hehe!

wc: 3631

episode two: question and answer

the reception you received from the first episode was very kind. you didn’t expect so many people to like your personality and to root for you to find love. you were scrolling on social media and looking at the comments about you from the first episode, people were posting clips from the show and screenshots of their favorite moments. 

“yn is so pretty. how is she single??”

“yn if you don’t find your mr. right, i will be mr. right for you.” 

“does yn like girls… by any chance?” 

you laughed as you read some of the comments, grateful that people were so kind and complimentive towards you. you’re waiting for filming to start as you sit in your makeup chair, the hair and makeup stylist doing their part to make you look tv show ready. they had provided you with several outfits to choose from and although they were all very pretty, you decided to choose the blue outfit as it seemed to be the most comfortable to wear for long hours on end. 

they had done your hair the same way as the first time and kept your makeup simple, just the way you liked it. you had gotten pretty close with the stylists because they were taking care of you and it felt nice to have other women on your side as you tried to navigate the world of tv dating shows. 

“yn, 5 minutes until we start filming. we need you in your spot.” one of the PAs says as he pops into your dressing room with a knock. you give him a nod before the stylist does their final touches and wish you good luck. you thank them with a small hug and follow the PA to your spot so that filming could begin. 

you weren’t necessarily nervous anymore to film after how great the first episode went and how nice everyone has been to you online. you were also excited to get to know the bachelor’s of the show as you hadn’t learned anything about them from the previous episode. you weren’t allowed to watch the episode so everything you saw last night was only provided to you by the show’s production team. they took your personal phone and provided you with one from the show, it only had a few things on there where you could only see content about what people are saying surrounding you that the show picked out for you to see and document your personal thoughts for the show’s behind the scenes. 

there seemed to be so much more that went into filming a show and you were grateful to just be on the other side of the camera where you didn’t have to think much about the logisitcs that went into making a whole tv show. 

you can hear the love guru doing her usual routine of getting the crowd hyped up for the episode and setting up the structure for the second episode. she explains that this episode would be focused on the question and answer where you would have the chance to ask the bachelor’s questions to learn more about them. 

the production team had given you a list of questions to ask the boys and from that you chose a certain amounto of questions that you would have to give to production so they can build the storytelling of the episode around those questions. 

before you knew it, you were once again being announced by the host but this time you would be walking down the stairwell they had built for the set that was in the center of the stage. you smiled brightly and waved towards the audience as you walked down the stairs and made your way towards the love guru, a stool waiting for you to take a seat on. 

“hi, yn! how is our little dove doing?” she asks and you tell her you were excited and so happy to be there. the love guru briefly touches on what happened in the last episode and even brings up all of the positivity you’ve been receiving online. 

“from what i’ve seen, everyone has been really nice to me! so shout out to production for only showing me the nice comments and keeping the mean ones away.” you jokingly say and the audience laughs along with you and the host. 

“of course! we try our best to uplift our contestants so all of those assholes online can kiss my ass.” the love guru says, winking and blowing a kiss towards the camera. “so, i’m sure you know how this episode will go, we’re going to bring out our bachelor’s and you’ll be able to ask them questions so you can get to know them better before you ask them on a date.” she explains while you nod and smile in response. 

“ready?” she asks and you enthusiastically answer. 

the crowd goes wild as the parition slowly descends from the sky, blocking your view of the boys as they all take turns walking down the stairs and taking their seats. the love guru greets them one by one and asks them a few questions before going into the nitty gritty, the Q&A. 

“well, i’ve done enough talking, now it’s time for our dove to get to know our bachelor’s. yn, what is your first question and who is it for?” the love guru asks and before you ask your first question, you take a deep breath and take a look at the cards in your hand that have the questions written on them. 

“i’ve only got a few questions but i think they’re the perfect questions for me to get to know all of you… so here it goes..

this question is for all of the bachelor’s, do you believe in love at first sight?” you ask and the crowd interjections with a curious sound while you wait for their answers. 

bachelor no. 1: no, i don’t; but i think that love is built on memories and if your first sight with someone is the stepping stone to love then, sure.  bachelor no. 2: yes but i think it isn’t always romantic, sometimes when you see someone for the first time you know they’re going to be a part of your life forever. so, yes? kinda..? haha.. bachelor no. 3: yes, i feel like knowing how you feel about someone at first glance is really important because it’s your first impression of them and when you feel those sparks and it seems like a love song is playing in your head; you know that it’s love.  bachelor no. 4: i would say… yes! i’ve definitely felt like i’ve loved someone when i’ve first seen them but it doesn’t mean it will last, sadly. i probably shouldn’t say this but that’s how i felt about my ex, seeing her for the first time i knew i’d love her and i think that’s something that people should experience with love at least once in their lives. 

you processed their questions and although you appreciated all of their responses, bachelor number one’s short and clear response stuck out to you, especially because he was the only one that said that he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. you also took the time to take in their voices, tone and inflection, and how they’d look depending on their voice. 

it was hard to try to come up with how you think they would look but you took note of their voices and how it made you feel. one had an australian accent, another was smooth like honey, one was deep and low, while the other was surpassingly comforting. 

“interesting answers guys.. personally i don’t believe in love at first sight because you can never know if you love someone until you’ve grown to learn who they are but i loved all of your answers…

bachelor’s one and three… who is your favorite person?”

there was a comfortable silence as the two bachelor’s tried to come up with their answers, you watched as the crowd intensely watched the guys on the opposite side of you to read their reactions but there wasn’t much besides furrowed brows and heart eyes for them. at least you could deduce that they’d be handsome even if you don’t know how they look. 

this was an important question for you, one that you had asked to write in, and although you wanted to ask all of them this question, production only allowed you to ask two of them because they had chosen certain questions to be for all or some. 

bachelor no. 1: my favorite person is my mom. it may seem like a generic answer but she’s the best person i’ve ever met. she is kind, loving, and everything i owe my happiness to. she’s taught me how to live a life where i won’t regret who i was and will be proud of the person i become. she’s my hero.  bachelor no. 3: my favorite person would be my dad. i attribute a lot of things to him because he introduced me to many things as a kid to allowed me to exercise my brain in different ways. he was a strong, respectable, and kind man and he’s fully supported me in everything i do and i know it’s cliché but i wouldn’t be the man i am today without my dad. 

both bachelor’s answers were very touching and it made your heart swell to know that both of them answered with a family member in mind. family values were important to you but it wasn’t a deal breaker; it’s just nice to know that they have people in their family that support them. you watch the crowd closely as you listen to their answers and much like before, it was all adoring looks and you couldn’t help but feel more eager to meet them all as you take in their responses to your questions. 

you also make a point to remember that bachelor number one had spoken quite a bit and knowing it was because he wanted to share his admiration and love for his mom, it was very endearing. 

bachelor number three’s answer also brought the same type of warmth as number one since both of them chose one of their parents. you loved to see that they both admired their parents and attributed the good things in their lives to the way they were raised and treated by their parents. 

“for bachelors two and four… give me your best pickup line!” your question is instantly met with laughter and cheers as people seem to think the question is very amusing as everyone in the studio awaits the two bachelor’s pickup lines. this was a question on the list they had given you and you thought it was a good way to test their charisma and humor. 

bachelor no. 2: if you had three wishes, what would you wish for? well… i guess you only have two wishes left now that i’m here.  bachelor no. 4: do you play soccer? because you’re a keeper!

the crowd laughs at both men’s pickup lines and although you weren’t expecting much as the question to you was more of a personality test than anything serious like the question you had asked prior, it told you a bit about each of them. 

bachelor number four must play soccer since he was keen to include soccer in his answer opposed to just using a typical pickup line while bachelor number two surprised you with his answer. it was not only a pickup line you hadn’t heard before but it was smooth and you could feel butterflies form in your stomach as if he said it to you directly while looking into your eyes. it was so direct yet playful. his voice also added to the effect, it was deep and smooth; like a warm cup of tea. comforting.. 

the other guy’s voice felt oddly familiar to you but you weren’t sure why. his accent was strong and it definitely lingered in your mind as you replayed his voice over and over. it was sweet and you could tell the crowd loved his accent as they’d swoon whenever he spoke– you found yourself intrigued but not in the same ways the crowd had fallen for him. maybe you just needed more time.. 

“wow! those surely were some pickup lines..” you say with a chuckle and the crowd laughs alongside you and the love guru as you poke a bit of fun at their pickup lines as if you didn’t enjoy them. 

“okay, this question is for number one and four: in one action, how would you impress your girlfriend’s parents when meeting them for the first time?” this question was somewhat important, obviously you cared what your parents thought about your boyfriend but it doesn’t necessarily mean it would be the end all be all if they didn’t like him, unless he did something incredibly bad, then yeah; it’s over. this question was more to test their skills with parents and a way for you to analyze they’re ability to present themselves to people that mattered a lot to you. 

“now remember boys, these are all hypothetical questions BUT we are airing this show so our dove’s parents will most likely see this.” the love guru adds in and all of the boys nod as if they weren’t aware of that circumstance in the first place. 

bachelor no. 1: for me, i’d probably take care of the whole night. instead of meeting them half way to some restaurant or having her parents take care of the meal, i’d plan the meeting myself and all they’d have to do was show up. that way i can show them that i’m not only capable of taking care of their daughter, but also them.  bachelor no. 4: i would impress them by showing her parents how well i know their daughter. i think a lot of parents are turned away from their children’s partners because they think they may not be worthy but by showing how well i know their daughter on more than just a superficial level, i think i’d make a good impression. 

both of their answers were very good, you were constantly impressed with bachelor number one’s answers because they were so well thought out and clear but number four’s seemed to always leave you with a sense of curiosity that led you to want to know more. “number four, can you elaborate? what do you mean by “more than just a superficial level””? you asked with a shrug and everyone’s eyes were glued onto him. 

it was like he was put under a spotlight and although you didn’t mean to do that, you were genuinely curious and wanted to learn more. 

number four didn’t hesitate or falter to answer, “by that i mean i want to show them that i know their daughter enough to take care of and that means also knowing everything about who and what she loves. i’d do my best to accommodate and alleviate all of her worries, always consider how things would affect her and doing that will show her parents just how much i love her. of course i can go on and on about how much i love their daughter, but showing them is a lot more effective, don’t you think?” 

it was in that moment that the familiarity you felt with number four finally hit you, the realization was like when you suddenly realize you may not have turned off the stove or if you had forgotten to lock your front door.. an uncertainty that lingered and it instantly made you feel anxious. 

“everything ok?” the love guru asks as if she had caught onto your shift in behavior. you nodded and put on a smile that was convincing enough because everyone cheered as you straighten yourself out and moved onto the next question. 

“okay! moving on..” you say with an awkward chuckle, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by quite literally everyone in the studio, you even noticed a weird expression from one of the cameramen.

“numbers two and three, how would you react if your girlfriend introduced you to her best friend who happens to be a boy?” although there was a clear answer to this question and you didn’t even have a best friend who was a boy, you wanted to hear their answers and have it be in front of an audience just in case that they ever turned their back on their word.

bachelor no. 2: i’d be like… that’s cool. to be honest i’d be somewhat intimidated, not because he’s a man but because he probably will be protective over her so he’s just another person’s trust i’d have to gain. my girlfriend’s friends are my friends.  bachelor no. 3: i wouldn’t care much. i’m secure enough to know that my girl only has eyes for me and that we can trust each other. we’ll become friends because of our mutual love for her. 

their answers weren’t anything out of the ordinary but you liked that number two admitted to the possibility of being intimidated by another man but following it up with his reasoning made you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that he was secure in his manhood– same with number three. 

“this is my last question and its a very important one.. if you were a season.. what season would you be?” you had hyped up the question like it was some complex and well thought out inquiry but it was very simple– but to you; it told you a lot. 

bachelor no. 1: autumn bachelor no. 2: fall bachelor no. 3: winter bachelor no. 4: spring

you were a bit surprised that no one said summer because you associated summer with joy and hanging out with loved ones– but it wasn’t your favorite season either. 

to you, summer means spending time with your loved ones, being outside in the sun, enjoying the warmth on your skin, being lively, bright, and energetic. summer was bright and wild, something for the extroverts. 

spring was about renewal and rebirth, a fresh start, and a way for people to enjoy something new. it’s for people who look forward to the first ray of sunlight after winter because it represents perseverance but also a new day. it’s like stepping outside after being cooped up indoors all day and taking your first breath of fresh air. 

autumn, a fairly popular season, is all about cycles. when the leaves fall from the trees after they transition to the array of vibrant colors that represent warmth partnered with the crisp air that fall brings; this season is for those who find comfort in the simpler things like enjoying the way leaves crunch beneath their shoes or slowly watching the last leaf fall from a tree. it’s a season that brings warmth despite often being chilly. 

winter, of course, is usually connected with the holidays. the icy cold air and the fluffy white snow, it’s nostalgic as you’re reminded of the holidays as a kid. hot chocolate made by your mom without her reminding you to put on warm socks and a sweater, getting excited to open gifts, looking out the window with wide eyes as you wait for the first sign of snowfall. winter was nostalgia with a mixture of desire as you think about the new year. 

“thank you guys! i won’t elaborate further but telling me what season you’d be tells me a lot about yourself.. think of it as a little secret just for me! 

i really appreciated all of your answers, they were all so thoughtful and funny and i’m very excited to get to know more about each of you as we go on dates these upcoming weeks!” you announce and the crowd cheers as they all get excited for the upcoming episodes where you’d go on a date with all of the boys and finally get to meet them. 

you thought about the dates too, since you had no control over the dates and the boys would be the one planning it out, you were a bit nervous.. it also doesn’t help that the audience today and those watching at home are the ones choosing who you go on a date with first. you also recalled the awkward tension between you and one of the bachelor’s. the wall separating the two of you was so thick yet so thin, like it was a veil that served no purpose to it’s intended use. 

there was no reason for you to feel that way with him since you didn’t know him so you just tossed it up to nerves and that you were equally nervous to meet all of the boys.. even if you were more nervous to meet one over the others for no apparent reason besides of a weird inkling. 

you’ve began to tune out the rest of the filming as you get in your head a bit, not paying attention to the love guru as she signs off for the show’s closing; nudging you a bit to pull you out of your thoughts as you say goodbye to the crowd and blow a cheeky kiss to the camera, one that is received well by the crowd as they applaud in glee at your gesture. 

“isn’t she cute, guys?” the love guru says and with a simple phrase, the producers and directors call for the end of filming. you immediately get up from your seat and jog to your dressing room, earning awkward stares from the production team and the crowd. 

all of the bachelor’s unaware of your sudden action. 

prev ep 𐐪♡𐑂 next ep

hoonieyun notes: the mystery begins!! you guys now have the opportunity to vote on who you want yn to go on a date with first based on the answers to her questions! keep in mind that the pictures do not reflect who each bachelor's are depending on what or who answered for the question the pictures are sectioned with or the order of the photosets. it's simply just for visuals as how i think they'd dress for this week's episode! don't forget to vote below but i will be ending the poll two days early so i can write out the chapter and leave it a bit of surprise on who won the poll! also PLEASE leave your theories below on who you think each bachelor is based on the answers!! i tried to match it the best i can to what i think each hyung line member would say :3

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I’m going to get a little wonky and write about Donald Trump and negotiations. For those who don't know, I'm an adjunct professor at Indiana University - Robert H. McKinney School of Law and I teach negotiations. Okay, here goes.

Trump, as most of us know, is the credited author of "The Art of the Deal," a book that was actually ghost written by a man named Tony Schwartz, who was given access to Trump and wrote based upon his observations. If you've read The Art of the Deal, or if you've followed Trump lately, you'll know, even if you didn't know the label, that he sees all dealmaking as what we call "distributive bargaining."

Distributive bargaining always has a winner and a loser. It happens when there is a fixed quantity of something and two sides are fighting over how it gets distributed. Think of it as a pie and you're fighting over who gets how many pieces. In Trump's world, the bargaining was for a building, or for construction work, or subcontractors. He perceives a successful bargain as one in which there is a winner and a loser, so if he pays less than the seller wants, he wins. The more he saves the more he wins.

The other type of bargaining is called integrative bargaining. In integrative bargaining the two sides don't have a complete conflict of interest, and it is possible to reach mutually beneficial agreements. Think of it, not a single pie to be divided by two hungry people, but as a baker and a caterer negotiating over how many pies will be baked at what prices, and the nature of their ongoing relationship after this one gig is over.

The problem with Trump is that he sees only distributive bargaining in an international world that requires integrative bargaining. He can raise tariffs, but so can other countries. He can't demand they not respond. There is no defined end to the negotiation and there is no simple winner and loser. There are always more pies to be baked. Further, negotiations aren't binary. China's choices aren't (a) buy soybeans from US farmers, or (b) don't buy soybeans. They can also (c) buy soybeans from Russia, or Argentina, or Brazil, or Canada, etc. That completely strips the distributive bargainer of his power to win or lose, to control the negotiation.

One of the risks of distributive bargaining is bad will. In a one-time distributive bargain, e.g. negotiating with the cabinet maker in your casino about whether you're going to pay his whole bill or demand a discount, you don't have to worry about your ongoing credibility or the next deal. If you do that to the cabinet maker, you can bet he won't agree to do the cabinets in your next casino, and you're going to have to find another cabinet maker.

There isn't another Canada.

So when you approach international negotiation, in a world as complex as ours, with integrated economies and multiple buyers and sellers, you simply must approach them through integrative bargaining. If you attempt distributive bargaining, success is impossible. And we see that already.

Trump has raised tariffs on China. China responded, in addition to raising tariffs on US goods, by dropping all its soybean orders from the US and buying them from Russia. The effect is not only to cause tremendous harm to US farmers, but also to increase Russian revenue, making Russia less susceptible to sanctions and boycotts, increasing its economic and political power in the world, and reducing ours. Trump saw steel and aluminum and thought it would be an easy win, BECAUSE HE SAW ONLY STEEL AND ALUMINUM - HE SEES EVERY NEGOTIATION AS DISTRIBUTIVE. China saw it as integrative, and integrated Russia and its soybean purchase orders into a far more complex negotiation ecosystem.

Trump has the same weakness politically. For every winner there must be a loser. And that's just not how politics works, not over the long run.

For people who study negotiations, this is incredibly basic stuff, negotiations 101, definitions you learn before you even start talking about styles and tactics. And here's another huge problem for us.

Trump is utterly convinced that his experience in a closely held real estate company has prepared him to run a nation, and therefore he rejects the advice of people who spent entire careers studying the nuances of international negotiations and diplomacy. But the leaders on the other side of the table have not eschewed expertise, they have embraced it. And that means they look at Trump and, given his very limited tool chest and his blindly distributive understanding of negotiation, they know exactly what he is going to do and exactly how to respond to it.

From a professional negotiation point of view, Trump isn't even bringing checkers to a chess match. He's bringing a quarter that he insists of flipping for heads or tails, while everybody else is studying the chess board to decide whether its better to open with Najdorf or Grünfeld.”

— David Honig

[frownyalfred]

Some questions and thoughts for the Coral Room

I noticed that there are often mentions of beta mothers. Alfred is jokingly compared or called one, beta mothers are all swarming Bruce in your last post, etc. etc.

But I also remember that Betas do not really have a childbearing role in your world. They're there so they can care for the pack as a whole and jump in if either Alpha or Omega (or both, poor Alfred) are indisposed for whatever reason (mentioned childbearing, childcare, drops, death (poor Alfred²))

So are there just Betas that do the majority of child care and are thus assigned the extra role of parent, additionally to already being in a pack that communally raises the pups?

How do Betas generally cope with the nuclear family constellation that's become the norm? They can adopt children, but not sire or carry their "own". Alphas and Omegas would also seek out each other for ruts or heats, since that's what's expected. So building romantic relationships would be pretty limited in the way modern society is structured.

What are their struggles? What are their norms? How do the maneuver a world that's pressures Alphas, objectives Omegas and forgets Betas?

Excellent question. You'll probably have noticed that the references to beta mothers in the fic are purposefully toward older beta women, or those who are from a few generations back. They're the last holdover of the pack mentality before the nuclear family shift. And you're absolutely right, they serve as parents and/or communal carers in the pack hierarchy, despite not being childbearers.

But, now that packs are dying out and shifting to a more nuclear family model, beta mothers are feeling that shift the most. They don't have 'children' in the sense of alphas and omegas, in that they are children they sired. But back in the old ways, any child they parented was theirs, just as much as it was the alpha or omega's.

This new mindset definitely pressures betas to fall into relationships with other betas, and yes I'd imagine some would adopt. Others fall into nanny/caregiving roles for alpha/omega pairs but fall short of being allowed to use the 'beta mother' title, since it's essentially defunct. And those alpha/omega pairs rarely induct those folks into their pack, largely because they don't have one anymore outside of their mating bond.

Alfred is a good example of a pack beta / beta mother holdover from the earlier times. Thomas and Martha were old enough and from old family lines that they still thought of their possible children, their house, and their future as a pack. As we see in one of the spin off fics, Martha refuses to proceed with her pregnancy (jokingly) until Thomas names Alfred as pack beta. I truly believe their plan was to have many children, and to start a formal pack that way. Which they would be allowed to more easily by society, as they were old and "eccentric" as opposed to trying to fit into the modern working nuclear family mindset.

A big theme I was kind of putting off to the side in ASOH (but talked a lot about here) is how Bruce + Clark are bringing back some older traditions, thanks in no small part to Lex. They prioritize a pack mindset and rarely even think about the more modern family setup others follow. This puts them in conflict with folks like the huffy alpha junior (I forget what i named him -- Graham?) at the gala who is rude to Lex, only for his father (Senior) to treat Lex with older omega customs and respect.

So yes, in a long winded answer to your question: betas probably suffer the most in this new world, because they are forced to curb their instincts that would normally be flourishing in a pack hierarchy. Alfred did this for a while when Bruce was going through his own issues with being an omega -- but it's clearly not ideal for him, and certainly hurt him long term after operating as a pack beta for his parents.

This is also a bit of a joke for myself, but the beta mother joke Lex makes precedes him going over and introducing himself to them in order to win favor. He immediately asks them if any of their sons are single -- this is a subtle way (ish) to indicate that while he's younger, he respects the beta mother role and sees them as valid parents. Of course this wins them over right away, as we see briefly. Clark also wins them over by politely chatting with them in their beta capacity, though he's not as aware of the high society lines as Lex or Bruce are.

[sixeyescurseuser]

《prequel》

Thinking about A Quiet Place: Day One AU…

Dozens of emergency helicopters circle around the city, dropping pamphlets and broadcasting crucial information for survival. 

Geto can’t hear any of it. But thankfully, his husband translates everything, rapidly signing about how the hostile creatures must listen for their prey because their vision is poor, and that their only weakness is water because they cannot swim. 

Citizens' only form of steady communication is through the radio or the helicopter’s PSAs - both which Geto cannot access.

Geto's eyes widen in panic, feeling completely out of his depths. People’s homes and livelihoods are already being torn apart. The buildings surrounding their apartment are half-collapsed, with lines of abandoned cars on the road, smoke and ash obstructing the air due to the fires. 

With a heavy expression, Gojo gathers his husband into a tight embrace. But they don't have time to process everything because evacuation boats await at the harbor to take them to safety. However, they cannot make a sound unless they wish to become these foreign creatures’ next meal. 

Gojo gently cups his husband's cheeks and touches their foreheads, reminding Suguru that it's them against the world. That they won't ever be apart. 

Geto nods in understanding. He softly kisses Satoru's lips, then pulls them along to pack an emergency bag and leave. 

Simply crossing the city without giving themselves away is a challenge in and of itself. 

Sometimes, Geto unintentionally makes noise with where he walks, or with the clink of his ring against his zipper, and Gojo will be the one to force them into an alleyway, listening to see if there's a monster lurking by. It’s imperative that he acts as both of their ears.

However, even if he isn't hearing, Geto’s body seems to have a sixth sense of where the monsters are as well.

They're tag-teaming to look out for each other. Along the way, the pair witness so many deaths, many of which could've been one of them had they not been a split second faster than they were. 

There's a close call where Geto accidentally triggers a bell on the door to a convenience store. Seconds before the monsters dogpile on him, Gojo manages to sidetrack the monsters by setting off multiple car alarms, then taking Suguru’s hand and running for their lives down the stairs to the subway. 

They find refuge in one of the bathrooms underground. Geto holds his husband the tightest he's ever held him for the next hour. Gojo trembles against him while Suguru's heartbeat rabbits from his chest, underneath Gojo's ear.

They're so traumatized, clothes hanging loose on their frames even more from the lack of food and sleep, and skyrocketed stress levels. 

When they take shelter for the night, they wrap around one another so close, sharing gentle nuzzles and kisses. Because like this, in their own little bubble, they can pretend the world didn't go to complete shit days ago.

There were probably multiple instances where Geto accidentally made too loud of a noise and they had to diverge from their original path to the harbor. 

Geto begins to feel like a liability. Is he slowing Satoru down because he doesn’t know if scratching his nose will be too loud? Is it risky if he signs with too much force? They spend a night cuddling, with Geto asking which actions would make noise and Gojo confirming or denying.

Gojo's hand gently pets Geto's hair as he answers. They are able to communicate in morse code too, by lightly tapping each other, back from when they learned to do so in university.

(Back then, Gojo made sure he learned multiple methods to speak to Suguru without just talking and having Geto ready his lips.)

When Geto asks if Gojo regrets bringing him along, Gojo stomps those thoughts down REAL quick. He knows his Suguru, knows how dark his spiraling goes, especially when it comes to his deafness and the inconvenience - now risk - it can cause.

Gojo will sign, /If I don't have you, I have nothing. Understand, my love? Nothing./ every day if he has to, in order to get his feelings through Suguru's thick skull.

The next day, Gojo and Geto finally make it onto the boat. As it leaves the dock - and their dilapidated city behind -  they collapse into each other's arms, tears streaming down their faces.

They are going to survive together; just like they've always been, and just like they always will.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[lordofmelancholy]

Arcane Silent Frontiers: Isha and Jinx's Relationship

Alright! Time for something new! The (tragic) Relationship between Isha and Jinx in Silent Frontiers

Now for those who read This (if you haven't go read it), you might have notice that I put down one of the inspirations for Isha's character in SF as not only just Ellie from The Last of Us but also Joel as well.

This is because, both Isha and Jinx take the "Joel" role in this AU; which is basically a fancy way of stating that both of them have major attachment issues stemming from trauma and apparent abandonment. Because of this, both Isha and Jinx actually don't get along to each other as quickly as they do in the show. The need to Bond is there, but Isha often finds it hard to gain attachments towards people following immense heartbreak in her life, and is in many ways similar to Jinx in this notion. However what should bring them together, instead makes it hard for them to do so. There's a pull of course that neither can understand, but it's a pull that tends to lead them both at the current time to face first into a wall. They have to break that wall and it's a process. Its literally has to build up. But with every build up, there can be an explosion which with Isha and Jinx happens.

Thus then comes the Isha (ellie) and Jinx (Joel) parallel Remember This Scene, in the first TLOU

Well. . .Jinx and Isha basically go through the same thing Despite the attachment issues, throughout the story of SF, Isha does end up getting close to Jinx much like she does in the show. This however is where it gets complicated for JINX because Jinx's whole thing IS the fear of getting close to someone in a world that tends to take them away too easy.

The only one she's EVER close to is Ekko. He's been her rock since they were kids. But anyone else doesn't get as close easily and it's just how she's been for years.

She's been so stuck in her ways that It honestly scared her how quickly she got attached to Isha she got and as a result her first instinct is to push away.

To not only protect others, but herself.

Jinx's biggest breaker in this whole thing was the fact that Isha once accidentally called her mama by mistake and Jinx's first instinct was to fear the word because she never expected it to make her feel good. It was what started the OG argument (similar to the one Joel and Ellie got into in the first game) and what had caused a small rift to form between the two of them, because Isha tried to get close but Jinx pushed back and thus Isha basically "gave up"

which she was actually starting to NOT DO because of Jinx.

Jinx ends up of course beating herself up over it later on down the line because she realizes how stupid she's actually been about all this. Realizing that Ekko was right, that everyone was right and even Isha was right about a lot of stuff. But her stupidity this time caused her to go and "Jinx" it cause it's obvious that Isha is distancing herself from JINX now and it's not the other way around

When what happens with Isha happens (basically what caused the events of the fic: Alone in this Platinum Field which can be found there in the link), Jinx is distraught over it because not only could she possibly loose Isha, but she'll also loose Isha at a point in time where there's a big chance that Isha hates her.

But the issue is, is even now Isha doesn't hate Jinx. And that's the sad part. Made even more sad with the fact that She never did, nor does she think she ever could

It's just that Isha's hurt

She's hurt because in the process of pushing her away, Jinx had also said things that just got Isha the wrong way

Because as we all know when Jinx is scared, Jinx can't shut up for shit and has to put her foot in her mouth.

Jinx never really leaves her side shortly after what happened. The issue with the field was something she couldn't avoid, it sucked but she couldn't. But after that she never strays too far. She's always close by. Always within reach. But while part of it is her just being observant, there's also another reason as to why.

She keeps trying to apologize

Every once in a while, sometimes in the dead of night, while everyone is asleep or at least trying to sleep. You could often hear whispers. Hushed sounds. And it's Jinx trying to talk to her. Trying to apologize. Shes trying to apologize because the thought that Isha is going to die with the thought of Jinx not caring in her head absolutely terrifies Jinx to no end now.

So every once in a while you'd hear a hushed apology. "'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it".

And sometimes when Isha's awake, at least long enough to actually hear those words somewhat, it would often seem like she would jump at the opportunity to accept it. To put it all behind them and forget about it all. But then she would get a look in her eye, as if she was remembering what exactly got said to her.

Playing it all back in her head.

and then Jinx would notice the sullen look. As if even now Isha couldn't bring herself even to forget. Or to forgive

But Jinx keeps trying to apologize.

And that's the sad part really in all this.

But what somehow makes it even worse. If that was even possible to begin with. Is the fact, that that's not the only thing Jinx tries to do. What she always seems to try despite it never working in the end.

She thinks the others don't hear her when she say's it. But they do. They always do. And it breaks their hearts to hear how desperate she sounds when she asks Isha to call her Mama once more.

Because they know the odds are slim now that she ever will. Not after everything.

But Jinx need's to hear her say it. She wants Isha to say it. Mouth it. Sign it. Garble Anything. Now more then anything

She doesn't care how Isha says it because at least if she does. At least if this is does turn out to be the end, Jinx can at least know and hold on to the warm feeling that Isha calling her Mama made her. Can hold on to that warmth at least for a while, just a little. Just long enough to help her cope with the fact that she may never get to hear it again if this truly is the end.

She hopes its not.

God she hopes its not

Because she still needs to make up for what she did.

So she's keep trying. As long as it takes. However long both her and Isha have left.

She knows she sounds selfish. Wanting Isha to say it now when there's a chance this might all be it. To say it now after pushing her away the way that she did. She knows it sounds selfish. Sounds cruel

She knows it probably is in some way. But its not. Really its not She's not being selfish nor is she trying to be cruel. Not really anyways. She just finally has come to accept something. Just a little too late. Just a little too much at the wrong time

But

"Just once. That's all. Call me mama again. Please just say it. Just once, that's all. You can say it. I wont be mad I promise…I won't just…-"

"Please?"

____

(Also as a added bonus in pain. Imagine Isha referring to Ekko as Papa by mistake when they make it back to the compound. They get her all fixed up for the time being and her being slightly drugged up for the pain, accidentally refers to Ekko as papa when he shows up to see them. Imagine being worried that she "did it again" and that she's going to be rejected by Ekko just like she was by Jinx. Imagine her being terrified of the potential rejection. Jinx did it, what's really stopping Ekko from doing it as well)

[helvegen-s]

point of no return | one

index

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!OC

Summary: Love and rivalry collide on the Formula 1 circuit as Ferrari's star drivers, Astrid and Charles, push the limits of their relationship alongside the boundaries of speed. Can their love survive the pressure, or will their ambition become their downfall?

WC: 3.7k

Warnings: relationship issues, insecurities, emotional tension

A/N: sooooooo this is the new fic i've been writing. it won't be long, I've already written all of it, and it's ended with 4 parts and an epilogue, so I'll be posting maybe one part every two days or something like that. hope you enjoy it, if you want to be added to the taglist just let me know 💚

In a sport where speed is the law and competition is relentless, Astrid Whitmore and Charles Leclerc had proven that love didn’t just stay out of their way—it made them stronger. From the moment they met, the connection was instant, and as their relationship deepened, they discovered that the perfect balance between their passion for racing and the love they shared only pushed them to be better, both on and off the track.

Despite the media pressure and constant rumors, they had managed to build a refuge in their relationship, a bubble where they could truly be themselves. They learned to keep their personal lives out of the spotlight while still sharing authentic moments with their followers, never losing the essence that made them unique. In the paddock, their love story was well-known, but it was rarely affected by the curious eyes that were always upon them.

When Astrid first entered Formula 1, many saw her as a rookie, a new face among the giants of the grid. But over time, her skill and determination lifted her, earning her a place among the best. She became the first woman to podium with Ferrari, and with every race, she earned the respect of all. Meanwhile, Charles maintained his spot among the top drivers, with his unmistakable charisma and talent, always fighting for a spot at the top.

Together, they had learned to deal with the expectations of others—the media's gaze, the demands of the press, and the constant pressure to maintain excellence. But the most important thing was what they built between them: a love that transcended the rivalry on the track.

That day, The frantic noise of the paddock in Montecarlo faded when Astrid and Charles found each other. In the space between them, love was their refuge. Astrid, with her helmet under her arm, watched Charles as he adjusted his gloves, his gaze focused but filled with a peace that only she could make him feel. In that moment, nothing else mattered. There were no races, no cameras, just the two of them.

He looked up and saw her. That simple glance, full of silent complicity, made him feel whole. Astrid returned the smile, that calm smile she had learned to recognize as the promise to always be there, no matter what.

“Ready for the race, champ?” Charles asked softly, but with an intensity only he could convey.

“Always ready,” Astrid replied, her gaze fixed on him, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Our promise: I will always be with you.

Astrid had arrived in the paddock as an unknown, but her talent had catapulted her, and now she was one of the most respected. Despite the attention that always surrounded her, Charles had been her pillar, her refuge amidst the storm. He had witnessed her evolution—from the young woman fighting for a place among the greats to becoming a key figure on the grid. And she had watched him, the boy who dreamed of being the best and had made that dream a reality.

“The best part of this race is seeing you on the grid,” he said, stepping closer and gently touching her cheek, his eyes shining with pride.

Astrid smiled, a spark of happiness lighting up her face. “It’s more fun when we’re together. When I’m not just racing against the clock, but against you.”

Charles looked at her with a playful smile. “I’m not an easy rival.”

“I know,” Astrid replied, confident and affectionate. “That’s why I like it. You’re the best.”

They both laughed, sharing a private moment amidst the surrounding noise. While the journalists and cameras focused on them, everything else faded away. The noise of the paddock disappeared when their eyes met, and in those brief moments, it was just the two of them.

“After the race, I want to celebrate with you. No rush, no cameras, just us,” Charles said, his look deeper, more serious.

Astrid nodded, her heart racing with excitement for the race and the desire to share that moment with him. “That’s all I want. No matter the result, being with you is the only thing that matters.”

In that instant, the world seemed to stop. Formula 1, the pressure, the competition… all faded into the air, and only the two of them remained, certain of what they felt. Their love was their anchor, what kept them grounded in the midst of the chaos.

As the cars lined up on the grid, Astrid looked at Charles one last time, her eyes filled with that unbreakable love that had accompanied them through every lap. “May the best one win.”

“I will,” he replied, his confidence reflected in a genuine smile. “But you’re the best too.”

With one last knowing glance, they both immersed themselves in the roar of the engines, knowing that whatever happened on the track, their love would remain a constant in their lives.

And as the world spun around them, they stayed anchored in what mattered most: their connection, their love, their team. That was all they needed.

The Monaco race had always been special for Charles, a place where his roots felt deeper, where every lap carried him through his city with a mix of excitement and nostalgia. It was his home, the Grand Prix he had dreamed of winning since he was a child. But that day, as he crossed the finish line in a solid third place, the satisfaction of the podium he had fought for quickly faded when he saw Astrid celebrating, radiant, raising the trophy of her first victory in the Principality.

The roar of the crowd seemed amplified, but he couldn’t shake the pressure in his chest, a weight he hadn’t anticipated. Astrid had won in Monaco. Her victory not only placed her at the top, but also solidified her even further as a force to be reckoned with in Formula 1. And, although he knew he should be happy for her, a part of his heart couldn’t help but feel eclipsed. That race, that podium… it should have been his.

Astrid approached him, her smile lighting up the podium as she gave him an embrace full of joy. "We did it! You did it, Charles! We deserved this!"

Despite the joy in her voice, something had broken inside him. With his arm around her, celebrating with the crowd, he tried to keep his composure, but a wave of complicated emotions overtook him. He forced a smile, cheered her on, clapped for her achievement, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel inferior. The place where he had dreamed of shining, where he had hoped to see his name at the top, had been occupied by Astrid. His girlfriend. The woman he loved, but now felt so distant, not only because of the physical space between them on the podium but by the emotional distance that began to grow in his heart.

Astrid, in her place of honor, still holding the trophy, couldn’t help but feel grateful, but something in the atmosphere had shifted. Instead of being completely radiant, her gaze occasionally moved towards Charles, searching for some sign that everything was okay. Her smile was genuine, but there was a hint of concern, as if she knew something wasn’t quite right.

Charles, for his part, tried to show enthusiasm, but he couldn’t ignore the discomfort he felt standing beside her on that podium. His third place, which would normally have been a point of pride, didn’t seem enough. Seeing Astrid with the first-place trophy, shining at the center of the podium, had triggered a shadow in his chest, one he tried to hide under a layer of applause and spilled champagne. The journalists kept capturing every detail, but both of them knew they had to conceal that moment, that fragile line between shared victory and wounded competitiveness.

Later, while waiting for their turn with their public representatives to make statements to the media after the race, Charles leaned slightly toward Astrid, trying to make their conversation blend into the noise.

"You were incredible, but..." he murmured, barely audible above the commotion. His eyes briefly shifted toward the crowd and then back to hers, as if searching for a way to express his feelings without the world hearing. "I didn’t think it would hurt this much… you winning here."

Astrid, surprised, made a nearly imperceptible gesture, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She knew something wasn’t right, but she found it hard to believe that Charles felt this way. She quickly looked toward the photographers and the hundreds of cameras present in that place, as if trying to make sure they weren’t being watched, and then leaned toward him, her voice soft but firm.

"I’m sorry, Charles," she said, but not for her victory. She knew it wasn’t something she could control. And no matter how much she wanted, she would never apologize for doing what she had come to do: win. "You know what winning means to me, but also what this particular race means to you. Don’t hold on to this. The season is long, and you’re an amazing driver, darling."

Charles looked at her, his eyes reflecting a mix of love and frustration. He wanted to feel happy for her, he wanted to be completely thrilled by her success, but a lump in his throat made it hard to breathe normally. In that moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade away, and all that remained was the stillness of their private conversation, hidden behind smiles for the public.

"It’s just... hard. Everyone expected this from me, not from you," he whispered, his voice choked. "And yet, here you are. And I..."

Astrid pressed her hand over his, gripping it tightly, not out of sympathy, but from a genuine desire to make him understand that she didn’t see him as competition. "We have each other. That’s what matters. I won’t let this change us, I promise. Let’s enjoy this, Charles."

They looked at each other in silence, and even though they knew they had to return to their smiles and gestures for the public, something had been marked in that shared moment. Astrid had achieved what many thought impossible (a woman winning in Formula 1), but she wanted to convince herself that none of that mattered if her relationship with Charles started to crack. As the cameras continued to focus, both forced a smile while trying to hide a feeling they didn’t want to allow to surface.

As the day wore on and the crowds slowly began to disperse, the flickering lights of the media cameras remained ever-present. Charles and Astrid stood off to the side, trying to carve out a moment of solitude amidst the buzz of reporters and photographers.

Astrid noticed the slight tension in his posture—the way his shoulders were squared but rigid, as though he was trying to hold everything together. Her own movements had become softer, more measured, a learned response to the pressure that weighed down on both of them. She caught a glimpse of his hand subtly flexing, fingers twitching slightly as though he was trying to release some of the energy built up from the race.

"Charles, you okay?" she asked, her voice pitched low, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear the concern threading through her words.

He glanced at her, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said, but his voice had a slight edge to it, a tone that didn’t match the calmness of his words. He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting the way he held himself, as if his body couldn’t quite align with the calm he was trying to project.

Astrid raised an eyebrow, the smallest flash of worry crossing her face, but she knew better than to push him in front of the cameras. Instead, she leaned in just enough to brush her shoulder against his. A small gesture, but enough to remind him they were in this together. Her eyes lingered on his for a beat longer than necessary, searching for any sign of what he was really feeling.

At that moment, a journalist approached them, his camera snapping quickly, and his voice cutting through the silence. “Charles, Astrid, how does it feel to be in the same race, both fighting for a top spot on the podium? Are there any tensions brewing between you two?”

The question was innocuous, but the way it was phrased carried an undercurrent of something more—an invitation to explore what they hadn’t said aloud. The journalist’s eyes flicked between them, watching for the smallest hint of discomfort or conflict. Astrid could sense the weight of the question settling between them, and she immediately caught the shift in Charles’s expression—his jaw tightening just slightly, his lips pressing together as if he were fighting to keep his composure.

Before he could respond, Astrid stepped in, her tone light but firm, a subtle but deliberate shield for both of them. “We’re teammates,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite mask the tension. “We push each other to be better, and that’s what makes us strong, both as drivers and as a team.”

The journalist didn’t seem convinced, sensing the cracks in her words. “But surely, with your first win in Monaco, there’s a different dynamic now, especially considering Charles’s long history with the race. How does that change things?”

Charles’s lips parted slightly, and for a moment, Astrid could feel the tension building in him, like a storm threatening to break. But instead of allowing it to show, he looked down, then back up at the reporter, and gave a tight smile. “It’s racing. Anything can happen. We’re both here to win, and that’s what matters.”

His words were polite, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible falter in his voice—something the journalist immediately picked up on, his eyes narrowing as he scribbled a note. Astrid could tell he had caught the nuance in Charles’s tone, but she refused to let it take root. Her smile didn’t waver, though the tightness around her eyes betrayed the uncertainty that had begun to grow.

Once the journalist moved on, the atmosphere between them shifted once more. Astrid watched Charles carefully, her gaze lingering on the way he had folded his arms slightly, a silent signal of withdrawal. It was a gesture she had learned to recognize over time—the small barrier he put up when he felt too exposed, when the weight of his emotions became too much to bear.

She placed a hand lightly on his arm, her touch gentle but grounding. "Hey, you did great out there. I’m proud of you," she said, her voice warm, but with a quiet understanding that ran deeper than words.

Charles turned to her, offering her a brief smile, but it was distant. His eyes flickered to the cameras and reporters around them, and she saw the familiar unease in his posture—the way he stood just a little too tall, as though trying to distance himself from everything happening around them.

The media had a way of getting under his skin, chipping away at the person he tried so hard to project. But with Astrid, there was no need for the façade. She could see right through him—his frustrations, his vulnerabilities—things he would never let anyone else see.

"Let’s just get through this," he muttered, voice low, as they both braced for the next round of questions.

Astrid nodded, but there was something in her eyes—something unspoken—an understanding that, despite the public’s gaze, despite the scrutiny, there were moments when only they existed. Moments when the pressure of the world didn’t matter, when the love they shared could shield them from it all.

The night had settled over Monaco, and the frantic noise of the city began to fade as they drove further from the circuit, the city lights reflecting on the sea. Astrid and Charles were traveling in silence, the car moving through the deserted streets, but the air inside the vehicle was charged with something more than just exhaustion.

The sound of the wheels on the asphalt seemed amplified, and with every kilometer that separated them from the track, the tension between them grew. Astrid glanced at Charles out of the corner of her eye, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but his expression marked by something more than just concentration.

"Charles," Astrid said softly, yet firmly, as if trying to break the silence that hung between them. "What's going on? Why aren’t you talking to me? You don’t have to do this alone."

He took a deep breath without taking his eyes off the road. The tension was palpable, almost unbearable. "What do you want me to say, Astrid? That everything’s fine, when... when you’ve won here? In Monaco? You know how much this means to me, and seeing you take first place... I don’t know if I can hide what I’m feeling."

Astrid looked at him, surprised, and for a moment, the fragility in his voice made the lump in her throat tighten. It was rare to hear Charles talk about his insecurities like this, but at the same time, she understood perfectly. "I’m sorry, Charles," she said sincerely, but also with frustration. "I’m not doing this to hurt you. But… don’t you see that I’m here to earn my place too? It’s not about stealing your podium, it’s about proving that I belong there too. It’s not a competition between us."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Astrid’s words hung in the air, heavy, but also liberating. She realized she’d been holding onto too many emotions, too many, and in the end, that had only fed the gap between them.

Charles clenched his teeth, his jaw tight, and let out a bitter laugh. "You know what? It’s not about whether you’re doing this for me or not. It’s about the fact that I’ve waited my whole life to be on that podium, and seeing you up there... I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like everything I wanted is out of reach, and now you’re taking my spot."

Astrid felt a sharp pain in her chest. Charles’s words hurt, though she knew he didn’t mean them maliciously. Just with desperation. "Charles, I’m not taking anything from you. This podium is ours, even if we’re not on the same step. I am who I am because of you, too. And if I ever thought I wasn’t capable of doing this, it was because I lacked that motivation that only you give me. You don’t see me as competition, do you?"

He fell silent, his gaze distant as if processing her words. Then he let out a sigh, more relaxed now, and turned toward her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I was... angry with myself. Because instead of enjoying your victory, I was feeling... less. But that doesn’t make sense, right?"

Astrid nodded, her breath calmer now, but still heavy. "No, Charles. It doesn’t make sense. And I don’t want this to tear us apart. F1 is our job, but our love… that’s what really matters. We can’t let competition destroy us. Because at the end of the day, that doesn’t come home with us, does it?"

The car pulled up to the hotel and stopped at the entrance. Charles turned off the engine but didn’t get out immediately. Astrid watched him, waiting for some reaction, some movement, something.

He sighed deeply, then looked back at her. "I know you’re right. I’m sorry. All of this... it’s bigger than the races. It’s bigger than any podium, any trophy. And I don’t want you to feel guilty for anything. I admire you, Astrid. And what I want most is to see you happy. And if that means you win, then so be it."

Astrid smiled, a smile she had been waiting for ever since they started talking. "I love you, Charles. And if there’s one thing we’ve learned together, it’s that we don’t need a trophy to prove we’re strong. We’re a team. It doesn’t matter where we stand on the track. Because in the end, we’ll always be first for each other."

He looked at her, a light in his eyes that mixed love and understanding, a light that only appeared when they looked into each other’s eyes and there were no words to explain what they felt for each other. "You’re right," he said, his voice now soft, calm. "And we’ll always be first, together."

They stayed silent for a moment, the outside world already far away, not caring if the press had followed them here or if the city was full of people. It only mattered this moment, the mutual understanding, and the love that bound them. They needed nothing more.

Finally, Charles leaned toward her, his lips meeting Astrid’s in a slow kiss, filled with promises, a reminder that what united them was far greater than any rivalry or goal on the track. In that kiss was everything they would never need to say, because they knew it, and they felt it.

And in that moment, they knew that nothing would ever separate them, not the competition, nor the trophies. Their love would always be their greatest victory.

But as they pulled away, there was a moment of stillness. Astrid could feel the warmth of his lips linger on hers, but also something else, something unspoken—like a shadow just behind the light. She saw the way his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long while, she noticed a crack, just the faintest one, in the armor of his usually confident smile.

Charles reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but his hand lingered there for a moment too long, as if searching for something he couldn’t find.

"I love you," he whispered, the words tender, but there was an edge to them now, something that hadn’t been there before.

Astrid smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, as if something remained unsaid, something that they weren’t yet ready to face. She kissed him again, this time more urgently, hoping to erase the lingering doubt between them. But as she pulled back, she could feel it in the air—the space that had opened up, just the tiniest crack in their bond.

For now, it was enough to smile and pretend that everything was as it should be. But deep down, both of them knew: they had opened a wound. One that, though momentarily covered, would take time to heal.

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know 💚

[airas-story]

Okay this prompt is one of those where I’m unsure if you can keep it within the Drabble range so no hard feelings if you decide not to take it

In an AU where Thanos doesn’t happen, Peter has been dropping off-grid from near-weekly from Tony’s perspective. Anytime he goes offline it’s always in the same spot, some building on Bleeker Street in Greenwich. Tony finally has had enough with the curiosity and worry and asks Peter about it, only to find out he’s been hanging out with Wizards?? So Tony decides to meet these Wizards only to come face-to-face with his ex-fiancé, one Stephen Strange.

I admit, I almost turned this one down, because yeah, it is far too intensive for me to write all of this and feel satisfied with it. (Also, I had a brain thing where I was like 'well, if there's no Thanos... and then I completely rewrote the MCU... that is not what you intended, I don't think.) Anyways. I decided to do the VERY last part of this, because that felt manageable and I felt like I could still do it somewhat cohesively. (PS, without Thanos, JARVIS probably doesn't die.)

“So—” Tony looked around around the space. It felt like a lobby, impersonal. ”—This is where you’ve been hanging out?”

“Yeah.” Peter grinned. “Well, not, here. I normally spend time in the kitchen or the library with the wizards.”

Right. The wizards. The reason for Tony’s investigation. He tried not to hover over Peter too much, but JARVIS had gotten nervous when Karen went off grid. Karen had promised JARVIS she was fine, but JARVIS… well, JARVIS had lost track of Tony too many times. He didn’t like losing track of Peter. 

Tony had stepped in when JARVIS started fretting. Apparently Peter had met some techno-phobic wizards. Peter’s explanation of how he’d met said wizards had been distracted and unhelpful; Tony had figured he should meet them himself.

Footsteps had Tony shifting.

“Mr. Parker, I see you’ve—” the voice cut off.

Tony froze. He recognized that voice. He looked up, body stiff and unwilling, but unable to not look.

“Tony?” Stephen stood at the top of the stairs. He looked shocked, eyes wide and… Tony didn’t want to decipher any more than that.

Tony’s stomach twisted and pain lanced through his heart. “Stephen.” His voice caught. Of all the places to run into his ex-fiancé… Tony wouldn’t have guessed the wizards’ lair.

“You know Doctor Wizard?” Peter asked, voice excited; Tony could barely make sense of the words.

Stephen took a step down the stairs. “Tony?” His voice… nope, not deciphering that, either. “How are you here?”

Tony turned, gave Peter a firm pat on the shoulder. “Turns out there’s nothing to worry about. You’re in good hands.” He moved towards the door. 

“Wait, Tony.” Stephen’s voice came sharp, almost anxious. Tony heard his footsteps headed down the stairs.

Tony didn’t wait. He shoved the door open.

He ran away.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 21- Meaningful, Meaningless, Morality

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New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I can't believe we're almost done! Just five more chapters. The last chapter will be on March first. I think. I'm not too good at counting. Also, my period is five days late. Not pregnant, but still concerned. My uterus better get it's shot together for Valentines Day because I have a cute outfit planned.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

It's a warm day. Young children scream and chase each other around the playground. Kicking up sand in the process while their parents only half pay attention to them. the leaves on the surrounding trees are vibrant and green. To anyone looking harder at the seemingly innocent scene, they'd notice the carelessly forgotten needles under benches and trash cans. One long thin one winks in  the sand beneath the structure. Waiting to stick some poor unsuspecting kid with all types of diseases.

The inside of the car is hot and musky. Valeria borrowed Mark's car not knowing that, just like the house, it's ac is broken and now she's paying for it. The both of you are. Valeria looks away from the park, eyeing you from the side. Your head is lowered, and your brows are furrowed, either in concentration or irritation. Maybe both. Valeria knows you don't want to be stuck with her inside a hot car. You switch positions again. Bringing your legs up. You sigh and lean your head against your hand. Valeria looks back to the park.

Specifically at the roughed-up man sitting on a bench a little way off. Valeria frowns distastefully. He needs to try harder to seem less suspicious. The dealer Valeria had beaten for information tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves. His black eye hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses. They've been waiting for awhile now and Valeria is starting to feel impatient. Wondering if he gave them false info and it just biding his time.

Everything might be ruined, she thinks.

"Want me to roll the windows down?" Valeria asks just to ask.

"No." You reply. Voice short and courteous. This would've been a good moment to spend some time with you one on one, but you're still very angry with her. It's childish, she wants to think. But she knows that she hurt you and severed the trust between you. For the first time in her life she actually feels bad for being so selfish. She doesn't want to think Corra could have ever compared to her, but she's starting to think that maybe she did. Valeria's starting to realize that she lacks emotional intelligence. Still, she doesn't feel incredibly sorry.

Movement beside her snaps her out of her head. She looks at you, watching you sit up straight.

"Who's that?" You mutter. Valeria looks and leans forward with interest. An average, everyday middle-aged man is approaching the dealer. Valeria thinks he could be the parent to one of the many children running around, coming to confront this sketchy looking man about his loitering in the park. He doesn't stop to speak to the dealer but drops a small baggie at his feet while he passes.

The dealer waits until the man is gone before picking up the baggie and stretching. Giving them the signal. Valeria starts the car and drives down the road. Following the man discreetly. A little way down he gets into his own car. a pale coloured Pontiac Aztec. Valeria follows him for a while. Eventually leaving the bad side of town. entering neighborhoods where the houses are loved, and the lawns are cared for.

The man pulls up to a white, two-story home with a garage and parks in the driveway. Valeria slows down but doesn't stop. Giving you time to scribble down the address.  The man - Doug, waves to a neighbor and walks up to his steps. Reaching into his ironed pants for his keys and unlocks his door. Disappearing inside.

The dealer watches the women drive off. His leg bouncing nervously. Once he's sure they're gone he rises and walks off in the other direction. Baggie shoved into the pockets of his torn pants. He rummages around in them for his phone. pulling it out. He dials Doug's number but before he can press the call button, a van rolls up beside him. He has no chance of running as the side swings open and one of the men from that crack house grabs him and pulls him in. Slamming the door and speeding off.

Valeria is relieved to finally be able to get out of the stuffy car. Sucking in a breath of fresh air. You step out as well and wipe sweat from your face. Inside, she gathers everyone. Sitting them down in the living room.

"We got his address." She says. She looks to Alain and Rick who give her a small nod in return. There are a few specks of red dried onto his neck and he reaches up and scratches it off. "Doug is just some guy. Lives in a little house with a white picket fence. Looks like he could be an office worker or a teacher." She scoffs.

You sniff and she glances at you. Valeria looks away. She shouldn't be too surprised. You don't really look or act the part and yet you're also cooking meth. Valeria supposes most people who do bad things look like regular people. It's how a lot of serial killers get away with it for so long. Deviancy doesn't always have physical traits.

"We're going to follow him for a couple of days, get familiar with his routine, find where he cooks, who's working with him, scope him out." She continues. She takes the paper with his address and hands it to Rick. "Don't make contact if you can avoid it." Valeria tells him firmly.

Despite all the time given to let things settle, you continue to sleep in the closet. Stubbornly refusing any and all of her attempts to reason with you. apart from the fact that she'd like to sleep next to you, she also doesn't believe that sleeping on the floor is good for your back. she can tell it isn't. Sometimes if you bend a certain way you grimace. She looks over at you as you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets.

Fabric ruffles as you adjust them. Smoothing them over the uneven, stained, splintering hard wood floors.

"Get in the bed." Valeria says.

You ignore her and continue to fluff out your pillows. Arranging them meticulously. Annoyed, Valeria gets up and stalks over to you, the floors creaking under her feet. She knows you don't like that, creaky floors. 

"Get in the bed." She repeats herself firmly. "I'm tired of seeing you sleeping on the gross hard floor."

"Will you sleep here instead?" You ask, not looking at her.

Valeria frowns. "In the closet?" She asks.

"Yeah."

"No." Valeria says. 

You shrug your shoulders.

"Then no." You say.

"How long are you going to be mad at me for?" Valeria snaps. "We're going to have a pretty unpleasant time working together if we can't get along."

You stop and look at her. "I'll be mad at you for however long I damn well want to." You retort. 

Valeria lets out a frustrated breath and rubs her face. Trying to stay calm. "I'm sorry." She says.

"You don't mean that." You mutter. It's true. She doesn't. 

And it's making her frustrated. Why does it matter if she means it? Shouldn't it mean something that she's trying to do what you want.

"I don't know what you want!" She snaps, throwing her hands up angerily. You round on her, getting in her face.

"I want to be angry, and I want you to stop acting like it's an inconvenience to you!" You snarl.

"It is." She quips back. Glaring at you.

"Well, that sucks for you, you selfish, evil-" The door opening interrupts you.

Both of you look over, clearly angry. Mark pauses.

"Rick's back." He says. He lingers for a few moments, as if to say more but decides not to and leaves. You shoulder past Valeria and leave the room as well. Valeria stays back for a few minutes. Calming herself down. Finally, she decides to go down to join the others. Sitting away from you in the living room.

Rick leans against the wall, fidgeting with the scuffed car keys.

"He works at a bank." He starts. Glancing at Valeria. "WestStar on Mesa street. He has a wife, a three year old daughter, and his lab is thirty minutes outside of the city." He says. "It looks big, there were a few other people there but I couldn't tell you just how many. It's in this valley, surrounded by cliffs. I went around and looked, he has men at the front, one on the west and east, and one at the back. There's an old barn and a house but I don't think anyone actually lives there."

"Did they have guns?" You ask.

"Obviously." Rick says tartly. Valeria swallows her own retort. She's mad at you, but she doesn't want to gang up on you. You scowl and turn away, excluding yourself from the conversation.

The stupid clock fills the silence.

"What now?" Alain speaks up. Looking to Valeria for new orders.

"... Now we prepare." She says, leaning back and narrowing her eyes in thought. "We'll invade the compound, neutralize everyone inside but him." She decides. "I want him alive."

You and Mark both frown. Mark is a simple druggie, not a murderer. That much is clear.  Neither are you though. You've always been a little softer.

Valeria gets up.

"I'm going to call down some reinforcements." She says. Walking off and leaving the rest of the group. This is going to be one of the most dangerous things she's done, but it's not like she's never done it before. She broke out of a compound, breaking into one shouldn't be much different.