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yeoldontknow · 5 years

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The Morning After | (M)

Author’s Note: welcome back to chanvember! i hope you enjoy this piece <3 its been a while since ive written smut for him and given how the last time went over, ive been very nervous about this. so i hope everyone has a great time! | this work features graphic sexual content and themes not suitable for an audience under the age of 18. please do not read if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable or if you under 18. Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: smut; romance; friends to lovers!au; fluff; angst; au Summary: For the last several months, every time you and Chanyeol get drunk you wind up in bed together. At this point, you’ve come to expect it - it happens like clockwork. But now, your feelings for him have developed into something much stronger than friendship. Now, you’re not sure you can carry one pretending to be fine with this arrangement. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; unprotected sex; creampie; sex on a kitchen counter for all to see (but the stove isnt on; safety first!); dirty talk; drinking games; jongdae possibly passed out in the snow Word Count: 11K

The heat of his body pressed against yours is what wakes you, the full length of his limbs nestled against your skin, seeking security.

Chanyeol is needy in sleep, always curled against you in the hopes of sharing warmth, contact, and affection. Waking up beside him, held so tightly in his arms, his breath cascading over your neck, is your favourite part of this non-arrangement - the glory of waking up and feeling wanted. He’s good at it, too, tall enough and warm enough to make you feel special, protected; and enough to make you want him him down to your soul, as though you could ever want him less.

But this, you know, is also your least favourite part of waking up with him - apart from waking up at all. The gift of waking up feeling held, protected, needed, down to your very bones, is a blessing most people savor, something they would hold onto with both hands, reluctant to release even after morning breaks. But you, you know what it means, and it’s the meaning that stings, even if it’s shallow. Being held like this makes it <i>hard.</i> It makes it hard to leave, makes it hard to remember who you are and what you are, feeling special only to remember these fleeting moments don’t last.

With other people, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up and walking away - in fact, you relish the act of leaving, body sated and mind empty, your craving reduced, in these morning hours, to coffee and solitude, with no room for anything else. With other people, you disappear as though it is your magical blessing, body already awake before dawn, footsteps quiet, and smile reserved for yourself, for the satisfaction that comes from liberating yourself from men you don’t really want.

For you, walking away is easy, a sacred talent of empowerment, but, with Chanyeol waking up hurts.

The sun seeps through the linen of the curtains, and you sigh, blinking resolutely at the yellow hue fully aware you’ve missed the dawn, and thus missed your escape. Mouth dry, the alcohol from the night before lingers on your tongue, much the same way his hand lingers on your stomach, palm flat as if to hold the totality of you. His other arm rests beneath your neck, cradling you close, protective, while still ensuring you are comfortable enough to sleep.

Biting your lip, you press back against him, feeling the hardness of his erection rub against the curve of your ass, as much a reminder of his anatomy as it is a phantom memory of the previous night, the purposeless celebration, and the way you fell to bed together, acting as though you were surprised and unprepared.

Chanyeol was already drunk when he found you, stumbling into the living room with a smile on his face that spoke of yearning, Your own motor skills had been delayed by the alcohol in your system, a frown set on your face as you attempted to figure out the HDMI settings needed to use the Nintendo Switch the Air BnB had so generously provided. It was for Mario Kart, you complained, eyes wide and pleading with Chanyeol’s savant capabilities with wires and technology. He had to help you.

But he didn’t want to. He said this with a pout, reaching for your neck and shoulder with messy inelegance, looking bereft, the beanie on his head too large for his cheeks, giving him the appearance of someone too innocent for his age. The drinking games had gone poorly, bad enough to hurt his pride, and he was seeking consolation for his losses. He needed you, he said, adamant and desperate, pleading even though he’d never admit it, looking so young and so small and so terribly needy.

Hands on your hips, you grimaced, told him he’d only get comfort if he helped you, annoyed because he certainly did not need any comfort. He was terrible at drinking games, the only games he could never master because he could never master his drink, and he should know this, you said. He’s smart enough to know.

You don’t remember how his lips found yours. If you’re being honest, you rarely ever remember. Every time, you never truly remember much beyond the blinding haze of desire that floods your limbs whenever you look at him, but you remember the feeling. It was so unlike the kisses he usually gives you when he’s this far gone, hands seeming to remember where you like them best and lips moving with an assured confidence, as though he no longer needed permission - as though kissing you was something that came naturally, and without hesitation.

Chanyeol walked you up the stairs, one at a time before pulling away from your lips with a frown, and lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you the rest of the way.

‘Fuck off.’ A weak protest, one that you mumbled against his lips. ‘I’m too heavy.’

‘No, you’re not. Shut up.’

He resumed kissing you, kissed you even as he pushed through your assigned room, the room you staked claim in by dropping your bags not seven hours previous. You were glad you’ve moved them to the floor.

It was messy, from there, his hands at your jeans and pulling them down while your fingers worked at his belt - too complicated, you’d said, and he’d laughed. His mouth found your core, licking a full line up your slit before diving inside. He moaned on contact and so did you, not bothering to be quiet. Downstairs, Jongdae yelled victoriously - another win. In bed, you gripped Chanyeol’s hair with one hand and the bed sheets with another, feeling victorious yourself as you rolling up against his face until he kissed your clit and told you not to come.

The thickness of his girth still resonates between your legs, stretching you to a fullness your body always remembers, but can never replicate with your own hand and fingers, not even your vibrator. He fucked into you while he called you love, and baby, and perfect, kissing at your breasts as he fucked you hard enough for your hips to hurt. He came inside you, too, a new development that makes you grateful you’ve been taking birth control, a new development that makes your thighs clench in memory. Overwhelmed by his orgasm, he moaned into your neck, biting down on the flesh until he shuddered to a halt, cock still twitching inside you.

He kissed and kissed at the mark, apologizing for the redness and any pain, kissing at your lips only when you told him it didn’t hurt too much, and that you liked it.

Your hand finds the mark now, careful not to disturb him. Running your fingers over the mark, the bumps and indents of his teeth still remain and you still feel him, the pain gone and leaving with it a memory of heat and wanting, a tattoo of recollection that makes your chest feel tight. It’s strange, you think, to feel marked and claimed without anyone truly wanting the possession of you, a feeling that makes you feel lonely rather than alone.

Turning over to look at him, making sure your do so lightly, you eyes catch sight of his tattoos, the dark lines and art casting shadows on the veins and always so tantalizing to touch. Cuddling closer, you run your hands through his hair, aware that an action like this is both too affectionate and too risky, but you find it can’t be helped.

A few months ago, you discovered that he enjoys having his hair stroked, though you never do so when he's sober and certainly not when he's awake. But when he's sleeping, and you've been lucky enough to have him, he cuddles into your touch, whining with a puff of air through his lips. He's needy, your favourite thing to learn about him - a man so notoriously detached from connection and romance craves it with all of himself when his guard is down, and when he doesn't know he wants it at all.

The sun hits his skin in ways it seems to avoid your other partners. Lately, you've woken up with other people and watched the way the sun carves edges into their skin that makes you feel hollow. It does not make them ugly, just harsh, illuminating all the reasons they aren't what you want, only just what you needed - briefly and for a limited amount of time. On Chanyeol, the sun finds a home, turns the tips of his ears pink and adds dimension to the dark strands of his hair, the curls turning from a deep brown, almost black, to a rich chocolate, turning him amber and amber, and turning your heart to amber, frozen in the single moment of your admiration.

His eyelashes splay over his cheeks as he sleeps, a slight flush of rose smeared against the bone, and you smile, knowing that even under blankets with another person the heat is sweltering, You're warm too, always a little too warm with him, but for some reason you don't mind. Always, you push yourself away in bed, careful not to touch or be touched after you've had your fill, looking forward to leaving but not really sleeping, chest filled with great disdain for accidental contact.

With Chanyeol, sleep comes easily, easier than it does even when you're on your own, and so you've learned to hate leaving - often already left, body finally relaxed into a state of comfort with him, rousing only when he has departed entirely and craving the lack.

Having spent too long thinking around and through him, beyond comparison and into craving, Chanyeol's eyes begin to flutter with the first traces of wakefulness. Feeling adrenaline seep into your veins, you pull your hand away, dropping it carefully on the pillow beside your head and closing your eyes, hoping he does not notice or feel your movement.

For a moment, there is only silence. Silence and the deep, low growl that always accompanies Chanyeol's yawns. Biting the inside of your cheek, you force yourself not to smile, always amused by the sound and the way it resonates around the room, long and aching as though he pulled it from deep within his soul. When he's quiet again, the sudden lack of noise, only his even, smooth breaths remaining, feels painful, hair on your arms standing on edge, defying the weight of expectation.

'Really?' Chanyeol's voice comes as a soft mumble, a whisper of reverence that makes your chest flush. You're glad to be covered by the blankets, the pink heat of it hidden from view. 'Again?'

Not a trace of displeasure tints his voice, the smile he wears offering a gentle caress to the cadence of his tone. If you could, you'd sigh in the breadth and the wake of it, luxuriating in the way his smile can never be hidden, not even by the darkness of your closed eyes and the icy cruelty of the morning sun. Chanyeol drips everywhere, all over you and into your soul, smiling to himself in his own amusement and smiling into your spirit, giving you wings enough to feel carried through the day.

It's enough to make you want to stay. It's enough to make you think it could be easy.

But he moves under the sheets and the spell is broken, reality scratching at your shoulders, reminding you this kind of softness is never reserved solely for you, especially not when you’re sober.

You focus on keeping your eyes calm and still beneath your eyelids, waiting for him to depart and counting down the seconds to the loss of his warmth, his touch, and his attention. Idly, you wonder if you’ve ever waited long enough to wake up with him, realizing that there is no record time to make it to, no goal to achieve before the norm feels broken. By missing the dawn and having your fill, you’ve already broken the mold, and now you must start over, from nothing and from everything all at once.

The pillows and the sheets wrinkle, bed shaking with the motion of his long limbs, but the warmth doesn’t leave you. Instead, it comes closer, one of his legs sliding between yours, the bone of his hip meeting the curve of your stomach as he curls into you. Chanyeol brings himself closer, humming with a rumble of contented bliss, and your heart lurches into your throat.

A lump forms. Panic rises. You feel yourself drawn into him by your own accord, lured, like always, just as a magnet to its pole, to the cascade of affection radiating from his soul. And it would be so easy to give in, to let yourself fall back asleep and pretend you didn’t feel him, you never felt him, that this whole time it was him who was preparing to leave, but you can’t.

To let it continue would only be a detriment to your soul and to your heart. And so, however unwillingly in the effort of self-preservation, you furrow your brow, assume the imagined expression of a person learning to greet the day, and open your eyes, met, instantly, with the kind tenderness of his stare.

Blinking at him twice, you let your eyes adjust - to his brightness, to the feeling of seeing him see you first, before anything else, and to the notion that he has not moved. Chanyeol does not pull away, not even a little.

'Morning,’ he whispers, settling deeper into the pillow, getting comfortable.

Strands of hair fall into his eyes, your fingers twitching, straining with the effort of keeping still and refraining from wiping it away. Chanyeol narrows his eyes and blows them off his forehead instead, shaping his lips into a perfect circle. The air leaves your lungs, leaves you breathless, transfixed by their pink softness.

'Hi,’ you manage, the word barely more than a murmured breath of acknowledgement.

He chuckles, wiggling his toes against the bed. The muscles in the leg caught between yours flex, and you wait for him to comment on the intimacy of this position, but he does not. 'Day one and we're already at it.'

It’s your turn to laugh, looking away from him, sheepish. 'We've been making a habit out of this.'

'We?' he exclaims in mock offense. 'I think you mean you?'

'Me?' you laugh. 'You were the one all sad and looking for a kiss after you lost, what? Kings? Beer pong? Whatever the fuck you were playing.’ Letting your smile fall into a pout, you regard him with wide eyes, teasing. ‘Jae and I just wanted to play Mario Kart.'

'I didn't need a kiss,' he whines childishly. 'I wanted a hug or something. If you didn't give me one I would have been fine.'

Rolling your eyes, you click your tongue. 'You are literally the least self aware person on this planet.' Gasping, Chanyeol wiggles in the bed in protest, and you press your hands against his chest, laughing. 'Calm down, you know you are! How do you do that?'

With a deep pout and a huff, Chanyeol stops his fussing and lets silence fall over the room once more. He doesn’t make any motions to leave, and you keep your eyes on his muscles, waiting for any sign of abrupt departure, keeping yourself on edge. Your hand leaves his chest, skin still tingling with the contact, bringing it under the sheets to press your nails into you leg, hoping to erase the sensation.

In all his fussing, Chanyeol has brought his chest as close to yours as he can, close enough one deep inhale on your part would press your breasts against his sternum, and so the motion of your hand beneath sheets, accidentally and inadvertently, grazes against his side. Eyes going wide, Chanyeol pushes away, albeit not far, a playful smile of protest tugging at his lips.

'Stop!' he yelps, though it falls away with little protest, revealing an undercurrent in his tone than sends a shiver down your spine. 'That tickles!'

Drunk on the power of this moment, you smirk. 'You big baby, I didn't do anything!'

Even as it happens, you can feel this moment and the weight it carries, the change it means to deliver. Biting your lip, you watch as Chanyeol remains still, expectant, eyes alive with a hunger that keeps you nervous and, conversely, invigorated, driven to know what a look like this could mean. Something about this look speaks of desire, longing, and encouragement, and so you act quickly, with little thought at all, hooking your leg over his hip to flip him on his back.

Straddling his hips, you bring both your hands to his sides, and tickle him, keeping your thighs locked on either side of him as he fights.

Loud in general, Chanyeol’s laugh is thunder against your skin, an earthquake that battles at your sternum, demanding entry to your heart. His laughter his loud and so is his yell, the yell of defeat he releases as he grips your hips, head thrown back and eyes closed, smile on his face bordering in ecstasy.

But he yells, and in the aftermath, you both pause, halting your motions, watching one another in abject shock.

People have seen you - everyone sharing this Air BnB with you has seen you with him. Waking up with Chanyeol is not new, hardly a new development that could surprise anyone.

The first time you kissed, you were both wasted - exceptionally, beautifully caught in the throws of a haze that made you both ravenous for attention. It had been Baekhyun's drunken suggestion, tossed nonchalantly into the wind as a way to break the tension and ensure you both received what you were looking for, thus leaving everyone else alone. In a way, your lips on Chanyeol was a drunk form of entertainment, a way to prove to everyone, and to yourself, that friends - best friends - could kiss and make out and still come away unchanged, perhaps closer, delighted that boundaries had been blurred without any real consequences.

And so you kissed him with vigor, kissed him hard and long, mostly to make everyone laugh or gasp, waiting for a reaction, but partly, and in many ways most of all, to prove to yourself that you could. You kissed him as a means to prove to your aching heart that the torch it had been carrying and feeling ultimately meant nothing and that, with one taste of Chanyeol's lips, you would be sated and disinterested, glad to have someone to keep you comfortable when your skin flares with desire for a pair of hands.

The problem, in the end, was that you kissed Chanyeol and then seemed to never stop.

The second time, it escalated to his fingers against your waistband, teasing the skin while he sucked your bottom lip, hesitation in his touch but not his tongue.

The third time, he'd left marks on your shoulder and your teeth had marred his neck purple, and everyone had noticed, your foundation not a match for his complexion; your breasts ached with the feel of his palms for days, desperate to feel the force of his touch once more.

The fourth time, he'd asked you if you wanted him to stop, lips wet with your kisses and the traces of his beer, eyes wide and affectionate, and aware enough to be concerned. His hands lingered at the waistband of your sweats, gripping the fabric tightly, while your legs lingered at his hips, your shirt discarded somewhere across the room. You told him no, don’t stop. You never wanted him to stop.

The fifth time he did not ask if you wanted him to stop. It was clear you didn't want him to, not with your mouth around his cock. He paid you back in kind with three fingers in your cunt and his lips kissing against yours, smirking possessively until your came around his knuckles. You watch, cheeks red and soul blanched, as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes on yours the whole time.

The sixth time, there was no room for words - not with the way he gasped as he fucked into you, and not between the moans he pulled from your throat with each snap of his hips. There were no words after the orgasm, your body still shuddering against his while he held you, his own lips pressing soothing kisses to your neck and chest, right above your heart.

There hasn't been room for words since, not for at least nine months, perhaps even longer - you've really only started counting the times where you woke up with him, not the times your mouths found one another accidentally on purpose.

And so, everyone is aware of this silent agreement - all agreeing silently not to talk about it because the tension always seems to disappear in the morning. But with Chanyeol looking up at you now, eyes wide and cheeks blanched, you know he's not ready for someone to see you in bed. Something about being found feels to real, to raw, and you’re not sure either of you are ready to bear that cross.

Your heart sinks. Your mind races. You realize this is why it’s best to leave, even if it hurts.

Chanyeol rolls his hips up into yours, his erection pressing against your core as a reminder you both are naked and wrapped against one another in the sheets. His hands grip tightly at your hips, your own hands pressed against his sides, careful not to move, as he rolls up against you once more. Eyes falling closed, you remind yourself this is his favourite position. He’s said as much, declaring it so because he gets to kiss you, keep his hands on your breasts, and wear you like armor - his drunken words six months ago when you came so hard around him you thought the prison of your bones had been shattered.

Grinding down onto him, responding in kind to his movement, you wait to see if he will meet your pressure, but he doesn’t. Chanyeol keeps still, trapped in a state of wait but for what you can’t be sure. Mind fogged and heart starting to feel like glass, you can never seem to truly sense the needs of his body when you’re sober - your own mind and body wrought with the pleasure it feels and the awareness that it still feels good, perhaps even feels best, without the burning edge of alcohol laced through the satisfaction.

For what feels like too long, Chanyeol doesn’t move, his hands on yours an anchor that only serves to remind you of all the ways your feelings and his touches are a problem.

'Sorry,' you say, keeping your voice even and clear. 'I didn't mean for that to get loud.'

Sliding off his hips, you don’t bother remaining in bed, too awake to let yourself pretend anymore. Throwing your legs over the side, you look down, seeing the clothes you’d thrown in your haste. The memory of how Chanyeol hadn’t bothered to fully remove his jeans, sliding them down his thighs enough to push inside you turning your mouth dry. With no trace of your underwear and the nearest thing being your shirt, you sigh and rise to a stand, putting it on with a stretch. The hem of the shirt just falls to the curve of your ass, rising up slightly each move of your arms overhead.

Outside the window, endless white seems to filter through the gaps, a too bright sheen battling against the sun. The hardwood floors sting their chill against your toes, and you hug yourself in a shiver, glad for the snap of winter to keep you grounded and level headed.

'You're not gonna put underwear on?' Chanyeol asks, breaking the silence with a tight voice.

'Calm down,’ you laugh, keeping your chastisement soft. Walking away from the bed, your nod in a vague direction. 'My bag's over there, I'm not going far.'

Crossing in front of the footboard, you turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s pushed himself up against the pillows, erection tenting the sheets gathered at his waist as he watches you, pupils dilated and jaw tense. His hands remain nowhere insight, body still and chest flushed. It’s the sort of vision that will stay with you long after the morning has passed, taking possession of this moment with greedy hands and fingers, and you smile, unsure how the expression truly looks, not bothering to mask any of your emotions, if only for this moment.

Chanyeol’s head tips back, nostrils flaring as he exposes more of his neck in the effort of appearing long, powerful, imposing. Wetness gathers at your core once more, threatening to glide onto your thighs from the force of your desire, and you turn away from him, looking back out the window, hoping for a distraction.

'It snowed last night,’ you muse, hoping the white blanket beyond the curtains can help ease the racing of your heart, the empty expanse soothing.

'Must be why I slept so well.’ Chanyeol’s words are heavy, thick, and you try not to focus on the sound, aware of the effect it will have on the clenching of your thighs. 'Finally cold enough for your body heat.'

Rolling your eyes, you shift your gaze from the window and crouch in front of your suitcase, careful not to bed over or to tease. 'You say that like you're not a personal heater,’ you counter, rifling through to find your favourite hoodie. ‘Or like you don't actually sleep well after you've fucked me.'

Chanyeol huffs, sounding petulant. 'It's the orgasm.'

'Well,' you laugh, sliding on your underwear with a sway of your hips, 'at least I still get to say I'm responsible.'

Pulling your hoodie over your head, you immediately regret your choice. Chanyeol was the last person to borrow this, the fabric having taken on his sent - or, maybe, it was his to begin with, and you had stolen it. It’s been passed between you both so many times neither of you really remember who has rightful possession, sharing it with mutual custody. The problem, now, is that it smells like him and is too warm, too thick, for the bedroom, the heaviness of both these things making you feel light headed.

'I'm gonna go make brunch,’ you announce, giving yourself an escape as you turn to face him once more. 'Can I expect your help with the pancakes?'

Head tipped back against the headboard, he nods minutely. 'Yeah, just need a minute.'

Humming in a noise of acknowledgement, you duck out of the room, considering all the lines you’ve crossed from the moment you opened your eyes. Too much touching, too much laughing, too close - far closer than you’ve ever been while sober, blurring the limits and boundaries you’ve defined for yourself. The taste of alcohol lingers on your tongue, but it does not linger in your blood, aware that the choices you made this morning were done with clear, selfish rationality.

Walking down the stairs, you’re glad for the distance you put between one another, giving himself time to think and yourself time to rebuild your armor.

The kitchen is far cleaner than you remember it being, glancing over to the open expanse of the living room to see this, too, has been cleaned. Smiling, you make note to thank Minseok and Jae, both early risers who likely sorted most of the mess before taking their morning run together. In a distant room, Baekhyun snores, though there remains no sign of Jongdae, the door to his room fully open and bed empty when you passed. Briefly, you wonder if this will be like the time you found him on the lawn in college, passed out with a bottle of beer in one hand and a smile on his face.

The thought makes you smile, but you imagine since there’s snow, if this did happen, he would have woken up and moved himself somewhere warm - you trust him at least enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You’re grateful for the silence of the house as you begin to cook, the one thing that truly relaxes you, an automatic response of your hands married to your eyes, having long surpassed the need to measure, plan, or time your actions. Chopping garlic, your hands do the work for you while your mind walks, travels far back beyond the first time you kissed Chanyeol, looking for clear moment to define when your feelings changed.

Still, you come up empty, aware that it likely wasn’t any one thing that turned your feelings of love from platonic endearment to deep rooted longing. Rather, it was a lot of little things that accumulated over time. Intimacy is a thing that is gained, gathering not unlike the snow during a storm, piling until you notice it and until it sticks - until, in the end, you find yourself buried, unwilling and unable to moved back to your prior state, not unless the season of your heart changes.

Intimacy between you and Chanyeol had gathered almost violently, aggressive in the way you suddenly anticipate his movements, skin hungry for his and heart ready to give and give all of yourself over to all of him, without question or hesitation. With Chanyeol, you do not hide, you know that you do not have you. With Chanyeol, you know that you are accepted unconditionally, already aware of your greatest flaws and still supporting you in spite.

With Chanyeol, you know there needn’t be a reason for you to have fallen in love with him, accepting, in the end, only the knowledge that you did. Most of all, the knowledge that a love like this, was ultimately inevitable.

Whisking the eggs and garlic together in a bowl, you feel Chanyeol enter the room rather than hear him. With your back to the entryway, the atmosphere seems to change simply because he is there, the electric shock of awareness running down your nerves. Food was the first thing you shared with him, long ago and long before you knew his name, dipping your fry into his milkshake with his permission the night Baekhyun introduced you.

Over time, you’ve continued to share food: drunk breakfasts, sober dinners, holiday meals cooked together, prepared in quiet understanding of one another’s movements. Every time you cook together, the chaos that usually follows you is seemingly absent, falling into a comfortable, wordless flow.

A smile pulls at your lip, glad for the familiarity of the silence that will come from his help. Cooking with Chanyeol, there will be no need for conversation, hopefully eradicating the sensation that anything has changed at all.

'Can you start making the pancake batter?' You don’t bother to take your attention away from the eggs, already imagining his small nod and proud smile. 'You're so much better at pancakes than I am.'

Chanyeol comes behind you, pressing his chest firmly against your back, curling over your short frame as he drops his chin onto the crown of your head. You pause, lifting your eyes and keep them trained straight ahead at the wall and the cabinets, waiting for his petulant whine of disinterest. Or, perhaps, his claim that he doesn’t want pancakes and would rather have toast, something far easier to make when hungover but equally as hearty.

He’s done this before, after long bouts of teasing and usually in conversation, wrapping around your body to make your movements difficult, to slow you, to tease you. Chanyeol has done this before but he has never done it the morning after, certainly never done it with drink still in his system and without expectation. Closeness like this always demands more, and you feel too sober to let yourself get carried away.

Forcing yourself to smile, you run through these thoughts and prepare for his complaints, building up your walls on instinct. Instead and without warning, he brings his hands beneath your hoodie and shirt, pressing his fingers firmly against your skin as he hugs you close, tight enough you imagine he is seeking to bind you to him.

'It's cold,' he whispers, as though this explanation is sufficient enough.

'Yeah,' is all you can manage.

You wonder if he is lying, if he actually is cold at all, his hands and fingers perfectly warm to the touch. If he were cold, you’d already have swatted him away, startled by the chill of his skin. But he remains, and you let him stay, his heat flowing and spreading over your skin like a fever. The warmth of this is familiar enough to water you, tongue feeling heavy as your walls clench around nothing.

'You're warm,’ he continues, tipping his head down to kiss against your hair as he speaks.

You blink. 'Are you still drunk?'

He laughs, shaking his head against yours and messing up your hair. 'No.'

'Hungover?' you try, needing an explanation, an answer - any clue to assist in your next response.

'Not really?' he muses. 'You left water by the bed before we fell asleep, so I feel a little better. You're always taking care of me.'

With a small, happy sigh, he hugs you tight, leaving no room for air between your bodies. He brings his chin to your shoulder, turning inward and letting his nose graze along the tendon of your neck as you tilt for him, giving him room and access against your best judgement.

'Chanyeol.'

'What?' he mumbles, eyes closing, eyelashes ticking your skin in the process

'What are you doing?'

The words come heavy and thick, so unlike the soft, kind words of affection you like to give him when he’s like this. So too unlike the words of playful abjection that comes from feigned irritation, reminding him and your friends and yourself that you are, in fact, just friends.

Just friends and nothing more.

He furrows his brow, and you can feel the tension in his cheeks as he does so. 'What do you mean?'

Turning your body in his hold, his hands maintain their position as they slip to the small of your back. Gingerly, he lifts his head just enough for you to regard him, cool and bewildered. Remaining careful, your own hands grip the curve of the counter, knuckles tight with the effort of not reaching for him, wrapping around him with the same, easy affection. Your eyes search his face, his small frown of concern and his deep, chocolate eyes filled with such warmth and vibrancy, the very closeness of him making your chest burn with ardor.

Taking in a deep breath, you gather the strength to speak. 'We do this when we're drunk,’ you say simply.

It hurts to say the words, to bring the very grandeur of him down and to name yourself as the reason for his withering expression. But it hurts more to let your hands and lips and heart kiss at the glimmers of hope. It hurts just as much as the way it renders him so small, so impossibly small and young and lost, his eyes reading your expression as anxiety begins to seep into his irises.

'What if I want to do it when I'm sober, too?' he tries, the quietest he’s ever been, especially around you.

Casting him a quizzical, hesitant stare, you bite your lip, attempting not to feel wounded or boxed into a label that hurts. 'You mean officially be friends with benefits?'

Chanyeol pull back from you a little more, blinking as the color drains from his cheeks. 'Is...is that what you want?'

Something in his eyes tells you that he’d give this to you if you said yes. His admission for wanting this sort of intimate closeness when he’s sober says he’d give you this if you said yes, feeling as though he’s won the universe with sex and a best friend, and a world of other options ready and waiting for his touch. He’d give himself to you, too, you see it in the way he bites his lip, making sure you felt pleasure every moment, your world colored into ecstasy, the limits put on pleasure suddenly rendered obsolete.

It would be so easy, to have him and simultaneously have nothing at all.

And so you swallow thickly, aware that moments like these are tests of love - self love, and little else. Chanyeol has granted you a rare opportunity to be honest with yourself, even if you are not directly being honest with him, fully aware that you are too selfish to want only a fraction of his whole. With Chanyeol, you want all of him - you want absolutely everything, having tasted both sides of his soul, even if you have not tasted them altogether.

'No.' You shake your head, lungs empty of oxygen, speaking within a hollow exhale of emptiness. 'I don't think I could stomach that.'

'Oh.'

He regards you with a crestfallen expression, shoulders and posture falling as your resolute answers weighs him down.

Bewildered by this unexpected response, you decide to be completely honest, fully aware that unless you say something, he will absolutely never figure it out for himself.

'You have to know it's been hard for me, right?' you try, cocking your head to the side in a silent plea. 'The last few months of this?'

'We can stop -'

You cut him off, closing your eyes and shaking your head. 'That's exactly my point, Chanyeol.' Your grip tightens on the counter, bracing yourself for this fall - this time, likely, away from him. 'I don't want to stop. I keep having to stop when we wake up and walk away. I'm -’ your voice breaks, throat tight and mind racing. Taking in a deep breath, you let yourself say it, all of it, without reservation. ‘I want more, constantly. I want all of you to myself. You know I'm inherently selfish, and also inherently direct. So I'm just letting you know I can't be your sober friend with benefits. I think that would kill me. I want you too much.'

When you finish, Chanyeol swallows, your gaze drawn to the movement within his neck. In your chest and hands, your pulse is racing, blood moving at a pace that keeps you lingering on the precipice of falling or flying, feeling, all at once, not unlike Icarus.

'I don't want to be friends with benefits either,’ he says, shaking his head, almost imperceptibly.

Your grip loosens. Your stomach drops. Still, your nerves remember the sensation of his touch, bringing forth the memory in urgency, aware that, not an hour ago, you already had your last fill.

'Then…’ your voice drifts, words arriving on your tongue in the wrong order. ‘Do we stop? I know you Chanyeol, you can barely handle alcohol and I can't handle myself around you.'

Even if he wants to stop, you aren’t sure you can. Your desire for him has reached deep into the nodes of your lungs, spreading like spores into the crevices of your heart, your mind, your blood. Chanyeol fills you, everyday and all the time, especially when you are drunk. With a drink in your system, your lust and love for him hits you tenfold, and one look at him will never be enough, not with the memory of the taste lingering behind the vision.

'I don't even really want to be friends, either.'

His abrupt announcement makes you grateful your hands are on the counter, knees buckling with the weight and help upright by structural stability of the house alone.

'Oh.'

The word doesn’t sound like it comes from you, but you don’t bother clearing your throat. Really, you think you’d welcome the hold of the floor. At least it would never let you down.

'I want so much more of you than that,’ he clarifies, breath leaving his chest in a desperate, needy sigh.

Your skin starts to tingle as he presses you tightly against him, hands walking up your spine as he grinds his hips against yours. Letting himself get close, he nudges the side of your face with his nose before speaking, opening you to him.

'I want to be able to do this -’ Chanyeol leans down and places a kiss at your neck, tongue stroking the marks his teeth made the night before. 'Whenever I want.' The coolness of his breath against the wet spot he created makes your tremble, and he chuckles at feeling of you quaking in his arms. 'I want to touch you here -’ Abruptly, he slides his hands down your back, both palms cupping your ass with a firm squeeze ' - without you thinking I'm joking.'

Leaning back to make room for his closeness, you finally release your hold on the counter, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers card through the soft hair at the nape, scratching in a mindless pattern that makes him growl within his throat.

'And most of all, I want to taste you when ever I want.'

He captures your lips in a kiss that feels so unlike all the rest he’s given you. Sober and fully in control of your awareness, you cup his cheek, fingers toying with the tip of his ears as he parts your lips easily, running his tongue against yours with skilled prowess. The hot flash of his tongue is brief, removing a hand from your ass to guide your face up and back, moving to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

Against your stomach, your feel the hardness of his erection begin to form, the solid feel of it sending a wave of desire to your core. Wetness pools between your thighs, and this time you are grateful for the underwear that separates you, letting your desire win over. The heat of your craving gathers in your veins, making your skin feel tight as his hand roams from your ass to the small of your back and down again, possessing what it can and claiming you for his own.

Breaking away to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours, feeling yourself recline into him.

'Chanyeol,’ you sigh, feeling slightly dazed and a little light headed.

In your chest, your heart battles against your sternum, sending waves of heat down and down into your core, feeling yourself become soaked, wanting to be full of him.

'You left me so hard this morning.’ He kisses along your cheek, letting his words cascade over your skin. 'I had to feel your wet cunt over my dick without getting to have my fill of you.'

Moving his hand from your cheek once more, he grabs your ass firmly, squeezes the flesh with vigor, rutting against you with a fervor that speaks of his need to be inside you. Over time, you’ve come to learn that Chanyeol is an inherently giving lover, so willing to offer pleasure first, the sense of pride in making you come likely its own form of eroticism, a stroke against his ego as pleasurable as a hand stroking at his cock. But, while he is terribly giving, he can often be impatient, his desire to be buried inside your walls sometimes rushing him past foreplay.

Most days, you do not mind, just as desperate to feel full of him and to sate the empty feeling that always comes with his departure. Today, it is your turn to be greedy, your own ego riding a high at the thought of leaving him wanting.

'All you ever have to do is ask,’ you smile, coquettishly cocking your head to the side. 'You know that.'

Moving your hand from his neck, you glide your thumb along his bottom lip, feeling the plump softness. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he sucks your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip before releasing it. On instinct, your legs part wider, making room for him and making room for the feel of him.

Dipping to capture lips in another kiss, his hands massage the flesh he holds with deft fingers, squeezing hard enough to lift you up onto the counter. Pulling back, he swallows hard and grips both your thighs, pulling you to the edge and wrapping your legs around his waist.

'Can I fuck you?’ he asks, kissing against your lips as he speaks.

Chuckling, you nip at his bottom lip, a small whine escaping your chest as he thrusts against the thin fabric of your underwear. Beneath his sweats, it’s clear he wears nothing else, the heat of his erection seeping through to your core, creating a wet patch in the shape of the head of his cock.

‘You’ve been fucking me,’ you sigh, voice caught between a laugh and a moan.

‘I want to fuck you,’ he clarifies, leaning down to place his teeth against your bite mark, grazing gently. ‘I want to fuck you and I want it to mean something.’

Pressing your heels against the back of his thighs, you roll your hips against him as best you can as you pull him close, clicking your tongue. ‘Have the last nine months meant nothing to you?’

Abruptly, Chanyeol raises his head and regards you in abject shock, looking stricken.

Blanching, you search his face for a problem. ‘What?’

‘It’s been a year,’ he explains, assertive in his tone.

‘A year?’

He nods. ‘It was a year last month.’

Time swirls around you, catching up to you only to depart once more, the timeline of your love and lust for him blurring together to one long, extended always.

Clutching his neck and pulling him close, you kiss him, hard and demanding. ‘I’ve only been counting the times since we started waking up together.’

He smiles, moving a hand from your leg to rest between your bodies. Slipping his hand beneath the hem of your hoodie and moving it out of the way, he finds the space between your parted thighs and brings his fingers to the clothed barrier of your slit. ‘I’ve been counting it from the first kiss,’ he clarifies, pressing lightly smirking at the wetness he finds.

‘We’ve wasted a whole year,’ you manage, ending on a gasp as he moves your underwear to the side and drags his finger over your cunt.

‘I’m too impatient to waste anymore time.’

Taking your lips once more, he moans into the kiss as he teases your slit with his fingers, moving his tongue against yours in the same rhythm, gliding over your wetness. Curling around him, your hands roam over his chest, his arms, his shoulders, gripping his muscles through his shirt. One hand moves down his sides, making him gasp in oversensitive shock against your mouth, before your grip settles on the waistband of his sweats, tugging at them.

The tips of his fingers against your cunt become insistent, offering teasing, gentle breaches into your wetness, wanting more and all of you.

‘How many fingers do you want?’ he questions, walking his free hand down your back and over to your hip, thumb rubbing circles against the skin.

‘Three,’ you breathe against his lips. ‘It feels best with three.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he smirks, hand moving from your hip and over the soft fold of your stomach, palm settling with a rough grip against your breast. ‘Always so greedy.’

Pushing at his thighs with your heels once more, the movement of your legs makes you aware of the cold marble of the counter, aware that this is the most public you’ve ever been - breaching more boundaries in one day than you ever had before.

‘Shouldn’t we move?’ you ask, gasping as he presses his index and middle finger inside. You clench around him, wishing for more, for something larger, thicker, and deeper.

Feeling the tightness, he smiles, offering shallow thrusts with his hand that slowly increase in speed. His other hand massages your breast idly, thumb pressing against your nipple as he smiles.

‘Don’t want to,’ he mumbles, setting a deep, languid pace with his hand. ‘I’ve needed you since I woke up.’

Moving your hand under the band of his sweats, you scratch along his hip bone, pleased with the way a shiver ripples through his muscles. The memory of his hard length pressing against your ass when you woke up gives you a sense of power, digging your nails deeper into his skin.

‘Poor baby.’

Chanyeol whimpers, pressing deeper into your core and dragging a moan from your chest as he pulls his fingers out, only slightly.

‘Don’t tease,’ he chastises, hands moving from your breast to your back, pulling you closer as your other nipple rises, waiting for attention that will not come. ‘I’m hard enough for you it hurts.’

Sliding your hand forward, you walk your fingers down, tracing the fine hair of his happy trail down to the thick wires of his pubic hair and smirk, proven correct. Beneath his sweats, Chanyeol wears nothing at all.

‘What did you do without me?’

It’s an ambiguous question, vague and almost meandering, but he catches on immediately.

‘I used my hand and thought about your pussy on my tongue.’ The pace of his thrusts increases, curling upwards as your head rolls back, resting on the cabinet with a gentle thud. ‘Didn’t feel nearly as good as the real thing.’

Emboldened by his admission, you reach down and grip his cock firmly at the base, his fingers halting in their ministrations against your walls as he gasps, releasing a keening whine at the strength of your hand. Pumping him, you keep your gaze on his changing expression, watching as his features morph in the wake of pleasure.

‘Like this?’ you whisper, pumping his cock with long, languid strokes. ‘You touched yourself like this?’

Chanyeol leans forward, nodding, pupils dilated and lips parted. Spreading his fingers into a wide V, he stretches you in preparation, matching the pace of your hand against his cock. Like this, you share pleasure together, wetness gathering against his fingers and the blood of his cock racing beneath your palm.

‘Yeah,’ he breathes, sounding strained.

Finally, he grants your requests and he slips his ring finger into your core, pressed against his middle in an effort to maintain the stretch. Satisfaction courses through your veins, the bump and ridge of his knuckles against your walls putting tension in your thighs. Always enamoured with the size of his hands, three of his fingers inside you is a stretch that you relish, a whisper of the fullness you anticipate.

Using your other hand to tug his sweats down, you free his cock, increasing the speed of your pumps. ‘You’ve been a needy boy this morning.’

‘You make me that way,’ he moans, moving his hand up your neck to fist in your hair. He leans down, kissing at your jaw, down to your neck, sucking on the tendon he finds, mouth and tongue needy. The overwhelming sensation of being handled by him has your free hand gripping the small curve of his ass in pleasure.

‘I can’t take it,’ he announces, releasing your neck and tugging your hair back, demanding your attention. ‘Are you ready for me?’

Focusing on the intense expression he gives you, it hits you that your orgasm lingers not far off in the distance. With three of his fingers working at your walls, the slickness of you gathering at his hand evidenced by the wet noises that fill the air, you suddenly realize your are gasping for breath, flushed and hot and tense, thighs and back aching for a release.

Nodding, you close your eyes, releasing your focus on power and letting yourself be consumed by the sensation of being owned by him. Your wetness drips over his fingers, smeared onto your thighs and onto the counter, drenched for him the same way your body tightens for him, brought to the edge of desire by his touch alone.

Chanyeol pulls out his fingers, pulling from you a keening whine of emptiness, your muscles protesting the loss. His hand joins yours on his cock, twining your fingers together as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. It’s such a romantic expression of ardor, one that softens you more than you would have expected to feel, realizing now that Chanyeol is far more romantic than you might have ever given him credit for.

But he breaks this expression of soft, gentle romance easily, placing your hand on his hip while he pushes you forward, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

‘Need to be inside you,’ he mumbles, impatient.

Even when drunk, Chanyeol had adopted a habit of pausing at your core, letting your wetness smear over the tip as he grazes your slit. It could, you imagined, be a method of teasing you into submission, but always his eyes bore into yours, waiting for your approval. Now, totally sober and in control of himself, aware that you, too, are fully in control of your choices, he pauses, this time with far more hesitation than you’ve ever seen.

In this moment, flush creeping up his neck and into his ears, cock straining to be buried inside you, he pauses, waiting for your answer and giving you the opportunity to retreat. In this moment, for the first time, Chanyeol looks as though your answer weighs his happiness, appearing vulnerable behind the bravado of being so cocksure.

Reaching up, you brush the hair out of his face, glad that these touches get to belong to you, and nod, angling your hips to spread your legs wider, urging him inside.

With a low moan, Chanyeol thrusts into you, pushing through your walls and burying himself to the hilt. Your hands grip at his shoulder blades, a hiss of pleasure escaping through your teeth as you feel yourself stretch to accommodate his large girth. Chanyeol stills inside you, giving both of you a moment to adjust to the sensation of feeling one another, sober and without distractions.

The difference in sensation is difficult to rationalize, nerves and synapses entirely overwhelmed by how intense the feel of him inside you actually is. Without the alcohol to dull your awareness, Chanyeol feels so much more tactile and heavy, your walls stretched around him in a way that feels complete. You clench around him and he shivers, moving both hands to your hips, keeping you still as his head falls to your shoulder.

‘Don’t do that,’ he moans into your skin, words garbled from pleasure. Unable to help yourself, you do it again. Chanyeol squeezes your hips, offering a shallow thrust into your core. ‘Please,’ he begs. ‘If you keep doing that I’ll come faster than I want to. You’re so fucking tight, I can’t really take it.’

You let one of your hands find the hair at his neck once more, stroking idly in comfort while he moves in small, messy thrusts, getting used to the feel of you both without a condom and while sober. Stretched full of him now, your orgasm looms, a promise you can almost kiss without really feeling, but you don’t rush him to move, aware that he feels completely different - harder, longer, and deeper than you have ever experienced before.

Eventually, he pulls out to the tip and sets a hard rhythm, pressing the full length of his cock into you with each thrust. The pace he sets is not unusual, but the tenderness with which he ends his thrusts, almost slowing to ensure you feel every inch of his length and that he feels every aspect of your walls is tender, sweeter than he usually is. Last night, he was unforgiving in the way he snapped his hips against yours, both of your relishing the pain that came with your hips meeting and the stretch of your lips to accommodate him.

Now, he is almost careful with you, his hands pushing your hips to meet his every thrust while he kisses at your ear, tender and gentle, whispering praises of how good you feel.

‘You’re pretty,’ he whispers. ‘You’re so pretty like this, wrapped around me and completely mine.’

It's the first time he's allowed himself to be so possessive, using words that stake claim and allowing himself to be needy. You're not sure how long you've felt like his, perhaps always, but now you are glad to relish the title, aware that it is your rightful home, and your rest a hand on his cheek, titling his face towards your to kiss him.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, but you smile against one another, Chanyeol fucking into you with an urgency that makes the muscles in your back and stomach coil, tense to your core as your body learns to take him deeper.

'Chanyeol.' You sigh his name against his lips, a whine following quickly after as he hits the spot inside you no one has ever reached, not even him. You hold onto him tightly, feeling the tightness of pleasure overtake your limbs, nails starching into his skin, tense.

'That's my girl,' he says, speeding up his thrusts.

Chanyeol moves a hand from your hip, working it between your bodies to swirl his fingers against your clit. On contact you moan, hand coming away from his shoulder to grip the handle of the cabinet as you roll up against him, needing more. You're not ashamed of how loud you are, forgetting there are others in this house - that you're even on holiday with someone other than Chanyeol, your high pitched whines unleashed with every hard press against your clit.

With his finger on your clit, your walls clench involuntarily, your orgasm approaching with a swiftness that startles you.

'Fuck, baby,' Chanyeol whines, his thrusts losing their sharp, even edge and becoming messy. 'Baby, you're doing it again - fuck, oh fuck.'

Chanyeol's attention your clit stutters, hand on your hip tightening as his head rests once more on your shoulder. You smile through your pleasure, eyes trained up at the ceiling in awe of how raw and full and warm he is. His boyish moans only lure your orgasm closer.

Still, you continue to clench around him, the swirl of his fingers driving you closer.

'Fuck,' he announces, fucking into you harder. ‘I’m gonna come.’

‘Yeah?’ you breathe, surprised by how quickly his own end approaches.

When drunk, it is not that he lasts for an explicitly long period of time, merely that he takes his time - foreplay takes time, his thrusts take time even if they are hard and fast and long. Now, he trembles against you, skin hot and neck damp as he lets himself get overwhelmed, straining to keep his pace. His arms shake, hand at your hip clutching to you as though your flesh and bone root him to the earth, but you are glad for this hold, pressed into the counter and held in place.

You, too, feel yourself become dizzy, dazed and overwhelmed by the stimulation of him. His natural scent mixing with the cologne already lingering on his shirt, the heat of the hoodie, the sound of his breath as he moans through his thrusts - louder than you ever remember him being - is enough to set the burn in your heart and chest to your core, your own legs shaking, a hard press to your clit rolling you up into him once more.

‘Come inside me,' you mutter, breathless and urgent.

Chanyeol's head rolls against you, his hips slowing in an attempt to slow his thrusts, but you clench around him, shuddering as a swirl over clit makes you quake, and he chokes, thrusting hard and deep, right against your spot.

‘Are you sure?’ he whines, kissing at your neck in desperation.

Taking your hand from the cabinet, you clutch at his shoulders, nodding. Realizing he cannot see you, you suck an inhale through your teeth, the muscles at the base of your spine building a pressure that sends your hips into his, messy and uncoordinated, pushing yourself to an end, even if it is not unified.

‘Just come,’ you affirm, scratching your nails down his back. He whispers a small, almost missed fuck into your neck, and you smirk, clenching around him in encouragement. ‘Come in me, I’m so close.’

He whines, hand at your clit stilling while still lingering, a teasing pressure that keeps you needy and on edge. Something about this barely there touch sends fractured and splintered waves of your oncoming orgasm down through your back and stomach, a ripple of an oncoming storm that has you quaking in his arms, feeling violent and wild.

'Come with me?' he tries, the words choked and garbled.

It’s the romance of it that does you in, you think. So many times over the last year, it seems, you’ve had Chanyeol and the hard edge of his eroticism, the teasing and possessive way he licks a full line of your slit before he presses his tongue inside; the way he leaves bite marks on your breasts, hand prints on your ass, marking you in all the places that say someone has been there before and will be again. Now, he asks for your heart, seeking a climax that is shared, kissing your hands and kissing your soul, entwining you together and staking a claim that says someone is here and always will be.

So it's the romance, seeing him so devoted to you and your needs, to your heart and your body, that makes you hold onto him a little tighter, legs widening to take him even deeper, all the way into your soul. It's the romance that has you nodding against him, gasping for breath beneath the heat of the hoodie, his touch, and in the wake of his thrusts, your orgasm burning beneath your skin, ready to shatter your bones.

Against your neck, he smiles. 'There it is,' he whispers, but you're too far gone to ask. 'I can feel you. This is my favourite, every time.'

Chanyeol presses his fingers against your clit once more, the shift from the teasing, cloying grazes you'd been feeling to the rough swirl of a circle sending your orgasm through your nerves. The world around you breaks, black and white and full of colours, the shapes of the world blurring behind your tears and into nothing as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands fist in his shirt, clutching to him as though afraid of disappearing altogether, the bliss and ecstasy of feeling all of him at once breaking over you in a wave that leaves your lips parted, his name spilling from your lips in a whispered, almost silent, scream.

His name spills from your lips at the same time he spills inside you, the sound of his orgasm reverberating into your skin. On him, your name is a shout of euphoria, almost victorious in the way he declares it, a tattoo of ownership against your neck. His warmth fills you, the heat of his come warm and almost unfamiliar, a sober experience that feels strange yet paradoxically so right.

Chanyeol slides his hands from your hips to your back, tips of his fingers rubbing circles at the base of your spine, something about this touch so overstimulating that you shake in his arms, drawing him closer and breathing him deep.

‘Mine,’ he mumbles, sounding so small and so shy. ‘Please be mine.’

It's hard to imagine how he would believe you belonged to anyone else, could ever want to after feeling all of him, right down to his soul. But Chanyeol has always been shy and insecure, the tremors of his bravado simply a mask that hides his nervous smile.

Your arm feels heavy as you lift it to his hair, carding your fingers through the strands and stroking him, soothing him. ‘Yours,' you agree, turning your head to kiss at his ear. Chanyeol rumbles happily against you, the heaviness of his limbs comforting. 'Only yours.’

‘Literally, what the fuck?’

Minseok's yell startles you both, Chanyeol flailing as he pulls back and thus pulls out of you, your eyes squeezing shut from the stimulation of it. He pulls you to the floor, hidden from view behind the kitchen island, covering your mouths to keep from laughing.

'This is...,' comes Jae's voice, drifting away in shock. ‘You’re both disgusting!’

Chanyeol's come begins to drip between your legs and you grimace, aware that the mess has spread elsewhere. Still, you don't really find it in you to be guilty.

‘You’re cleaning all of - whatever the fuck - on your own. I’m not coming in there,' Minseok declares resolutely, the sound of their footsteps drifting as they run, rather angrily, up the stairs and to their room where they close the door with a slam.

Moving his hands from your mouths you both erupt into laughter, Chanyeol collapsed on top of you as he howls. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you nudge him, rolling him off you as you reach up for a dish towel.

‘The good thing about sex on the floor,’ Chanyeol begins, watching you wipe his come off your thighs and the floor, ‘is that if it’s with the right person you don’t realize it’s the floor.’

Cleaned, your fist the towel into a ball and put it beside you, making a mental note to add that to the laundry. Turning to face him, you smile. ‘Want to find out if that’s true?’

#chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #exosnet #kpopwonderlandtag #exo smut #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol au #exo fluff #exo au #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #park chanyeol #chanvember 2019!

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nami-writes · 3 years

Text

Perfect - Detroit: Become Human

so this is a wip that sorta takes place sometime in this au and the basic summary is that after failing his mission and being sent back to cyberlife for reevaluation and repairs, connor is returned to the station as hank’s partner, only this time, they’re assigned on a case with gavin

you can tell this is old by how "said" literally isnt even used once

“Look here, I fucking told you to stay out of my way, didn’t I?” Reed scowled, jabbing a finger in Connor’s face.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, ensuring he didn’t show a trace of fear, quickly calming himself down when he noticed his LED turned yellow.

“Then why are you still fucking up my crime scene?”

“It’s my mission to solve this case, Detective Reed, and I will not stop until I do.” Perfectly rehearsed and recited.

“Don’t fucking test me, Android,” Reed sneered, shoving him a step back and spitting out the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Connor caught himself just before he flinched and held himself high, restraightening his tie.

“I will do my best, Detective.” He always promised to do his best. Before his correction, he hadn’t been able to fulfill those promises, but he was better now. He did better. He did his best.

He’d learned how to do that over the past few months, how to be obedient and good, good enough to return to Lieutenant Anderson. He was perfect now. Flawless. He had no errors in his system, no instabilities in his software. He’d been fixed. He didn’t even flinch. He’d had a problem with flinching when his training first began, but he’d been corrected until he got it right. You are a machine, not a person, and machines don’t flinch.

He still had to remind himself constantly to keep himself behaved. You are a machine, not a person. That phrase had been hammered into his hard drive until it was instinctive to think it and say it whenever he started thinking he was anything but a machine. That phrase was what reminded him of what he was and what he could never be, reminded him what his place was in the world.

He repeated it in his head again as he watched Reed turn around and storm off. You are a machine, not a person, and machines don’t feel angry. He wasn’t allowed to be angry at Reed for mistreating him—no, not mistreating, he was to be treated any way humans liked—so he wasn’t. Instead, he followed Lieutenant Anderson, walking beside him in perfect sync.

Perfect.

Cyberlife Androids are built to be perfect, and you will not be leaving this facility until you’ve learned to be exactly what you’re supposed to be.

“It’s your first case back from Cyberlife and he’s already giving you a hard fuckin’ time,” Lieutenant Anderson muttered. “The piece of shit can’t lay off for a minute, can he?”

“It doesn’t matter how he treats me, Lieutenant. What matters is the mission,” Connor reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he sighed. “Hey, I told you you could just call me Hank. It’s annoying hearing you call me ‘Lieutenant’ all day.”

“I’m sorry. Hank,” Connor corrected himself. Saying the name gave him a little spark of happiness, which he quickly shoved back down. You are a machine, not a person, and machines don’t feel happy. He couldn’t be happy, but he could be grateful. Grateful for his permission to address him by his first name and grateful to be granted the goodness of even such a small thing.

#dbh #dbh connor #cw referenced abuse #whump

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thewadapan · 4 years

Photo

in the grim darkness of the far future there is only cred

(This is a complete archive of the @Ask_Triton Twitter account created for April Fools’ Day 2020, based on my previous comics “PASS” and “The Beast Within (My Pants)”. A behind-the-scenes commentary is included at the end of the post.)

triton ebooks

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

autobot code sparknotes

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

wikihow cred acquisition

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

toyhax insignia stickerfixer

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

wait *hit i thought this was google

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

hi. my names triton. and the great war was the best thing to ever happen to me

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

rodimus finally convinced springer to let me join the rockers. rock and roll

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

springer is giving each of us a special nickname. were supposed to call him springax 219.31 alpha. apparently im now tritus 717.25 beta. wonder what he meant by that

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

shut the *uck up road buster

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

roadbuster be quiet challenge

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

triton can have little a cred. as a treat

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

hey whirl do you wanna play im a spy? wait *hit

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

if anyone ever finds out im a decepticon im gonna get *ucking shot. thats cancel culture baby

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

no cred? no thanks

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

boy am i glad impactor ate *hit and died. that guy was not *ucking around

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

YEAH uh huh YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS green and yellow green and yellow green and yellow green and yellow

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

no whirl this is not a poncho you *ucking cyclops

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

starting to think the special rockers assignment springer gave me and whirl was just a clever ruse to get rid of us. like theres no way all of the empties we just shot were decepticon moles

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

when you triton your best but you don't succeed

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

whirl no offense but theres absolutely no way im hitching a ride with you back to autobase. no its not because my arms are too weak to hang onto your landing skids for that long. no see this is your problem youre just *ucking annoying end of story

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

got that sinking feeling again lads. wait no i just forgot to transform before jumping into the sea

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

sky of blue im a green / and a yellow submarine

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

10,000 hics under the sea

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

sometimes underwater. always undercover

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

yeah springer can drive and he can fly but he sure can't bob around the sewers like a piece of *hit can he

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 1, 2020

felt cred might delete later picture cred: @ikkadkarf pic.twitter.com/cQKer3asaW

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 2, 2020

ultra magnus just held a door open for me. his magnusnimity knows no bounds

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

if you think you know where im going with this tweet your wrong but what you were thinking of is probably more good

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

3000 kilograms? yeah thats me. triton

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

you wear a mouthplate just to hide your face and you wear it because you think your cooler than me

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

met scattorshot in the hallway. he was like "i never heard of an autobot who was a submarine" and i said "im not" and he said "what" and i said "a submarine". clutch save

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

springer just got back from patrol and says hes finally killed all the decepticons. good thing he doesnt remember that time we got absolutely spannered at maccadams and i got up on a table and start shouting im a decepticon

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

yeah weve all heard of the last autobot but what about the last decepticon. just something to think about

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

actually this reminds me of a funny story about how the word spannered came about. it all started when straxus decided he wanted to cross this body of water. i said id carry him but he just gave me this weird look and said he had a better idea

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

thinking of getting a massive flame painted on my chest. just kidding who do you think i am clodimus prime

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

not MY prime

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 3, 2020

stop talking about me behind my back. im not talking to anyone in particular. dreadwind

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

yeah im going through a bit of a phase right now. phase six

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

its hard being a double agent. its hard and nobody understands

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

sometimes i wish i was a car robot

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

just got tackled by sandstorm. had to scream at him to get him to move his rotor away from my throat. thought it was a funny hat not a deadly weapon. most terrifying experience of my life aside from when computron stepped on me

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

im horny

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

bots with no rights: horny people and decepticons. lucky for me two no rights makes a right

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

i have discovered the secret of combiner technology. step one. stand up straight with your shoulders back

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

why wont afterburner combine with me

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 4, 2020

springer is *ucking ugly. who even paints themselves green and yellow. piss off

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

im like dropping hints that im a double agent

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

TR-8N

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

inside you there are two faction symbols. one is an autobot the other is a decepticon. you are triton

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

not faction-swapper! dont like that term. freelance double agent. for certain social remuneration of course

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

hnng megatron im trying to sneak around but the clank of my *ss cheeks keeps alerting springer

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

you think cred is your ally? i was born in cred. molded by it

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

springer put me in the inhibitor harness again

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

sick of being a loser nobody. wish my life could have an issue 0 where i was actually the man of iron all along

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

it isnt easy being green

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

this planet isnt relevant to my interests anymore

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

better dead than no cred

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

just called roadbuster an idiot. back on top

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

im springers oldest enemy but he hates roadbuster more

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

Yo waspinator, is everything allrignt??

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

its like people dont even remember my name

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

sometimes its hard to reconcile the continuity error of my life with the established canon of me being a huge *ucking ledge

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 5, 2020

im the first in a new generation of transformers. introducing the credacons

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

tritons in disguise

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

more ton meets the tri

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

if i hit broadside on the back of the neck hard enough either hell turn back into a boat or just *ucking die. either way i win

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

join the TCC today. Triton's Cred Club

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

got cred?

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

just found out about the beast. damn that *hit sucks

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

if i was there with the beast i wouldve stopped it. rip to megatron but im different

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

lol i remember telling megatron i wouldnt go native but look at me now not a single capital letter in sight

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

pictured: me and the other great decepticon leaders beat the *hit out of rodimus prime pic.twitter.com/6ShZrPgV8l

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 6, 2020

for *ucks sake lightspeed stop trying to correct my grammar you mechanical throwback. i know how to use *ucking apostrophe's

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

mucho cred

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

mucho mucho man

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

nosecone keeps asking me to follow his account. at drill or something. what a plonker

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

desperately trying to think of a funny joke to make ultra magnus and the rest of the gang laugh

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

Leader Class Triton With Triton Master Triton

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

excuse me roadbuster who said youre allowed to laugh at my jokes

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

hate how i always have to be triton. sometimes i want to be tritoff

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

topspin and twin twist should legally change their names to blue and white. wait *hit theyre both blue and white *uck *hit i didnt think this through

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

richard starkings stop sending me to voicemail

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 7, 2020

i am triton. the last living decepticon and incognito espionage specialist amongst the autobots. ask me anything

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 8, 2020

Anything?

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 8, 2020

pass

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 8, 2020

hey nosecone ive got a favour to ask. so ive been thinking of getting an upgrade lately. basically what i want is to be able to fly away from this place by means of large quantities of gas expelled at high velocity from my rear. now allow me to explain how you fit into all this https://t.co/Mt9ELmLNLU

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 8, 2020

we get it. you strafe

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 8, 2020

had the nightmare again. the one where springer figures out im a decepticon. i try to use the waterways as an escape route but when i get there broadsides fat *ss is blocking the estuary pic.twitter.com/XMZbkZsYs0

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 9, 2020

squad goals pic.twitter.com/PkI92HCHCn

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 9, 2020

in my dreams im always fighting my new friends. everyones super ripped. oh and impactor is there for no reason pic.twitter.com/Uzl9asiZCY

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 9, 2020

when im staring down the barrel of the gun im *hitting myself and i always thought that was stupid because if you die in the dream then you dont die in real life you just wake up. but now im wondering if thats what im afraid of. having to go back to pretending pic.twitter.com/fEZbfu81nf

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 9, 2020

primus forgive me but its time to go back to the old me pic.twitter.com/hh1vXZO5WS

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 9, 2020

Triton: A Transformers Story

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

few can remember how the war started. fewer still can now make the distinction between good and evil. but everyone will remember this particular day. because this is the day the war ended

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

are you tired of being nice. dont you just want to go *hit

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

all I wanna do is BANG BANG BANG BANG and a *transformation noises* and BRAAAAP

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

first you fard. then you *hid. then

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

cybertronian vandal

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

uh oh! stinky!

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

just saw blurr speedwalking to rodimus primes office at mach 2

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

you are about to enter the courtroom of judge rodimus prime. the bots are real. the cases are real. the rulings are final. this is judge roddy

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

Autobot Leader Gives Road Buster 11,453 Stern Looks

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

first one to talk gets to stay on my planet

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

getting flashbacks to that time unicron attacked. he picked me up between his fingers and vored me. i barely escaped with my cred

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

not on your life. its a fake. total fiction. it didnt happen. not fact. im innocent

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

it could be you. it could be me. it could eVEN BE

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

GHAA!

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

my Rash Action has led to a Fatal Consequence

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

i used to think that my life was a tragic. but now i realise. its a comic

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

now i understand. he who smelt it dealt it. i have been a smelting fool

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

ultra magnus i dont feel so good

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

dont reveal the shield. i said dont

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

the decepticon high command on cybertron have judged this account to be anti-decepticon and the firecons have been despatched to Earth to incinerate all copies. in order to thwart the firecons make sure you fill out your credit card details below

— Ask_Triton (@Ask_Triton)

April 10, 2020

Notes

The Ask Triton tagline, “in the grim darkness of the far future there is only cred”, is the tagline of Warhammer 40,000 except it replaces the word “war” with “cred”.

I’ve got no idea when I started working on this project, except that it was many months ago. I opened a note on my phone and wrote the words “triton ebooks”, and thereafter whenever I thought of a Funny Joke™ I’d crack that bad boy open and slap it in there. I wasn’t entirely sure when or how I’d ever release the material; I could copy my direct inspiration for the account, @prowl_ebooks (and its own ancestor, @Horse_ebooks), by making a bot that’d periodically post a random tweet, but felt like there was some degree of serialisation in what I was writing. Despite the content of its tweets frequently being utterly absurd, and completely at odds with its source material, the genius of prowl_ebooks is that it manages to paint a picture that somehow feels like an accurate reflection of IDW Prowl’s canon self. Seriously, I’ve seen many of the tweets this bot pumps out countless times, and they still crack me up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live up to that, but I had other tricks up my sleeves.

The Autobot Code originated in Simon Furman’s comics for Marvel UK and featured more prominently in James Roberts’ stories for IDW Publishing, where it was presented as a laborious tome of rules. SparkNotes, meanwhile, is a well-known site hosting CliffsNotes-like study guides used by students primarily to avoid having to read assigned literature in full.

wikiHow is an infamous encyclopedia devoted to tutorials, which often feature illustrations using a distinct style and deliver questionable advice.

Toyhax is the company that produces “Reprolabels”, effectively stickers for Transformers figures designed to replace vintage labels or to enhance newer figures (though I personally find the results to be pretty questionable). At one point they sold a product called a “Stickerfixer”, which I think was basically just a pen of glue? Anyway, Triton presumably wants one to (re)apply his fake Autobot insignia.

Google is a popular search engine for the world wide web. Its inclusion on the account was last-minute, and I was uncertain that Triton would actually have any understanding of what Google was, but figured if he was already using Twitter I could stand to show exactly how far I was planning to stretch disbelief from the outset, and that it’d work to explicitly tie together the intent behind the opening salvo of tweets.

Though I couldn’t be bothered tracking down an exact quote, “hi. my names triton. and the great war was the best thing to ever happen to me” was a reference to narration from Netflix’s Daybreak zombie-apocalypse series. I wrote a single paragraph about that series, specifically focused on that line, in an article which probably requires far more context than I’m able to give here. Of course, the general phrasing there is a common enough trope that this probably serves as a reference to any number of things. The halting style of dialogue used in Ask Triton, where full stops are the only form of punctuation, was a product of necessity, but it’s significantly at odds with the run-on-sentences used in the original comic. By my count, this is the fourth piece of media set in the “PASS” universe, but there’s no singular consistent presentation of that canon; every time I’ve revisited it, I’ve extrapolated and reinterpreted aspects of what has come before in ways which simply don’t match the original intent of the work. It’s kinda like the Star Wars expanded universe, where throwaway beats of the source material spin out into entire stories, ones that obviously don’t match the intent of what those beats were implying in the first place.

The Wreckers’ catchphrase is “wreck and rule”. I can’t find the exact tweet, but somebody recently realised that it’s supposed to be a play on “rock and roll”, which blew the minds of me and a whole bunch of other people. Hence, “the rockers”.

Ask Vector Prime explored the concept of “universal streams”, categorised by the multiverse-observing TransTechs using arcane identifiers. Springer’s nicknames are plays on these, substituting “Primax” for “Springax” and “Malgus”/”Iocus” for “Tritus” and encoding the dates 25/07/2017 (the original release date for “PASS” on Summer Meme Sundae) and 31/02/2019 (the date of its rerelease here) as 717.25 and 219.31. Springer uses the last part of the identifier, a Greek letter, to label himself as an “alpha” and Triton as a “beta”.

I’m not sure where it originated, but “x be quiet challenge” is a phrase which people sometimes use on Twitter when they effectively want someone to stop posting for once. I think I was probably introduced to the phrase when someone addressed it to Makin, then-owner of the Homestuck Discord server? Suffice to say, that probably informed its usage against Roadbuster.

“Cats Can Have Little a Salami [...] as a treat” was a Google preview of the article “Can My Cat Eat Salami?”, which became a snowclone on Discord and Twitter.

“I spy” is a famous guessing game where someone picks an object they can see and answers yes/no questions about it until another person is able to identify it. I have not played this game in a very long time.

“Cancel Culture” is a phrase used unironically mostly by assholes, in reference to the practice of “cancelling” problematic individuals in the court of public opinion on social media. I wish somebody had cancelled Triton.

For the life of me I cannot discern what “no cred? no thanks” is a specific reference to - there are probably many words you can substitute “cred” for in order to obtain an existing joke.

The phrase “eat shit and die” is one I enjoy using way too much, mostly in contexts where it’s absolutely unwarranted. What’s that? Someone said hi to me in the street and I didn’t say hi back in time? Well, guess I’ll eat shit and die then.

“YEAH uh huh YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS green and yellow green and yellow green and yellow green and yellow” is just Wiz Khalifa’s “Black And Yellow” only with green instead of black. Somehow I mostly associate this song with its usage in The Lego Batman Movie.

A poncho is a loose bit of fabric worn over the torso. Speaking of Lego, I was probably thinking of the poncho worn by this Mariachi minifigure, which resembles the triangular shape of Triton’s armour more closely than an actual real-world poncho. A cyclops is a one-eyed giant from Greek myth. Look, I know I don’t need to tell you all these things, but I wanted to really drive home just how pointless this venture is.

The “special rockers assignment” was a last-minute addition to the account; the tweets were posted in a completely different order to the one I’d written them in, with many thematically-related tweets collected into threads, and I needed a way to tie together several of the early ones into a clear narrative throughline. The Empties are fuel-starved unaligned Cybertronians from the Marvel comics. I considered having Springer’s ruse claim that they were all Robosmashed, but figured the cartoon reference was kind of at odds with the canon’s source material, and that it’s somehow funnier if Triton legitimately believes all of these robots are incognito like he is for just long enough to murder them all.

I think the goof of Triton substituting his name for vaguely-similar-sounding words references a habit developed by Chang in Community. “When you try your best but you don’t succeed” is the much-memed opening line to Coldplay’s “Fix You”. When I went to get that link, I realised that I do actually quite unironically like that song. Could it be wooorse...

Again, I wanted to make explicit that Triton was returning to Autobase, where the rest of the story would unfold, so Triton refuses Whirl’s help and uses his submarine mode to return home.

Triton’s alt-mode was suggested to be a submarine by Dreadwind in the letters’ pages of the Marvel UK comic. Triton reacts to this piece of Word of God in a later tweet.

“sky of blue im a green / and a yellow submarine” is a rewrite of the lyric “sky of blue sea of green / in our yellow submarine”, from The Beatles’ famous song “Yellow Submarine”.

I substituted the Cybertronian unit of length “hics” (roughly kilometers) into the title of Jules Vernes’ story 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, which I only now realise took place 20,000 leagues under the sea, and not 10,000. Perhaps if it wasn’t for my crippling fear of sea monsters, I would be better acquainted with this story. Wait, shit, I told myself I was going to break my crippling tendency to mention my crippling fear of sea monsters!

A common simile used in Homestuck is “like a piece of shit”, hence its inclusion.

The profile picture of the account was cropped from a piece of artwork drawn by my friend Ikkad, who also created the artwork that inspired/was-inspired-by my short story Dendrochronology. He posted it in the TFWiki Discord server on 07/03/2020, and it immediately galvanised me to prepare to launch Ask Triton, but the subsequent mass outbreak of Coronavirus led me to decide to delay the launch until April Fools’ Day. I coloured Ikkad’s lineart using colours taken directly from the scans of the comic, which didn’t result in a perfect match to how it looks in print but is close enough. At Ikkad’s suggestion, I replaced my first attempt using flat shading with a softer paint-like style that better matched the tone of the original comic. For the profile picture, I flipped the image so Triton faces the text of the tweets; I used a version with a blue background (flipped again to accommodate a status indicator) on Discord as a way of promoting the account. I’ve yet to decide whether I want to keep it on a more permanent basis. “felt cute might delete later” (the exact wording varies but I like this one best) is a snowclone usually posted alongside terrible selfies, or alongside bad pictures of fictional characters. Naturally, the tweet including the full artwork wasn’t planned in advance.

Substituting Ultra Magnus’ name into “magnanimity” is another terrible Chang-esque name pun. Ultra Magnus’ old AtoZ profile describes him using the phrase “top-notch geezer”, which was prominently used in a sketch show made by a friend of mine.

The line “if you think you know where im going with this tweet your wrong but what you were thinking of is probably more good” is a rewrite of the final narration box from “PASS”, which reads “believe me if you think you know where im going with this your wrong but what you were thinking of is probably better”. The joke is that you expect the tweet to end with “better”, and not “more good”, except I’m sure literally nobody who saw it remembered the narration box, because why would they? See, the thing about Ask Triton - arguably the crux of the whole thing - is that it exists in a fictional world where "PASS” and its related materials form the whole basis of an entire fandom, one which presumably documents its deep lore in the same exacting detail as we do, and for which the account’s jokes are actually funny.

A “ton” is a unit of weight which varies somewhat but can be basically used as a shorthand for 1,000 kilograms. Hence a “triton” is 3,000 kg. I am very smort.

“you wear a mouthplate just to hide your face and you wear it because you think your cooler than me“ is a minor rewrite of the lines “You got designer shades / Just to hide your face / And you wear them around like you're cooler than me” from Mike Posner’s “Cooler Than Me”. As you can tell, I mixed up the words slightly, moving “wear” forward and using bits of the line “And it's probably 'cause you think you're cooler than me.” from later in the verse. On the one hand, this goes to show that I should’ve done more research (indeed, there were a fair few other misquote flubs like this which I did correct in time for publication), but at the same time for crying out loud why is this paragraph not over yet.

Triton’s implied to be afraid of Scattorshot, whose AtoZ profile described him as the kind of person that says hi by sneaking up behind you and putting you in a headlock - if you’re thinking that’s a little specific, yes, I have had not one, but two friends like this. The word “clutch” is used by Gamers when they pull off something precise; a “clutch save” is usually a difficult last-second move made to win a game.

Maccadam’s Old Oil House, or just Maccadam’s, is the name of a bar on Cybertron which first appeared in Furman’s “Target: 2006″ Marvel UK comic storyline, which introduced the Wreckers. It’s risen to prominence in the 2000s, appearing in multiple stories, with Maccadam himself recently being explicitly revealed to be one of the legendary “thirteen original Transformers”. The tweet which mentions it was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing I wrote to better set up the one which follows it in the thread.

“The Last Autobot” is another some-time member of the Thirteen, introduced by Furman towards the back end of his Marvel run. The phrase “the last Decepticon” crops up multiple times in the original text of “Peace”. The phrase “just something to think about” comes from SCP-2293, which I know entirely due to the fact that my friend jenny in the TFWiki Discord quotes it incessantly. She was the one who asked me to make this commentary, which absolves me of responsibility entirely, because I totally wasn’t already planning on writing it. The form of this very commentary is inspired by her annotations for Ask Vector Prime and TFWiki’s notes sections, which I think plays nicely into the idea of an alternate universe where “PASS” is an official piece of source material and Ask Triton is funny. I also like being able to mix these kinds of thematic tangents into banal observations about bad memes with wild abandon.

Again on a whim, I chose to make explicit the inspiration behind my use of the word “spannered”, an oblique reference to the US comic “The Bridge to Nowhere!”, which revealed that Decepticon Lord High Governor Straxus’ new space bridge was in fact constructed using the still-living body of the unaligned scientist Spanner. This was probably the closest the account ever got to genuine stream-of-consciousness.

Rodimus Prime expresses some level of indecision over his paint job in PASS, which Triton mocks by pretending he’s considering getting a flame painted on his chest. There’s a line in Rodimus Prime’s AtoZ profile which is interesting in light of what we learn in “The Beast Within (My Pants)”, where he’s described as “the oldest AUTOBOT”. I guess he’s the oldest in terms of age, but Optimus Prime’s the real leader? Weird.

#NotMyPresident was a hashtag that got circulated on social media following the 2016 election of Donald Trump. Wow, I regret this sentence. Wow, I regret this project.

Speaking of problematic jokes, the line “yeah im going through a bit of a phase right now” refers to “It’s not a phase mom”, a phrase used to mock kids making life choices perceived as questionable. It’s combined with a reference to Furman’s six-phase “infiltration protocol” from his IDW comics; Phase Six sees the complete annihilation of whatever planet the Decepticons are sneaking around on.

“its hard / being a kid and growwing up / its hard and nobody understands” is a line from Homestuck spoken by Eridan to Kanaya, which gets called back to multiple times later in the comic. This is another case of me misremembering a quote, as I forgot the “and growing up” part. I previously namedropped Eridan in the commentary for “The Beast Within (My Pants)” as the inspiration for my version of Skids, but I think it’s safe to say that he informed my versions of Triton and Grimlock to some subconscious extent.

Car Robots was the Japanese name for the 2001 series Robots in Disguise. The phrase “car robots” itself was used in the opening narration for “PASS”, hence its inclusion.

Triton describes Sandstorm’s propeller as a “funny hat”, in reference to propeller hats. Sandstorm’s characterisation in his AtoZ bio was a play on his The Punisher-like murder spree in IDW’s comics. The incident Triton recalls about getting stepped on by Computron is phrased in reference to this I-guess-meme (the lines between sincerity and insincerity increasingly blurrr) where people say they want their crush to “step on” them. The crude mapping between combiners and relationships began in “The Beast Within (My Pants)”, which slotted surprisingly well into the “restraining order” gag from Computeron’s AtoZ bio (written to make up the numbers for a neat grid of sixteen), and I flipflop between thinking it’s the funniest shit or just thinking it’s legitimately fucking awful, but canon is canon.

Sadly, this theme doesn’t stop there. “im horny” is a terrible innuendo referring to Triton’s horned helmet.

Triton tortures the “two wrongs make a right” fallacy by mixing it with the common refrain “horny people have no rights” (which perhaps originated in this tweet but for fuck’s sake I’m not wasting any more time looking this up).

This continues when Triton claims to have “discovered the secret of combiner technology”, which is a phrase that seems to crop up in various places in 21st-century Transformers comics. It turns out that Triton’s solution is the first of Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life, “Stand up straight with your shoulders back” (ugh, thanks, Spotify Discover Weekly). Jordan Peterson’s this asshole with a rabid following of straight white guys; my impression is that he uses a lot of overwrought pseudoscience to justify his ideology, but I personally think his twelve rules are actually pretty solid, which seems to be a perfect example of wrong-working-right-answer.

Afterburner’s AtoZ profile written as backmatter to “PASS” described him as “Cybertron’s bicycle”; Triton wonders why he refuses to combine with him and god this is fucking stupid.

“I’m like dropping hints that I’m single / I’m single” is a pair of screenshots from one of Kim Kardashian’s shows, which frequently see the word “single” substituted for various other things.

“TR-8R” was a nickname given to a Stormtrooper that appeared in Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, famous for his funny weapon and his loud accusation that one of the protagonists, Finn, is a “traitor!”

“Inside You There Are Two Wolves / One Is Gay / The Other Is Gay / You Are Gay” (the exact wording and concepts used vary) is a snowclone most commonly associated with various images of a black wolf and a white wolf.

“Not bounty-hunter, yes? Don’t like that term, understand? Freelance peacekeeping agent, yes? For certain financial remuneration, of course” is dialogue spoken by Simon Furman’s character Death’s Head in his sort-of-debut appearance in issue #113 of the Marvel UK comics.

“Hrrrrnnggh Colonel, I’m trying to sneak around but I’m dummy thicc and the clap from my ass cheeks keeps alerting the guards” was a tweet written from the perspective of Metal Gear character Solid Snake which turned into a snowclone and got so big that the actual voice actor for the character did a dramatic reading of it.

“Oh, you think darkness is your ally. You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, moulded by it” is famous dialogue from Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises.

The “inhibitor harness” is a piece of technology namedropped in Nick Roche’s Last Stand of the Wreckers, used to restrain Triton and the rest of Squadron X. It was itself a reference to the inhibitor claw and inhibitor band from Furman’s Marvel UK comics; I chose “harness” both because of its explicit connection to Triton and because it’s a funnier word.

In Simon Furman’s Transformers ‘84 issue #0, a prequel to the Marvel comics, he made a number of retcons, one of which revealed the identity of iconic Marvel UK character “the man of iron” to really have been the character Fastlane, who wasn’t conceptualised until 1987.

“It’s not easy being green” is a famous song sung by Kermit the Frog.

“This chat isn't relevant to my interests any more.” is the rare quote used in Ask Triton which comes from a completely arcane source, being the punchline to an anecdote someone told in the Worth the Candle Discord server. The channel where it was told is currently archived and inaccessible, but it centered around somebody leaving a group chat of friends in spectacular fashion, something I thought was apt considering the events of “PASS”. Anyway, I guess this is my excuse to tell you to go read Worth the Candle, as is obligatory of me.

“Back on top” is the punchline to a series of Limmy’s Show sketches.

One of the handful of replies received by Ask Triton over the course of its run simply read “Yo waspinator, is everything allrignt??” Suffice to say I was pretty baffled by this, as I’ve legitimately got no idea at what point my own profile picture got presented to that person, or whether they just genuinely mistook Triton for him.

The Maximals and Predacons of Beast Wars have occasionally been described as a “new generation” of Transformers, though I didn’t track down any kind of exact quote.

Robots in Disguise and More than Meets the Eye were the two famous ongoings launched by IDW Publishing in 2012, written by John Barber and James Roberts respectively.

One minor plot beat in More than Meets the Eye revolved around the notion that if you hit a Cybertronian in a certain spot, they’ll transform involuntarily. Broadside was noted in his “PASS” AtoZ profile to have transformed very rarely, causing great inconvenience in the process.

“TCC” is an acronym for “Transformers Collectors’ Club”, a fan club run by Fun Publications from 2005-2016, the logo for which was frequently placed on Transformers packaging.

“Just found out about racism...damn that shit sucks...” was a Tweet that turned into a snowclone.

The same goes for “if i was at chernobyl i wouldv stopped it / rip to ur gradma but im different”.

The Decepticons (and Roadbuster (hmm)) all speak with proper punctuation and capital letters; a minor retcon implies that Triton used to speak this way but lost his “accent” over time.

The image of the Decepticons surrounding Highbrow and Rodimus Prime is Dan Reed and John Burns’ inside cover artwork for the 1989 Annual which included Peace; the characters in the image are drawn from that book’s comic strips. I like the way Triton implies that frikkin’ Apeface, Snapdragon and Mindwipe are “great Decepticon leaders”.

Lightspeed's AtoZ bio (like Nosecone’s) is based around an inversion of the Technobots’ typical characterisation as being generally intelligent, claiming “A broken clock is right twice a day. LIGHTSPEED wishes he could be that clock.” This implies that he’s wrong about everything, but I thought it’d be funny if the one time we hear about him doing anything he’s actually right, i.e. he’s right once a day.

As mentioned in the commentary for “PASS”, “mucho cred” is a meme phrase amongst readers of the superhero web serial Worm, which I strongly recommend but not as much as Worth the Candle.

“Macho macho man” is a phrase from “Macho Man” by Village People, which I only now realise actually already included the phrase “mucho” a bunch. I only wrote the tweet referencing it off-the-cuff, thinking the phrase “mucho cred” wasn’t quite funny enough in a vacuum.

At a certain point, I decided I wanted to namedrop every single character that appeared in “PASS”, so in a Man-of-Iron-like twist, noted idiot Nosecone is implied to be behind the famous twitter account @dril.

The line “desperately trying to think of a funny joke to make ultra magnus and the rest of the gang laugh” came to me at some point while I was sitting staring at the note on my phone. In a way, it’s a mission statement for Ask Triton. I don’t think “PASS” was ever written with the metaphor of social media in mind - it was instead a story about pointless tragedy, and of giving up too much in pursuit of some fantasy ideal of social standing. In retrospect, I most strongly see it as a story about... falling out with people, of the disconnect between the things people say and the things people think, and the breaking points where people start saying “actually, I’ve always hated you.” At the same time, however, it’s kinda just a funny joke comic, one that didn’t have a complete clarity of purpose at the point of its creation, so sometimes I wonder if by talking about it in these terms I’m acting against the spirit of the thing. Regardless, Triton is the perfect character for telling a story on social media, as he’s all about facades and the hit of dopamine that comes when someone smashes the mfing cred button.

“Leader Class Triton With Triton Master Triton” is written like the kinds of online solicits we got for Titans Return, where each figure included a “Titan Master”.

I’m not sure this entirely needs explaining, as it’s not really a reference, but the idea of a person being “always on” usually implies that they’re putting on a persona of some kind, most often by trying too hard to make everything they say funny.

The interchangeability of Topspin and Twin Twist formed the basis of their shared AtoZ profile. Seriously, the name “Topspin” is so dumb, he’s not a frikkin’ helicopter!

Richard Starkings wrote “Peace” under the pseudonym “Richard Alan”. He’s most famous for founding Comicraft, the first major computer-lettering company. I have not attempted to contact Richard Starkings in any capacity. Please do not tell him I exist.

I knew going into Ask Triton that it needed something else going for it, as it was both derivative of prowl_ebooks and less funny than it, and so drew inspiration from the one bit of official Transformers fiction to significantly use social media: namely, Ask Vector Prime. I predicted that I wouldn’t get much in the way of interaction, because I never do, but figured I could pitch Ask Triton directly down the middle and lean more towards “roleplay ask blog” or “shitpost bot”, depending on which way the wind blew. My friend gearshift observed towards the end of its run that “if it was meant to involve external engagement like AVP like the name suggests rather than just being something fun to look at, the format of him rattling off to himself 99% of the time makes it a little difficult to know where to step in and interact”, which I think was spot on. As one last-ditch attempt to solicit interaction before heading into the story’s finale, Triton reintroduces himself by saying “ask me anything” in a way that’s probably most famous nowadays via the r/IAmA subreddit. I took quiet pleasure in drawing a comparison between those threads and Ask Vector Prime.

Sure enough, only one question came in, simply asking “Anything?”. This was brushed off with the reply “pass”, in reference to the title of the comic, a goof that became even funnier to me as it became clear that no more questions were incoming.

To my surprise, gearshift sent me something that completely blew me away - a digibash of Earthrise Blast Master as Triton. To hear her tell it, she’d just picked out a recent figure that was “adjacent” to a submarine, but I immediately drew more connections that formed the basis of the eventual tweet. She sent me four different variations on the colour scheme: one “perfect” deco to match Triton’s colours in the comics, two different decos that’d require about the level of paint complexity of Siege Rung (above average for a retail toy), and finally one deco that seemed realistic for what could be achieved on a retail budget. We agreed that the last one was the best, but I bumped the saturation waaay up on it to better match the inks used in the comic (the digital scans don’t do it justice, the printing in the annual is stupidly saturated).

“We get it, you vape” (perhaps more commonly “We get it, you smoke weed”) is a snowclone posted alongside images containing smoke of any kind. It mostly serves to mock people who are perceived to have no character traits beyond vaping (for an astonishing examination of this archetype, check out the ongoing serial masterpiece Chili and the Chocolate Factory: Fudge Revelation). Strafe’s AtoZ profile states that his only character trait is loudly broadcasting the fact that he can fly.

Again in reference to his AtoZ profile, Broadside ends up blocking a route. (In response to the tweet in question, one of my friends who goes by the name Broadside remarked “i do indeed have a”, which made me laugh.) The thread continuing from that tweet was written when I realised I had an opportunity to drill down a little deeper into Triton’s character, and to incorporate the handful of pieces of official art depicting him; the first is Andrew Griffith’s cover to Sins of the Wreckers #2, while the rest are Nick Roche illustrations inked by Griffith. All of these pieces are coloured by Josh Burcham, lending them a nice consistent tone for the dream sequence.

“Squad goals” is a phrase posted alongside images of people that the poster’s group aspires towards. By posting it alongside an image of Squadron X, Triton expresses that he wishes his current friends were more like his old ones.

“You die in the dream/game, you die in real life” is a conceit used across countless stories by this point. The word “pretending” was chosen as an oblique reference to Pretender technology; Triton isn’t a Pretender, but hey ho, I just thought it fit.

“Lord Forgive Me But It’s Time To Go Back To Tha Old Me” is a snowclone mostly posted alongside edgy pictures of cartoon characters. Triton’s referring to his time as a Decepticon, but the accompanying image shows him as a corpse, bluntly foreshadowing his death. Evidently, this thread landed; a friend of mine remarked “Jesus wads that bit about dreams was grim / Poor Triton :(”

I could’ve sworn that Bumblebee was referred to as Bumblebee: A Transformers Story at some point, but I’m probably just mixing it up with the likes of Solo: A Star Wars Story. EDIT: Locoman informs me that the movie was at one point called Transformers Universe: Bumblebee, which is definitely what I was thinking of.

Narration from “Peace” was added last-minute practically verbatim purely as a way of making up the numbers: “few can remember how the war started. fewer still can now make the distinction between good and evil. but everyone will remember this particular day. because this is the day the war ended“. I could probably have changed this into a joke but I figured the melodrama that comes with taking it into this context was enough of a joke as it was. Sue me. (Richard Starkings, please don’t sue me.)

“Are you tired of being Nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shitt” is a famous Yahoo! Answers post. Naturally, Triton’s most interested in the very last part of that sentence. This was another last-minute addition.

“All I wanna do is-*BANG BANG BANG BANG*-and a-*cash register noises*-and take your money” is the chorus line from M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes”. “Brap” is onomatopoeia for a fart, used in shitposts.

I refuse to explain what shidding and farding is. Fuck you. God, this was in such poor fucking taste. What the hell was I thinking.

The second season of American Vandal centered around somebody putting a powerful laxative in a school cafeteria’s lemonade. I actually genuinely recommend this show, it’s got a lot going on.

As proof that I was legitimately getting tired of the poop jokes, the phrase “uh oh! stinky!” was used, referring to this one gross-ass video making fun of the style of humour.

Blurr’s AtoZ profile was the hardest to write, because he’s got a couple of lines in “PASS” (hence I couldn’t invent characterisation whole-cloth) but doesn’t have anything in the way of personality beyond his use of the word “ayy”. In retrospect, I guess his characterisation ended up being based on Gamzee from Homestuck, this creepy stoner. History repeated itself when it came to writing Ask Triton, as I realised I’d namedropped every character except Strafe and him. I was barely able to sneak him in under the wire; I considered having some Shattered Glass-style joke about him being really slow, but ended up deciding that the phrase “speedwalking [...] at mach 2″ (twice the speed of sound) was funny enough to carry a tweet.

The introduction to reality TV show Judge Judy goes “You are about to enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Sheindlin. The people are real. The cases are real. The rulings are final. This is Judge Judy.” Its inclusion was an oblique nod to another time I’ve used it, in a Transformers non-fiction work which might see release soonish, but this is definitely one of the weakest jokes on the account, written for the sake of numbersNUMBERS.

The video which introduced me to YouTube comedian Gus Johnson was titled “Man Gives His Cat 11,453 Stern Looks”. Another late reference which I found by going into my playlist of random videos to use in community streams.

Having forgotten I’d already referenced the movie, “First one to talk gets to stay on my aircraft” is a line from the infamous opening scene to The Dark Knight Rises. I made a comic adaptation of that scene using Marvel’s terrible Create Your Own editor, which is kind of an inversion of “PASS” in that it keeps the text of a story but substitutes the visuals. I’d previously used that editor to create the original Spider-Man comic Everything Is Red Now.

I just saw the word “vored” in here, so it looks like I’m going to have to plead the fifth again. Let’s talk about Unicron instead. Unicron is an Orson-Welles voiced character from The Transformers: The Movie, who appears in Worth the Can- WON’T SOMEBODY MAKE ME STOP?

“Not on your life. It’s a fake. Total fiction. It didn’t happen. Not fact. I’m innocent.” is from the Kevin James/Neil Cicierega video “Beyond Believability: FACT or False”, which parodies the Johnathan Frakes reality show Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction.

“It could be you. It could be me. It could EVEN BE-” is an iconic line (but then again, which of these lines aren’t iconic?) from the Team Fortress 2 short “Meet the Spy”. This foreshadows Triton’s imminent death.

“GHAA!” is Triton’s parting word in both “Peace” and “PASS”, a rare bit of text to go completely unchanged in my version.

In the supplementary material for Nick Roche’s Last Stand of the Wreckers, the Rash Action and Fatal Consequence were two different ships aboard which Triton was second-in-command.

“I used to think that my life was a tragedy, but now I realise it’s a comedy” is a line from the infamous movie JOKER, featured prominently in its teaser trailer.

“He who smelt it dealt it” is a textbook response to somebody calling attention to a fart. “The Smelting Pool!” was the Marvel issue, featuring a torture device of the same name, that led into the aforementioned story “The Bridge to Nowhere!” Like “Peace”, it’s a Marvel story prominently known for introducing and killing a comic-only character.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good” is an iconic line spoken by Peter Parker at the end of Marvel’s Avengers: Infinity War.

Reveal the Shield was a subtitle used for a Transformers toyline back in 2010, which referred to the heat-activated rubsign insignias of the toys (the gimmick being that you supposedly wouldn’t know which side the toy was on until you took it out of the package and got your grubby fingers on it).

The first page of the 1989 Annual begins “The Decepticon high command on Cybertron have judged this Annual to be anti-Decepticon, and the Firecons - Sparkstalker, Cindersaur and Flamefeather - have been despatched to Earth to incinerate all copies. In order to thwart the Firecons and protect your Annual, make sure you fill out the special Autobot citizenship card, below, with your name and address. The Firecons will only dare to attack Annuals if they are sure the owner is not under Autobot protection. This card could save your annual...” This page left quite the impression on me as a child, and (to what I can’t decide is my shame or my pride) I did in fact take a pen and fill out the card in my copy.

Towards the end of this project, I realised that there’s a certain symmetry between Ask Triton and the very origins of “PASS”, in an old meme page I once ran. Effectively nobody followed that page, and it was mostly me shouting into the void; like Ask Triton, many of the posts consisted of things which resembled jokes, where all the individual pieces fit together in some logical (if impenetrable) fashion, but when taken in aggregate none of them were really funny. Like Ask Triton, it turned into an attempt to tell a story using a medium utterly unsuited to storytelling. This time around, I think I succeeded, even if the story being told is one that already existed. Ask Triton consisted of 111 tweets. If I ever finish and release the epilogue for my old meme page, it’ll consist of 111 posts.

“PASS” has made the rounds on Twitter twice now, and each time the response has astonished me. On a pure numbers level, it’s nothing, but the people who share it around seem to derive so much joy from it. I made a handful of print versions for the comic to give out at TFNation 2019, and everyone there seemed to love it, so if TFNation 2020 goes ahead (god, I hope it does) I’ll make sure to print off some more. It’s something that’s torn me in two directions, where I want more people to see it, so they can get something out of it, but I also don’t want to run it into the dirt. As such, this ended up being one of the rare projects of mine nowadays not to receive any prereading (aside from a couple of the conventionally-funniest jokes being sent off to close IRL friends, to their amusement/bemusement), in the hopes that the whole thing would be a pleasant surprise rather than an uncertain slog, and I think that decision paid off.

In the TFWiki server, phrases like “shot on the spot for being a don” crop up frequently, with a handful of emoji cropped from the comic seeing a lot of use. It’s weird to be confronted with your own work so often, especially when that work was something that you threw together in an afternoon back in 2017, before you’d even started interacting properly with online Transformers fandom. At the same time, it’s nice to feel like one of the things I made genuinely mattered to people, at least ones who don’t know me.

If you’ve made it to the end of this notes section, then I’m sorry, but someone with as much cred as you simply cannot be allowed to live. Report to the TFWiki Discord server for your immediate execution.

#Transformers #Marvel #Ask Triton #PASS #Triton #The Wadapan #10/04/2020

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kyanmaaaa · 6 years

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had a dream last night that i died

i was trying to drive somewhere and nothing about my car felt right, accelerated extremely quick, the break barely did anything, there was junk next to my feet near the breaks and eventually i was like okay thats enough i need to park this isnt right

and then i couldnt figure out how to park cause all the symbols were different and i tried to ask for help but i just kept slowly slipping towards a hole on this hill where construction was happening, and people were trying to help me! but they kept saying just put it on the one that said p but none of them said p

so i crashed into a house at some point it was at the top of a pillar of cobbled together rock and it was yellow and it cracked in half

and then at some point the car rolled over and i died

during the entire process everyone was really nice to me and tried really hard to help keep me alive but it was just all of a sudden im dead, this woman came and explained everything to me but she was kinda condescending so i didnt like or trust her. i walked around for a bit and figured out really quick that i could still interact with the real world, could touch things, lift object, and speak but was just invisible, couldnt pass through objects easily but could maybe float? i didnt feel as physical

i didnt sound odd and seems when i touched people it didnt feel that weird, so i messed with that a bit and then i went home and explained everything to my family and the extended family who was visiting at the time that i was dead, and they called my job and it just kinda sucked cause, im dead now and i can still talk to people but, why can i do that

so then i went and did a bunch of impulsive shit

ran the fuck away from a guy who found the fact that i was dead hot (he lived in the weird house i cracked open) and also some like, supernatural police or something. went to a hotel and explored the rooms and the entire time i felt the need to tell everyone i was dead that i was a ghost cause well, their reactions are pretty entertaining and i was invisible so that was the only explanation i had, then the hotel tried to kick me out and i left. i had a backpack with some important belongings and i was trying to stay on the move (they couldnt see my backpack but if i took something out and interacted with it i think they could, didnt have time to test)

i knew i shouldnt be explaining things (drawing attention to myself) but no one knew! why did no one know if i was still here were are all the other ghosts! (also had to explain cause i hated being dead and needed to vent alot, eventually switched to saying i was just an invisible person, “yeah crazy i know right, sorry yeah thats how people usually react but please dont mind me”) so then i went to a library nearby and i startled a kid walking around mumbling latin under his breath spinning something in one hand and shaking a hand full of change in the other, then he startled more furiously chanting latin after i tapped his shoulder and i was quick to calm him down cause I DUNNO WHAT THE FUCK HES SAYING and im just like hey hey sorry i dont speak latin are you okay? got him to calm down and i was in a hurry at that point cause i had a really bad feeling and i apologized for startling him and said if he was doing that for an assignment or something that i could try to help him (cause he believed me when i said i was a ghost, seemed to be a lot more aware of that oddly enough) and then back on the run trying to figure out where im gonna sleep and where im gonna charge my laptop since i could get into hotel rooms but they’d be able to see my stuff once i took it off and i didnt want to risk losing belongings, also the worry of my laptop giving out on me

went home to test if my intent affected whether clothes i put on were visible cause if so, might help me shake the supernatural police or whatever that had launched an investigation on me once i’d ran away or something

i guess they didnt expect that

#death mention #dream journal #was planning on bundling up like leo in that uh.... well the timeline where he blows up an entire planets sorta #i coudnt remember his name in my dream but i kinda saw him in my head

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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What Color Ties Do Republicans Wear

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-color-ties-do-republicans-wear/

What Color Ties Do Republicans Wear

The History Of Party Colors In The United States

Tie-Dye 101: Tips & Tricks

Prior to the United States presidential election of 2000, which party was Red and which was Blue was largely a matter of which color a news outlet chose. On the October 30, 2000, episode of the Today show, Tim Russert coined the terms red state and blue state.

As far back as the 1888 election blue was used to represent the northern Union states and red the south, but this wasnt consistent throughout time . In the 70s and 80s the major networks starting using lighted maps to illustrate election results. Democrats were often coded blue and Republicans red, but it wasnt consistent. This inconsistent coloring continued throughout the Clinton years and up to the Gore Vs. Bush. This can all be varied by old videos and articles.

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Red White And Blue: How Color Defines Politics

In early October, Pew Research Center noted a 1.2-point increase in voters for Republicans and a 4.6-point increase for Democrats.

Turnouts for early voting amongst young voters, ages 18-29, have been proving astronomical versus 2014, particularly in red states.

According to The Hill, as of November 2, 2018, early voting polls showed:

Arizona: +217%

Tennessee: +767%

Texas: +448%

But why do we Americans associate political leanings with a specific color? Why do we know what it means to discuss voting in a red state or blue state? And what impact does the psychology of color have on individuals and communities?

Recommended Reading: Can Republicans Vote On Super Tuesday

A Final Word On Colors

Many political parties around the world often choose their colors because of their connections to political stances, groups, or ideologies.

For example, red has historically been a color often linked to socialism and communism after a red flag was used by the revolutionaries during the Paris Commune. Revolutionaries may have picked red flags during this time as a possible reference to the 13th century red naval flags of defiance that meant a ship would kill any enemy it saw and so was flying a bloody flag.

As another example, many environmentalist parties around the world will often use the color green to symbolize nature. Finally, fascist parties have often used the color black such as Adolf Hitlers Nazi party and Benito Mussolinis Italian Fascist party because the black color represents what they intend to bring to their enemies: fear, intimidation, and death.

Lets finish with a quick trip around the globe to see the colors associated with some prominent political parties. In the United Kingdom, the colors are flipped compared to the United States: the right-leaning Conservative Party uses blue and the left-leaning Labour Party uses red, as do the Canadian parties of the same names. Australias oldest party, the Australian Labor Party, uses red while the Christian Democratic Union of Germany has used orange and black, and Emmanuel Macron of Frances En Marche! uses yellow.

Why Is Hillary Clinton In Red And Why Is Donald Trump Wearing A Blue Tie

Id expect the republican candidate to wear red and the democrat to wear blue, but its quite the opposite. Why is this?

The color red is thought to convey strength and aggression, which is why a lot of men use that color for power ties. The Clinton camp probably wanted to her appear commanding and authoritative, particularly when debating a loud and aggressive opponent.

Blue is viewed as more calm and soothing. Trumps camp may have wanted him to appear calm and restrained.

The whole red/Republican, blue/Democrat thing is a pretty recent association anyway, starting in the 2000 election. Its not as if those are the official colors of those parties.

It was around before that but iirc they switched colors every election.

i did not realize red/blue as party association was only that recent

Clinton was expecting Trump to wear his red tie its a power color. So she preemptively wore a red suit. He was expecting her to expect that, so he wore blue as a counter-power move.

You know, I think you might have said that as joke but with consultants and strategists and yadiyadiyada, I might just be what happened.

If he wore a red suit he would have appeared dangerously unstable, for what he wore, not what he said.

These are no official colours of either major party. Neither has official colours of any kind. Both have used red, white, and blue for their entire histories.

Also Check: What Caused Republicans To Gain Power In Congress In 1938

The Color Psychology Behind Inauguration Fashion

Inauguration day isnt just about politics, its also all about fashion.

All eyes were on Donald Trump Friday as he took oath as the 45th president of the United States, but it was hard to miss the stylish outfits surrounding his inauguration.

Dressing for a major political event is an event in itself. Outfits worn by powerful leaders and their families are carefully selected and crafted by high-profile designers and stylists. Fashion experts often dig deeper into the meanings behind the colors picked for outfits that will be seen by millions around the globe.

Public image is important for all politicians, especially for the first lady, said Dr. Dong Shen, professor of Fashion Merchandising and Design at California State University, Sacramento. Colors and brands are very important.

The first lady is often an American icon but traditionally, their main role is to support their husbands presidency. Their outfits tend to balance or compliment their husbands attire, avoiding to overpower.

Shen explained, for this reason, first ladies are usually seen in softer colors or floral patterns.

Blue is often associated with the sky and the ocean, Shen said of Mrs. Trumps inauguration outfit. It often symbolizes loyalty and trust.

Why The Red Tie

So why do so many politicians wear red power ties?

Unless we ask them its impossible to know for sure. Some journalists have speculated that red is a popular color because it features in the American flag and so advertises its wearers patriotism. If this is true, though, we should see as many blue ties as red.

Perhaps the clue is in the name: power. Could it be that politicians suspect that a red tie makes them appear more powerful, dominant, and authoritative?

Read Also: Are There More Democrats Or Republicans In The Senate

Gop Candidates Stick To Red Ties At Debate

GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney stood out at last night’s GOP debate, mainly for his $10,000 gaffe.

But we couldn’t help but notice the former Massachusetts governor’s other major distinction: a blue tie.

While its exact point of origin is murky , the color-coding of American politics has become common knowledge: red for Republicans, blue for Democrats. The primary-hued shorthand has extended from election night dry-erase boards to candidates’ closets, as male candidates have been known to indicate their party alignment by tie color.

And though it’s not an exact science , the red-blue divide was on full display at last night’s GOP debate — with one exception. Rick Santorum, Newt Gingrich, Rick Perry and Ron Paul all wore red ties, while Mitt Romney wore light blue.

Michele Bachmann, for the record, wore a royal blue blouse.

Romeny’s blue wasn’t too surprising, as it’s been his go-to hue throughout the debates. Men’s fashion expert Hendrik Pohl, the CEO of ties-necktie.com, told ABC, “Blue is the color that people most commonly name as their favorite color and it has very calming effect on people” — and sure enough, eight out of the ten major debates have seen Romney in the safe color.

What gives? Afraid of standing out, Newt? Is wearing anything other than red an affront to Texas, Rick? Trying to prove your Republican affiliation, Ron?

See pics of the candidates’ ties below… what style of ties would you like to see at the next debate?

How Did Red And Blue Come To Represent The Two Major Us Political Parties

What To Wear To A Formal Event | 3 Suit Options

It all started with television. In the early 1970s, networks like ABC, NBC, and CBS were seeking a way to demarcate which states in the electoral college had been won by each candidate. More American households had color TV sets than ever before, giving news programs covering the election an opportunity to show splashy graphics when a state was called in favor of a given candidate.

The first network to color-code states during an election results broadcast was CBS in 1972. However, at that time, blue represented the states won by the Republican incumbent Richard Nixon, and red stood in for those taken by challenger US Senator George McGovern of South Dakota.

Theres a good reason why those colors were chosen for each party at the time: global precedent. In Great Britain, red had long been used to represent the more liberal party, which in this American use case were the Democrats. Blue stood in for Republicans by default, in part because the colors in contrast were striking on screen.

But by the late-1980s and early 1990s, those color assignments reversed. Blue became more consistently used for Democrats and red for Republicans.

Nevertheless, it still wasnt until 2000the race between Democrat and Vice President Al Gore and Republican Texas Governor George W. Bushthat those colors became synonymous with the name of each party.

Recommended Reading: How Many Republicans In The New Senate

Which States Are Considered Red And Which Are Blue

To go along with the colors, the terms red state and blue state were popularized by anchorman Tim Russert during and immediately after the 2000 election. Today, these terms are used to refer to which party a state voted for during a presidential election.

Generally speaking, the Northeast and the West Coast are considered a collection of blue states as most of them have sided with the Democrats since the early 1990s.

The Southern states have sided with Republicans since the 2000s, while the Midwest tends to be tougher to predict. For example, Illinois and Minnesota are currently considered blue states, while Missouri and Nebraska are red. Hawaii and Alaska have been traditionally considered blue and red respectively as neither has switched parties since the late 1980s .

The Southwest has been split since 2000 with Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado going blue more often than red and Utah and Arizona voting predictably red. Finally, we come to the coveted purple states or swing states, such as Florida, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Iowa, Wisconsin, and Michigan. These states switched colors in recent elections and are often a key focus of electoral campaigning and strategy. Swing states can vary by election year.

Shopping On A Hill Staffers Salary Means Deal

Kate: A lot of people dont realize how little Hill staffers make, so they probably dont realize what a struggle it is to find clothes that youre able to wear to work and that are still acceptable. Im just trying to make rent! I make $65,000, but I know some staff assistants that make $25,000.

I shop at , T.J. Maxx, and Nordstrom Rack I go to the Nordstrom in the mall, and then I go to the Rack and find the same stuff. I would never pay full price for something. On birthdays and Christmas, I try to get as many clothes as I can.

Heather: I typically shop at Marshalls and Nordstrom Rack. I still shop at H&M, but some of their stuff is more expensive and wears out quickly. Ill only shop at J.Crew Factory and Banana Republic Factory if its something that I love and fits me really well. Otherwise, I wont splurge on it. Anthropologie is where I wish I could shop if I had that kind of money, but I dont.

I wont spend more than $80 on one particular item of clothing, unless its a coat. For dresses, I wont go over $70 unless I love it. Tops I like to be $20 to $30. Pants and shirts, $40.

In a place like this, with a lot of powerful people, you want to sprinkle in items that do cost a lot of money. Ill wear a Burberry scarf with an overcoat; I carry a Tumi bag. If they see items on you that they can recognize and that they know the value of, they then assume that is expensive, when little do they know you got your suit for under $300 and your shoes were on sale for $50.

Also Check: Who Is The Speaker Of The House For Republicans

From Pleather To Puffy Coats Swapcom Uncovers The Hottest Fashions Trending Across The Country For Red And Blue Voters

October 26, 2016 05:00 ET | Source:Swap.comSwap.com

CHICAGO, IL– – With less than two weeks to Election Day, the candidate’s personal style and wardrobe has been an ongoing talking point for politicos and news anchors. From patriotically-themed pantsuits and ties to poor tailoring to disheveled hair, it is clear fashion plays a powerful role in politics. For a less serious spin on politics and fashion, Swap.com — the largest online consignment store-dove deep into millions of previous purchases to uncover how style preferences of Democrats and Republicans sized up. Based on a breakdown of how red and blue counties voted in the 2012 election, Swap.com has revealed the most popular picks among liberals and conservatives.

That’s A Lot of Look

When it comes to clothes, both Republicans and Democrats are buttoning and bundling up in interesting ways. Republicans prefer dresses to skirts and, when it is warm, buy more Capri pants and Bermuda and cargo shorts. Meanwhile, Democrats are pairing jeggings with a blazer and their favorite sports jersey topped off by a puffy coat.

Democrats are

69% more likely to wear jeggings

39% more likely to wear jerseys

31% more likely to wear sweaters

30% more likely to wear blazers

22% more likely to wear puffy coats

21% more likely to wear button-up shirts

14% more likely to wear skirts

Republicans are

Methodology:

Color And Clothing Choices

When we see certain colors, they produce chemical reactions in our brains that can make us feel certain emotions. For example you are more likely to order more food in a restaurant that is decorated with a lot of red because that color makes us hungry. Sports teams often paint the opposing teams locker room pink because that color makes people tired. Guests on late night TV hang out in the Green Room before coming on stage because that color is the most calming and relaxing. So what could certain candidates be trying to sell you via their color and clothing choices?

Read Also: What Cities Are Run By Republicans

The Psychology Of Tie Colors In The Race For President

Have you ever asked yourself the question why we only see red and blue ties on presidential candidates as of recently? Some might argue that candidates will choose those ties that best reflects their partys identify, meaning red ties for Republican Romney, and blue ties for Democrat President Obama, but this is only partially true.

Take Tuesdays Presidential debate for instance. Romney wore a bright blue and white striped tie while Obama opted for a burgundy-red piece, a change that I was very happy to see. Pre-debate I was actually hoping that Obama would be wearing a red tie a color that is synonymous with power, confidence, and excitement all things Obama lacked in the first debate.

Obama is Taking Charge, Wearing a Burgundy-Red Tie

I am now making the argument that Obamas red tie helped him step up his game during the last debate. Not only did the tie grabbed the audiences attention, but I strongly belief that it gave President Obama a boost of confidence after taking a look in the mirror.

The psychology & emotional effects of colors is definitely nothing new. In fact, psychologists have been researching the meaning of colors for decades, if not centuries, and evidence does indeed prove that certain colors do evoke certain emotional responses in people. This is nothing new to presidential candidates who pay attention to what colors to pick out for a public appearance.