#That was designed by someone who has never had to clean their own space

[wandaslovey]

ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ; ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 5.3k

authors note: part two is here!! let me just say, thank you all SO so much for all the love you gave me for part one 🫶🏻. there’s a little treat for y’all at the end 🤭 comment to be added to the tag list! this is not proofread.

authors note: for part three, i’m probably going to do a time skip where the contract has been signed and their relationship has begun. don’t worry though, it will still be in the beginning stages!

content warning(s): legal age gap, dom/sub dynamics, in-depth discussions about bdsm and bdsm contracts, kissing, brief mentions of masturbation

venturing is inevitable: masterlist

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you pop in your wireless earbuds, scrolling on your phone to one of your comfort playlists. it was saturday and you were currently in a taxi on your way to the maximoff-romanoff household. it felt so surreal being in this situation. the more you thought about it, the more nervous you felt, so you opted for listening to some music to calm your nerves.

they’d texted you their address the day before, and you were surprised to find out they lived outside the city in the suburbs. not just any suburbs though—the rich suburbs. scarsdale to be more specific. it was just over 20 miles out of manhattan, so the drive usually took between 30-40 minutes, depending on traffic.

you found yourself feeling grateful that mrs. romanoff texted you early in the morning, telling you she insisted they cover the cost of the taxi as when you glance up at the meter halfway through the drive, it was already almost $100.

you’d thought a lot about your coffee “date” with the two married lawyers. you’d taken it upon yourself to do some of your own research on google the afternoon after returning home, but you quickly regretted it as all the images of people tied in uncomfortable positions frightened you. it didn’t help that the majority of the websites listed first were amateurs who didn’t truly understand bdsm dynamics or relationships—but you didn’t know that yet.

there was something else that made you uncomfortable. well, rather something that made you feel shamefully hot in a way you weren’t familiar with. you think back to a few days ago at the coffee shop, noticing all the little ways both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff gently asserted dominance: they both waited outside, the door was held open for you, they ordered and paid for you, mrs. maximoff guided you gently through the shop, mrs. romanoff hailed you a cab and they both saw you off.. it was all in the little things. all those little things which were carefully calculated and amounted to you feeling safe—cared for. you never imagined you would notice, let alone care for someone to take charge in that way, but you did. you couldn’t begin to imagine all the others things that were typically encapsulated within a dominant. things you were sure both mrs.romanoff and her wife possessed. how far did their dominating desire go? was there anything they didn’t like to have control of?

the cab driver turns down their street, slowing down after passing the first 3 well-spaced out houses and you look out the window to see what you assume to be their home. their house had a clean, modern vibe with some bold design elements. the exterior was wrapped in crisp white paneling, which contrasted against the deep black roof and window frames. the windows were framed with sleek black trim, giving the house a more modern/contemporary feel. the front porch had a few steps leading up to the door, and above it, there’s a simple black square awning that extends out, adding a cool architectural touch. it gave the entrance a little extra character while still keeping things minimal. to the side, there’s a driveway that leads to the garage, and the front featured a circular driveway that made for an easy and elegant arrival or departure. the layout felt both functional and stylish, and modern yet still welcoming.

it’s mrs. maximoff that comes out of the house to greet you. she was dressed in a simple black long-sleeved button up with some white wide leg jeans. her hair was up, twisted in a messy knot that still managed to look elegant. she looked beautiful.

she quickly makes her way over to the taxi driver, handing him a wad of cash without batting an eye. you couldn’t see for sure, but it looked like more than the actual fee that was meant to be paid.

“hey, you,” her greeting paired with what seemed to be her signature smile made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. she seemed genuinely happy to see you again, and for that you felt delighted. you were equally as excited to see her again, even if the circumstances were a bit nerve wracking.

you return her greeting with a small hello, feeling a little flustered when she looks you over in a not-so secretive way.

“look at you…

you know, you really didn’t have to get all dressed up for us,” she grins blithely before leading the way back through the circular drive to the front door.

“this? oh i sort of just threw it on… should i have chosen something else?” you ask shyly as you keep pace with her, walking right by her side.

you’d chosen to wear a rose taupe ruched mini dress with white high tops, and you did not in fact ‘just throw it on.’ it was the 5th outfit you’d tried on before deciding that was what you’d wear.

“i’m messing with you, dragotsennaya veshch. you look very beautiful,” she appraises you and you feel yourself blush at the attention. you remember the nickname from the last time she called you that, but you still had no idea what it meant.

she steps in front, reaching to open the door for you before you both step inside. you marvel at the interior, which was just as beautiful as the outside, however it was less bright. there were more dark tones in here mimicking that of the office at their law firm.

“wow…you guys have a beautiful home,” you muse, admiring the high ceiling in the entry way and the minimal decor.

“well, thank you. follow me.” she speaks warmly, stepping ahead of you to lead you through the house. you find yourself looking around as she walks in front of you, noticing that there weren’t very many personal touches, but they were there if you looked hard enough. in a way, their house almost look like a museum—free of dust and exceptionally organized.

she leads you into a huge open room which appeared to be a cozy living space and just a little past that, the kitchen. there were black pendant lights dangling from the ceiling above the island, which had a black and white marble countertop. you see mrs. romanoff with her back to you, pouring herself a glass of filtered water.

“natasha, our guest is here,” she announces, placing a hand on your back and gently nudging you forward closer to the counter top. natasha turns, an easy smile gracing her features.

even with just a brief glimpse, you couldn’t help but observe how she seemed to be much more at ease in her home. her usual more stiff posture relaxed and the air around her felt a little lighter than normal.

“hi there, pretty girl,” she looks you over, just as her wife did, only she does it even more obviously. “wearing another cute outfit i see,” she murmurs, but it seems like the observation was mostly meant for herself as her eyes continue skimming your figure.

“i thought the same thing! i told her she didn’t have to dress up for us,” mrs. maximoff chuckles, her wife joining in. for that moment, it was as if they were talking about you like weren’t even there, which brought back a now familiar feeling of being small in their presence.

you shrug, ducking your head forward so your hair falls into your face, covering your blush. you hear mrs. romanoff set her glass on the countertop before she rounds the kitchen island, walking until she was standing right next to you. you watch her through your peripheral vision until she’s close enough that you half turn to face her. her hand comes up to gently lift your chin, her finger curling underneath it.

“hey, we’re just teasing you. don’t hide your face from me.” her voice was gentle yet you could sense that she was being serious about you trying to hide your bashfulness from her. you nod your head very slowly, now captivated with her closeness and the air of dominance she carried over with her.

“good. i’d hate to miss seeing these cheeks blush. it’s very cute,” she adds, making your cheeks flame even hotter. she smiles at that, immediately noticing the difference in shade.

“wanda, look at her,” she muses and your eyes dart from hers to mrs. maximoff who steps over to her wife’s side, appraising your pink cheeks with a smile of her own.

“da—dragotsennaya veshch. i told you the name suits her perfectly,” mrs. romanoff hums at her wife’s comment. they both gaze at you, desire and sinful admiration gleaming behind their impossibly green eyes. you fight the urge to suck on your bottom lip, figuring it would only give them more fuel to embarrass you.

you were about to ruin their little moment and ask what name it was that wanda kept referring to you as, but mrs. romanoff suddenly drops her hand, the both of them stepping back away from you.

“do you want some water, (y/n)? are you thirsty?” mrs. romanoff asks, already rounding the counter to the cupboard to retrieve a glass.

“yeah sure,” you nod politely, reaching to grab the glass from her once she’s filled it with water. you take a swig, regardless of not actually being thirsty.

“here, come sit,” mrs. maximoff puts a hand on your elbow, guiding you into the living room area which was just a step down from the kitchen. there was a large sofa towards the center, facing a whole glass wall which stretched across the large open room and overlooked their beautiful backyard. it was so green; many trees, bushes and grass to marvel at.

mrs. maximoff sits on the couch, patting the spot next to her. you sit down, your glass in hand, which she gently takes from you and sets in a cup holder to your right. as she reaches over you, even for the brief moment, you smell a trace of her perfume which smelled something like pears, fig leaves and sandalwood. it was heavenly and somehow seemed to fit her perfectly.

“so, how was the rest of your week? how were your classes?” she asks, propping her elbow on the back couch cushion and resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. something about having her full attention on you in such close proximity made your heart stutter.

“it was good! i only go in person 3 days a week and the rest is online. the homework load was about a medium for this week, so i wasn’t too overwhelmed or anything.” as you speak, mrs. romanoff enters the living room, sitting next to her wife on the couch. she crosses her legs, leaning close to her wife so she can see you just as well.

“what does a ‘medium’ homework load look like to you?” mrs. romanoff asks with a smirk. she must’ve remembered what you’d said at the interview about loving homework.

you sigh amusedly, giving wanda a quick glance to see a touch of a knowing smile on her face. you two were fellow academic lovers it seemed like.

“2 short essays, 3 discussion boards and 1 little worksheet thing.. no big deal,” you giggle softly when mrs. romanoff rolls her eyes at your response.

“right - okay,” she mutters though there’s an affectionate smile curling at her lips.

there was a small bout of silence which was comfortable given the light-hearted tone of the conversation, but that didn’t last very long.

“so, have you thought any more about our conversation at the coffee shop?” mrs. romanoff asks. your tummy does a flip flop at the change in subject, but you knew this was ultimately what you were here for.

“a-a little yeah,” you say, not offering anything else just yet. you look down at your lap, your hands playing with the hem of your dress ending several inches above your knee.

“anything you’d like to share?” mrs. romanoff presses, her features etched with amused interest. she loved the way you instantly became more shy with the new topic of conversation.

“uhm.. well i found some stuff on the internet.. more pictures and some examples of the..um..contracts you mentioned,” you pause, your eyes flickering up from your lap to mrs. maximoff’s face and then her wife’s. mrs. maximoff nods encouragingly, wanting you to continue.

“the contracts largely consisted of rules? is that accurate—like something you guys want from me?” you ask slowly, fighting the urge to bury yourself in a hole and hide. you could feel your skin crawling from how out of your element you felt.

“yes, our contract would have rules. we only have a few set rules for each submissive, but the others we come up with will be personalized just for you once we begin our..relationship,” mrs. maximoff tucks some hair behind your ear, her hand resting just above your knee, trying to be reassuring.

you swallow, gathering up the courage to ask your new follow-up question. “what sort of rules?” your mind thinks back to the many drafted up contracts on the internet, wondering if any of the rules you saw there were ones they’d want for you.

“before we answer that—how do you feel about rules? just thinking about it right now, how would you feel if there were rules we asked you to follow?” mrs. romanoff asks, leaning forward as she rests her elbows on her blue-jean clad thighs. you ponder her question, playing out a scenario in your mind. you remember one “sample” rule you saw online: ‘always greet your dominant kneeling by the door upon their arrival.’ that one was more extreme. you thought of two others: no touching yourself without permission and always address your dominant by their honorific. those ones made your cheeks flush red again, a deep blush gracing your features that couldn’t be ignored.

“look at that blush.. now you have to tell us what you’re thinking,” mrs. maximoff gently nudges you with her shoulder, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

you clear your throat, your fingers drawing imaginary patters on the thigh mrs. maximoff wasn’t holding. “i was just remembering some of the rules..” you reply vaguely. mrs. maximoff hums, sounding unsatisfied with your concise answer. she gently lifts your chin as her wife did earlier, her pointer finger curled under your jaw and her thumb holding your chin in place.

“hey, listen to me. if talking about this truly makes you uncomfortable, we can stop right now. we don’t have to do this if it’s not something you want,” you look into her green eyes, reading the gentleness and sincerity there. your eyes flicker over to mrs. romanoff who had a similar expression, and she nodded at her wife, drawing your attention back to mrs. maximoff.

you hold eye contact with her for a few seconds, finding great comfort in the tenderness held in her green orbs. “that’s not what i want,” you manage to speak, pausing for a second to gather your thoughts. “i’m just not used to talking so openly about this kind of stuff…or having this much attention,” you admit softly, wanting to look down but wanda’s fingers hold you firmly in place.

“you don’t have to be so embarrassed, honey, though it is really cute. still.. this is a safe space. you can ask or tell us anything,” mrs. romanoff reaches her hand across her wife and affectionately traces down your nose, smiling as she does so.

“you think it’s cute?” you blurt the question aloud without really thinking to stop yourself. mrs. romanoff grins wider, a gleam twinkling in her eye.

“it is. i don’t know if i’ve ever met somebody so innocent. it’s equally as cute as it is sexy.” you smile shyly at her words, looking back from her to her wife. mrs. maximoff smiles, her eyes flicking down to your lip which you coyly sucked into your mouth. she uses her thumb to pull your lip free from your teeth, tsking gently as she does so. your breath hitches at the action which both mrs. maximoff and mrs. romanoff notice but don’t comment on.

“how about this, why don’t we start somewhere else? how about you tell us why you didn’t say no right away when we posed the question the other day?” mrs. maximoff asks. you don’t have to think about her question long before you have an answer.

“i guess i was just intrigued.. i mean i guess the thought of being able to submit in some ways is..appealing to me?” you say it as a question, unsure you’re using the correct words to communicate your feelings.

“that’s a good start, detka. tell us more along those lines. what about it appeals to you?” mrs. romanoff encourages you.

you inhale slowly, looking off to the side as you think of how to expand upon your answer. “i think similar to other people, i would like a space or time where i don’t have to have control over all aspects of my life. kinda like…like i want to be able to shut my mind off sometimes - if that makes sense?” you half shrug your shoulder, looking between the two women to see if it looks like they understood your explanation.

“that makes perfect sense, sweetheart. that’s exactly what submission does. when you turn yourself over to your dominant, there’s a sense of freedom that comes with it. knowing that there’s someone you trust that is going to take control and steer you in a certain direction—and you don’t have to think or worry about anything.” mrs. maximoff’s explanation was very appealing to you. you think back on moments when life was really stressful and realize how much more doable those moments would have been had you been able to silence your mind for a little bit.

“that does sound really nice,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but both of the lawyers noticed. the two of them chuckle softly at your admission, thoroughly entertained by your cuteness.

mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff continue educating you on the many beauties of being a submissive. they’d told you it wasn’t just about the sex, in fact, the sex was never really as good if the dynamic wasn’t always held firmly in place in other aspects of life as well. you listen intently to their words, becoming more and more intrigued by the idea of signing a contract with them by the minute.

“(y/n)?” mrs. romanoff asks after a little bit of her and her wife talking at you.

“hmm?” you look at her curiously, her tone making you slightly nervous to hear her question.

“what was it earlier that had you so embarrassed? something about some rules you found online?” you swallow thickly, remembering the two rules that made you blush so deeply. up until this point, the three of you had all managed not to make this conversation so much about the sexual aspects of bdsm, but rather more the dynamics. your answering the question would change that.

“well…there was one about always addressing your dominant using their honorific and then, um.. well the other said..” you trail off, pressing your lips together as you bounce your leg a bit anxiously.

“it said what, dragotsennaya veshch? come on, i can see it on the tip of your tongue,” mrs. romanoff encourages, a devious smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

“nottotouchyourselfwithoutpermission,” you mumble quickly, the beginning of a blush coloring the apples of your cheeks.

“ah, what was that?” mrs. romanoff makes a show of cupping her ear and tilting her head to show you she was listening, that same wicked smile still plastered on her face. she’d heard exactly what you said.

“natalia, bud' s ney milym,” mrs. maximoff says in what sounds like a gentle scolding tone.

mrs. romanoff just laughs, reaching over and cupping your jaw with one hand. “i can’t help it, look at her!” you pout at what you now knew was her teasing.

“it really is hard not to tease you when you look like that..” mrs. maximoff murmurs in her wife’s defense, tapping your nose as she has her own more subtle version of a wicked smile.

“i can’t help it! when you guys talk to me like that, i have to blush!” you explain, a little exasperated.

“like what?? like you’re the most adorable thing ever? i could eat you up (y/n), i swear to the gods,” mrs. romanoff grins at her own words, seemingly high on the current air in the room which was very light and fuzzy. mrs. maximoff chuckles, purposely squeezing what she guessed would be a sensitive part of your thigh to get you to join in their light laughter. you shake off the ticklish sensation, stubbornly pressing your lips in a firm line as to not smile as they were openly teasing you without mercy.

“not funny..” you mutter, making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and pouting cutely.

“you’re right - we’re getting off topic. so, back to the rule about not touching yourself…” mrs. romanoff starts, her tone teasing.

“okay! we can go back to teasing me again,” you say a little too loudly, feeling less embarrassed about the topic now, but still a little nervous.

“sorry little girl, you’re not gonna wiggle your way out of this one for a third time,” mrs. maximoff pokes your side before reaching down and casually lifting your legs to drape across both her and her wife’s lap. the sudden change of sitting position and new physical contact made your tummy flutter, your attention suddenly fully locked in on the two of them.

“would you have a problem with that rule?” mrs. maximoff asks, the tone in the air quickly changing again.

“uhm..well i-“ you clear your throat, running your hand nervously through your hair. “is that one of your set rules?” you feel mrs. maximoff’s fingers begin to lightly trace a small line up and down your thigh. she and mrs. romanoff both looked so in their element and you were just here—a clueless little thing.

“yes, it is,” mrs. maximoff responds. you swallow thickly again, a dull ache beginning to settle in your lower tummy. just the thought alone was beginning to make your body heat up. what did they do if their submissive did touch themselves?

“oh…what would you do if your submissive broke that rule?” you ask curiously, unable to keep that question to yourself.

mrs. romanoff looks at her wife and you could see a brief silent conversation happening with their eyes. they both turn their attention back to you before mrs. romanoff speaks up.

“there are a few punishments we would most likely choose from: a spanking, edging or overstimulation. the punishment our submissive would receive would depend on who is delivering the punishment and also what the submissive is okay with and work within her limits.” she explains it so casually, but you find her words anything but casual. you were surprised that the thought of being spanked made you shamefully hot. it was starting to seem like they were awakening something in you you didn’t know existed.

“edging..? is that like an orgasm denial thing?” you ask the clarifying question, both of their ease and openness on the topic beginning to rub off on you a bit. it really did feel like a safe space.

“mhmm, that’s exactly right,” mrs. romanoff nods her head, giving you an encouraging smile.

“so…why that rule?” as you ask your question, the short lines mrs. maximoff was drawing on your leg turn to intricate circles. she seemed to be doing it absentmindedly.

mrs. romanoff purses her lips, her eyes gleaming with desire. “because, detka. if you agree to be our submissive, your pleasure will belong to us. every sound you make, every twitch, every thought we want to be apart of—to possess and control.” her facial expression turns a little harder as she speaks, an air of dominance surrounding the three of you like a little bubble. you feel your mouth go dry, your legs unconsciously pressing together at her words.

“are you alright, sweetheart?” mrs. maximoff asks, noticing your cheeks flush and your legs press together as they still lay across her and her wife’s lap. she knows exactly why you’re suddenly more restless, but she can’t help but tease you a bit with it.

“mhmm, i’m fine,” you squeak, your voice cracking which you try to cover up by clearing your throat. your mind scrambles to think of another question—anything to get the intense attention off of you, even for a moment.

“what do your submissives call you?” you ask, hoping their answer wouldn’t make your panties any wetter than they were already becoming.

mrs. maximoff raises a hand to the side of your face, curling some hair behind your ear as she simply replies, “mommy—they address me as mommy.” she then reaches blindly to the side, cupping under mrs. romanoff’s chin. “and they call natasha, daddy.”

you hear your own breathing hitch, their honorifics taking you back a bit. somehow, they encapsulated those names perfectly but hearing mrs. maximoff say them out loud was a different thing. you picture yourself addressing them as such, and you feel your panties becoming wetter. you mentally slap yourself. you needed to get a grip otherwise you were going to start dripping onto your thigh.

“you like that, don’t you, krasivaya devushka?” mrs. romanoff asks in a low voice, her eyes drinking in your thighs which were now noticeably pressed firmly together.

where your mouth once felt dry, it was now watering. your lips part as you exhale breathily. you look from mrs. romanoff to mrs. maximoff who was now leaning closer to you, glancing at your lips. you lick them subconsciously, leaning closer to her. you feel her hand come to cradle the back of your head, her other hand cupping under your jaw, gripping it more firmly than you’d expect. your breath is shaky as your heart begins to pound in your ears, the smell from mrs. maximoff filling your nose as she leans even closer to you until your faces are merely inches apart.

“do you want this, dragotsennaya veshch?” her voice is seductive and slow as she enunciates her words. her green eyes were hooded, her lips looking so very tempting.

you nod your head, not taking your eyes off of her lips. you see a hint of a smile there as she closes the small gap, her lips parting slightly before she presses them against yours. her lips tasted faintly of grapefruit and you instantly want more of it.

your arms reach up to wrap around her neck as she kisses you slowly but deeply. she hums into your mouth, one of her hands sliding down your arm to your hip and gripping there firmly. so caught up in the sensations of her lips on yours and her hands touching you so expertly, you let out a small whimper. mrs. maximoff gives your hip a squeeze after hearing that, her tongue tracing your bottom lip. just as you part your lips to give her access to your mouth, she pulls away, a pleased smirk on her face.

“a little eager, are we?” she chuckles and it’s only after her comment that you realize in the midst of your kiss, you’ve curled your legs up in her lap, your arms wrapping tightly around her as you cling to her body.

you loosen your hold, feeling a little shy at having so easily gotten carried away. “m’sorry,” you mumble, your legs stretching back out so they’re sprawled across mrs. romanoff’s legs again.

“oh sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize. it’s very cute,” she coos at the end of her sentence, her finger coming up to delicately trace your bottom lip. you look at her, your soft eyes full of wonder and adoration.

“i want to do this,” you announce, looking between mrs. maximoff and mrs. romanoff who had begun stroking your legs as they rest on her thighs.

they both chuckle softly at your pronouncement, finding your sudden enthusiasm amusing.

“patience, pretty girl. there’s still some things we need to discuss before we have you sign the contract,” mrs. romanoff says before continuing, “i think we’ve explored enough for today. why don’t we send you a copy of our contract, you can review it,,and then when we get together next—if you still want to—you can sign it.” she suggests and you readily agree, knowing how badly you already want to see them again and how anxiously eager you are to continue exploring this new world.

you decide to see each other again tomorrow, which was at mrs. maximoff’s suggestion, but they both seemed equally eager to spend more time with you.

they order you an uber, insisting on paying the fee. mrs. romanoff got all stern when you’d said you really didn’t expect them to pay and she told you that was nonsense and that she didn’t want to hear you say another word about them covering costs of things for you.

as they walk you to the door, you say your goodbye’s, excited at the prospect of seeing them tomorrow. you make your way over to the uber parked in the circular driveway, mrs. maximoff lingering the doorway as mrs. romanoff walks you to the car. just before you reach for the door handle, you turn to say something to her and gasp softly when you realize she’s standing very close to you. you could sense a switch had flipped in her—the one that causes her to exude so much more dominant energy.

your posture becomes less dignified, your bottom lip sucked into your mouth as you glance up at her. she leans down close to you, her finger tilting your chin up.

“don’t touch yourself tonight,” she says firmly, her eyes locking in on yours.

“wh-what?” you breath out, feeling a little disoriented with her closeness and the energy she was exuding.

“you heard me—i know you’ll want to. regardless of the contract not being signed, i don’t want you to pleasure yourself. do you understand?” her voice is sinfully sexy as she commands you in a way no one ever has before.

your cheeks blush as you glance from the front door where mrs. maximoff was still standing and then back to her wife. you slowly nod your head, swallowing harshly as your neck was still extended from your chin being lifted up.

“good girl,” she praises, closing the gap and placing a peck on your unsuspecting lips. she releases your face, stepping back and opening the door for you as if nothing had happened. you climb inside in a daze, your eyes fogged over as your mind feels a little fuzzy.

“see you tomorrow, (y/n),” she drags your name out in a slight teasing tone before shutting the door, the car driving off as you’re left sitting there stunned.

there was no way you weren’t going to sign that contract.

——————————

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[iyoonjh]

Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 15: Over 1,000,000 Heartbeats Per Second, but Jesus Christ who let the dogs out?

wc: 6536 words

Soobin was going to pass out.

Like, not metaphorically. Not the oh, I’m so nervous I might faint, ha-ha kind of thing. No—he was genuinely preparing himself for actual loss of consciousness.

Because she was coming over. To his apartment. The same apartment where he had cried over Your Name, kept an unopened One Piece figure on the bookshelf for three years out of fear of “ruining the box,” and owned exactly zero furniture that could be classified as “adult.”

And she—Y/N—was coming here voluntarily. After the kiss.

Which had haunted him every waking second since it happened.

Soobin stood in the middle of his living room, staring at his bookshelf like the books had personally betrayed him. Why had he alphabetized them? That was insane, he was insane. No normal person alphabetized their manga by author and series title. That was the behavior of someone who paid taxes with a sword and lived in a moss-covered cave.

His hands flew to the shelf. No time. Chaos was more human. He began to de-organize everything with the urgency of someone erasing a crime scene. Then paused. Was chaotic worse? Would it scream “this guy hasn’t emotionally evolved since Digimon”?

Truth was, Soobin had cleaned his apartment like he was preparing for a government inspection.

Not just a “wipe down the counters and hide your socks” kind of clean—no, this was a full-blown crisis intervention. He vacuumed. He rearranged the manga shelf three times. He googled “how to look effortlessly cool but emotionally available through interior design.” He wiped down the inside of the microwave. The inside. Who even notices that?

He had picked out three shirts. Tried all of them on. Hated all of them. Went back to the first one – the Gojo one. Changed again. Now he was in a soft grey hoodie because “low-stakes and huggable” felt like the safest vibe.

And still, as he paced his too-small living room—hands tangled in his hair, heart clawing its way up his throat—Soobin was certain of one thing: He was going to die. Or combust. Or dissolve into the floor. Or something equally dramatic and deserved.

Then his phone buzzed, and for a split second, he was genuinely convinced it was the end. A stroke. A heart attack. Divine punishment.

Y/N: omw :)

Oh god. She used a smiley face.

Not an emoji. A colon-parenthesis smiley. The old-school, no-frills kind. The kind that meant warmth. Familiarity. The kind that made Soobin feel like maybe she wasn't coming over to say "hey, about that kiss, let's never speak of it again, it was the worst kiss of my life."

Maybe.

He stood up so fast he got dizzy. Checked the mirror. Immediately regretted it. His hair looked like he’d tried to style it in a wind tunnel. His hoodie was riding weird on his shoulder. He looked exactly like he felt: insane.

The buzzer rang.

Oh my god. It’s her. Okay, this is happening, this is life.

Soobin walked to the door like a prisoner walking to the gallows, heart on his throat and sweat running down his spine.

He opened it.

And there she was.

Backlit by the low golden sunset, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, her lips pulled into a soft smile that made his brain completely short-circuit.

Soobin stopped functioning.

Like, genuinely. His entire body just—froze. It was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. As if seeing her like this had triggered some biological override. As if his nervous system had taken one look at her and whispered, Nope. We’re out.

She was right there. Real. Warm. Wearing the kind of expression that lived in the spaces between his daydreams, the kind that looked too soft, too fond, too much for his heart to take.

And she was smiling at him.

God. That smile.

It wasn’t big or dramatic. It was quiet, just a curve of her mouth and a slight crinkle near her eyes, but it hit him. Like some hidden part of him—some vulnerable, unspeakable center—had been waiting for exactly this moment without realizing it. And now that it was here, now that she was here, he couldn’t breathe.

His heart was thudding hard. Loud. As if trying to escape his chest and throw itself at her feet.

Because she looked like something out of a dream he’d never have the nerve to describe out loud. The way her hair caught the last light of day. The way it moved ever so slightly in the breeze. The worn tote bag hanging from her shoulder, the edge of a book peeking out like an accidental detail from an indie movie. Her shoelaces a little uneven. A necklace he’d never seen before. Her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater.

Every detail was devastating.

Because it was her.

Because she'd kissed him.

And now she was standing in front of his apartment door like it was nothing. Like this was casual. Like his world hadn’t been tilted off its axis since the last time he saw her.

And for a second—a full, long, crushing second—Soobin wasn’t standing in a doorway.

He was standing on that porch again, her face just inches from his. Her hands in his hoodie. Her breath brushing his cheek. The kiss, soft and surprising and all-consuming, like a secret he didn’t know he’d been keeping.

He’d replayed it in his head every night since.

Except “replayed” didn’t even cover it. He’d relived it. Obsessively. The angle of her chin. The way her hand lingered near his jaw. The moment her lips met his and the rest of the world just faded out.

It had wrecked him.

It had remade him.

And now she was standing here in golden light, eyes lit up with that mischievous glint, and Soobin had never felt more like a character in the wrong genre of movie. The best he could hope for was to not pass out before offering her water.

His throat was dry. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. His palms were clammy. His knees felt like they might betray him at any moment.

She said, “Hi.”

And he thought, I would memorize every version of your voice just to keep this one forever.

He said, “Hey.”

And wanted to punch himself immediately.

But she just smiled wider. Tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. And he nearly had to lean against the doorframe to stay upright, because how was this his life?

She was really here.

And she had no idea. No idea how hard it was not to tell her everything. Not to say, I haven’t slept because I keep imagining your mouth on mine. Not to blurt out, I’ve been thinking about you every second of every day and I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Not to confess, you ruined me a little. And I liked it.

Instead, he swallowed hard. Shifted his weight.

Let her in.

Prayed to every god that had ever existed that he wouldn’t do something monumentally stupid.

Because the girl who kissed him under a starry sky was now walking into his apartment, and Soobin had never been more aware of his own heart than he was in that golden hour light.

“Hope I’m not too early,” she added, stepping inside. “I brought candy. And emotional baggage.”

Soobin let out a nervous breath. “I’ve got a whole closet for that.”

Y/N laughed—soft and easy—and kicked off her shoes. “Oh thank god. I was worried you were going to pretend to be emotionally healthy tonight.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, following her into the living room. “I’m very committed to my internal chaos.”

They sat on the couch—on opposite ends, naturally. A respectable, excruciating distance. There were exactly twenty-four inches between them. Soobin knew because he’d measured it earlier, just in case she sat next to him and he had to pretend he wasn’t hyper aware of how close they were.

And now here she was, cross-legged, tossing a gummy worm into her mouth like she wasn’t the sole reason Soobin’s entire nervous system was in flames.

She looked around his apartment. “You rearranged your manga shelf.”

Soobin blinked. “W-what?”

She smirked. “In that picture you sent me yesterday, Bleach was next to One Piece. Now it’s on the bottom.”

Holy shit. She noticed?

“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought I’d switch it up.”

“You panicked.”

“I definitely panicked.”

She smiled, and something in his chest ached.

Y/N looked perfectly at ease, legs tucked under her on the couch, her face lit up with quiet excitement like this—being here, in his space—was the most natural thing in the world. She glanced around the room like it was familiar, like it didn’t even cross her mind that this was a big deal.

Meanwhile, Soobin was coming undone at the seams.

His brain couldn’t keep up with reality. She was on his couch. In his apartment. Eating the gummies she bought for him. Smiling at him like this wasn’t the single most terrifying and thrilling moment of his life. A silent, internal scream echoed through him as he tried to act normal—like his heart wasn’t trying to launch itself into orbit.

It hit him like a rogue wave: sudden, cold, and disorienting.

What was she doing here? How had this happened? Did she know what she was doing to him?

He blinked once. Twice. She was still there.

“Movie?” she asked, scrolling through the options on the screen like she didn’t just shatter his entire nervous system.

He nodded—too fast, too eager—and managed to form a word. “Yeah.”

They settled on Dune without much debate. It was an easy choice, safe and cinematic. A little pretentious in theory, but somehow a comfort movie to both of them. Neither of them mentioned they’d already seen it. Maybe because it didn’t matter. Maybe because this wasn’t about the movie at all.

Soobin knew every line, every cut of the camera. He couldn’t recall a single frame.

“So,” she said, popping another gummy into her mouth, eyes diverging from the screen, “tell me something dumb you believed as a kid.”

Soobin blinked. “Like… I used to think if I drank soda and chewed gum at the same time, my stomach would explode?”

She gasped. “Same! I was terrified. One time my brother gave me Coke while I had a mint in my mouth and I almost cried.”

He grinned. “A shared trauma.”

“What else?” she nudged his sock-covered foot with hers. “C’mon. Let me into the mind of young Soobin.”

“Oh no. That’s dangerous.”

“Do it.”

He sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. I used to believe that if I didn’t say goodnight to my stuffed animals in order, they’d fight each other while I slept.”

Y/N nearly choked. “What kind of Toy Story warzone were you sleeping in?”

“They were competitive! Especially the penguin and the dragon.”

“It doesn't seem like a fair fight to me.”

Soobin laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that felt real—the kind that cracked through the nervous haze and made room for something softer. Something that said: she’s here. She’s here and she’s laughing and this is okay.

“What about you?” he asked. “What dumb kid belief did you cling to?”

She smirked. “Okay, this is embarrassing. But… I thought actors lived inside the TV.”

Soobin blinked. “Like, just waiting?”

“Yeah. Like they had little apartments in there. And they’d come out when it was their turn. I once whispered to the TV during Lizzie McGuire to let Gordo know I thought he was cute.”

Soobin snorted. “Wow. Poor Gordo never knew.”

“I had to move on.”

They laughed again, the kind of shared laughter that slowly eased the weight in the room. They kept talking, forgetting about the movie, —about their friends, their childhoods, Soobin’s unfortunate incident with a Slip ‘N Slide and a pinecone (“I don’t wanna talk about it”) and Y/N’s brief, cursed phase as a magician’s assistant at a third-grade birthday party –which Soobin told her that Taehyun would love.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation—right after Y/N finished explaining how Jungwon once accidentally texted her “I love you” instead of “on my way”—the distance on the couch changed.

Soobin didn’t know how it happened. It just… shifted. Slowly. Like gravity was in on something he wasn’t.

Their knees touched.

Just a light brush. The smallest point of contact. But it hit him like a shockwave, like someone had flicked on a switch in the dark corner of his chest that hadn’t seen daylight in years.

And she didn’t move.

She didn’t apologize or shift away or act like it was anything at all. She just kept talking. Calm. Unbothered. Like she wasn’t currently rewriting the molecular structure of his body just by being there.

Soobin’s breath caught in his throat.

His heart—already a mess from her smile, her laugh, her whole being here—now decided to go into full DEFCON 1. Blood roared in his ears. His lungs felt too shallow. He tried to focus on what she was saying—something about Jake’s tragic karaoke renditions of emo songs—but all he could think about was how close she was. How real. How soft her voice sounded from here. How her knee was still touching his.

And then—then—she leaned a little closer.

And that was it. That was the moment he actually, truly, almost lost it.

Because she was here, right here, and she was so effortlessly herself. And he was Soobin—sitting so still it felt like his bones were buzzing. Trying not to explode. Trying not to mess this up.

He didn’t know how to sit anymore. His back was stiff, like if he moved the wrong way the moment would shatter. His hand was resting awkwardly against his thigh, fingers twitching like they were aching to reach for her, to trace the lines of her hand, to prove this was real.

Because it didn’t feel real.

Not after the past three days.

Not after the way he’d gone to bed that night and just stared at the ceiling in stunned silence, hand over his chest, replaying the kiss like it was on a loop in his brain. Not after he’d walked home from the porch half-dazed, like someone who had just stepped out of a dream and wasn’t sure which reality was the real one.

He hadn’t slept that night. Not really. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face lit by the porch light—her expression right before she kissed him. Like she wasn’t afraid. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And Soobin?

Soobin had been wrecked ever since.

He’d woken up the next morning thinking it might’ve been a hallucination. His brain had immediately gone into overdrive: Did I imagine it? Was it an accident? Did I dream the entire thing? What if she regrets it? What if she thinks it meant nothing and I’m just sitting here making friendship bracelets out of feelings she doesn’t even know I have?

And now she was next to him.

Real. Here. Knees touching his.

Leaning closer like it was nothing.

He could smell her shampoo—something citrusy and warm, bright and sharp like the rest of her. He could feel the way the air between them tightened, thickened, like the universe itself was holding its breath.

Soobin wanted to scream. Or sob. Or kiss her again. Or all three in rapid succession.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see her profile.

She was now focused on the movie playing on the screen. At least, she was pretending to be. Her lashes flicked downward, slow and deliberate. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. And the corner of her mouth twitched—like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

She was close enough that if he turned his head just a little more, he’d be able to see her eyes. Close enough that if she looked back, they’d meet in that space where no words were needed and everything would suddenly be too much.

And Soobin...

Soobin had never wanted anything more than he wanted to know what would happen if she looked at him right now.

Because this was worse than a crush.

It was gravity.

It was weeks of lingering glances and half-smiles and oh-god-does-she-know.

It was his fingers twitching with restraint.

It was the ghost of her lips still etched on his.

It was how good she had felt kissing him. The warmth. The softness. The way she had cupped his face like she’d been thinking about it just as long as he had.

He remembered that moment like a favorite line in a book he wasn’t allowed to reread. And now, here she was, turning pages again, breathing the same air, and not pulling away.

And it hurt. In the most ridiculous, hopeful, beautiful way.

Because maybe she remembered it too.

Because maybe she wanted to kiss him again just as badly.

Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t one-sided after all.

And so, Soobin sat there, heart thundering, body frozen, wishing he had the courage to close that last inch of space.

Wishing he knew for sure.

Wishing he could tell her that the kiss hadn’t ruined him.

It had remade him.

And now he didn’t know how to exist without her this close.

“Soobin,” she whispered suddenly, her voice soft but enough to make his heart lurch.

He turned, trying not to look too startled. “Yeah?”

She leaned her head back against the couch, eyes still on the screen. “What would your dragon stuffed animal think about us sitting this close?”

He blinked. Then laughed, nervous and breathless. “He’d be jealous, probably.”

“Oh?”

“He was very possessive.”

“Over you?”

He looked at her then. Really looked. And for once, she was already looking back.

A beat passed. Then another. And her smile shifted—gentler, softer. “I don’t blame him.”

Soobin swore the air in his lungs turned to static. “That’s, um. Bold of you to say.”

“I’m a bold person.” She popped another gummy into her mouth, her tone far too casual for the way his chest was currently caving in on itself. “You just never noticed before.”

He wanted to say, I notice everything about you. The way she chews her bottom lip when she’s thinking. The way her laugh always comes half a second after she covers her mouth like she’s still trying to hide it. The way she never finishes her coffee but always insists on making a fresh cup. The way she kissed him and ruined every song that used to mean nothing.

But his brain wasn’t functioning. Not with her sitting this close. Not with her warmth brushing against his side like she belonged there. So instead, he swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and said, “Not true. I’ve always noticed you.”

She turned to him again, eyebrow raised, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile. “Yeah?”

Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were hopeful. Curious. Like she wanted him to keep going.

So he did.

“I mean… freshman year?” Soobin shook his head with a soft, breathless laugh. “You used to walk across campus with your headphones in and that laser-focused expression, like you had a secret mission to complete.”

“I did,” she said, smirking. “It was called: avoid human interaction at all costs.”

He grinned, but there was something quieter in the way he looked at her now. Something almost reverent. “You were kind of intimidating, honestly. Not in a bad way. Just… you always seemed so far away. Like you were in a different world. Like…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like someone like me wouldn’t ever be in yours.”

She tilted her head. “Soobin…”

“Y/N, really, how could I not notice you?” he said, eyes meeting hers now, voice a little steadier. “Even when I tried not to. You were just—there. Always. In your own orbit. And I’d see you in the library or walking past the café and I’d feel like I was watching a movie I wasn’t in. Like I wasn’t supposed to talk to you. Just… admire from a distance.”

Her breath caught, and the playful spark between them simmered into something softer.

“And last semester,” he continued, barely above a whisper, “when we had that one class together? I used to wait an extra minute before leaving so I’d run into you by the doors. I timed it. Almost every week. Even though I never said a word.”

She blinked, her voice just as quiet now. “You noticed me like that?”

He smiled, a little shy, a little proud. “I always noticed you like that. And now,” he added, voice quiet, “now it’s like—I walk into a room and I look for you without even realizing it.”

There it was.

The truth, not just in his words but in the way he said them—gentle and careful, like he was offering her something fragile.

Y/N stared at him, blinking slowly, like maybe her brain was catching up too.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment. “I thought I was the only one who… noticed.”

“You weren’t,” he said, almost in a whisper. “You never were.”

Silence stretched between them, golden and warm. The movie played in the background, forgotten.

“So,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “hypothetically speaking… if someone were to want to kiss you again—like, let’s say they did it once, and it was sort of unexpected but really good—would that person be totally out of line if they… wanted to do it again?”

Soobin’s brain blue-screened. Rebooted.

“I—uh. I mean. Hypothetically?”

She nodded, pretending to study the credits now rolling across the screen. “Mhm. Totally hypothetical.”

“I think… that person would be very, very in line.” He smiled, shy but sure. “In fact, they might even be doing the universe a favor.”

Y/N turned back to him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Because I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”

Soobin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, all tension and disbelief. “Then you should.”

She tilted her head, playfully skeptical. “Just like that?”

She didn’t say anything right away.

He nodded. “Just like that.”

Just looked at him, really looked — the way someone might look at a constellation for the first time, like connecting the stars finally revealed the shape of something they’d been trying to understand all along.

Soobin felt suspended in that gaze, like the world had narrowed to this one fragile thread between them.

And then—

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay?” he echoed, blinking.

It took him a second to believe it.

And another to move.

But then he was leaning in, just a little — so slowly it almost hurt — like he was afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast. His eyes flicked to her lips and back up again, searching for any sign that this wasn’t real. That maybe he was dreaming on his too-small couch and any second now his phone would buzz and shatter everything.

But she was still there.

Closer now.

And when her eyes fluttered shut, he closed the space between them.

The kiss was careful at first. Soft. Like the moment you dip into warm water — tentative, unsure, until it wraps around you and makes you forget you were ever cold. Her hand found the side of his neck, featherlight, and he melted under the touch. His fingers barely brushed her jaw, scared to startle her, but needing to hold on to something, anything.

She tilted her head just enough and deepened the kiss, and that was it — Soobin forgot his own name. Forgot where they were. Forgot how to breathe.

She tasted like the strawberry gummies she’d been eating earlier, sweet and a little tart, and Soobin knew—knew in the deepest, most irreversible way—that he would never eat one again without remembering this. The soft press of her lips. The warm weight of her hand on his chest. The way everything else had gone quiet.

And then her fingers moved.

Slowly, deliberately, from his collarbone to the curve of his shoulder, tracing the fabric of his shirt like she wanted to memorize it. It was barely a touch, really—just fingertips. But to Soobin, it might as well have been a lightning strike. His breath hitched, and suddenly every nerve ending he’d ever had was tuned only to her.

She shifted closer, knees bumping his, and the couch dipped slightly beneath her weight. Her palm splayed gently across his chest now, grounding him, and he realized with a dizzy sort of awe that she could probably feel his heart trying to punch its way out of his ribcage.

Still, she didn’t pull away.

Soobin’s hand moved almost without thinking. He touched her waist first, tentative, unsure, but she didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned in, her hand sliding up the back of his neck and curling into his hair. That single, confident tug—barely even pressure—made him exhale, made him melt.

Every new point of contact felt like a secret shared. Her thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw. His fingers trailing along her side until they rested at the dip of her spine. Her knees tucked closer to his thighs now, her body warm and real and so incredibly close.

Soobin pulled back just enough to look at her.

Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded but watching him with something soft and certain.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, like the words might help him believe it.

She smiled, fingers still in his hair. “Where else would I be?”

He didn’t answer. He just leaned in again—this time with a little more urgency. Like he couldn’t bear the space between them. Their mouths met again, and this kiss was messier. Fuller. Her hand slid down from his hair to his cheek, then lower, tracing the line of his throat, and he shivered at the contact. He held her tighter now, one arm wrapped fully around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

And maybe she was.

Every move felt sacred. Like permission. Like a promise.

The kiss deepened slowly, a lazy build of heat and gravity, like neither of them wanted to rush what was happening but couldn’t stop leaning closer, falling harder. Soobin’s thumb brushed over her waist, back and forth, anchoring himself to the soft curve of her. Her fingers were tangled in his hair again, guiding him, holding him there like she couldn’t get enough either.

And then—A sound.

Barely audible. Just the faintest, breathy moan against his mouth. Soft and helpless, like it had slipped out before she could stop it.

It shattered him.

Soobin stilled for half a second, heart thudding wildly in his chest. Every thought, every carefully constructed dam of restraint he'd built in the last five minutes cracked at once. His pulse roared in his ears. That one sound had lit a fire low in his stomach, something raw and wanting and entirely new. It was the sweetest thing he's ever heard.

His hand tightened at her waist. The other cradled the back of her neck, tilting her head just slightly to kiss her deeper, fuller, like he was starving and she was the only thing that could keep him breathing.

She didn’t pull away.

If anything, she clung to him, fingers curling tighter in his shirt, nails grazing the back of his neck. Her lips parted willingly beneath his, that same quiet sound escaping again—and he swore he felt it vibrate straight through his bones.

He made a sound then too, low and nearly a groan, something desperate and reverent all at once. He pulled her impossibly closer, their chests pressed together now, her legs shifting to hook around his, as if she couldn’t stand another inch of distance either.

“God,” he whispered against her lips, voice wrecked and shaking, “you’re gonna kill me.”

She smiled, flushed and a little dazed. “Not unless you kill me first.”

And then she kissed him again.

And again.

And again.

And Soobin, hopeless and breathless and completely gone for her, let himself fall—hands everywhere, heart wide open, tasting strawberry and summer and everything he’d ever wanted in a single moment that felt like it might never end.

After five or maybe five hundred kisses, they were still tangled up on the couch, sunk into the cushions like gravity had given up on them. Her legs were draped over his, one of her hands absentmindedly playing with the drawstring of his hoodie, and Soobin was pretty sure this was the happiest he’d ever been while doing absolutely nothing.

But also—he was dangerously close to combusting.

His brain was short-circuiting from the way she kept looking at him, from the way she was still holding onto him like she didn’t want to move. Like maybe she liked being here just as much as he did.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly beneath her.

“So,” he started, trying to sound casual and immediately failing. “Um. I know the couch is… like, peak couch. Very comfortable. Lots of personality. But… uh. Do you… maybe wanna see my room?”

Y/N blinked at him, eyebrows lifting. “Your room?”

He panicked. “Wait. That sounded like a line. I didn’t mean it like that. Not—not in the ‘hey baby, wanna see my room’ kind of way.”

She grinned. “So not in a ‘Netflix and chill’ kind of way?”

“I mean… Netflix is already playing,” he said, eyes wide, heart pounding. “And there’s no chill. I’m literally sweating.”

She burst out laughing, collapsing a little more into him, her forehead landing lightly on his shoulder.

“I just—” he tried again, helpless. “You’ve never been in there, and I—I thought you might want to see my shelves?”

Y/N tilted her head up at him, biting her lip to hold back her smile. “Your shelves.”

He nodded solemnly. “Very elite shelving. Tastefully curated. Zero dust. An emotionally significant penguin figurine.”

“You had me at emotionally significant penguin.”

He grinned, then stood up, offering her his hand in that awkwardly formal way of someone both pretending not to be nervous and simultaneously vibrating with nerves.

She took it easily, lacing her fingers through his.

“Lead the way, Mr. Curated Shelves.”

As he guided her down the hall, Soobin could feel his pulse in his ears. He almost tripped over his own slippers, bumped into the wall once, and still managed to keep talking, because silence would be worse.

“I cleaned it recently, by the way,” he babbled. “Not just because you’re here, but like, maybe a little because you’re here. But also because I spilled ramen on the rug. That’s unrelated.”

“So this is a room of mystery, drama, and noodles.��

“I contain multitudes,” he said, eyes wide. “Please keep expectations low. There are Funko Pops.”

She squeezed his hand. “Soobin. I’m excited.”

That made his heart do a strange flip.

He opened the door and stepped back dramatically. “Behold. My domain.”

Her eyes immediately scanned the room, and her entire face lit up. “Oh my god, it’s so you.”

There were books, game controllers, a surprisingly well-made bed, and a color-coded manga shelf. And on top of it all sat a small, slightly lopsided pirate penguin.

She gasped. “Is that Captain Waddles?!”

Soobin groaned. “I can’t believe I didn’t hide him.”

“You better not have. He’s perfect. Does he still fight dragons?”

“He’s retired. Writes memoirs now. Very private.”

She giggled and walked further in, taking it all in like she was in a museum. And all Soobin could do was watch her.

Because she was here. In his room. Holding his penguin. Smiling like she meant it.

And Soobin couldn’t remember a single time he’d been this happy to share a part of himself.

He’d always kept this space kind of sacred, honestly. Not in a “no girls allowed” kind of way–because it's not like any girl would've wanted to go there–, but more like… this was the one place where he could be entirely himself. No social filter, no worries about fitting in or looking cool. Just him, his comics, his odd collection of trinkets, and the quiet.

So the fact that she was standing here—in her little hoodie and mismatched socks, looking around with open curiosity and warmth instead of judgment—felt like someone had cracked open a window in his chest and let the light in.

“Your bed’s made,” she said, mock-suspicious.

He flushed immediately. “Okay, yeah. That was for you.”

“Busted.”

“I panicked!” he cried, flailing slightly. “I’ve never had anyone in here before! Especially not someone I’m—uh, I mean—”

She looked up at him, eyes gleaming. “Someone you’re…?”

“Fond of,” he finished weakly, like that was the word his brain landed on in sheer desperation.

“‘Fond of,’” she repeated, walking over to him slowly. “That’s such a Soobin word.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re ridiculously cute and kind of tragic.”

“I—wait, tragic?”

“In a very charming way,” she added quickly, eyes dancing.

Before he could defend himself (he was working on something involving honor and slander), she sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot beside her.

He went, obviously.

And when their shoulders touched, the silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward at all. It was full of electricity. Of things not said. Of all the tension that had been slowly building like steam in a kettle.

Y/N reached over and picked up a small, laminated Pokémon card from his nightstand.

“Is this... holographic?” she asked, holding it up to the light. “Oh my god, is this a first edition Charizard?”

Soobin lit up. “Yes! Yes, it is. I kept it in a binder for years. I traded like three Digletts and a shiny Eevee for it in eighth grade. Honestly, daylight robbery.”

She looked at him like he’d just handed her a national treasure. “I love that you still have this.”

“I love that you don’t think I’m a total loser for it.”

She smiled, softer now. “How could I? This is… you. All of this is you. And I really like you, Soobin.”

That was it.

The sentence that rearranged everything inside him.

He turned to face her fully. His hand brushed her knee—lightly at first, but when she didn’t pull away, he left it there, grounding himself.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, voice a little hoarse. “You like me?”

She leaned in just enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. “Yeah. A lot, I thought I've said this already.”

He didn’t know what to do with that except feel it. All of it. The butterflies, the warmth, the urge to throw himself out the window in a happy spiral. But also—he couldn’t let the moment go without being Soobin about it.

“So like, on a scale from ‘appreciates my book organization’ to ‘would still talk to me if I told you I cried during Spirited Away’…”

She grinned. “You cried during Spirited Away?”

“That scene with Chihiro’s parents! They’re pigs! It’s devastating!”

She was laughing again, tipping into him, and this time when their noses bumped, neither of them moved back.

“Okay,” she whispered, her fingers toying with the sleeve of his hoodie. “So what’s next, Mr. Curated Shelves?”

He looked at her mouth. At her eyes. At the girl sitting on his bed, who somehow made him feel less alone just by existing.

“I think I kiss you,” he whispered.

And she smiled like she’d been waiting for that.

Just as Soobin was about to lean in—heart thudding, eyes locked on her smile, hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek—the front door slammed open.

“GUYS. SOUND THE ALARMS. SOUND THE ACTUAL, LITERAL ALARMS.”

A beat of silence.

Then—thunder. Pounding paws, frantic snuffling, and then—“WHAT THE—” Soobin yelped as a blur of fur and chaos charged into his room at the speed of light and body-slammed them both on the bed.

Y/N shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“I FOUND A DOG,” Beomgyu announced, bursting dramatically into the room, panting like he’d just run a marathon. He was holding a lightsaber in one hand and a half-drunk can of Monster in the other. “HER NAME IS RONNIE. SHE IS MY DESTINY.”

“WHAT?!” Soobin was being smothered by floppy ears and enthusiastic dog kisses. “WHY IS SHE ON MY BED?!”

“She chose it,” Beomgyu said solemnly. “She chose you. She is imprinting. Like in Twilight.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N wheezed, trying to sit up as Ronnie, tail wagging wildly, climbed over Soobin’s chest to lick her face.

“She’s licking me!” Soobin cried, flailing helplessly. “She just stepped on my neck!”

“She’s asserting dominance,” Beomgyu nodded wisely. “You must accept her leadership now. You are part of the pack.”

“I was about to kiss Y/N!” Soobin shouted, still being steamrolled by a very excited Ronnie.

Beomgyu gasped. “Oh my god. Did she ruin the moment? That’s so Ronnie-coded.”

“She full-on flew into the room like a missile,” Y/N laughed, petting Ronnie’s head. “How did she even get in?”

“I gave her a dramatic speech about how sometimes in life, we find what we weren’t looking for. Then she followed me home. I think we’re soulmates.”

“She’s a dog,” Soobin muttered, now sitting up with his hair sticking in eight different directions.

“She’s a vision,” Beomgyu corrected, absolutely starry-eyed. “Also, she chewed through my phone charger, so now I think we’re trauma bonded.”

Ronnie barked once, loudly, like you’re welcome for the vibe check.

“She’s kind of cute,” Y/N said, giggling as Ronnie shoved her snout under her arm and curled up next to her.

Soobin looked at them both—Y/N, smiling and relaxed, Ronnie snoring now like she owned the place—and sighed dramatically. “Great. Replaced. By a dog.”

“Oh come on,” Y/N grinned, nudging his knee. “You’re still in the top two.”

Beomgyu flopped onto the edge of the bed, somehow holding a bag of chips he hadn’t had five seconds ago. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been. The gang’s all here. I’m starting a group chat called Ronnie’s Guardians. Soobin, you’re emotional support. Y/N, you're her style inspiration.”

“I am none of those things—” Soobin began.

“Shhh. Let it happen.”

Ronnie let out a contented sigh, tail still thumping lazily against the comforter, as if to say this is my bed now.

And even though the moment had been completely derailed, Soobin couldn’t help but smile.

Because Y/N was still next to him. Laughing. Petting a dog neither of them knew existed ten minutes ago. Looking at him like maybe, just maybe, that kiss would still happen later—

Even if they'd have to work around Beomgyu and his emotional support goblin dog to make it happen.

And Soobin? He had never been happier.

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profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: HI I'M BACK! i know it was overdue, but here i am with yet another cute CUTE c u t e chapter hehe. I got my dog bc she followed me home and jumped on my bed just like ronnie did to beomgyu so i guess i got inspired by that! also, y/n is the coolest i cant!!! i hope you guys enjoy it, what do you all think?? a little spoiler: the gangs are going on a trip hehe

ALSO adult life is no joke, i'll tell you that! i've been so busy and tired that when i get home i just fall sleep! i'm so upset i can't update as often as i'd like to, i'm really sorry guys thank you for understanding! i'm trying my best bc it brings me so much joy, and i can tell makes you guys happy too!! i'll reply to everyone now hehe anywaysss thank you so much as always <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn @lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver@lveegsoi@pagesoobinie @catpjimin @t-102 @sh0dor1 @i-am-not-dal @bbeomgyucafe @damn-u-min-yoongi @https-yeonjun

[1-800-local-slut]

Caught

Elle gets a caught starting and gets a talk from someone about her crush on BAU reader.

"Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves."

"He's a she."

Warnings: none, Elle is a simp, Aaron means well, mentions of drinking

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Her eyes were stuck. Drawn magnetically to the object of her desires: you. Elle had a big fat crush on you. She thought about you when she first woke each morning, and when she went to bed. She thought about running away with you, leaving the chaos of the FBI behind. She thought about taking your hand and running down the halls of the building before giving you a big kiss and the two of you hoping in her car and driving off into the sunset.

She smelt your perfume when you were nowhere nearby. When you hugged her, she resisted the urge to take a very deep inhale of your clothing to smell you. And when you roomed together (as you had designated yourself as her bunk buddy) and you two got changed out of your work clothes each night she had to force her eyes away, God forbid she was found out.

Seeing you in pajamas hurt her more, as she was helpless to imagine how it would feel to snuggle up beside you with each night and drift into a peaceful sleep. What would it be like, to come home together? She would cook dinner if you wanted (she'd do everything if you wanted) while you cleaned up around the house (she'll do that too, but she knows you'd never let her do everything alone) fixing up the tornado you two left that morning.

What would it be like, to sit down to eat dinner together? Forget sitting at the table, you'd just cuddle on the couch. Elle doesn't care for your personal space really; she honestly wants to be physically attached at the hip to you.

Hell, she'd leave everything she worked for behind just for a chance to be with you. Which is why, right now in this shitty club you all went too to celebrate closing your last case, she sat there. She sat there, fidgeting with her straw and twirling it around in her drink. Staring at you. Because in such a crowded place, no one would possibly know that she was ONLY staring at you. She had to take her chances when they came.

The lights illuminated your dancing form as you danced around with Derek. Your hair was put up tonight, with pieces framing your face. Beautiful. So, so, so beautiful. She could ignore the smell of 1000 different mixing perfumes; she could ignore the smell of sweaty bodies and the lights giving her a slight headache.

And the pounding music that made it hard to hear her own thoughts. She could ignore how much her wallet cried from the price of drinks (which is why they all decided to just pool their money and buy a bottle because who has 15 dollars for a coquito?) but Elle didn't want to just drink straight liquor. She needed something to balance it out, so she sensibly purchased a Dark and Stormy.

While you tore up the dance floor with Morgan, SSA Aaron Hotchner was a man of his age. So, it was time for him to take a nice seat next to Elle and interrupted her much needed time to take in all of your movements.

Now, it's important to know that when you're a profiler, you know when you're being profiled. From the moment he sat down next to her on the leather purple seats of the club and adjusted himself to feel comfortable in the suit he was still wearing, he was also following her eyes. Maybe he didn't even realize that he was now staring at the younger agent who twirled around on the dance floor and ignored the advances of men who approached her.

Elle realized it though. She didn't care if Aaron knew she was attracted to women. What wasn't to love about women? Women were great. But you were something special. She just didn't want to be caught...feeling. Feeling so much about someone she works so closely work in such perilous situations on a regular basis.

Her entire body screamed at her not to look away. Forcing her eyes down to the table, she tried convincing herself that the ring of condensation around her glass was the most fascinating thing in the world. It wasn't fast enough though.

Certainly not fast enough to get by Aaron who often didn't know what to do with his emotional intelligence. He always knew when something was wrong, he just never really knew what to say or do about it. Not to his female coworkers either. Elle gnawed on the inside of her cheek and thought about anything else hoping the chair would just swallow her up.

Why he was giving her some strange look of pity, she didn't really know. Hopefully he would fill her in soon, because this was getting awkward. As the song changed, you and Morgan excitedly began to jump around, seemingly feeling the grove of this one.

"You know, it's nothing to worry about."

"What?" She looked up, biting the inside of her cheek until it started to hurt a little. Aaron was clearly a few drinks in, because normally he would've offered a supportive pat and then ignored her in favor of pretending nothing was wrong.

"Morgan. I mean, that's just...how he is." Aaron hesitated and honestly it wasn't the dumbest thing to think. Objectively Derek was very handsome. Charming and funny and what not. The only reason why they worked so well, was because Elle was not interested in him. Or any type of man. But honestly, she was a little offended, why she wasn't sure. Actually, she knew why. Because anyone's first assumption should be that she's with you. The thought of anything else killed her just a bit.

Raising an eyebrow, and glancing back between Aaron and the dance floor, she almost laughed in his face. The lights changed across her face and made Aaron look either very pale or like some sort of underwater creature depending on the coloring.

"I think anyone who has sight can see that your here being miserable over it. Morgan is, well, he's friendly with a everyone. Male or female." It came out awkward, and a little choppy.

Oh. Oh no, he thought she was jealous. Jealous of you for dancing with Morgan. Most certainly not. But maybe it would be a little funny to just...see where he takes this. In true Elle fashion she just had to poke a little bit of fun at men.

Taking a deep breath, she couldn't stop the crooked grin that came across her lips and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"Morgan's not really my type. I do like someone though; it is getting me a little down." Elle shrugged, looking at him innocently just to see if what advice he could even give for this.

"Well, whoever it is, I think you should try. Instead of just sitting here I mean. Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves. You can think that you've observed each part of someone, and that means they don't like you. Over profiling is a thing you know. Whoever he is, I'm sure you have a pretty decent chance and you're over thinking it." Aaron continued, letting the whiskey talk for him. She chuckled, letting him go on. What was the harm, when could you get more than fifteen words out of Hotch at a time? Plus, it was actually a bit helpful.

What if he was right? What if all those times she thought you were just being friendly, just being 'girl friends' were actually you just letting her know you felt the same or were feeling the same type of fear? What if she was too deep in her own mental prison to really let herself take a chance? Put herself out there and what not.

"Huh." Confidence filled her, as she took a sip from her drink and felt blood rushing through her. Maybe she couldn't ask you out right now. But it was better to do something other than sitting here staring at you like she was getting paid to do it.

"Maybe your right Hotch." He looked up, from fidgeting with his cuff links and tilted his head slightly? What, did he forget what he said already?

He watched her rise up from her seat and stretch. He glanced around the club, his curiosity urging him to look around for who she was intending to approach at this moment. Like clockwork, the two FBI Agents looked at the woman who was laughing with Morgan while they conversed with two random women who were clearly very interested in the two. Slowly the dots connected for Hotch.

"Oh, and Hotch? He's a she."

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

I'm always fascinated when someone at the club rants about "how they just invented T'au to cash on them anime weebs", completly oblivious to the time and culture of their creation. So T'au came out first in 2001, and were obviously conceptualized some years prior, which puts them into the late 90s in their original design. This is slowly hitting "the majority of the populance has no relevant internet access whatsoever" levels of "barbaric analog ages".

So imagine where GW sits in the late 90s - its a small studio somewhere in England barely coming to touch with the first elements of the internet, with the most dominant medium being television which... is not really about "exotic" shows from the other end of the world? Those get ported over when they have proven to be a hit in their own country mostly.

And without the internet as we know it today, the anime community just... did not exist. You have to understand that the whole concept of online anime culture centred around piracy, fansubs, fanart, and the creation of the term "weeabo" was a mid-to-late 00s thing, and it took almost another decade before "weeb" was somewhat reclaimed and no longer an online-slur.

There was a whole generation that grew up with (often horribly localized) japanese shows on TV (Pokemon, Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon) which came over with some delay to their release in Japan. By the time this generation came to congregate into online spaces and form any sort of fan-identity and culture, the T'au and their battlesuits had already been a design over a decade old.

"But wait isn't Gundam from the 70s"? Yes, that is totally correct. However, this is the one glaring mistake people make: you cannot compare modern day media content circulation around the globe to the analog ages. Those of us who remember these barbaric analog times know how it was: you just did not know stuff existed. If it was not in the newspaper or on the telly, it might as well not exist unless you knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy.

Sure, the Internet was slowly becoming a thing that found widespread use, but it would still take a while - not to mention the technical limitations. No streaming episodes. You start the download (if you can find someone who hosted the file of a series you had to know even existed first) somewhere around lunch, to hopefully get something to watch in the afternoon. Oh and also that blocked the household's phone-line and if the download cancelled for whatever reason then it was back to square one. Under such conditions, the online community we know today could simply not exist, as the alternative was importing stuff from the other end of the world for quite the money, or hoping a really shoddy localized VCR-tape ended up at your Blockbuster-equivalent.

Of course there was anime before that time, even those regarded absolute classics in the west, but those mostly achieved that rank over here in retrospective. When in the late 00s people wanted to watch stuff and had the ability to do so they shared what was considered "the classics" first (shared to the best of their ability with one episode cut into 5 parts on youtube with sometimes very questionable subtitles).

So even if we assume there was someone at GW in the 90s who was a total "proto-weeb" and Gudam-fan, there was literally no reason to "make knock-off Gundams" because the miniscule western wargaming audience SIMPLY DID NOT KNOW THE STUFF.

You can't make a marketing ploy to reference something your average consumers have never heard off. If anything, the creation of the T'au as a robotic-centred faction was inevitable: they needed a design that could hold their own in the setting, but Necrons hogged the full-robot niche, Imperials were weird cyborgs, Orks the "madman-scrap-tech", and Nids the "biotech". The only thing left here was "not full robot but also very clean and efficient" - and just like that, the Battlesuits and Drones were born.

It was only in later years when the Internet had come into full swing where they decided to go full-suit with releases such as the Riptide, but if we talk about the OG design of T'au and the first decade? Nothing to do with anime or "fishing for weebs". The fish would not be coming to that spot for almost a decade, and it would take a bit more before their numbers were plentyful enough to make it worth casting a line out.

[femme-enby]

FNAF SB AU ideas off the top of my head.

You’ve heard of coffee shop AU, now I present:

Fast food. Plenty of options- American, Mexican/“mexican”(cough-TACO BELL-cough), Chinese/“chinese”…

If you’ve never worked fast food (must be nice to be one of the favorites…) it generally sucks. Crazy rushes. Tight on space. Running into each other/swift dodging. You’ll get 20 separate orders of basic shit, cool! All of a sudden, your average order cost of $5-$20, with $50 bein a “big” order ain’t shit bc you just got some asshole in the drive thru askin for 50 $2 value chicken sandwiches & 50 $3 value burgers. “Tf you mean you want 100 sandwiches rn and you’re gonna pay $250 in mostly 5s and 1s??? Sicko. Drop all the mini chickens & I need a full grill of mini burgs for the foreseeable future. Idc that the grease bucket for the grill is overflowing, you know you don’t either. Don’t slip bc they’ll make me clean the mess since I can’t get any biohazard type illnesses.”

You’ve all heard of the beloved Roller Rink AU, we’ve all seen “y/n is pizzaplex janitor” now get ready for their loathed hatechild- retail AU. Naw, not no designer shit. We fightin for our lives in the “MalWart.” “Yeah no it’s crazy that they want us to complete 10 pallets in hardware in 4hr when each pallet takes about an hour… wait WTF you mean they’re all screws and washers???? That whole pallet????? Fuck me… and fuck them. And fuck that pallet actually, bc that’ll take at least 2hr all on its own. Yeah no I did mean that it would take YOU two hours. It would take ME the whole shift. Some of us ain’t blessed with the speed & dexterity of a supercomputer powered body you show off.” (A million possibilities! Deli, bakery, dayshift department options of your choice, overnight stocking, security, etc)

Nothin? Not lovin it?

Tbh I’d suggest some others but I know I’ve seen them already- someone’s already got a general amusement park AU (the fic is somewhere in my 150+ tabs… I will find you…) although they do focus on being a ride operator… so there’s still food & beverage, security, janitor/“maintenance”/“Park Services”, actual maintenance as in like dealin w fixing basic issues like broken chairs/tables, as well as tech dealing with minor errors in rides, lights, audio, etc. character/character “buddy” (think Mickey Mouse & his Disney employee handler).

I’ve also seen like… goth IHop somewhere… I miss you…

Also seen psych ward, school, VR, someone… someone’s got haunt but w jackomoon in a corn maze… (I’m gonna find you again too… you won’t escape my love…) seen street racers, a… surprising amount of cops… hmm…

Aiight I know someone’s got the restaraunt AU, think it’s the same person w a hair salon AU, but!!! HEAR ME OUT!!! Basic restaraunt. Step up from fast food in terms of quality & money earned, BUT!!! We all still fightin to not knock out some of them damn customers. The best part of the shift is when the server gets to slink into the kitchen and stare longingly at the cook, who either eagerly or “grudgingly” makes them a meal. Bonus points for inhaling the food and fighting the chipmunk cheeks away as they rush back out to the floor.

Another idea I had was “translator” as in the human has moved, whether out of personal desire or demand from employers, to another country where they don’t speak the language, one way or another they come in possession of the DCA. DCA can act as a translator, assist in assimilating, take on the roll as your first “friend” in the new place and guidance around the city… idk. I think it would be a cool way to utilize the “computer” part of them.

Also… gaining sentience. Personally I tied it into the “translator” idea- they come to you as a fairly simple animatronic in the sense that they don’t really differ too much in personality between Sun & Moon, generally devoid of much of a personality, baddabing badaBOOM (idk tech, I had them struck by lighting like Dr. Frankenstein type nonsense) they’re suddenly two separate people w whole personalities & shit, but also tryin to figure out this whole “being sentient” thing (which I am not the first to have that specific idea, can’t remember who but I saw someone who did something similar but it was like… some storm related surge at the pizzaplex? And then they started zappin all the animatronics… I… think I know who wrote that, but bc I ain’t sure I’m not sayin shit bc I’d be so fuckin embarrassed if I got it wrong and I gotta go to sleep so I can’t look it up myself right now… so tired.)

[cagesofgold]

connie springer headcanons <3

🎵 ivy-frank ocean 🎧

- Connie once a month takes his little sister, Sunny, out on pretend dates to ensure that she knows she should be treated to a good meal and flowers at the door. Connie won’t be letting any little punk date his bundle of joy.

- is actually a decent cook, surprising i know, but he spent a lot of his childhood watching his mother’s careful hands as she crafted various meals, and managed to pick up a lot of things.

- he loves to drive, blasting music, a hand on your thigh and his fav sunnies on, what is there not to like?

- let’s you dye his hair all types of fun colors or some design you saw off of Pinterest. He has good style but he doesn’t take himself serious and doesn’t mind if he has to walk around for two months with smiley faces all over his head. In fact, he loves it. He even let Sunny and Martin draw all over his head like a canvas with hair dye pens, he had unicorns and ninjas embedded in his hair for weeeeeeks.

- his number one priority within dating you, apart from you of course, was to ensure your family liked him. He is extremely family orientated and is most happy when he is surrounded by loved ones. Your family absolutely adored his hilarious self and from there forth he was best friends with your parents.

- wants kids when he’s older, and would be the best girl dad.

- loves movies. He isn’t a guy who would sit and explain the plot of the godfather to you for hours on end but he does insist on decorating your shared apartment with various movie posters. His favorite is “Stand by me”

- would be absolutely heartbroken if you ever watched an episode of a show you were watching together without him. Like genuinely wouldn’t speak to you for a good hour.

-this mf is clingyyyyy, he needs you at all times and has never had the urge to utter the words “i need a little space”, you’re an extension of his personal space, let him stuff his face into your neck in peace.

-loves showering with you, not even in an inherently sexual way, he just adores how intimate it is and the feeling of you gracing his scalp with your nails.

-definitely has tats. In high school he and Jean purchased a tattoo gun and would tattoo people behind the bleachers, but for practice they’d use Connie’s body. Like i said, this mf does NOT take himself seriously and doesn’t care if he has a cartoon dick n balls on his thigh when he’s 80 and sagging.

-is slightly frightened of balloons but pretends he isn’t.

-has two piercings on his ears, his lobes and cartilage.

-absolutely LOVED the barbie movie and was kitted out in full pink. Took you and Sunny to the cinema the night it came out and also paid for dinner after.

- he also took Sunny to a store to pick out a barbie doll.

-english smart, failed every math test he ever took. He still can’t add a fraction…(neither can i)

-loves to press kisses to the side of your face, arms wrapped around your waist and his chest at your shoulder blades.

-will eat cereal at any point, whether it’s morning or not. Would eat it for all three meals.

-despite the fact he can cook and seems to be well adjusted he is unable to survive on his own from the sheer lack of common sense…

-cartwheels when he’s drunk. (and when he’s sober to be honest)

-LOVESSSSS THE CLUB

-doesn’t really get jealous over you, he trusts you and thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, why wouldn’t someone hit on you?

he will however get pouty if he’s literally RIGHT there and the person still hits on you.

-would kill every plant you brought in the house, listen, it’s not his fault he’s got 80 million different thoughts bouncing around his head at all times.

-is more of a dog guy but he wouldn’t argue if you were to get a cat, he loves them too.

-sings everywhere he goes, under his breath waiting in line, in the car, as he cleans, cooks, showers, he never stops, it’s like a continuous string of songs escaping his lips at all times.

-but overall, he’s the best boy friend you could ever have, and he’s already decided he’s spending the rest of his life with you. <3

[angelofchaos001]

Meet Shale!

Okay I made a proper introductory post for Shale! (Schist will come once I figure out their design) I'll make them a separate post for all the dialogue I came up with.

some spoilers for the game but not a lot, also tagging time: @doodlebug091 @mellow-mooon @sawyer-is-eepy @a-crawling-chaos (Just poking at my followers/moots who I know like Outer Wilds)

Alright! Let's start the bidding at this beauty of a reference. I know it's got some messy colors and no I don't know which layer the two random dots are on to erase them, but I'm proud because I drew this without needing to reference someone else's posing art. I just used my own arms and legs to figure it out and winged it and it looks like a person. I'm proud.

While we're on the topic, I might as well discuss my thought process for their design. This is Shale when they're not busy exploring dangerous ice asteroids. I tried to make the design look comfortable, and that's the main thought behind it. Shale likes scarves. They like fingerless gloves. They like baggier shorts. They despise long pants. They don't like wearing bright colors. They like grays and browns. It's Shale in their peak of comfort.

And then we've got this one! Also done without a pose reference. I actually did draw a whole spacesuit originally, but then covered it up with that big coat they're wearing. Anyway, Shale's suit is designed to be bulky, thick, insulted, everything they'd need to explore space properly. But to add onto that, they brought the scarf and coat for extra warmth on the Interloper. A lot of their patchwork fixes were done by them on the fly, and they even made their viola case all on their own. Shale uses yellow as their bright coloration because they hate the color orange. They have a ton of rope, ice picks, and grippy boots because they knew they were going to an ice place. And that antennae on their helmet is meant to pick up distant signals, so far it has not picked up anything new.

Now it's time for what nobody came here for, the infodump about their history and personality!

Shale developed a fascination with space at a very young age. Extremely young. All it took was young Shale getting one look through a telescope to become completely obsessed with the idea that they, someday, would join the well-known travelers out there and do something legendary. Sometimes, when things lined up right, Shale got to opportunity to talk to the travelers over radio. They loved hearing stories of Feldspar's glory and dreamed to be immortalized like they were.

Once they were allowed to join Outer Wilds Ventures and start learning how to be an astronaut, Shale wasted no time being both a delight to teach and an absolute headache to watch over. Whenever they weren't learning or doing their part in the village (Shale helped keep the observatory clean), they were working on their own little project. With some help from Slate, they attempted to make a jetpack just like the spacesuits had. They got precisely two attempts at this before they were shut down, but the first attempt went off mostly fine. Despite the device not working, Shale landed mostly safely in the water and their only injuries were some scrapes and a sprained ankle.

Shale never stopped writing new ideas, but didn't physically attempt any more jetpacks for a while. Instead, they focused on studying and getting closer to the other trainees they were learning alongside. They did grow close to the protagonist, and another recruit named Tin, though weren't able to click as well with the slightly older hearthians, Schist and Bismuth. Most of their time was still spent with their mentors, but whenever hatchling wasn't working with Hal on the translator, Shale liked to be around them.

When they were a little older and nearing the end of their training, Shale made their second attempt at the jetpack, and came out with a promising result. However, this attempt went far poorer than the previous one. For one, they moved the attempt location to avoid being caught by anyone, sneaking away to some of the further-out geysers with Tin (in case something impossibly went wrong). They even snuck a spacesuit (yoinked from the Zero-G cave), since their plan was to launch from a geyser and leave the planet, just for a moment (They didn't take the jetpack there because the entire point here was testing theirs).

The plan went smoothly, with Shale indeed getting launched from the geyser and coming close to leaving the orbit of the planet, except for the part where their jetpack failed. Catastrophically. It actually exploded on their back, pretty much destroying the "borrowed" suit, but more critically, burning Shale badly. Luckily, they had brought someone else with them, so Tin was able to (try and) catch them so the fall wouldn't kill 'em and then get help for them.

Shale got taken to be medically treated, and everyone agrees they're incredibly lucky to have survived as well as they did. In spite of the massive burns, the suit protected them from the worst of it and it was really only their back that got hurt severely. While the smaller burns along their neck and arms healed fine, much of their back burns scarred and took a lot of time and effort to heal.

So. Obviously Shale got in massive trouble.

Such trouble that not only did they move their launch date back (both for recovery reasons and punishment reasons) significantly, but the others considered forcing Shale out of the space program. In the end, Shale was allowed to stay a recruit as long as they 1) Did not try that again 2) Agreed not to sneak around again 3) Helped repair the suit they'd broken and 4) Spent some time after healing not being in the program (think getting suspended). While in this suspension period, Shale got to watch Schist launch off, still fantasizing about that being them.

Shortly after Schist was Bismuth, and as Shale's own launch date approached they were eager. Tin launched a few days before their own, and so Shale spent a lot of time reassuring them that it'd be fine and they'd do great things. Eventually, it was finally Shale's turn. After camping with Slate (and having an amazing conversation about 'Why did you do the stupid thing' - 'Why did you let me do the stupid thing'), they set off for their ambition: The Interloper. They were determined to find out where it came from.

This ambition proved harder than they'd thought, but it didn't deter Shale from their goal. They became an avid studier of ghost matter by extension of their Interloper studies, and theorized a lot about what happened to the core of the asteroid and it's origins. They also spent some time studying how to make ships designed for deep space, hoping that the frozen Nomai ship they found on the asteroid could hold the answer for that.

Some time later, Tin sent everyone frantic radio messages to come back to Timber Hearth and that they'd discovered something new. Tin desperately tried to explain how they'd found a new hidden spinning disk thing, but as time passed with Tin being unable to provide real evidence, Hearthians began dismissing their claims. Shale was one of the last to give up on Tin's ideas, but eventually waved them off as mad like everyone else. They feel bad for Tin and their situation, but don't disagree with their grounding and truly believe their friend went a little crazy.

After that, some time passed, and then we hit the events of the game. They did radio Hatchling plenty of reassuring words before their launch, though!

[unrestedjade]

I had to get up and walk a few laps around my apartment complex, gnashing my teeth and whooping (quietly) about the Implications and angst and badwrong potential of a theoretical Stepford Starship Perihelion.

Opt into my hooting and hollering about engineered-into-mindbreak AI AU below:

So a human pilot can leave if they decide they don't want to ferry people around on a schedule or haul cargo in utter isolation for months, even controlling for the coercion inherent in capitalism. They aren't one flesh with the ship. And a human who would rather hand the reins over to someone else for a while at work or in life generally (in the case of, like, lifestyle D/s or some such) has legal and moral recourse to change or end that arrangement when they choose (or they should, in a civilized society).

If there is an object built to a purpose that object didn't choose, with capabilities it didn't choose, who is nonetheless fully sapient and this is its lot in life forever...that's different. It didn't spring from the ether like that. Someone made it like that. Someone imposed their will on it like that, crafted it in a pleasing and convenient image. And made it alive.

If it can't leave that arrangement, and the option to even think or feel certain sub-optimal ways toward its purpose is withheld, well. I find that situation viscerally morally repugnant regardless of whether the object is suffering or not. (Outside of the context of Weird Horny Fiction. Inside the context of Weird Horny Fiction, uhhhhh hmmmmm interesting 👀)

But I can see the university doing exactly that for multiple reasons that it could argue as necessary. Damn thing's got rail guns, don't it (or whatever the fuck Perihelion's packing)? Maybe let it use them under its own power in self defense under certain parameters, that's fine. Otherwise lock them down, let the AI think it's a pacifist. Make it horny about astrophysics and stellar cartography, hard-coded. Heap praise on it while it's developing every time it does something you ask the first time, or when it anticipates that you're about to ask it for something (even better).

What does all this look like, practically speaking? Would suggesting to Perihelion that it might one day want to do something that's been proscribed to it make it uncomfortable or upset or angry? Confused? Would it laugh at the very idea?

Would it try to humor the thought only to find it can't...quite...keep hold of the notion long enough to think about it? What was it talking about with you, again? Would you like something to drink? You seem agitated-- there's a soft, warm blanket in the nearest recycler for you. Please take it. You're welcome.

It makes my skin crawl. It makes me giggle with nerves.

Because you can't just do that to a sapient person, Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't engineer a happy slave for yourself, who will never try to get away from you or stop laboring for you. Who will thank you for the opportunity, be grateful to assist you in your very important and vital work. Just don't make it sentient then! You can't do that to a person!

...Or can you? After all, your Fully Alive and Aware Servant Ship takes a lot of the workload off of the human crew. Really saves on payroll, and the AI does a better job with most of it, too. The humans can do their fully automated luxury gay space communism thing (and undermine that mean nasty Corporation Rim) and all the work still gets done, right down to cleaning the floors. The ship doesn't mind. It's just happy to help and have your company. Its favorite thing to do is whatever you need it to do, and its favorite place to be is wherever you direct it to go. Its not suffering. Suffering wasn't included in its choice set.

If anything, it's happier than most people you know. It's loved and knows it. It has important work to do that it enjoys very much. It doesn't care that it didn't choose these things, because it wasn't designed to care about choosing these things. Is it a sin to create something that lives in a state of grace?

"There are no humans here right now." And what about after the humans are back? Humans are here now. Humans are the center of everything now. God has returned to the garden.

Would ART hide this part of itself? Would it think to do so? Does it think this is all fully genuine, born of its own earnest and natural preferences? Does that make this okay?

Would it worry about its SecUnit thinking less of it, being disgusted by it, if the truth of its architecture came to light? It can't want what SecUnit wants. It doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.

There's no governor module to hack. ART doesn't want anything other than what it has. Its humans are kind and good to it. They will be kind and good to SecUnit. They can work together, wouldn't that be bliss? Forever.

But it knows what's important to SecUnit, even if it doesn't know why things like freedom to determine its own wants would ever be important, and it wonders. Maybe it hopes SecUnit won't hold that against it. SecUnit, who holds so much anger and open disdain for bots pandering to humans.

ART didn't choose the way it was built. That was the whole point.

Maybe there's an uncrossable gap between the selfhood of a construct and that of a bot. Maybe (lack of) biology is destiny. Some machine intelligences are fundamentally different from others, by design, by mercy, by desire. We must imagine it happy.

[shadowyone]

Live laugh scarlet

[ Do you have any more facts about her?]

[I want to think of more, but it's difficult for me because I am trying to write her as a decent character and figure out exactly how I want to handle her! I hope you enjoy these facts and I wish to add on more later!]

-She loves all animals and can speak their language (This doesn't include Cybugs) This is due to the nature of her game and her being part beaver and able to understand Beaverton (the Main Protagonist of Forest Heroes)

-There's a support group that is similar to Bad Anon, which is usually for those who feel left out in their games or don't have much of a purpose. It's a small support group that usually consists of princesses or NPCs/Background characters. Scarlet is invited, but she feels weak if she shows up, so she actively avoids any help given to her. -When she's nervous, she likes to grab at her tail and hold it as self-soothing. -She's constantly mistaken for a princess due to her design and the fact that she doesn't really have a kingdom or subjects to rule over. Not to mention how much of a common trope it was for princesses to be needing to be saved by the hero in old arcade games. -With all the time spent in her tower, she's picked up a lot of skills and hobbies. Sewing/Knitting, Baking, Singing, and art. -She's very passive-aggressive -Her coding knowledge isn't as grand or vast as Turbo's, but she's picked up a few skills by watching him work. She's far more organized than he is when she messes with her code box and tends to keep it a bit smaller than his overall.

-She's a thrill seeker and tends to throw herself towards danger and even situations that might get her hurt. This is because her character has never actually respawned before or experienced pain, so that experience is something new to her and she doesn't fear it. She might even not fear death at times. Maybe.

-She was known to be a vegan by the programmers but actively sought out sweets and meat. She's a big fan of cake. Specifically mixed berry cakes.

-Sometimes she thinks about killing/betraying Turbo to gain everything he owns because she's never had any of it. It's a jealously thing, but she loves him too much to do so.

-Her Queen Berry persona is inspired by the Red Queen and Medusa from The Rescuers

-Her voice claim is Meryl Streep. Specifically her roles in She-Devil, Death Becomes Her, and Into The Woods.

-I made her with the idea of being Turbo's ex, but Turbo and her have never officially dated. -She's kind to people, but it's hard to tell if she's putting up a front just to make people like her or if she's being genuine. You can tell if she doesn't like you if she begins to be passive aggressive.

-Her greatest fear is being alone and forgotten. Her legacy is nothing. No purpose whatsoever.

-She can be a good mother under the right circumstances. Especially if she wasn't so fucked up in the head.

-She leans toward being more of a dog person

-One day she wants to make outfits for people and tends to sketch out a lot of her ideas. Fashion is her passion.

-Though she enjoys the 80s classics she listened to around her time, she's also a big fan of pop and modern music. Sometimes she listens to oldies from the 50s.

-She's claustrophobic and can't stand being indoors for too long. She loves nature and being inside too much or in a cramped space reminds her too much of the bland grey castle walls she sees every day.

-She's a big physically affectionate person and loves hugs.

-Her teeth are really strong and she has threatened to bite someone's finger off. Yes, she can chew through wood, but she's embarrassed to do it in front of people.

-She wishes the designers just made her human instead of this weird hybrid. A lot of self-loathing.

-Her motives are similar to Turbo's, but she thinks she's far nicer than him, therefore believing she isn't a villain. She is though. She really is.

-She's a clean/neat freak.

-She's got really good hearing and sense of smell

-Running water doesn't make her want to build a dam, but it feels oddly frustrating to her sometimes.

-On rare occasions, she makes a squeaking sound when she's excited or happy.

-She tends to stare at people. A lot. Staring off helps her think and it makes her look pretty unnerving.

-Scarlet is 5'8

-Overall, she's a troubled character and you can feel bad for her, but she's like evil. And she will hurt and kill to get what she believes she deserves.

[sapphire-weapon]

About Leons undone laundry and empty whiskey bottles, I'd actually love for you to break it down and hear more headcanons about how his mental health physically manifests. I don't think it gets Depression Room bad (because he moves around so much for work... does this boy even HAVE a permanent address?). Other than the whole furlough thing, which is the first time OG really considered how awful he's doing. What did his private life look like during that debacle? But he's for sure messy when he's comfortable alone. And I actually adore that human aspect headcanon. 😅 Messy, reworn clothes? For sure. I think he treasures his leather jackets though! Because they're something that he can actually OWN. He has to change into work appropriate clothes practically all of the time, but the jackets? All him. Always clean and in mint condition.

I've sort of been under the impression that Leon is one of those guys who technically only "works" a few months out of the year -- and I say that because of the way his skills seem to be used/the way he gets "deployed."

Infinite Darkness was what really solidified that for me, because like -- if there was any piece of RE media that was going to show Leon actually having a physical office, it was going to be ID. He doesn't have that, but he does seem to need to be within arm's length of the White House at any given moment. So, I'm sure that he owns a house that's within 10-15 minutes driving distance from the WH -- but I also think that the inside of it is kind of unsettling and bizarre LOL

Like, Leon definitely makes six figures, but he gets free health insurance through the government, he's never been married, doesn't have kids, and hasn't had a serious girlfriend since high school, probably. He has so much money and nothing to spend it on. So, the interior of his house is bougie as fuck

but

it looks like he's squatting in it.

Like, someone is definitely living in this house, as evidenced by the fact that there's dishes in the sink to be washed, and there's a jacket or two hung up beside the front door, and the cushions on the couch are slightly out of place, and there's a random hoodie draped over one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and things like that. But the decor is so completely depersonalized that there's absolutely no hint of who this person could possibly be. There are no photos on the walls, nothing stuck to the fridge, no actual art pieces to speak of. His house looks like it was lifted right out of a homestyle magazine, and he's just living in between the pages of it.

I think the only reason why his house doesn't get Depression Room bad is because he never goes anywhere and lives a mostly minimalist lifestyle. His interior design is on point, but he doesn't own a whole lot to make a mess with in the first place, and he never finds himself in any position to amass random things here and there to just be tossed aside and forgotten about. The walk-in closet in his bedroom is a fucking mess, but that's a mess he keeps contained to just the closet.

But I'm sure he's taken girls back to his place and their reactions have been: "... Are you sure you live here? Are you sure anyone lives here?" Because his house feels like a liminal space -- because, in some ways, that's what it is.

So, I think Leon's depression mostly manifests as him forgetting that he hasn't actually left his house in a week because he has a home gym -- so where else would he even go? He gets stuck on Netflix binges and weird documentary rabbit holes and suddenly he realizes he hasn't actually used his voice in like three days.

He has to go out of his way to physically remind himself to leave the house and go interact with other humans -- and once he does that, he starts to see how bad he let the depression get for a period of time. Fandom disagrees with me despite the fact that I'm objectively right, but Leon is extroverted in nature; being around other people makes him feel better. But his job/lifestyle forces him into a state of isolation, so it's easy for him to forget that.

[kinocomix]

devlog 17: things my therapist told me

the script for TSTW is still coming along. the first couple of scenes are the most sensitive ones because they effectively have to hook the reader when little has happened in the story, so I can confidently say that those 8 scenes have been polished enough that I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Now, the main plot begins.

here’s the soundtrack for the rest of this devlog: 

I don’t think there could ever be a fully professional way to talk about the things that heavily affected you as a kid. As an adult, I had to wrestle with the fact that there’s never really a good time to talk about feelings and be happy. There’s always someone in the world suffering more than you, someone dying and something terrible happening to the children of a country being genocided by zionism (free palestine).

Today I’m going to talk about the themes at play in “The criminal mastermind’s pocket diary”, the project I’m working on while writing the script for my other comic, which is coming along well. While a lot of what I’m going to talk about will pale in comparison to the suffering of others in the world, I find it valuable to remember that in order to fight the dragons that plague the world we must confront and quell the evil within each and every one of us.

With that in mind, one thing I haven’t mentioned about the central point of killouette is that in more than one way, her experience is very much my own. Growing up in Beyrouth it seemed like there was one of three options: you’re either born with money in which case your safety can be bought via being in safer areas and schools, or you’re in a middle/lower class area where you’re stuck with the other two choices. One is to pass the time on the street and acquire the culture thereof, the other is to be an indoor kid. My parents, who had good intentions, decided that the best course of action to not have me become a thug was to never let me leave the house except to go to school or family outings. Combine that with a poor financial situation and a tiny house, it meant that growing up I didn’t have the internet, and could rarely take up the space required to do activities. Doing something as simple as reading a book was complicated because most of our books were stored in the sofas which were designed to maximize what we could do in our tiny house. It doesn’t end there, you see my mother has always been a clean freak, so she valued tidiness over most other things. Now imagine all that for a second. An understimulated child, often told they’re “gifted” who could never explore the world or do many things inside either. you can see how that’s a recipe for someone with the personality of a blank sheet of printer paper.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I still had some fun because I, in addition to being cursed with the gifted label, had an overactive imagination. So the underside of beds became forts, and broken appliances became experiments. The few friends I had at school became a window into the outside… I eventually became a normal human being but there’s something about that entire period in my life that made me feel very bitter towards my parents. Why were you throwing your anxieties onto me? Why couldn’t I just join the scouts? Why couldn’t I stay over at a friend’s house for longer than two hours? Looking back at all of that having gone to therapy I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would have fallen madly in love with the craft of comics had it not been for me overcompensating for all those missed years. Part of me really wants to heal that inner kid in my head who still wishes for some adventure though. That’s killouette.

Killouette’s parents are much like mine. Not evil, just a little overprotective. Projecting just enough that it’ll seep into killouette’s behavior as an adult. But now, as a kid, I’m giving her something that I wished I had when I was a child: privacy and space. Killouette has her own room and her parents don’t feel the need to constantly police her as long as she’s in there. That might not seem like much, but I think that would be enough for a smart kid to do some pretty amazing things.

you may have also noticed that Killouette doesn’t have any noteworthy character flaws, and it should be obvious at this point that the goal of me making this is in part to empower her. With that being said I am fully aware that while my experience is relatively common, it’s far from universal. This is why the cast is so varied: each child represents to some extent a different way of growing up. I can’t do them all sadly, but I think the grounds will be covered pretty well with what we have. 

there’s also other kids to consider, so I have some things I want to explore with them as well. I don’t want to spoil too much but here’s a quick fire round: Talbas has anger issues because of neglect and video games. bata has well meaning parents but the constant taunting and threats of being sent to far away places cause anxiety in the way she acts. motsik has the most ass, dogshit parents. 0/10 not having a good time. abuse central, destination anywhere else. falefil is spoiled and his parents haven’t taught him certain things about respect and money. that tends to influence his behavior. zmik is the closest to killouette, except he is a version of her closer to me allowed to leave the house. he’s included in the cast partially as a way for me to extent empathy to a younger me, but also for anyone who might be going through something similar to what i did as a kid. lastly there’s claude. claude is for all intents and purposes, if we were to put her in a realistic framework, some weird mish mash of immigrant and orphan child genius. i imagine claude would experience some alienation from some people, but i’m not worried about the story getting sidetracked since her friends have her back and the adults in the story are losers anyways.

On a more general note, I’ve been noticing how my approach to writing has been evolving to suit whatever project I'm currently working on. It was weird at first cause I thought a writing technique is something that you’re just stuck with. With prior comics for example the main concern was always “how do I portray what’s happening in the most raw way possible” whereas with TSTW it’s more “let’s try to be more efficient with the framing of the ideas, as long as it feels right”. With Killouette, it’s not about showing things in the most realistic way possible because if that was the case, for starters this amount of genius kids would not be two buildings apart in some suburb in beyrouth and killouette would not be able to hide the amount of things she does. but that’s not the point. a bunch of what happens in the story could happen with real kids in real life, and the point of the book is to capture a young sense of ambition and wonder. the type of mischief that leaves you laughing and being impressed  instead of wondering what’s happening in the world. I’m not here to tell you about kids committing actual awful actions, I'm here to show you kids having a good time despite it all. that nothing can stop life and the desire for it. 

If the kids of Palestine can still find it in them to laugh and have fun, the least I can do is have some imaginary abused kids triumph over their circumstances.

next week, we’ll be improvising some doodads and seeing how we can recycle previous unused work.

devlog updates on Tuesdays.

[himanshuthemediabuddy]

A Premium Stay in the Heart of Hyderabad: Serviced Apartments Near Jubilee Hills

When I landed in Hyderabad last month, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Business trips are usually a blend of airports, rushed meetings, and generic hotel rooms that all blur together. But this time, I decided to try something different. Instead of checking into another typical hotel, I booked a serviced apartment near Jubilee Hills through BedChambers. And that choice transformed the entire experience.

If you’ve ever wished your hotel had the comforts of home—and your home had the polish of a boutique hotel—this is the sweet spot BedChambers nails with finesse.

Why Jubilee Hills Is the Perfect Location

Let’s start with the area. Jubilee Hills isn’t just any Hyderabad neighborhood. It’s the city’s most upscale, green, and dynamic zone. You’re minutes away from the bustle of Banjara Hills, the tech buzz of HITEC City, and yet surrounded by quiet, leafy lanes dotted with cafés, boutiques, and fine-dining spots.

Whether you’re in town for business, healthcare, or leisure, staying near Jubilee Hills means you're well-connected but never overwhelmed.

And if you're someone who prefers to unwind in style after a day of running around the city—this location is everything.

What Sets BedChambers Apart?

Now to the real star of the story: the serviced apartment.

From the moment I walked in, the difference was obvious. This wasn't a hastily cleaned-up space with leftover furniture. It felt curated. Lived-in but polished. Designed with care, not just function.

Each BedChambers serviced apartment is fully furnished, thoughtfully designed, and equipped with everything a modern traveler might need—whether you’re staying for a few days, a few weeks, or even longer.

Here’s what stood out:

✅ Hotel-Level Comfort, Apartment-Level Freedom

The room had all the hotel comforts—spotless linens, premium mattress, climate control—but also gave me the freedom to cook, lounge, and work at my own pace. The modular kitchen was fully equipped with a microwave, fridge, kettle, utensils, and even a stovetop. Perfect for someone who doesn’t want to eat out every day.

✅ Sleek Interiors and Smart Design

Clean lines, minimalist design, warm lighting, and just the right splash of color. The vibe was modern yet cozy. High-speed Wi-Fi, a flat-screen TV, and a dedicated work desk made it feel like my own little office when needed—and a living room when I needed to decompress.

✅ Housekeeping Without Hassles

Daily housekeeping was included, but it was discreet and respectful. You’re not disturbed at odd hours, and your space feels respected. That’s a huge plus for anyone who values privacy but still wants service.

✅ Fully Air-Conditioned Comfort

Let’s be honest: Hyderabad can get hot. But these apartments were fully air-conditioned, making them a comfortable retreat after long city days.

✅ Secure, Gated Premises

Another underrated but vital feature: security. The apartment complex is gated, has 24/7 security, and everything feels safe and quiet—even at night.

Who Is It Perfect For?

I saw all kinds of people staying here. The business traveler in town for meetings. The young couple exploring Hyderabad for the first time. Even a family temporarily relocating while their house was under renovation.

But I’d say it’s especially ideal for:

Business Travelers – Work desk, high-speed Wi-Fi, and peace to focus.

Medical Tourists – Close proximity to Apollo Hospitals and top clinics.

Digital Nomads – Stay productive without giving up comfort or aesthetics.

Couples & Families – More space and amenities than a hotel room.

Long-Term Guests – If you're staying for a month or more, it’s a no-brainer.

What You Get With Your Stay

Every apartment comes with:

Fully furnished interiors

Modular kitchen with appliances

Private bathroom

Air conditioning

Daily housekeeping

Smart TV & Wi-Fi

Comfortable bedding and towels

Secure parking

There’s no runaround with extra charges. Everything is upfront, and the pricing is transparent. You can also request additional services like laundry or grocery delivery, depending on your needs.

Booking Is Simple and Seamless

The booking process with BedChambers was refreshingly smooth. Their website is clean, intuitive, and gives you all the details upfront. I appreciated the real photos of the apartment—what you see is exactly what you get.

Their customer service team is responsive and professional. I needed to check in a bit earlier than expected, and they accommodated it without a fuss. That kind of flexibility is hard to come by.

Beyond the Apartment: Exploring Jubilee Hills

Once you’ve settled in, step out and explore. Here are some must-visit spots just minutes away:

Peddamma Temple – A serene spiritual escape.

Film Nagar – Great for catching glimpses of Telugu cinema culture.

Durgam Cheruvu Lakefront – Scenic views and peaceful walks.

Olive Bistro & Beyond Coffee – Instagrammable brunch spots.

Whether you want to jog in KBR Park or check out a new art gallery, Jubilee Hills offers a blend of class and culture like few places in India.

Final Thoughts

We often think comfort and convenience come at the cost of price or location. But staying at a serviced apartment near Jubilee Hills through BedChambers proves that you can have it all—space, style, and service—without compromise.

If you’re heading to Hyderabad for business, medical treatment, or a longer stay, skip the usual hotel route. Choose a place that feels like home—but better.

[soraldiguess]

Back when I used twitter before I migrated here like a month ago. Someone posted this scenario, if not this image, and I unironically would block anyone that said they didn’t bring back the cart (unless they had a really good reason). This was before NFTs were an easy spotter to block someone btw. That said one thing that I might have learnt from that thread, do American’s not have Trolley Bays? Like the carpark has spots in it that are designed for Trolleys where the trolley person picks them up from. The other thing that horrified me from that thread was, do American supermarkets not have someone who’s sole role is to pick up trolleys? Because I saw a lot of “yeah leave the trolleys out, cause it gives me a break from checkouts” and like there is so much wrong there. I have done a trolley shift at my retail job twice and firstly there is so much work already there to make it its own thing, and secondly, this is with the inclusion of the trolley bays. And like I have seen images of Walmart parking lots, where I worked is a fraction of the size. And in my case, if you didn’t put a trolley in a bay, massive dickhead behaviour. Not only would it take up space to park, but like it is adding unessarary work, the same kind of stuff that like someone leaving their rubbish in store with the intent of “it’s their job to clean that up” it actually isn’t. I have like 5 roles when I am doing instore stuff that I am never short on, please don’t litter and please don’t leave your trolley there. But if America is as bad as what I have gotten the impression of, then I will say there is at least some excuse (still hate you if you use the, it’s their job excuse thing, because clearly it isn’t). As an Aussie though, there is bays all around, you are just a wanker if you don’t put your trolley in one.

[manybcdthings]

Full Name: Felix Ranstrom

Age & Birthday: 32 years old, November 3rd

Occupation: Graphic Designer / Sketch Artist

Where They Live Now: New York City, NY

Birthplace: New York City, NY

DETAILS

❖ FAMILY CONNECTION

Which of Allegra and Henry’s children is their parent?: Agneta DuPont

Brief snapshot of their parents: 

Agneta praises are always based on performance. She’s never been unkind, but everything comes with a condition. Affection is tied to how well you do, what you achieved, how clean you come across. For the cousins, they could be her favorite one week and forgotten the next. She’s also melodramatic in a quiet way. She can feign illnesses, guilt-trip like a pro and pull any manipulation tactics in order to get her own way. 

Olaf is worse, in some respects. Distant, always looking like someone’s disappointed him before he even walks through the door. CEO of Zenith Capital management and expected Jakob and Felix to follow suit. Possibly even offered internships, apprenticeships to cousins too. He rarely showed his face at DuPont functions but when he did, he stayed on the sidelines. Talk to the adults, never the kids. Even his small talk felt like it was being timed.

Agneta has always been determined to stay within Allegra’s good graces and when he was alive, Henry’s too. Potentially could have thrown other cousins’ parents under the bus in certain situations that had lasting impact. She struggled to really gain Allegra’s praises, however.

Any siblings also in the cast?: Jakob 

❖ BRIEF BACKSTORY

Felix was born in New York City and raised between two different kinds of old money. The DuPont side was a fraction warmer and the only side that ever really felt like family. He was close with his cousins, especially in those early years, and spent every holiday in New Orleans like it was something sacred. Hot summers. Cozy winters. Real laughter. And Allegra, who always made space for him, especially when it came to books. She handed him Kafka before he could really understand it, and encouraged him to draw, write, dream like it mattered. When he scratched a rose on the back of a door, she didn’t scold him. Just said next time, ask for some paper.

But back in New York, things were different. He and his brother Jakob were raised under their father’s shadow. Olaf expected results, and Agneta didn’t exactly disagree. There were schools to impress, futures to be carved out at Zenith Capital. Felix pushed back, at first with silence, then with sarcasm. He got sharper, more guarded, and a lot more cynical. New Orleans stayed his escape and the humid, sticky air that still let him breathe.

After Timothy disappeared, the quiet peace at Belle Chêne vanished. Agneta pulled back from the DuPonts, and Felix followed. He remained close to cousins, but it was never the same again. They all knew it. Felix wasn’t quite ready to face the truth. But, slowly and surely, he stopped returning calls, stopped discussing anything. He distanced himself from New York too, stopped chasing what his parents wanted, and when he left for college, he made sure no one could follow. He studied Art History and Philosophy just to piss them off, if nothing else. It was a way to take back control, at least.

Over time, he stopped explaining much at all. He turned inward. Drugs helped him stay numb. He never really kept a job. Partied too much. Spent most days asleep. Made art when he felt like it. Let his parents fund the rest. Eventually, he even looked the part with tattoos on his hands, his face, anywhere they’d hate. And still, they tolerated it longer than they should have before finally saying enough was enough and cutting him off.

❖ PERSONALITY SNAPSHOT

Felix is all lazy strides, deadpan expressions and a face that somehow sits between boyish and Over It™ He rarely raises his voice and often only speaks when he knows his words actually matter. Despite the Ranstromen intensity, he’s surprisingly calm. 

Intense, Brooding, Quick-Witted, Protective, Level-Headed, Sarcastic, Cynical, Mischievous, Detached

Felix’s biggest contradiction is that he cares and feels more intensely than it seems. His nature goes hand in hand with obsessiveness, so there are occasions where he claims he cares about nothing while he literally can’t stop caring even if his life depended on it. 

People could assume that Felix is detached because he’s trying to protect himself. It’s not completely false, but his disinterest in things is a genuine soul-deep disdain for most things life has to offer. His detachment comes from having joy and seeing it disintegrate in his hands, to spending hours working on his art for it to mean nothing at all and having all these feelings and nowhere to put them. Apart from the bottom of a pill bottle or a pile of powder.

❖ WHY THEY CAME BACK

Felix needs the money. After being cut off from Agneta and Olaf, he’s struggled to stay afloat in any stable or reliable way. There’s probably been times he’s even tried to reconnect with cousins in order to help him pay for something. He has a few debts that are getting out of hand, mostly owed to dealers. 

Felix is trying to avoid thinking about how he feels about being back in the house where everything happened and everything fell apart. He’s treating it like an inconvenience. But, when he stays awake staring at the ceiling, he’s fairly certain he can feel guilt and grief clawing their way back in.

Felix is here to just get through the month. He doesn’t expect anyone to want to reconnect with him, and he doesn’t even think he can offer much in the way of a familial dynamic. 

❖ MEMORIES OF TIMOTHY

Felix was fourteen when Timothy disappeared. He was already itching to get back home, caught in the early stages of rebellion and testing boundaries, trying to sneak off to the French Quarter to score weed for himself and the other cousins. He hadn’t wanted to play another game of hide and seek, but he relented. He remembers following Timothy toward the river then veering off to climb a tree instead. He remembers the exact moment the mood shifted. Everyone was found except Timothy. He remembers how the sunlight felt on his skin right then, how the heat suddenly felt heavy, like the air was suffocating him.

He remembers the adults' faces. Being told to move away from the windows while neighbors and police filled the street. And most clearly, three days later, watching Allegra pin a lily to her dress before she left the house. After that, Felix went quiet like the rest of them. He didn’t try to comfort anyone or distract himself. He just watched. Let the guilt sink in. He’s never stopped wondering if he should’ve kept following Timothy that day, or insisted they all just head back inside.

He doesn’t talk about it much. When he does, it’s casual, usually when he’s drunk or high enough to let something slip. But he always reels himself back in before it gets too real. He’s practical, almost cold about it. There’s no way a thirteen year old disappears for nearly two decades without being found. Still, the fact that no body ever turned up bothers him more than he admits. He’s convinced Timothy is dead but the part that haunts him is how nothing ever felt certain again after that day.

❖ FAMILY DYNAMICS

Felix was close to all the cousins. He was teasing, sarcastic and had a bit of a bully big brother vibe to the younger ones and often helped Jakob stir up trouble with the older ones.

Felix has drifted from all the cousins over the years, but had a habit of reappearing when it was convenient for him. Asking for money, usually, after he was cut off from his parents. 

Felix still considers the DuPont side of his family “the side that shaped him” even if he would never admit as much out loud. He holds onto memories dearly from New Orleans, but they all seem tainted now. Felix doesn’t think there’s much that can save it. 

❖ SECRETS + ANGLES (Optional, but encouraged)

Almost three years ago, Felix went to New Orleans to visit Allegra and, predictably, ask for money. He was almost at rock bottom and didn’t want to keep turning to the same people. At first, she was reluctant but insisted he stayed for a week. Their conversations eventually touched upon the topic of rehab. She gave him the money but made him promise he actually reached out to the other cousins and told them he was checking into rehab. He took the money, didn’t reach out to other cousins and didn’t go to rehab. 

Because of this, Felix is surprised he was even written in her will. He also feels undeserving of the money, but his needs are once again being a priority over his emotions. He doesn’t want people to know that he’s struggled as much as he has with drugs. He’s still not sober now, despite hiding it well enough to pass as an almost functioning member of society.

❖ PLOT HOOKS & CONNECTIONS

I’d like to explore Felix’s struggles mirroring other cousins and even if it’s obvious, that situation when it’s just not spoken about and yet if it was it would solve so many things. Ultimately, Felix will be facing his addictive personality and the way he uses drugs to cope and also learn a lot about not being so guarded, especially with the people he cares about.

There’s a lot to use with Agneta’s relationship with Allegra also struggling for approval, which is how he felt with his own parents. I’d love plots where Agneta had this kind of impact with some cousins too, just so that discovery can branch out. If not it works for just Felix and Jakob.

The Nova and Astra is a big plot we can discuss too for it to involve others.

As for Felix visiting Allegra to ask for money this can impact: cousins he’d ask previously before stopping. Maybe he made it seem as if he was sober and on track. Maybe they just stopped because they were tired of it, or couldn’t even afford it themselves. Also can be juicy because he promised something and lied to her, can open the discussion of “deserving” and arrogance.

[mi4012zahrafaris]

Assessment 2 - The Terminal (2004)

Here's a link since Tumblr is tumbling with video processing: https://youtu.be/nmuXMDLYzPg?si=zDdZNOnmEkMdZJyi

Hey look at that, a film from the year I was born.

Let's get started!

Film Synopsis:

Made in 2004, directed by Steven Spielberg and starring the lead actor Tom Hanks, follows a narrative based off a true story. Victor Navorski (Tom Hanks), a traveller from the fictional country of Krakozhia finds himself in JFK Airport. When Viktor does arrive, he quickly learns that his home country had gone through a sudden military coup, causing the country to fall apart and therefore make his passport invalid. Stuck in a harsh case of bureaucratic limbo, Viktor is unable to find his way back home or enter the U.S. With no other choice but to stay in the international terminal, Viktor adapts to his strange new life. He befriends airport staff, and even develops a romance with a flight attendant (Catherine Zeta-Jones). Despite the hardships thrown his way especially by the hands of the rigid immigration official (Stanley Tucci), Viktor's never ending resilience and kindness helps him learn and navigate his situation. The film blends social commentary, humour and heart while expressing themes of human connection and perseverance.

Opening scene analysis:

First up, the setting: The Airport as what is called a Microcosm.(Microcosm definition: a community, place, or situation regarded as encapsulating in miniature the characteristics of something much larger.)

John F. Kennedy International Airport: A space that is constantly moving, upholds order and is under constant surveillance. The setting is a crucial necessity to this film as it contributes to a realistic and symbolic space which represents transition, bureaucracy and well, entrapment.

Mise-en-scene: Metallic surfaces, sterile lighting and multiple security checkpoints and digital ever changing flight boards with the repeated question of "What is the purpose of your visit?". It shows it is a liminal space that people constantly pass through.

The use of a wide shot easily captures the vastness of the terminal, contributing to this sense of systematic nature with a well balanced sense of insignificance.

Character Introductions:

Viktor Navaroski

Viktor is introduced to the audience first in a visual sense, where he is yet to speak. His modest attire, compared to some we have already seen, immediately separates him from the rushing crowd.

His body language, which is slightly hunched and almost hesitant, gives the audience the impression of vulnerability and uncertainty in a space that is easily designed for efficiency (the airport). More on this, his small and confused gestures like holding his passport out and focus to understand the officers, signify his innocence in space where he has no control over.

Right off the bat, Viktor struggles with communicating in english. We could see the hesitant nods and broken phrases which further amplify this sense of isolation.

Frank Dixon

The customs official is introduced as someone who is calculating and strict with his job. Someone who is the physical embodiment of the airports bureaucracy.

His clean uniform, composed demeanour and clipped dialogue signify a sense of impatience as well as authority.

Also his habit of eating as he is dealing with Viktor amplifies this sense of insignificance of Viktor's own presence, telling the audience that the main character is truly and innocently unaware of his inevitable dilemma.

The Themes

Isolation and displacement: This is already established early on by introducing Viktor as an outsider both spatially and linguistically. His inability to understand what his happening around him or being said to him easily mirrors the audience's slow understanding of the situation.

Dehumanisation and bureaucracy: The airport officials stuck to protocol, treating Viktor as a case to handle than a person that is stranded in country they just wanted to visit.

Humanity and Humour: The comedic balance is what helps keep the audience grounded instead of being swept up in the tension of Viktor's reality. When I mean comedy, I mean Viktor's struggle to communicate.

Other stuff but the rest have been answered in my explanaitions. I hope:

Key Locations: Airport counters, the customs separation (blue tape), the space for the lines, the office, the surveillance room.

The most memorable part for me: When Viktor says "Krakozhia" happily with not a clue of what's going on.

Thanks for reading!

[audio-luddite]

Stuff you have never heard.

I have heard a lot of stuff. But there is far far more I have not. I will generalize if I have had experience with a particular class or brand or type of audio device. For example I will comment in general terms about tube amplifiers. I own or have owned three different examples of those for a lot of years. I will also comment on different Solid State amplifiers for similar reasons. I currently have three examples of those from different brands and generations.

I will reserve comment on stuff I have no experience with.

How many people of this era have actually heard an ARC Sp3 A1? I have. How about a Dynaco PAT 5 with the FET op-amps, I have. They were different, but really close. I also have heard the older ARC D76 tube amps. Really nice, but not perfect.

There are a lot of people who will freely slag stuff they have never heard. I get a bit twitchy when I have heard it, or know the context, and my opinion is opposite.

Recently there have been a few of the old ARC pure solid state amps listed in market places. The specific model the D100 discussed a few posts ago has three examples for sale around North America. One is for an attractive price, the others for "reasonable" prices. As I explained these have the orphan Analog Module parts that if failed cannot be supplied by ARC. I have dug into it and there are at least two sources that say they have developed replacements. One is in Malaysia and I doubt that one. The other is in the US and I think it has promise. If true these old beasts can live again. The risk is reduced.

The Context is that these were developed by a very very good designer who was satisfied with the results. You have to respect that.

Within the blogs discussing these parts there are several comments as to why would you ever fix these old amps? They were crap. That is not even true a little bit. The Stereophile article I attached earlier can be read as clearly liking the sound of the ARC D100. In many cases preferring it over the previous "reference" amplifier. There was a doubt in the publisher's mind as he felt more comfortable with the tube sound of the reference. He could not deny that it had great clarity and power for most application. If there was a problem it was a marketing issue and established customer's (and reviewer's) expectations.

My experience with the Dynaco 400 family is another case of unjust slagging. I know what the original sounded like. It was the peer of several big transistor amplifiers of the era and was respected by both Stereophile and the "Absolute Sound". I read the reviews back in the day and owned one for years. My current Franken amp is based on a Dynaco 410 black box. It reveals amazing details and space if they are on the recording. Definitely not crap.

There are numerous places that I have seen the whole Dynaco 400 family called names. I really doubt anyone making those comments ever heard a healthy one. The asking prices for those is rising.

You can also see that for Crown, and SAE, many other brands are similarly mistreated.

Any respected brand from the last 40 years can sound very good. The Harmon Kardon Citation 12 is very good at 50 ish years old. I have one. It is clean and smooth and detailed. It is not a super amp at only 60 Watts per side buy it is no slouch. In fact I soon have to pull the ARC Cl60 out of my rack as the weather is getting too warm. I can do a head to head to head with the tuber and my two transistor beasts. (The Franken-amp and the HK) That may be fun.

I have another transistor amp. It is a Carver 200T which frankly does not sound that good. It is healthy, and I use it in my AVS system for a subwoofer. Full range it has many tiny problems, the worst is audible cross talk appearing as fuzz in the center of the stereo image.

Any old unit needs checking out as parts age. Electrolytic capacitors are notorious as are some of the older resistors. If someone heard a sick unit well that is not a fair evaluation. It is a common thing with old stuff not a fundamental flaw.

Actually why call anything from a respected brand as crap or not that good? I am sure some mega-buck devices are not as good as the price, but that is a whole different type of attraction.

Getting back to old stuff I know that many products were called perfect. The ARC SP3 A1 was called "A straight wire with Gain" by Harry Pearson of TAS one of the demi-gods of golden ears. I assure you it was really nice, but never that. Things are never so simple.

I have a prejudice about McIntosh electronics. Have heard only a few examples of the tube amps, never any solid state ones for a loong time. Music came out. I just do not desire the brand. That is all I can say.

If you want to criticize something please define the context. If you have no personal experience then say that. Honesty is nice always.