#and when it's about singular people it's usually more negative

[raayllum]

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[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim (part one)

→ posits that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent. MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: co-workers to lovers

wc: part 1 – 20k

warnings: slowburn, topics of abandonment issues, jake has his first kiss, makeouts, some touching (that's as far as it goes), cheesy ass astronomy rizz :'D

a/n: dividing this into 2-3 parts bc tumblr fuck you and your 1000 blocks limit

one. 

you are not supposed to be here.

you have zero qualifications in astrophysics, no background in quantum mechanics, and absolutely no business being inside one of the country’s top space research facilities.

but you’re just a desperate graduate looking for a job.

when you applied for an assistant role at a science institute – thinking it would involve scheduling meetings, filing paperwork, maybe even making coffee – you did not expect to end up working under a literal genius.

seriously, you thought you’d be running small errands. and here’s the thing. you’re good at what you do, you’re good at the whole administerial part of the job. you’re needed to print copies of the meeting notes? done. you need to coordinate with the finance department because sunghoon somehow submitted last year’s budget instead of the current one? you already emailed them. jay forgot about an important board meeting? no, he didn’t. because you added three reminders to his calendar and physically dragged him out of the lab when he tried to pretend he had “urgent research” to finish.

you keep this place functioning, to whatever extent you can. you are efficient. you are essential. you are the one making sure the right documents reach the right people in the chaos that is everyday and the coffee machine’s up and functioning.

but the moment anyone in the lab starts talking about science stuff? you might as well be a hamster in a quantum mechanics lecture.

seriously. it’s like your brain just taps out.

you’ve been working here for months, and you still don’t know what these people actually do. you know it involves space and big words and a lot of coffee-fueled all-nighters. but the second someone starts explaining their research, it’s like you’re staring into the abyss.

you’re basically surrounded by insufferable nerds who talk about wormholes and black hole singularities like they’re discussing the weather. it’s like walking into a foreign country where the language is pure equations.

the worst part?

not all of them are entirely insufferable. some are just too passionate for their own good, their conversations looping endlessly in circles you can’t follow. if anything, you’re the fish out of water here.

take jay, for example. he’s not that bad. in fact, he’s one of those hot nerds who knows he’s hot – but doesn’t flaunt it. sure, he runs a hand through his hair a little too often when you’re around, throws you that lopsided smile when you hand out research papers you don’t understand, and occasionally offers you free coffee when you pass by his workstation.

but he’s also the guy with an endless arsenal of space puns and the world’s worst pick-up lines.

so yeah, not entirely insufferable.

sunghoon is more moody, more reserved, always hyper-focused on his work. he doesn’t bother with small talk, barely acknowledges your presence unless necessary, and when he does, it’s usually with a furrowed brow and a clipped “can you move?” when you accidentally block the whiteboard. he’s a bit of a jerk in your opinion, but jay seems to swear by him, assuring you that his friends have been literal losers since university, never even having dated anyone at all and that he just needs time to warm up to someone. you believe him because it's believable.

but leading this entire team of genius lunatics?

dr. jake sim.

jake sim is brilliant. annoyingly brilliant. the youngest astrophysicist to be leading major research on gravitational waves and exoplanets. the golden boy of the lab. the guy who talks about space-time distortions the way normal people talk about the weather.

jake sim is also hot – surprise (not really). he completes the trio of jay and sunghoon – the hot trio of the lab. everyone knows it. every assistant and secretary in the building has fun batting their eyes and twirling their hair at them. but while jay flirts back and sunghoon ignores it, jake… doesn’t even notice.

jake has a quiet, brooding edge to him. he always wears his glasses – except when he slides them off to rub a tired hand over his stupidly handsome face, his black hair somehow fluffy yet perfectly in place. you’ve often found yourself staring, wondering what kind of haircare routine produces that level of effortless perfection. (“papaya extract shampoo,” jay tells you later.)

even when he’s frowning, he looks like a lost puppy. he’s not intimidating per se, he’s just … not a very socially apt person you’ve met. and that’s saying something because the first month you joined, sunghoon avoided you like the plague. you thought you had done something to offend him but turns out, as jay informed you later, sunghoon’s just very awkward around new people.

jake sim is a genius. a literal, world-altering, lab-coated prodigy whose brain works at speeds the average person can’t even comprehend.

he is also, unfortunately, a menace to basic workplace efficiency. you’ve learned this the hard way.

because for all his brilliance, jake has zero awareness of his surroundings. he’ll abandon pens in entirely different departments, walk off mid-sentence because he’s already three equations ahead in his mind, and somehow exist in a state of constant near-calamity – like a human science experiment teetering on the edge of disaster.

which is where you come in.

you, the assistant who keeps his world running. the one who reminds him to eat. the one who nudges a coffee into his hands before he even realizes he needs it. the one who subtly rearranges his misplaced files, retrieves his lost stationery, and – on more than one occasion – has saved his life by yanking him out of the way of an incoming cart of hazardous materials.

you do all of this seamlessly. efficiently. and completely unnoticed.

because jake sim doesn’t know your name. not really.

you’re just the person who hands him reports and dodges his absentminded shoulder bumps in the hallway. the one he thanks without looking up, too engrossed in his work to register you as anything more than background noise.

which brings you to now.

standing outside his office, gripping a file filled with research you don’t understand, mentally preparing yourself to not make a fool of yourself this time.

you take a breath. knock. no answer.

you knock again. still nothing.

maybe he’s not here? maybe you can just leave the file on his desk and escape unnoticed—

the door suddenly swings open. and you immediately take a step back, startled.

jake blinks down at you, clearly pulled out of deep thought, his glasses slightly askew, lab coat unbuttoned.

he doesn’t say anything. just stares.

and for the first time, you’re really seeing him up close.

his sharp features. the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw from too many sleepless nights. the way his hair falls slightly over his forehead.

yeah, this man has no business being this attractive.

you open your mouth, but words fail you.

jake glances at the file in your hands. then back at you.

“are you lost?”

what.

“no,” you say, straightening. “i—i work here.”

jake frowns, clearly trying to recall if he’s ever seen you before. he has not.

“…right.” his gaze flicks down to your name tag. “y/n.”

holy shit, it’s at this moment that you realise, this man has no idea who you are. he doesn’t know who his assistant is.

regardless, you nod, offering the file like it’s a peace offering. “dr. lee said to give this to you.”

jake takes the file from you, barely glancing at it before flipping through the pages. silence. you shift awkwardly, waiting for him to acknowledge your existence beyond just your name tag.

“this is wrong.”

…excuse me?

you blink. “what?”

jake flips the file around, showing you a page filled with numbers and diagrams that might as well be ancient hieroglyphics to you. “these calculations. they don’t match the expected parameters.”

your brain short-circuits. “uh… okay.”

jake sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “did dr. lee give this to you?”

“yes.”

“did you change anything?”

you gape at him. “do i look like i know how to change a single digit in that mess?”

jake finally looks at you properly, as if realizing you are, in fact, the last person who would alter high-level astrophysics data. then, to your absolute horror, he scoffs. somehow, that’s more insulting to you, the fact that he’s just now realising that you’re an assistant and not a fellow colleague or intern or junior. really, it was just a sign of realisation, but why did it piss you off?

“fair point.”

he steps back, gesturing for you to come in. “i need to cross-check this. you might as well wait.”

before you can protest, he’s already walked back to his desk, completely expecting you to follow.

here’s another thing about you. you’re efficient, yes. you keep the schedules running like a well-oiled machine. you manage people, deadlines, and occasional office chaos with ease. you have your occasional run-ins with the high tech coffee machine, but you compensate with the packets of instant mixes. you clock in and out of work on time, you don’t butt your nose where you’re not required. you sit quietly in those boring meetings, stifling your yawns but its not like many people notice you anyway. you are definitely efficient at what you do.

but you’re also... clumsy.

not in a way that actively disrupts work (you swear). just in a way that has you constantly bumping into desks, tripping over air, and somehow finding new, creative ways to spill coffee on yourself. you blame it on your flat feet – probably. but the truth is, you’ve simply made peace with your gravitational challenges.

it’s something that has plagued you since an early age where you’d be slipping off swing sets or bumping into tables or accidentally rubbing the eraser too hard across your notebook page, causing it to rip right through the middle. but it's alright, it’s not a life threatening… disorder, you’d suppose.

and for the most part, no one notices.

except that one time jay did when you tripped over a computer wire. he snickered so loud, half the office turned to stare at him. you ran away in a blushing mess before he could turn it into a full roast session.

you're standing in jake sim’s office with the hesitation of someone who just walked into an active minefield. but it’s always this way when you need to go into his office.

his office is… exactly the way you had seen it in your initial days of work.

not in the normal executive kind of way – no sleek, intimidating decor, no minimalist furniture that screams i’m too rich to function. no, jake’s office is chaos disguised as a workspace.

the walls are lined with whiteboards covered in scribbled equations – formulas, diagrams, and the kind of notes that make your brain hurt just looking at them. books are stacked in precarious towers, some open, some closed, all of them filled with words and symbols that might as well be hieroglyphics. a crumpled hoodie is draped over the back of his chair, and an abandoned coffee cup sits dangerously close to the edge of his desk, a faint ring staining the surface underneath.

there’s a rhythm to the disorder, though – like his mind works too fast for his space to keep up. you’ve known jake to be someone who knows exactly what he is doing and you have no doubt this is all just an organised mess to him. he’d probably be able to tell you in alphabetical order where all his things were. you knew the moment you saw him maneuvering himself through this trash pile of a room with the ease of a cat, that he knew exactly where everything was.

but you did your part as a good assistant and helped clean up his desk once in a while. nothing much, just stacking the reports in different piles, labelled ‘to be read’ or ‘needs review’ with coloured sticky notes for his sake, making sure his pen stand has a decent amount of working pens and sharpened pencils, bookmarking pages of books he left open on his table and stacking them in another corner of the desk, making sure the dust is cleaned off and no stains of coffee cups remain on his workspace.

it smells faintly of coffee, whiteboard markers, and something else – something subtly clean, like fresh laundry, though you doubt he even has time for things like that.

and in the middle of it all is jake sim himself, hunched over his desk, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he scans a file with sharp, calculating eyes. he absently pushes his glasses back up, muttering something under his breath.

you catch the words “data inconsistencies.”

you have no idea what’s wrong with the numbers on the page, but based on his frown, they seem to have personally offended him.

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to focus on the dim office lighting casting soft shadows over his face.

which, objectively speaking, is unfairly attractive.

in that disheveled genius way – like he hasn’t slept in days but could still win a magazine cover shoot by accident.

not that you care. obviously. you’re just here to do your job. your very normal, very non-physics-related job.

and then, in true you fashion – disaster strikes.

it happens fast. one second, you’re standing still, being the picture of professionalism. the next, your foot catches on something – probably your own dignity – and suddenly, the ground is rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed.

you don’t even have time to process your impending doom before a firm hand catches your wrist, steadying you just before you faceplant into the floor.

for a brief, shocking moment, you’re pressed against jake sim’s side, gripping his arm as if your life depends on it.

because it does.

you look up – eyes wide, breath caught – and find him staring down at you, completely unfazed, those damn glasses of his slightly crooked over his nose bridge. his grip is steady, warm, but impersonal – like he just reacted on instinct before immediately moving on.

and then — "dark matter interactions shouldn’t be this inconsistent," he mutters, releasing you as if the whole thing was a minor inconvenience.

you just nearly wiped out in his office, and he’s already back to contemplating the mysteries of the universe?!

you gape at him as he casually flips a page, frowning at the numbers again, like he hadn’t just saved you from a mild concussion.

"uh—thanks?" you manage, still trying to steady your heartbeat.

jake hums in response, not even looking up. "watch your step next time."

unbelievable. it’s official.

this man has zero self-awareness.

two.

jake swears on his life he had kept the papers on the ‘dark energy survey’ report on his desk last night before he left.

yet, as he stands in his office now, staring at the very-much-empty surface where they should be, his jaw tightens.

he exhales through his nose. okay. no need to panic. maybe they got buried under the mess.

he starts shifting through the stacks of books and scattered notes, moving one pile to another area of controlled chaos. but the more he looks, the more it becomes evident – those papers are gone.  

and he needs them. now.

biting his cheeks, he squats on the floor, peering under his desk but nothing. not the report he was looking for. maybe he kept it somewhere else, somewhere away from the mess on his desk just to be sure that they were in a more accessible place. but where? there’s not a single nook and cranny in his room that could possibly meet that standard, it’s all just piles of papers and charts and books.

his desk drawer?

a quick survey of that yields nothing but two dried up pens, some loose sheets he had scribbled rough calculations on and an empty paper cup.

fuck, where the hell did he put that report?

with a frustrated sigh, he runs a hand through his already-messy hair, striding across to the middle of his room and casting a wary glance all around. a muscle in his jaw twitches as he stares at the scattered disaster zone that is his office.

he has checked everywhere – under the desk, between stacks of papers, in his desk drawer (twice), even inside an old laptop case for some godforsaken reason.

nothing.

this doesn’t make sense. he left it right here – unless he didn’t.

he presses his palms against the desk, eyes squeezing shut for a second. he’s tired. maybe he just—

"are you okay, or are you plotting an intergalactic war?"

jake's head snaps up.

you stand at the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows quirked in amusement. you’re holding a different set of documents, clearly in the middle of your usual rounds, but now you’re just watching him suffer.

"i’m fine," he says flatly.

"uh-huh. that’s why you look like you want to launch yourself into a black hole."

jake pinches the bridge of his nose. "i lost something." he’s seen you before, weren’t you the person from yesterday? the one who tripped over air?

you hum, stepping inside. "what?"

“the dark energy survey report.”

at that, you pause. a flicker of something crosses your face, like you’re remembering something.

jake notices. “what?”

“nothing,” you say automatically. then, a second later, “wait. you’re sure you left it on your desk?”

“yes.”

“you’re sure sure?”

jake glares. “i don’t say things i’m not sure about.”

you give him a look, like you find that highly debatable, but instead of arguing, you shift the documents in your hands and tilt your head in thought.

"because," you start, "i came in yesterday to drop off a memo from dr. lee, and i remember seeing your desk. it was already a disaster zone, but i don’t think that report was there."

jake frowns. "that’s impossible. i was working on it last night—"

and then it clicks.

his expression shifts, frustration turning into something more like realization.

“oh,” he says.

“oh?” you echo.

jake straightens, rubbing his jaw. he had been talking to jay and sunghoon about data discrepancies in the report yesterday. they had moved to the adjacent lab to compare notes on a new simulation model—

shit.

"i think i left it in lab c," jake sighs, already making a beeline for the door. "i took it with me while discussing—"

"—dark matter inconsistencies, right?" you finish dryly, following him out.

jake doesn’t acknowledge that. but you’re right.

as jake strides toward lab c with you trailing behind him, you take a moment to process the absurdity of this situation.

you are an administrative assistant. your job is to schedule meetings, file reports, and occasionally wrestle the coffee machine into submission.

yet, here you are, following the lab's star astrophysicist on a quest for lost paperwork like you’re in some sort of intergalactic treasure hunt.

lab c is as chaotic as you expect it to be. desks cluttered with scattered notes, half-drunk coffee cups balancing precariously on top of stacks of journals, whiteboards filled with scribbles that look more like encrypted messages from an alien race than anything remotely comprehensible.

jake wastes no time. he scans the room, eyes sharp, movements precise. you, on the other hand, stand uselessly by the door, because let’s be honest – you wouldn’t even know what the report looks like if it smacked you in the face.

he mutters under his breath as he sifts through a pile of books, pushing aside a crumpled hoodie and a few loose sheets. “it should be here…”

“you know, for a genius, you’re pretty bad at keeping track of your own stuff.”

jake shoots you a look. “i have a system.”

you snort. “a system of losing things?”

he doesn’t dignify that with a response. instead, he bends down, checking under a table. you take this as an opportunity to glance around the lab, pretending like you’re helping even though you don’t know what you’re looking for.

then you spot it. a thick, spiral-bound stack of papers shoved to the very edge of a side desk, partially covered by a takeout container.

“uh… dr. sim?”

“what?” he asks, voice distracted as he pulls open a drawer.

you point. “is that it?”

jake follows your gaze, and for a second, he just stares.

then, with a slow exhale, he walks over, picks up the report, and flips through the pages.

“…yeah.” he sighs, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “this is it.”

you cross your arms, grinning. “you’re welcome.”

he glances at you, eyes narrowing slightly. “you didn’t actually do anything.”

“excuse me? i found it.”

jake shakes his head, turning his attention back to the report. “if you weren’t distracting me, i would’ve found it faster.”

your mouth falls open. “oh, i’m sorry – who was about to tear his entire office apart thinking it had magically disappeared?”

jake ignores you, already skimming through the contents like the numbers and graphs hold the secrets of the universe.

you roll your eyes. this man is impossible.

and it's a fact you make known very clearly when you’re in the break room, muttering under your breath about how a simple thanks would have sufficed, but no, jake sim is a dumbass with his head up his–

“woah, woah y/n, you know you don’t really mean that,” jay interrupts your rant with a smile that shows that he’s clearly enjoying this, “what did the man ever do to you?”

what did he do to you?

“well for one, he didn’t even know i existed until yesterday–”

“give him a break, he’d probably forget his own name with all the things that go around in that brain of his.”

“–and then he scoffed at me when he realised i’m just an assistant–”

“i don’t think he meant any offense.”

“and then today, he didn’t remember me of course and when i helped him find that damn report he didn’t even thank me!”

jay lets out a small laugh. “he was probably just too relieved that he found it. he’s been stressing over that for a while.”

you squint at him. “what are you, his boyfriend?”

your pout is completely involuntary, but jay, the traitor, just smirks knowingly.

he raises an eyebrow, clearly holding back laughter. “not yet. but hey, if he keeps ignoring you like this, i might have a chance.”

you groan, dramatically flopping onto one of the break room chairs. “i swear i’m going to lose my mind!”

jay snickers, settling into the chair across from you. “you’re being a little dramatic.”

“oh, am i?” you lean forward, eyes narrowing. “because i don’t think i am. i think this is a completely rational response to being treated like a piece of office furniture.”

jay bites back a smile. “so you’re saying jake treats you like… a chair?”

“no! worse! at least a chair gets sat on – it has a purpose!” you throw your hands up. “i’m like… i’m like an extra paperclip. you know? just there, completely overlooked, until one day he might need me for something and then immediately forgets i exist again.”

jay blinks. “that is… oddly specific.”

“because it’s true!” you shoot up from your seat, now fully committed to the metaphor.

jay opens his mouth, but you’re already spiraling.

“three months – that’s how long i’ve been working here as his assistant, but he didn’t even know my name!” you don’t why it bothers you, you didn’t expect everyone to know your name here, but that damn jake sim just… got on your nerves for some reason.

“last week, when he bumped into me in the hallway. i swear, jay, i could have been a ghost. no ‘excuse me,’ no ‘oh, my bad,’ nothing! i could’ve been a gust of wind for all he cared.” you throw up air quotes. “just a mild inconvenience in his trajectory.”

jay hums. “maybe he just didn’t see you—”

“i was wearing a bright red sweater, jay.”

jay coughs to hide a laugh. “okay, fair.”

“oh, and this morning? i held the elevator door open for him. you know what he did? he walked in, pulled out his phone, and scrolled on it the entire time like i was the automatic door button.” you gasp. “oh my god, i’m not even a paperclip. i’m a goddamn elevator button – just pressed when needed and ignored otherwise.”

at this, jay actually doubles over laughing, wiping at his eyes. “y/n, i’m begging you, please breathe.”

you exhale sharply, arms crossed, foot tapping against the floor. “i refuse.”

jay grins. “so you’re telling me you’re this upset because he, what, didn’t grovel at your feet for holding a door open?”

you scoff. “i’m not asking for groveling! i’m asking for basic human decency! a thank you! a nod! a brief moment of eye contact! something to prove that i’m not just an inanimate object in his world! to at least memorize his own goddamn assistant’s name!”

jay leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “so basically… you want him to notice you.”

you freeze.

jay’s smirk deepens. “ohhh.”

“no.” you point a warning finger at him. “don’t even go there.”

“but we’re already here.” he has a shit eating grin on his face which you want to slap off, “why is this bothering you so much? i swear i can’t remember you being this antsy when sunghoon avoided you in your first month.”

you scoff at that, a dry laugh following.

why? because you’re his goddamn assistant, not sunghoon’s.

“okay, what about last month? he walked into the office looking like a lost child because he forgot his laptop charger. guess who lent him one?”

jay winces. “you?”

“yes! and do you know what he said to me? ‘oh, you have one? cool, thanks, man.’ ” you pause, scowling. “man, jay. man.”

jay laughs. “okay, that’s a little rough.”

“i’m not done.” you hold up a finger, eyes ablaze. “lunch break. he was on the phone, right? kept checking his watch like he was late for something, totally zoned out. he dropped his damn wallet right in front of my salad.”

jay whistles. “and let me guess…?”

“i picked it up, ran down four flights of stairs because the elevator was taking too long, found him outside, and handed it to him before he even realized it was gone.” you cross your arms. “do you think he looked at me? do you think he was even the slightest bit aware that he nearly walked into financial ruin?”

jay grins. “what did he say?”

you deepen your voice in the best jake impression you can manage. “‘oh, sick, thanks, dude.’ ” you slap your hands on the table. “dude.”

jay is fully laughing now, shaking his head. “wow. okay. that is… a lot.”

“right?” you throw yourself back into the chair, hands dramatically covering your face. “i’m literally the human equivalent of an undo button. always there, fixing things, never noticed. just a—”

“a paperclip?”

“exactly!”

jay smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. “you could just stop helping him, you know.”

you scoff. “and let him walk around with a dead laptop, no lunch money, and a general lack of survival skills? please. he’d die within the week.”

jay snickers. “so you want to help him?”

“no, i just…” you hesitate, glaring at the table. “it’s not fair that he gets to be so careless and people like me have to pick up after him.”

jay tilts his head. “people like you?”

“people who actually pay attention,” you mutter, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “it’s so easy for him, you know? he gets to waltz through life, forgetting names, misplacing things, just… assuming everything will work out for him. and the worst part? he’s right. because someone like me is always there to make sure it does.”

jay watches you quietly for a second. “y/n…”

you shake your head, standing up and grabbing your coffee. “whatever. it’s fine. it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.” you glance at jay. “and no, before you say it, it’s not because i want him to notice me. it’s just…” you sigh. “it’d be nice to feel like i exist.”

jay gives you a knowing look but doesn’t push further. “well. if it makes you feel better, i notice you.”

you snort. “wow. how reassuring.”

but even as you joke, there’s a tiny, sinking feeling in your chest.

because deep down, you know – jake sim will never notice you the way you want him to.

okay, now that shouldn't be a problem. because the way you put it, anyone would conclude you have a thing for him, but that’s not it. because you don’t mention to jay how when you were just a week into the new job, you had spilled coffee all over yourself, and jake sim had been the one to hand you the spare hoodie in his arm.

it had smelled like laundry detergent and something vaguely citrusy. clean. warm.

you don’t tell jay how, back then, you had hesitated before taking it, surprised that the lab’s most brilliant astrophysicist had even noticed your minor catastrophe.

“here,” he had said, casual, like it was nothing. like it was just a reflex.

and maybe it had been.

because when you had stammered out a “thank you,” jake had already turned away, scrolling through his phone.

like you weren’t even there.

like handing a coffee-stained assistant his hoodie was just another thing on his long list of unconscious habits – like losing reports, misplacing wallets, or forgetting names.

just another thing he would never think about again.

and you? you had worn that hoodie for the rest of the day. then, after work, you had folded it neatly, walked up to him in the break room, and said, “hey, thanks again for this.”

and he had blinked at you. blinked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

“oh,” he had said after a beat, glancing at the hoodie in your hands. “right. cool.”

that was the first time you had felt it – the quiet, sinking realization that in jake sim’s world, you were just… background noise.

that was three months ago.

now, you’re still here, still stuck in the same loop, orbiting his chaotic existence like some unnoticed planetary body, pulled in by the sheer force of his gravitational field but never quite seen.

and it’s exhausting.

you sigh, dragging a hand down your face. jay is still watching you, amused but not unkind. “are you done spiraling?”

you groan. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

you glare. “no, but i might start.”

jay snickers, pushing his coffee toward you like some sort of peace offering. “here. take a sip before you actually implode.”

you roll your eyes but take it anyway, muttering under your breath.

jay grins. “so, what’s the plan?”

you blink. “plan?”

“yeah.” he leans back, crossing his arms. “clearly, you’re at your limit. are you going to keep playing office paperclip, or are you finally going to make jake sim realize you exist?”

you scoff, your eyes narrowing. “and why would i need to do that?”

jay hums, tilting his head like he’s studying you under a microscope. “y’know… i think this might be deeper than just wanting to be ‘noticed.’”

you narrow your eyes. “the hell does that mean?”

he taps his chin. “i mean, it’s kinda funny, isn’t it? how personally you take this?”

you scoff. “i do not take it personally.”

jay gives you a look. “right. which is why you’re two seconds away from stabbing a straw through that coffee cup.”

you immediately release your grip, only to cross your arms instead. “i just think it’s rude, that’s all. i do so much for him, and he doesn’t even know my name? it’s basic decency.”

jay nods, way too agreeable. “mhm. basic decency. has nothing to do with, say… i don’t know… a deep-seated need for validation?”

your jaw drops. “excuse me?”

“or,” he continues, as if he didn’t just hit you with psychological warfare over morning coffee, “maybe even something more?”

you blink. “more?”

jay grins like he’s just won the lottery. “yeah. like romantic feelings.”

you almost choke. “i—what—no—”

jay shrugs. “i mean, it would explain a lot.”

“oh, shut up.”

“i’m serious! if this were just about office politics, you’d be annoyed for, like, a day. maybe a week. but this?” he gestures vaguely at your entire existence. “this is an obsession.”

you point a finger at him. “i hate you.”

he smirks. “no, you don’t.”

you take a deep breath, trying not to lose your mind. “for the last time, jay, i do not like jake sim.”

jay leans forward, smirking. “then prove it.”

you blink. “what?”

“prove it,” he repeats. “if this really isn’t about your feelings, then let’s run an experiment. let’s make jake see you.”

of course the scientist proposes an experiment; you roll your eyes. “that doesn’t prove anything.”

“it proves everything,” he counters. “because if you really don’t care, then it shouldn’t matter how he reacts.” he tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “right?”

you hesitate.

jay takes that as his victory. “great! i’ll draft a game plan.”

“wait—”

too late. jay is already pulling out his phone, typing something with way too much enthusiasm.

you exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. this is a terrible idea.

but the thing is… you do want jake to see you. even if it’s just to prove – to yourself – that you don’t care.

right?

three.

you know, you don’t think you entirely mind that jake doesn’t know your name yet. you don’t think you would have cared so much. but then, once in a while, you’d catch him having lunch with jay and sunghoon and actually laughing – an act that makes him look younger than he is – a charming smile settling on his lips or chatting with a fellow colleague who he calls by their last name and it makes you realise that you’re probably not as important to him as these people are.

like, come on, he brushes shoulders with the top scientists of your country while you’re here, sitting behind a reception desk, manning phone calls and printing reports. of course he doesn’t care about you or your existence as a whole. but then it’s small things he does like thanking you absentmindedly when you hand him a report, not even sparing you a glance as he flips through the pages.

or humming under his breath when he passes by your desk, like he’s so comfortable in the space that he doesn’t even realize you’re there, like you’re just part of the background noise.

it’s never outright cruel. never intentional.

it’s just that jake sim, in all his effortless brilliance, has never had to make space for people like you.

and why would he? you’re not on his level. you never have been. you bet if you disappeared tomorrow, he wouldn’t even notice.

the world would keep spinning, jake sim would keep working, and someone else would take over the dull, insignificant tasks you do every day. your existence in his orbit is incidental – a means to an end, a faceless cog in the well-oiled machine of his career.

and yet, you notice him. even when you don’t mean to. even when you don’t want to.

you notice the way his sleeves are always rolled up to his elbows, his watch gleaming against his skin. the way his brows pinch together when he’s deep in thought, or how his hair falls into his eyes when he’s exhausted, too overworked to care.

you notice the way he speaks – smooth, confident, magnetic – and how everyone around him seems to hang onto every word like it’s gospel.

you notice the way he never fumbles. never hesitates. never second-guesses himself.

because that’s just the kind of person jake sim is.

and you – you are just the kind of person who will never be enough to matter to someone like him. but then he does things that make you doubt your reservations about him.

like, there was the elevator incident.

you were balancing a precarious stack of documents when you rushed to catch the closing doors, only to wince when they slid shut right before you got there. you sighed, shifting your grip on the papers, when you suddenly heard a soft ding – the doors sliding back open.

jake was inside, one hand on the door button, barely sparing you a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

you stepped in, mumbling a quiet, “thanks.”

he hummed in response. nothing more. no conversation. no recognition. just the soft whirring of the elevator and the occasional sound of him scrolling.

it was so small. so insignificant.

but you still felt yourself standing just a little straighter, just a little warmer, for the rest of the day.

and then, there was the pen.

you weren’t even sure when it started, but at some point, you began keeping track.

jake had this habit – whenever he borrowed a pen, he never returned it to the original spot. he didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it, always too focused on whatever was in front of him to realize he’d left the pen somewhere completely different.

so, naturally, you started leaving extras.

just subtle little things – placing an extra pen near his usual meeting spots, sliding one closer to him during group discussions when you were pretending to sort paperwork nearby. you never expected him to notice. you weren’t even sure why you did it.

until one afternoon, when you sat at your desk, rummaging through your drawers, only to realize you’d somehow misplaced your pen. you sighed, about to get up for a new one, when something was set down beside your elbow.

a pen.

you looked up, startled.

jake was already walking away. didn’t even spare you a glance, his attention on the tablet in his hands.

you stared after him, the pen warm from his hold, the weight of it heavier than it should have been.

it was probably nothing. probably just a reflex.

but you still use that pen for the next two weeks straight.

then there was the tripping incident.

now, it’s established that you can be clumsy, not dramatically so – no full-on disaster movie falls – but you do have a tendency to bump into things. desks, chairs, open cabinet doors that definitely weren’t open when you last checked.

and, of course, corners. corners were your worst enemy.

one day, you were hurrying through the hallway, files stacked high in your arms, when – bam. your hip slammed into the sharp edge of a desk, hard enough to make you wince. the papers wobbled dangerously in your grip, and you cursed under your breath, already anticipating the bruise that was definitely going to form.

you didn’t think anyone noticed.

but the next morning, when you walked into the office, there was a strip of foam padding stuck neatly along the desk corner.

your brows furrowed.

it was subtle – so subtle that if you weren’t you, if you weren’t someone with a running list of all the places in this office that had betrayed you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

but you did.

and later that day, when you caught jake in the break room, he was patting the foam as if ensuring it was stuck on there properly, absentmindedly nodding to himself as if he had confirmed what he was inspecting, then promptly left without sparing you a second glance.

you didn’t say anything.

didn’t bring it up.

but as you passed by the desk, running your fingers over the softened edge, something in your chest ached. just a little.

so jake sim did notice you – but not as an individual, just someone he thought might be having a hard time and because he is kind, he did what he could. it didn’t matter who the recipient of his good intentions was.

hence, you do what a good assistant does. because at the end of the day, you’ve seen jake work – you’ve seen the passion he pours into it.

so if he forgets to eat, you quietly step away from your desk, heat up the extra sandwich you packed for him from the cafeteria, and place it on his cluttered desk, clearing a small space first. a gentle knock on the wood to get his attention, a silent reminder to eat.

if he’s scribbling on the backs of old reports, running low on notebooks and clean sheets, you take a trip down to inventory, restocking his supplies, stacking them neatly within reach.

if his desk is drowning in coffee cups and crumpled post-its, you quietly dispose of the trash, leaving only the essentials behind – his laptop, his research papers, the single pen he never seems to lose (because you always make sure it’s there).

if he forgets where he placed his whiteboard markers, you don’t say anything – you just pull a fresh set from your drawer and slide them onto his desk before he even notices they were missing.

you’ve just been there, silently observing and noting things – like the way his brows knit together in deep concentration, or how he absently chews on the cap of his pen when he’s stuck on a problem. how he spaces out sometimes, staring at the whiteboard like it holds the answers to the universe itself, only to snap back to reality when you clear your throat to get his attention.

you know that he prefers black coffee in the morning but switches to tea in the late afternoon. that he always loses his glasses, only to find them perched on top of his head. that he hums under his breath when he’s deep in thought, a quiet melody that never quite forms into a song.

you notice everything, because that’s just what a good assistant does.

and that, apparently, is a problem. or so jay states. hence, the first step in jay’s ‘game plan’? make jake feel your absence.

“you’re too available,” jay had said, stirring his coffee with a smug little smirk. “jake doesn’t notice you because you make his life too easy. you’re like air – essential but invisible. so what happens when air gets sucked out of a room?”

“…people die?”

jay gave you a flat look. “no, they panic.”

and so, the plan began.

it’s such a tiny step, but it bothers you nonetheless because not only would this be disrupting jake’s routine, it’d be disrupting your perfect track record of a ‘good’ assistant.

but jay somehow manages to convince you. and you like the utter fool you are, give in, because hey… maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to disprove jay’s theory of your alleged feelings for jake. the need for validation? yeah, we’ll talk about that later.

today is the day you start, and you start small. it’s the little changes that usually go unnoticed.

you don’t remind jake about his 10 am meeting.

it’s a minor detail, barely even a test, because technically speaking, it’s not your job to remind him – it’s just something you’ve always done, anticipating his tendencies to get lost in his work. normally, you’d give him a heads-up around 9:50 am, watching as he’d nod absentmindedly, only to scramble up five minutes later when he finally processed your words.

today? radio silence.

at 10:07 am, sunghoon enters the meeting and frowns.

“where’s jake?” he turns to jay. his friend shrugs but hides the smile behind his cup of coffee.

meanwhile you’re glancing sneakily at jake’s door, slightly ajar and you can see him engrossed in something. your eyes glance at the time; 10:07 am. fuck, what if actually forgets he has a meeting? should you do something? is this going too far?

but you don’t have to worry because a few minutes later, there’s a thud, followed by a rushed shit, and then, a disheveled jake sim barrels past your desk, tablet clutched to his chest, hair a little messy from how he clearly just ran a hand through it in frustration.

his eyes flicker to you – just for a second. you’ve already gone back to pretending to be very busy typing nonsense into an email draft.

it works. he huffs under his breath and rushes to the meeting.

okay you should feel awful, but then you catch the tail end of jake’s coat disappearing behind the lift door and you can’t help the snicker that leaves your lips. surely, nothing could go wrong, right?

there’s one person who seems to be enjoying this more than you though: jay is having the time of his life.

like, actually. he hasn't had this much fun since the last office christmas party, when someone spiked the punch and sunghoon tried to fight the vending machine.

because watching jake sim fall apart over the smallest inconveniences? absolutely hilarious.

the moment you agreed to his plan, jay knew it would be gold. but even he underestimated just how much of jake’s daily functioning depended on you. it’s like watching a toddler suddenly realize their velcro shoes don’t tie themselves.

jake doesn’t realize something is wrong at first.

he barely makes it to his chair before the department head gives him a pointed look.

“you’re late.”

“i—uh—” jake swallows, trying to catch his breath. his tablet is still locked, his notes are disorganized, and when he flips open the file he brought, it’s yesterday’s report.

shit.

“right. sorry.” he forces a sheepish smile, scrambling to pull up the right document. across the table, jay lazily spins a pen between his fingers, watching with barely concealed amusement.

jake barely registers it – he’s too busy trying to recover. it’s fine. he’s got this.

except… something about this morning feels off.

and not in the way most of his chaotic mornings do. he just doesn’t know why. he just assumes his morning is…off. which, fine, it happens. he’s had late nights before, maybe he’s just tired.

jay had told you this would work.

in fact, he was so confident in his plan that he even grabbed a front-row seat to witness the destruction firsthand (he was already attending this meeting, but the man likes to gloat sometimes.)

and man – jake does not disappoint.

from the moment the meeting starts, jay knows this is going to be good.

jake looks off. nothing too obvious – just little things, things that someone like jay (who has spent years around him) can pick up on. the slight furrow of his brow. the way he keeps adjusting his notes, like something feels wrong but he can’t quite place why.

and then – the moment of realization.

jay almost chokes on his coffee when jake subtly pats his pockets, confusion flickering across his face.

oh, here we go.

he watches, barely holding in his laughter, as jake double checks – where, usually, there would be a pen. his pen. the one that miraculously appears every time he loses it, as if the universe itself conspires to keep him functional.

except today?

the universe (or rather, you) has left him to suffer.

jake blinks. blinks again. then, with the air of a man experiencing an existential crisis, slowly reaches for sunghoon’s pen instead.

sunghoon, understandably, looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind.

jay snickers and grabs his phone.

jay park [10:14 am]: what did u doooo jay park [10:14 am]: he looks like a lost puppy rn lmfao jay park [10:15 am]: deadass just patted his pockets like he was expecting something to magically appear there?? 

he glances up again, and – oh god, jake’s still buffering. he’s not even listening anymore, just staring at the table like it personally offended him.

all this over a pen? damn, maybe you were underestimating yourself, jay thinks, because there is no way you were just a paperclip, not if jake’s been this dependent on you.

jay is loving this.

four.

jake doesn’t notice things. not in the way people expect him to.

he notices equations. the subtle patterns in star systems. the way gravitational forces interact in ways most people don’t care to understand. his mind is built for that – patterns, logic, science.

but people? not so much.

back in university, he was dubbed a genius. a prodigy in astrophysics. someone who could map out entire celestial mechanics in his head but would somehow still forget his own birthday if no one reminded him.

the way jake relies on logic, structure, and predictability – because it’s safe. because he understands it. because people? people don’t make sense. they’re inconsistent. they leave. they change their minds. they say one thing and mean another.

but science? science is constant. a star will always burn out the same way under the same conditions. a planet will always follow its orbit. gravity will always exist.

as a kid, he preferred numbers over words, equations over feelings. when the other kids ran around the playground, playing tag or arguing over who was “it,” jake was perfectly content with his space books, tracing the orbits of planets with his fingers, memorizing the speed of light just because he could.

he learned early on that he wasn’t good at reading between the lines. that when someone said ‘i’m fine’, they didn’t always mean it. that people expected you to just know when they needed something, when they wanted comfort, when they wanted you.

jake never knew. so he stopped trying.

science was easier. there was no guesswork, no hidden meanings. an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. simple. predictable. the universe followed rules, and if jake studied hard enough, he could understand them. he could map them out, make sense of them, never be caught off guard.

but people? people made no sense at all.

and maybe that’s why, when he gets to work and sees that his desk is missing something so stupidly small – a cup of coffee, nothing more – he feels a flicker of something he doesn’t like.

a glitch in the system.

it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. it’s coffee. he can make it himself. he’s a grown adult with multiple degrees. a missing cup of caffeine should not throw him off.

and yet. jake stares at the empty space on his desk.

a week ago, he wouldn’t have noticed. wouldn’t have even thought about it. he never questioned why it was there in the first place, never thought twice about the sticky notes, the extra set of markers that magically appeared when he misplaced his own, the last-minute reminders that kept his schedule from turning into chaos.

he never questioned it. and that, apparently, was the problem.

because for the first time, he has to ask. and he really, really doesn’t want to.

jake debates it, which is insane. why is he overthinking this? it’s a simple request. a normal interaction. but something about it feels… weird. off-balance.

because asking means acknowledging. and acknowledging means admitting that he noticed.

his eye twitches. and after five full minutes of warring with himself, of sneaking glances at you like some kind of cornered animal, he finally forces himself to get up. jake clears his throat as he approaches your desk, hands shoved deep into his pockets. he doesn’t understand why this feels so monumental – why his stomach is twisting over something as simple as coffee.

you’re typing away, entirely focused, but the moment he gets close, you pause, sensing his presence.

your head tilts up, meeting his gaze with that same neutral, professional expression. “need something?”

jake opens his mouth. closes it. shifts on his feet.

this should not be hard. he’s faced oral examinations with award-winning physicists grilling him on quantum mechanics. he’s derived entire theorems on celestial dynamics with nothing but a whiteboard and a bad marker.

"hey," he starts, voice coming out a little too stiff, a little too rehearsed.

you hum, still typing. "what’s up?"

jake exhales. this is ridiculous. just say it.

"i was wondering," he begins, slow and deliberate, "if you could maybe—"

he pauses. rethinks. he doesn’t need coffee. he’s perfectly capable of getting it himself. this is a completely unnecessary conversation. maybe he should just—

you finally glance up, raising a brow. "if i could maybe…?"

jake swallows. why is your stare so expectant? god, this is awful.

he squares his shoulders. "if you could maybe—uh—get me a coffee?"

and you? you don’t even react. no smirk. no teasing. no indication that you know this is sending his pride into a tailspin.

“oh,” you say simply. “sure.”

and then – you go right back to typing.

jake waits. waits.

…that’s it? no acknowledgment?

he stares, baffled, as you finish whatever you’re working on before standing, grabbing your phone like this is just another task.

“i’ll be back in a few minutes.”

jake watches you walk away, his brain short-circuiting. he stares.

something in his brain glitches. for a moment, he just stands there, stuck in some kind of existential paradox.

this isn’t how he thought this would go.

not that he’d planned it out – he’s not that irrational – but he was at least expecting… something. a pointed look. a smug remark. some kind of acknowledgement that this was a thing.

because it was, right?

but you just – left. like it was normal. like it was nothing.

jake blinks, still rooted to the spot. his fingers twitch at his sides, his mind racing through a series of half-formed thoughts, none of which are useful.

this should be a relief. no teasing. no drawn-out conversation. no questioning. just a simple "sure" and the problem is solved.

so why does he feel weirdly unsatisfied?

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before dragging himself back to his desk.

fine. whatever. he got what he wanted. he’ll just sit down, work, and forget this happened.

simple. logical – except it’s not.

because now – now he’s waiting.

not actively, of course. he’s working. or at least, he’s trying to work. but for some godforsaken reason, his mind keeps drifting to the sound of approaching footsteps, to the faintest movements in his periphery.

it’s ridiculous. he knows that. he’s not that dependent on routine. it’s just coffee.

when you finally return, setting the cup down on his desk with a quiet thud, he doesn’t mean to react.

but his head snaps up immediately, eyes locking onto the cup before flickering to you, his brain processing entirely too fast for his own good.

same lid. same brand. same order.

how the hell—

"you got the right one," he blurts before he can stop himself.

you blink at him, expression unreadable. "yeah. that’s the one you always drink."

jake stares.

you say it so easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

like it’s just fact. like he’s the one being weird.

and maybe he is, because something about that – about the casual certainty in your voice – makes his chest feel tight in a way he doesn’t understand.

"right," he mutters, looking away. "of course."

you don’t say anything. just nod, turning back toward your desk.

jake watches you go, fingers wrapping around the cup, the warmth grounding him.

he doesn’t know why this feels significant. but somehow, it does.

you, on the other hand, mask your smile behind your hand, making sure you don’t spare him a glance as you take your seat again, eyes focusing on your screen, but you’re secretly enjoying your little victory.

and maybe your little win seemingly makes your happiness evident because jay seems to have caught on to your little smile and quiet humming as you load more paper into the printer later on.

“what’s got you humming?”

you blink at jay, feigning innocence. "huh?"

jay narrows his eyes like a detective who knows exactly when the suspect is lying. "you’re humming. and smiling. while printing documents. no one’s ever been this happy about office supplies."

you shrug, deliberately casual. "maybe i just like my job."

"oh, sure. and i’m the next ceo of nasa," jay scoffs, crossing his arms. "no, you’re definitely smiling about something else. spill."

you roll your eyes but can’t stop the small grin from creeping back onto your lips. "it’s nothing. just… a small win."

jay’s gaze sharpens with intrigue. "a small win? against who?"

you pause, realizing that if you say it out loud, it becomes real. but you can’t help it – you’re feeling a little smug. "jake."

jay’s eyebrows shoot up so fast you half expect them to launch into orbit. "oh? oh? do tell."

you bite your lip, pretending to be focused on aligning the printer paper. "i think he finally noticed."

jay leans in, practically vibrating with excitement. "noticed what? that you exist? that you’re cute? that you’re literally the only reason he functions? because if so, then this is big news—"

you wave a hand, shushing him. "not that dramatic. just… the coffee. he asked me for it today. like, actually asked."

jay goes still, then blinks. "no."

"yes."

"no." jay looks personally offended that he wasn’t there to witness it. "you’re telling me jake sim – the human calculator who forgets basic human needs – actually acknowledged the loss of his coffee?"

"and that i was the one providing it," you add, feeling very pleased with yourself.

jay lets out a low whistle. "damn. that’s practically a confession in jake language."

you chuckle. "i know, right? and the best part? he was so awkward about it. like, visibly struggling to form a coherent request. it was beautiful."

jay looks like a proud parent. "i knew my plan would work."

you snort. "you had a plan?"

"of course! i told you, jake needs to experience loss to appreciate things. he’s like a tragic space hero who doesn’t realize what he has until it’s gone. but now? now he’s thinking about it. which means he’s thinking about you."

you roll your eyes. "don’t be ridiculous. it was just coffee."

jay gives you a look. "uh-huh. and yet, you’re humming like a disney princess who just got her magical moment."

you huff, turning back to the printer, but the warmth in your chest remains. you won’t admit it to jay, but it does feel like a small win. because for once, jake noticed something about you. and even if it was just coffee, it was your coffee. your absence. your presence. you.

the thought makes your stomach flutter a little, but before you can dwell on it, the door swings open.

and, of course, in perfect comedic timing, jake himself walks in.

you and jay freeze.

jake pauses mid-step, eyes flicking between the two of you, and immediately, you feel caught. not that you were doing anything wrong, but the way jay is grinning like a devil on your shoulder and the way you definitely look suspicious does not help your case.

jake frowns slightly. "am i interrupting something?"

"no," you and jay say in unison – too quickly, too forcefully.

jake’s frown deepens. "…right."

jay, ever the agent of chaos, suddenly smirks. "hey, jake, buddy, pal. how was the coffee this morning?"

your soul leaves your body.

jake blinks, caught off guard. "what?"

jay nods toward you. "the coffee. did it taste better? sweeter, maybe? like the hard-earned fruits of personal growth?"

you shoot jay a look that could incinerate a small planet, but he just grins wider.

jake, meanwhile, looks completely baffled. "it… tasted the same?"

jay sighs dramatically. "ugh, you’re hopeless."

jake looks at you now, confusion clear in his expression. "what’s going on?"

you scramble for an escape. "nothing. jay’s just being weird. as usual."

jake’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push further. instead, he just shakes his head, muttering something about how he "doesn’t have time for whatever this is." then, to your surprise, his gaze lingers on you for half a second longer before he turns and leaves.

as soon as the door clicks shut, jay explodes.

"did you see that? he lingered! that was a lingering glance!"

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. "jay. stop."

"oh, no, no, no. this is happening. i can feel it. the great jake sim has been rattled."

you shake your head, but you’re smiling. "don’t you have that meeting with kang soon? are you sure you should be dawdling?"

jay waves a dismissive hand. “pfft. kang can wait. this is much more important.”

you roll your eyes, shoving a stack of papers into his hands. “go. before he chews you out again.”

jay huffs but takes the papers anyway. “fine. but mark my words – this is just the beginning.”

you snort. “of what?”

jay grins, backing toward the door. “of jake sim’s inevitable downfall.”

before you can throw something at him, he slips out of the room with a dramatic twirl, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

you exhale. jay is ridiculous. insufferable. an agent of chaos in the worst way.

but still… your fingers drum against your desk.

jake had lingered. just for a second. just long enough to make you wonder.

you shake your head, clearing the thought. it’s nothing. probably just your imagination.

probably.

five.

jake never really thought about his assistant.

sure, he knew you existed in the same way he knew his office had walls or that gravity kept him tethered to earth. a presence. a constant. background noise.

his research came first. always. anything outside of equations and astrophysics was just static.

which is why, when his inbox suddenly becomes a nightmare of unread emails, cluttered with everything from seminar invites to missed project deadlines, he stares at the screen in horror.

since when did his inbox look like this?

he scrolls. and scrolls. and scrolls.

the last time he checked, his emails were organized. neat little folders, color-coded labels – everything in its place. now, it’s chaos. absolute chaos.

his brows furrow in mild horror and yet again, he gets this feeling, like the earth’s off its axis, like his curated life is suddenly off kilter. 

he looks up, and across the room, eyes peeking through his door that is kept ajar. you sit there today, in a navy blue sweater, your hair pushed back neatly, your glasses reflecting the glare off your screen you’re currently frowning at.

was this also something you used to do for him? or did his inbox suddenly decide to get a mind of its own and go batshit crazy on him? no, that doesn’t make sense, unless he was hacked which would definitely be a cause of national concern to a certain extent—

he jolts in his seat, a gasp leaving his lips as you suddenly move away from your desk, standing up with a stack of papers. he positively feels his heart skipping a beat as he realises you’re walking to his door.

sure enough, there’s a knock a second later and if you notice the way his voice cracks when he tells you to come in, you don’t comment on it. instead, you look at him like you meant business.

oh god, you didn’t notice him looking at you, right? technically he wasn’t really staring more so than contemplating—

“dr. sim, the finance department dropped a reminder to submit your financial budget, here’s the budget form,” you hand him the stack of papers you had been carrying, “i’ve filled out the general stuff, you just need to put in the project details and all the technical stuff.”

he flips through the pages and sure enough, you’ve filled in the general details like you mentioned in your neat handwriting. the letters sit right on top of the blank lines and he recognises your penmanship right away. he’s never noticed before, but you do have a nice handwriting.

“oh and about your emails, there seems to be some sort of technical error. i noticed that some of your filters were disabled and the auto-sorting wasn’t functioning properly. it must’ve reset or something when the system updated last week.”

jake blinks at you. “wait. filters?”

you tilt your head. “yeah? you know, the ones that sort your emails automatically? important updates, admin notices, junk mail, things like that?”

jake stares. “i… had those?”

you pause, narrowing your eyes slightly. “yes. you did. i set them up for you.”

“oh.” a beat of silence. jake shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. you, on the other hand, exhale sharply, planting your hands on your hips. here he was, a grown ass man, unaware of his own email settings. but what’s more infuriating to you right now is the way he’s clearly looking at the mess of his inbox with the expression of a child faced with university level physics.

and it's really unfair because your brain actually has the audacity to chant a small ‘cute’ inside your head.

no. no. absolutely not.

you refuse to acknowledge whatever strange, fleeting thought just ran through your brain.

because jake sim is not cute. he’s frustrating. he’s a genius, sure, but in a hopelessly oblivious kind of way. the somehow-can-manage-quantum-equations-but-not-his-own-inbox kind of way. the so deep in his own head that he barely notices when you’re cleaning up the mess he leaves behind, kind of way.

except… he’s noticing now.

you clear your throat, shoving away any ridiculous thoughts. “right. anyway, i can help reset everything, but you’ll need to go through some of these emails yourself. some require your direct response.”

jake tears his eyes away from his screen, blinking at you. “wait, so my emails weren’t always like this?”

you give him a look. the kind that says, oh, you poor, oblivious man.

“no, dr. sim,” you say, tone patient but mildly exasperated. “i used to sort them out for you.”

jake stares. “you did?”

you nod. “yeah. you know, filtering out spam, organizing your schedule, responding to minor inquiries.” all the things that apparently, no one else on this team can do without suffering a minor breakdown.

jake opens his mouth, then closes it. then it opens again. his head tilts slightly. “wait. you did all of that?”

you resist the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. “dr. sim,” you say, very slowly, “what did you think i was doing all this time?”

jake, to his credit, looks vaguely sheepish. “i don’t know. admin stuff?”

you exhale, looking up at the ceiling like you’re asking the universe for patience.

“your inbox has over five hundred unread emails.”

he visibly recoils. “five hundred?”

“yes. and you have three missed deadlines.”

jake stares, running a hand down his face. “oh my god. i’m going to get fired.”

you shrug. “probably not, but kang will definitely strangle you.”

you take one look at the mild look of panic settling on his face, the ways his lips part open and his eyes fixate upon you like he’s constipated all of a sudden, and you realise that you’re going to have to save him again. so much for making yourself scarce.

“well,” you sigh, dropping your hands, “i can go through it and fix the filters again, but you should probably clear things out manually first. you have a lot of backlog.”

jake slumps back in his chair, groaning. “i don’t have time for this.”

“tough luck. you’re the one who ignored your emails for a week.”

jake groans again, scrubbing a hand over his face. his hair is slightly disheveled now, strands falling over his forehead. you refuse to acknowledge the way your fingers twitch with the urge to push them back. nope. absolutely not.

instead, you cross your arms and tilt your head. "look, dr. sim, i can reset everything, but you need to at least check the important ones. you know, like the ones from kang before he marches in here and reconsiders your employment."

jake peeks at you through his fingers, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like i should’ve never updated the system.

you sigh. "i'll go through them with you."

his hands drop, eyes snapping to yours. "you will?"

damn it. the hope in his voice makes something in your stomach twist. this isn’t supposed to happen. you’re supposed to be pulling away, making yourself scarce, not signing yourself up to hold his hand through his self-inflicted disaster.

but you sigh again, already regretting it. "yes, but only for today."

jake beams. actually beams. like you've just told him you're personally funding his next research project.

and oh, that is dangerous.

because the realization sneaks up on you, quiet but insidious: he looks really good when he smiles like that.

your brain promptly malfunctions.

jake, oblivious as always, is already turning his chair to face his computer. "okay, okay. what do we start with?"

you stare for a second too long before shaking yourself out of it.

get it together.

right. his emails. that's what you should be focusing on. not the fact that your stupid heart is doing something stupid again.

so you square your shoulders, push away the ridiculous heat rising to your cheeks, and step closer to his desk – because unfortunately, you are nothing if not professional.

even when your chest feels like it’s betraying you.

by the time the sun starts dipping below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow into the office, you realize with a dull sense of horror that you are still here.

still here. still working.

because, of course, jake spent the entire day buried in his research, completely unaware of the absolute mess waiting for him in his inbox. and now, after work hours, you’re forced to stay behind, sorting through the wreckage.

you shoot a glare at the oblivious man, who is hunched over his desk, frowning at his screen as if he’s personally uncovering the secrets of the universe. his sleeves are rolled up, glasses slightly askew, completely absorbed in his work.

annoying. but also, kind of impressive.

you clear your throat, rapping your knuckles on his door. “dr. sim, did you know that your inbox is starting to resemble a warzone?”

jake barely looks up. “mhm.”

“there are emails in here from last year.”

he finally blinks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “wait. what?”

you deadpan. “last. year.”

jake stares. “that’s not possible.”

“would you like to see the one from july 2024? it’s an invitation to a seminar. that already happened. that you missed.”

a horrified silence settles between you. jake leans forward, mouth slightly open, and for a second, you think he might actually pass out. “holy shit.”

you snort, shaking your head. then, sighing, you gesture toward his screen. “okay, come on, let’s start deleting the ones that don’t matter. at this rate, your inbox might actually implode.”

jake groans again but does as you say, clicking through emails with the enthusiasm of someone undergoing dental surgery.

an hour later, the two of you are still sitting in his office. you’re perched on the chair across from him, legs crossed as you scroll through his inbox, muttering complaints every now and then (why do you have thirty unread emails from the astronomy board? what is so ‘urgent’ about a faculty brunch?).

jake, on the other hand, is desperately trying to keep up, deleting and archiving whatever you tell him to. he’s drowning in emails and vaguely wondering if he should just… never check his inbox again.

the sky outside has darkened, streaks of orange and pink melting into deep blue. the office feels different at this hour – quieter, softer. there’s a warmth from the sunset filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor.

you’ve never been alone with jake like this before.

not that it matters. because all you’re doing is working. but still.

you steal a quick glance at him.

he’s different when he’s not hyper-focused on research. a little less untouchable, a little more human. his brows are furrowed as he reads through an email, one hand resting on his chin. his glasses have slipped down again, and without thinking, he pushes them back up with his knuckle.

you look away.

get a grip.

meanwhile, jake is having a bit of a crisis.

because, apparently, you’ve always been this efficient.

like, okay, he knew you were capable. obviously. you’ve been his assistant for months. but watching you now, the way you go through emails like a machine, fingers flying across the keyboard, perfectly organized with your neat little color-coded tabs—

he’s a little bit in awe. and maybe a tiny bit alarmed.

because how the hell did he not realize before that you basically ran his life for him?

the sun is starting to dip, casting a golden hue through the blinds, stretching long shadows over his desk. jake leans back, rubbing his eyes, only to glance at you and—

he sees you. for the first time in three months, he’s actually looking at you.

your sweater hangs slightly off one shoulder, the shirt underneath only slightly wrinkled, your hair a little messier than it was earlier, strands falling out of place.

and you look… exhausted.

not in the dramatic, world-weary way that some of his colleagues do after pulling all-nighters, but in a quieter, more subtle way – like you’ve been running on autopilot for so long that you don’t even notice it anymore.

jake frowns. has it always been like this? have you always been like this?

his gaze flickers back to your screen, where you’re still typing away, making quick work of the disaster that is his inbox. there’s a slight crease between your brows, your lips pressed together in quiet concentration. you’re meticulous, efficient – almost too efficient, and that thought unsettles him in a way he can’t quite explain.

“you should go home,” he says before he even thinks about it.

you glance up, startled. “what?”

“you’ve been here all day,” he says, shifting in his seat. “it’s late.”

you blink at him, then glance at the clock on the corner of your screen. the numbers glow back at you – 7:47 pm.

“oh,” you murmur, tilting your head. “i guess it is.”

jake waits for you to start packing up, but instead, you just roll your shoulders back, crack your knuckles, and go right back to typing.

he stares. “did you – did you not hear me?”

you don’t even look up. “i heard you.”

“then why are you still working?”

you pause at that, finally looking at him. there’s something almost amused in your expression, like really? you’re questioning my work habits?

“i still have emails to sort through,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

jake presses his lips together. right. of course. because of course you wouldn’t just drop everything and leave, because if you did, then who would make sure his inbox didn’t look like a post-apocalyptic wasteland?

and that thought sits a little too heavily in his chest. it's just that, he doesn’t get it.

he clears his throat, looking away. “still. you don’t have to do it all tonight.”

you shrug. “it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

for some reason, that irritates him more than it should.

jake doesn’t understand why. it’s not like you’re doing anything out of the ordinary. from what he can deduce from your conversation earlier this morning, you’ve always been the one keeping things together, making sure nothing slips through the cracks. that’s your job.

you could probably come back tomorrow and sort through the remaining emails. it’s not like they’re going anywhere.

but for the first time, he wonders – do you ever get tired of it?

his fingers drum against his desk. the golden light from the window glows softer now, settling into deep orange hues. the air between you is quiet, save for the occasional click of your keyboard and the distant hum of the office beyond his door.

and then, without thinking, he says, “i didn’t realize you did all this.”

you pause mid-keystroke, glancing at him. “did all what?”

“this.” he gestures vaguely to his laptop, to the neatly categorized folders, to the once-chaotic inbox now halfway tamed under your careful hands. “you keep everything running. i didn’t realize how much you—” he stops himself, brows furrowing slightly. “—how much you do.”

you blink at him. and for the first time all day, you seem caught off guard.

then, a slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “oh, dr. sim,” you say lightly, tilting your head, “have you been taking me for granted all this time?”

jake bristles, straightening. “that’s not what i meant.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “relax, i’m kidding.”

but something about the way you say it makes his stomach twist.

because maybe you are joking. maybe you don’t actually care that he’s never paid much attention before.

but he cares. and that realization unsettles him more than he’d like to admit.

you turn your attention towards the screen again, biting your lip as you skim through his emails, occasionally frowning like you’re personally offended by his disorganization.

jake watches you for another moment before looking away, tapping his fingers against the desk.

his chest feels… weird. like the earth’s still off its axis. like something’s shifted in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

and for the first time, jake wonders if maybe – just maybe – it has something to do with you.

six.

the only times jake has thanked you have been in passing. like when you hand him a report, his fingers brushing against yours but his gaze still focused on his screen. a clipped "thanks" thrown out as he scrolls through equations and research notes. thoughtless, automatic, routine.

so you don’t expect it this time around.

you don’t think much of it at first.

jake walks in, looking as harried as ever, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside, one hand holding his laptop, the other gripping his usual coffee. business as usual.

except — there’s a cup of coffee in his hand. no scratch that, there’s two cups of coffee in his hands. 

he stops in front of your desk, looking mildly uncomfortable, like he’s second-guessing his own existence. and then, without a word, he sets the second cup in front of you.

you blink. “uh. what’s this?”

jake clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “coffee.”

“no, i know it’s coffee, dr. sim.” you stare at the cup suspiciously. “why is it on my desk?”

he looks at you like you just asked him to solve a quantum mechanics equation without a calculator. “because… i got it for you?”

you squint. “why?”

jake pauses. his jaw tightens. then, with the energy of a man barely holding onto his dignity, he mutters, “because you – helped. with the emails.”

you swear to god, it physically pains him to say it. but holy shit, because not only did the jake sim get his own coffee today, he got one for you – his assistant, for the first time in three months.

you decide to let him off the hook. for now. “well. thanks,” you say, taking a sip, trying not to let the heat rising to your cheeks show.

jake mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like no worries, before retreating to his office.

you watch him go, mildly amused.

“oh-ho-ho, what do we have here?”

you don’t even flinch as jay suddenly appears beside you, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on his head like he’s about to make an investigation.

you sip your coffee. “don’t start.”

jay ignores you. “jake sim. buying coffee. for someone else. this is history in the making.”

you sigh. “jay.”

he leans in dramatically. “do you know how many years i’ve known that man? years, y/n. and not once has he ever walked into a room and thought, ‘huh. let me get someone coffee.’”

you roll your eyes. “it’s not that deep.”

jay gasps. “oh, but it is.” he lowers his voice, like he’s about to tell you a government secret. “listen. the man barely remembers to eat unless someone reminds him. and suddenly he’s bringing you coffee?”

you pause. jay grins, catching the flicker of hesitation on your face. “see? see? something’s happening in that stiff little brain of his.”

you shake your head. “he’s just… acknowledging that i exist. that’s all.”

jay snorts. “oh, my sweet summer child.” he takes a slow sip of his own coffee, eyes twinkling. “first, it’s coffee. next thing you know, he’s showing up at your desk randomly with some dumb excuse just to talk to you.”

you raise a brow. “that’s oddly specific.”

jay grins. “call it experience.”

you roll your eyes, but as you glance toward jake’s office, where he’s staring at his screen, brow furrowed in concentration…and you wonder.

just a little. because hope would be something too dangerous in this situation. you’re still just his assistant, and this is a one time thing because you helped him last night. so you don’t hope. not yet.

and maybe it's a good thing too.

it starts with a joke.

well, technically, it starts with jay’s complete inability to keep his workspace from looking like an archaeological dig site.

you’re standing by his desk, watching as he fumbles through the mess that is his workspace. papers are stacked in precarious towers, there’s a half-eaten granola bar that has somehow been buried under a pile of sticky notes. a coffee cup with a lipstick stain, even though jay does not wear lipstick.

“you live like this?” you ask, eyebrows raised as you survey the mess.

jay, utterly unbothered, leans back in his chair. “organized chaos.” why does everybody around here insist on working in conditions not far from that of a pigsty?

you shake your head, crossing your arms. “you know nasa once had to recalibrate an entire spacecraft because someone forgot to convert metric to imperial?”

jay snorts. “imagine being that guy.”

“i’d simply launch myself into the sun,” you deadpan.

jay cackles. “real talk, though, you think the sun would just vaporize you instantly, or would you have, like, a second of awareness?”

you hum, dramatically thoughtful. “i dunno, but if i ever get fired, i might test it out.”

“technically—”

you blink as a third voice enters the conversation.

jake stands a few feet away, arms crossed, brow furrowed like you just presented an incorrect equation.

you were not expecting him to be here.

“uh—” you freeze, awkwardly shifting. jay’s eyes gleam with amusement.

jake clears his throat. “technically, you wouldn’t be able to launch yourself into the sun.”

silence.

“…what?” you blink, trying to process what is happening.

jake continues, oblivious to your slowly dawning horror. “you’d just end up orbiting around it. earth is already moving at about 30 kilometers per second, so unless you counteract that velocity exactly, you’d just—” he gestures vaguely. “miss.”

you stare. jay lets out a low, entertained whistle.

your face burns. “i—” you struggle to find words, feeling an overwhelming mix of why is he like this and oh my god he really just did that.

your fingers twitch against your arms. you open your mouth. then close it. then open it again—

nope. nothing. no words. just the slow, creeping realization that this guy has actually just fact-checked your joke.

it wasn’t even a good joke.

your face heats. “wow,” you mutter, focusing very hard on the floor. “thanks for the physics lesson.”

jake nods, completely oblivious to the fact that you are currently plotting your own orbital escape.

jay presses his lips together, struggling.

you let out a breath, shaking your head. “anyway. i have work to do.”

and then you walk out. not in a dramatic, stormy way – but in a stiff, awkward, nope, i’m out kind of way.

jake watches you go, confused. “what’s with her?”

jay grins, leaning back in his chair. “dunno, man. maybe she just needs some space.”

jake doesn’t get the joke. nor does his oblivious ass understand why his assistant is suddenly treating him like an afterthought?

of course this buffoon doesn’t understand. all he’s thinking of is last night and the way you had tiredly bid him goodnight before parting ways in front of the building, your figure growing smaller by the second. his offer to drop you to the nearest bus stand dying on his lips the further you walked away.

and this was a pivotal moment for him because jake? he doesn’t offer rides to people.

in fact, he doesn’t even think to do things like that – until last night, when he’d spent an extra two seconds debating whether he should insist, before realizing that no, that would be weird.

so instead, he had done something else.

this morning, after getting his usual coffee, he’d bought yours too. granted, he didn’t know your order, but he’s sure he’s seen you around with a cup of your own around the office, still he doesn’t really know your order. so he gets you a sweeter variation, a stark contrast to his bitter drink, because in his mind, he’s thinking about this in a logical way.

and you had accepted it, for that matter, sipping on the drink like you actually enjoyed it. so he had been right, you did like sweet drinks. noted. noted?

regardless you had reacted, albeit subtly. a blink. a pause. a slightly surprised but polite, “thanks.”

jake had left it at that, feeling oddly accomplished.

and now? now you’re walking away from him like he’s some malfunctioning algorithm, and it’s annoying.

he frowns, turning to jay, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “seriously. did i do something?”

jay hums, dramatically thoughtful. “i dunno, man. maybe she just needs some space.”

jake stares. “you already said that.”

jay just snickers. “yeah. and i’ll keep saying it until you get the joke.”

jake does not, in fact, get the joke.

but for some reason, he wants to. and this realisation is soon going to turn into something that’s going to keep bothering him till he’s forced to actually take note of it.

it happens at precisely 12:48 pm.

jake glances up from his screen when you hover by his desk, clipboard in hand.

“i’m taking an extended lunch today.”

his fingers pause over his keyboard. “…extended?”

you nod. “yeah, probably won’t be back for another hour and a half.”

jake blinks. “that’s… longer than usual.”

“yeah,” you say easily. “something came up. but don’t worry, you don’t have anything scheduled and i’ve completed the reports on my end, so it’s not going to affect work.”

jake doesn’t know why that information bothers him, but it does. his brows furrow slightly. “okay.”

you nod once, then turn to leave.

jake stares at the empty space you just occupied, something tugging at his brain.

why did that exchange feel weird? no, not weird, just… different. off.

his fingers hover over his keyboard, but he doesn’t start typing.

jake doesn’t even realize something is wrong until his stomach twists uncomfortably.

he frowns, checking the time. 2:13 pm. lunch had passed. and he hadn’t eaten.

he blinks at his screen, but the numbers on it blur. his focus has shifted, derailed by something he never thought would be an issue. food.

it’s not like he forgot to eat. okay – maybe he technically did, but that’s beside the point. the real issue here is that he never needed to remember, because you always reminded him.

or, if you noticed he was too caught up in work, you’d just… bring something back for him. something simple, easy to eat at his desk – half the time, he didn’t even ask, and yet there it was. a sandwich. a salad. once, a soup that he never even mentioned liking, but somehow you had known he was in the mood for something warm.

it had become routine.

no, actually, it had become a given. and today? today, you walked in, set your bag down, checked your emails – like normal – but you didn’t say anything.

didn’t ask if he ate. didn’t bring anything back. didn’t even look at him properly before sitting down to do your own thing.

nothing.

jake’s fingers twitch over his desk. his jaw tightens slightly. something about this whole situation sits wrong.

because this isn’t normal.

this morning, he even bought you coffee. he didn’t know your exact order, but he had put in effort. that meant something, right? even if you didn’t react much when he placed it on your desk, he thought – hoped – it at least counted for something.

so why does it feel like it didn’t? and why does that bother him?

he does something drastic. he actually walks up to your desk – the second time already this week – and clears his throat.

“hey um…” a small glance at your id card dangling around your neck, and he feels insanely embarrassed because wow, how the hell does he not remember your name, “y/n?”

you’re not going to lie, you totally saw him stumble right now, and it doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with those big brown eyes again, his hand shoved inside his coat pocket, the other rubbing the back of his head. no! you should be upset at him right now, not fawn over his boyish charms!

you glance up, fingers pausing over your keyboard. “yeah?”

jake hesitates.

he doesn’t actually know what he wants to say. he just knows he wants you to look at him a little less indifferently.

“i…” his voice catches slightly. he clears his throat. “can you, um. get me something to eat?”

your expression flickers – just for a second. not enough for jake to read properly, but enough that it feels like you’re choosing your words before speaking.

then, finally, you ask, “what do you want?”

jake pauses.

because – what do you mean, what does he want?

you always just know. you’ve been working together long enough that you order for him without asking. that’s part of why he never bothers remembering himself – he doesn’t have to.

this is new. this is wrong.

“uh…” jake stalls, grip tightening slightly on his pen. “the usual?”

you blink at him, unimpressed. “what’s the usual?”

jake freezes.

oh. oh, no. what is the usual?

his mind scrambles for an answer, rifling through vague memories of you setting food on his desk, but the details blur together. sometimes it was a sandwich. sometimes something with rice. one time, there was pasta. but were those his actual usuals, or just random things you decided to get him?

did he even have a usual?

jake, for the first time today, has to confront a horrifying fact: he has never actually learned what he eats for lunch.

because you always handled it.

and now you’re sitting there, staring at him, waiting for an answer – an answer he doesn’t have – and suddenly, jake feels something unfamiliar coil in his chest: panic.

he’s never been in this situation before. he’s used to having control, to knowing exactly what he wants and when he wants it. yet, somehow, in this one specific instance – a completely mundane scenario involving food, of all things – he’s at a total loss.

how had he not noticed this before? how had he gone this long without realizing he didn’t actually know what he ate every day? how had he become so reliant on—

jake blinks. his own thoughts slam into him like a freight train. because that’s exactly what’s wrong, isn’t it?

he’s used to you. your reminders. your routines. the way you anticipated things before he even noticed them himself.

and for the first time, it feels like you’re deliberately withholding that from him.

why?

jake swallows, forcing himself to think logically. there has to be a reasonable explanation for this. maybe you were too busy to stop and get him something. maybe you had your own things to deal with today. maybe you just forgot.

but then again – you never forgot.

so what changed?

seven.

it was jay’s idea really.

the whole pulling away subtly but not-so-subtly thing. the make-him-notice-you’re-missing plan. and it was working.

you knew it was working because the moment you walked out of jake’s office after that awkward exchange, you felt his stare linger. the hesitation in his voice, the way his fingers twitched slightly when you asked what he wanted – like the concept of having to ask you for something was completely foreign to him.

that was a win, right? so why did it feel so…

you press your lips together, stirring your drink absently. across from you, jay chews on a fry, watching you with far too much amusement for someone who wasn’t the one actively carrying out this ridiculous scheme.

“you look like you’re thinking too hard,” he comments, popping another fry into his mouth. “which is kinda concerning, considering all you’re doing is eating a sandwich.”

you glare at him. “shut up.”

jay snorts, leaning back against the booth. “what’s got you so conflicted? it’s working, isn’t it?”

you don’t answer right away. because, yes – it is working. you can tell by the way jake hesitated before asking you to get him something to eat, by the way he actually looked at you instead of just expecting you to handle things like always. you made him notice the absence.

“…it feels kinda dumb,” you admit finally, picking at your sandwich. “i mean—think about it. it’s lunch. it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right?”

jay raises a brow. “you say that, but let me remind you of something. he didn’t know what his usual order was.”

you groan, rubbing a hand over your face. “don’t remind me.”

“no, no, let’s actually sit with that for a second,” jay continues, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “the guy has had you getting his meals for months and never thought to ask what he was eating. that’s not normal, dude.”

“i know,” you mutter.

“so what’s the problem?”

you sigh, rolling your cup between your palms.

“the problem is that it shouldn’t take something like this for him to notice me.” the words feel heavy in your mouth. “it’s stupid, isn’t it? i shouldn’t have to pull away for him to realize how much i do for him. like, why does it have to be some big, strategic thing? shouldn’t he just… care?”

jay quiets at that. for all his jokes and teasing, he’s not oblivious – not like jake.

after a moment, he leans forward, propping his arms on the table. “you’re right,” he says, voice softer than before. “he should care. he should’ve noticed a long time ago.”

your stomach twists.

“but,” jay continues, tapping a finger against his drink, “that doesn’t mean this isn’t necessary. i know it sucks, but think about it – would jake have ever thought about this on his own? would he have ever realized how much he relies on you if you hadn’t started stepping back?”

you hate that the answer is obvious.

“…no,” you mutter.

jay nods. “exactly. he’s used to things just… happening. you’ve made his life so easy that he doesn’t even have to think about it.” he smirks slightly. “and now? now he has to think about it. because it’s not just about lunch. it’s about you.”

you stare at him, fingers tightening around your drink.

you sigh, pressing the rim of your cup to your lips but not drinking. the ice clinks softly inside, melting into the coffee, much like your resolve seems to be melting into uncertainty.

“has he always been like this?” you ask quietly.

jay raises a brow. “like what?”

“with his assistants,” you clarify, glancing at him. “has he always been like… this?” you don’t say oblivious or careless, but jay understands anyway.

he studies you for a moment, his usually amused gaze flickering with something more serious. “i don’t know all the details, if i’m being honest. i never really paid attention to his working relationships.”

you press your lips together, turning your cup in your hands. “but you knew there were others before me.”

jay exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “yeah,” he admits. “there were others. none of them stuck around for too long, though.”

that makes your stomach twist.

“why not?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jay hesitates. not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because the answer isn’t his to give.

“jake’s not an easy person to work for,” he finally says, choosing his words carefully. “he’s particular about things, but not in a way that makes sense to most people. he’s not demanding in the usual way – he doesn’t expect people to read his mind, but at the same time… he does. he assumes things will get done. not because he asks, but because that’s how it’s always been for him. he doesn’t really think about the ‘who’ behind it all.”

you swallow hard.

“and the others?”

jay shakes his head. “they got frustrated. some quit because they felt unappreciated, others just decided it wasn’t worth it. no hard feelings, no big fights. just… people coming and going. but you?” he tilts his head at you. “you stuck around.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh. “it’s only been three months, maybe i’ll quit too.”

you won’t. for reasons more than one, the first being that you have student loans to pay. the second…maybe that’s a thought better left for later.

“maybe,” jay says, but his tone isn’t teasing. it’s contemplative. “or maybe you’re different.”

you look up at him then, brows furrowed. “different how?”

jay leans back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest. “you actually care about him.”

the words sit heavy between you.

of course you care. that was never the question. the question was whether or not he cared. whether he even saw you as a person rather than just another name in a long list of people who handled things for him.

you exhale slowly, staring down at the condensation forming on your cup. “that’s stupid, isn’t it?”

jay tilts his head. “what is?”

“that i care about someone who barely notices me.”

there’s no pity in jay’s gaze. no smugness, either. just quiet understanding.

“it’s not stupid,” he says. “but it is a little sad.”

you swallow around the lump in your throat. “why do you think he’s like that?”

jay exhales through his nose. “i think jake has spent so long expecting people to leave that he doesn’t think much about why they stay. or if they do, it’s just a matter of when they’ll go. he doesn’t attach himself to people easily. i don’t know why, exactly, but i have my guesses.”

you nod, understanding that there’s a past here that isn’t yours to pry into. it doesn’t quench your curiosity though, because what really made jake into this oblivious, unintentionally selfish person? you haven’t known him long, but you’ve seen enough.

how he declines invitations to after work hangouts, how he’s never lurking at other people’s desks, cooping himself up in the confines of his own room, doing his own work. how he barely ever leaves that room unless absolutely necessary. it’s just work, work, work for him.

jay watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “let me ask you something now.”

you blink. “okay?”

he gestures toward you. “why do you look up to him so much?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out.

because the truth is, you do look up to jake. or at least, you used to. maybe, in some ways, you still do.

he’s brilliant, that much is undeniable. he makes decisions with sharp precision, moves through life with a confidence that is enviable. he commands a room without even realizing it, and people naturally gravitate toward him.

and maybe that was part of the reason why you held on for so long. because you wanted to believe that he was someone worth believing in. worth staying for.

but what happens when the person you admire the most doesn’t even see you?

you lower your gaze. “i don’t know.”

jay hums, as if he expected that answer.

“well, maybe it’s time he starts looking up to you,” he says.

the thought sends a strange feeling through your chest.

because what if, after all this time, it wasn’t about you chasing after jake’s attention? what if it was about him realizing that you were someone worth keeping up with?

you exhale, setting your cup down with a quiet clink. “so, what now?”

jay grins, the mischief returning to his eyes. “phase two, obviously.”

you shake your head, laughing under your breath. “you’re ridiculous.”

“trust me, jake’s already starting to notice you y/n,” jay says, taking a sip of his drink. “so? you in?”

you glance down at your phone, at the list of unread emails waiting for you. and you think about jake – his hesitation earlier, the way he had to actually ask you about lunch. how for the first time, he seemed to realize that you weren’t just an extension of his routine.

deep down, you hope he’s right.

and it’s already started – jake is thinking about it. about you.

you just don’t know it yet.

jake had been off all day, and he knew it.

it had started with lunch. or rather, the strange lack of it – the missing familiarity, the offhanded nature of it, the unsettling realization that it hadn’t been waiting for him like usual. and then when you did get him something, it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right either. not that he could even say what ‘right’ was anymore. that part gnawed at him the most.

he had spent the better half of the afternoon distracted, shuffling between meetings and emails while the thought sat at the back of his head, growing heavier by the hour. it wasn’t about the food. it was never just about the food.

he leaned back in his office chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

why was this bothering him so much?

his usual? what even was his usual? how long had he stopped deciding that for himself? at what point had he gotten so used to you taking care of it that he didn’t even remember?

the realization was suffocating.

jake had never considered himself someone who relied on others – not in any way that mattered. he was independent, capable, and self-sufficient. at least, that’s what he had always told himself. but today proved otherwise.

somewhere along the way, he had gotten used to your quiet presence. the way you smoothed things over without him having to ask. the way you knew things before he did, handled them before they became problems, and – somewhere in the middle of all that – became something constant.

and now, the moment that balance wavered, he felt like he was losing his footing.

the evening dragged on, the weight of the day pressing against his temples as he sat at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen. he should go home. but even the idea of leaving felt exhausting.

then his phone rang.

jake glanced at the caller id. mom.

he hesitated for a second before answering. “hey.”

“jakey,” his mother’s voice was warm but laced with something tired. “i was just checking in. it’s been a while.”

he sighed, rubbing his temple. “yeah, sorry. work’s been crazy.”

there was a pause. a small one, but enough for jake to feel the unspoken words on the other end. he knew that pause.

“you’ve been eating, right?” she asked. “you sound off.”

jake nearly laughed, though there was nothing funny about it. his grip on the phone tightened.

“i’m fine.”

“jake.”

he clenched his jaw. the weight in his chest grew heavier.

how was it that this one conversation, this one question, managed to make everything worse? it wasn’t like he had told her anything. it wasn’t like she knew that something as stupid as lunch had been haunting him all day, or that he was suddenly questioning things he had never thought twice about before.

he exhaled sharply. “mom, i said i’m fine.”

another silence. then, softer, “you always say that.”

jake shut his eyes.

for a second, he was six years old again, sitting at the kitchen table, picking at his food while his mother sat across from him, pretending like everything was fine. like they weren’t waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back.

he barely remembered his father’s face, but he remembered the absence. the lingering silence. the way his mother never cried in front of him, but he knew she wanted to.

“people leave sometimes, jakey,” she had told him once. “even when they don’t mean to.”

jake had spent his whole life pretending that it didn't affect him. that it didn’t shape the way he saw the world, the way he kept people at arm’s length. that it didn’t make him hyper-aware of who stayed and who didn’t.

but now, sitting in his empty office, with the remnants of an unremarkable lunch sitting in the trash, he was starting to think it had affected him more than he ever wanted to admit.

“jake?” his mother’s voice pulled him back.

he swallowed. “yeah, i’m here.”

“i won’t push,” she said gently. “but you know you can talk to me, right?”

he let out a breath. “i know.”

a few more words were exchanged, mostly her telling him to take care of himself before she hung up. jake set his phone down on his desk and stared at it for a long moment.

he didn’t know what was worse – the fact that he felt like he was spiraling over something so insignificant, or the fact that it didn’t feel insignificant at all.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his hands.

what the hell is wrong with me?

eight.

jake is not in a good mood this morning.

it’s evident in the way his jaw is clenched, the way his morning greeting to you sounds even more clipped and indifferent than usual and it’s apparent in the way he slams his door shut behind him.

you’ve seen him like this before – just once – in an intense mood all day, brooding over a particularly complicated issue at work. so you ignore the slight pang in your chest when he barely looks at you before shutting himself off in his room.

you give him space.

you go about your work, responding to emails, organizing the files on his desk, and making sure everything is in order for the meetings he has later. but throughout the day, you can’t help but glance toward his closed office door. there’s a stiffness in your posture whenever you walk past it, an awareness that you’re treading around a storm, waiting for it to pass.

it doesn��t.

by lunchtime, you hesitate before grabbing your own food. jake still hasn’t come out of his office, and you know him well enough to know he probably hasn’t eaten. the memory of the previous day – his offhanded question about lunch, the way he seemed oddly thrown off by you not bringing it – lingers in your mind. maybe that’s all it is, you reason. he just needs to eat.

so you order his usual, the one you’ve memorized without thinking. but when you place it on his desk, he barely glances at it.

“not hungry,” he mutters.

that’s it. no thank you, no acknowledgement. just a dismissal.

it stings more than it should. you don’t push him, simply nodding before stepping back. but something about the way his shoulders are tense, his fingers gripping a pen too tightly, makes you hesitate.

“are you okay?”

it’s a simple question, but it’s a mistake.

jake looks up at you then, and for the first time all day, he really looks at you. his expression is unreadable, his gaze sharp in a way that feels like a blade pressing into something delicate.

and then he scoffs.

“you don’t have to do that.”

your fingers curl around the tray you had got his food in. they clutch at the edges of the plastic, digging into your skin, imprinting a mark physically much like the way jake’s next words do in your chest.

you blink. “do what?”

“act like you care.”

the words hit like a slap. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

jake doesn’t stop there. “i don’t need you to hover. i don’t need your pity. i don’t need—” he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “just stop.”

you freeze. there’s something deeply frustrating about this moment – because you don’t understand, because you don’t know what’s going on in his head, because you’re just trying to help. but jake is looking at you like your presence alone is suffocating him, like you’re an inconvenience, like he wants to push you as far away as possible.

pity? he thinks you’re pitying him? is your gaze so misconstrued that he’s actually letting himself believe that someone like you could pity him?

but whatever it is that jake wants, it works.

you don’t say anything. you don’t argue, don’t snap back, don’t ask why he’s being an asshole for no reason. because really, what would be the point? you can’t help him, not with whatever impossible problem he’s been staring at all day. you’re not a genius like him, not someone who understands physics or engineering or whatever the hell he’s stressing over.

you’re just his assistant.

you nod once and leave the room, ignoring the way your stomach twists uncomfortably.

the afternoon drags on. you’re quieter than usual, working diligently and keeping to yourself. jake doesn’t seem to notice. or if he does, he doesn’t care.

jay drops by at some point, leaning against your desk with a knowing look. “he’s in a mood today.”

you exhale through your nose. “i noticed.”

jay tilts his head. “you good?”

“i’m fine.” it’s the easy answer, the one that doesn’t require unpacking anything. you don’t want to talk about how frustrating it is, how useless you feel, how much it actually bothers you when you know it shouldn’t.

jay doesn’t press, but he gives you a small nod of understanding before heading to jake’s office. you hear them talking – jay’s voice lighthearted, trying to ease whatever storm jake is caught in. but jake’s replies are short, clipped, his irritation barely restrained. eventually, jay gives up.

by the time evening rolls around, the tension hasn’t lifted.

you’re finishing up paperwork when you hear jake’s office chair scrape against the floor. a moment later, he steps out, his phone pressed to his ear. you don’t look up, but you can hear the strain in his voice, the way it’s unusually tense.

“no, mom, i told you—” a pause. “i don’t know. i haven’t thought about it.”

your pen stills against the paper.

jake exhales sharply. “because i don’t have time for this.” his voice drops lower, something more raw seeping into the cracks. “it doesn’t matter. he made his choice.”

silence.

and then, a barely audible, “i don’t care.”

your chest tightens.

you glance up, just for a second, but the look on jake’s face is unreadable. he’s standing rigid, shoulders tense, his grip on his phone almost painful. whatever his mother is saying, it’s digging under his skin, unearthing something you can’t begin to understand.

you don’t look away fast enough.

jake notices. his eyes flick to yours, and for a split second, something flickers there – something vulnerable, something tired. but then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

he turns on his heel and walks out.

you don’t follow.

jake is still in a bad mood when jay finds him.

he doesn’t know why he agreed to go out for drinks. maybe it was the way jay had looked at him after stopping by the office earlier, or maybe it was the unbearable silence of his apartment that he didn’t want to sit in alone. either way, now he’s here, sitting across from jay and sunghoon at some bar downtown, nursing a whiskey he’s barely taken a sip from.

he’s been fidgeting with his glass for the past fifteen minutes, watching the condensation trail down the sides, listening to jay and sunghoon talk about something he’s barely paying attention to. their voices sound distant, like they’re underwater, and everything around him feels just slightly off-kilter, like he’s caught in a strange in-between where he can’t fully ground himself. he feels like an outsider looking in on his own life, watching himself sit here, going through the motions.

jay nudges him. “you good?”

jake blinks. “yeah.”

sunghoon snorts. “you look like you’re about to throw yourself off a bridge.”

he rolls his eyes, but it’s weak. he takes a sip of his drink, wincing at the burn. “just tired.”

jay doesn’t buy it. “it’s work, isn’t it?”

jake exhales sharply through his nose. that’s the thing—it’s not just work.

it’s the way his day has felt completely off-kilter since this morning. no scratch that, it's been this way this entire week.

it’s the way he couldn’t focus, no matter how hard he tried, the way his own office felt too cold, too empty. it’s the way his lunch tasted like cardboard, even though you had gotten it for him like you always did. the way you had placed it on his desk so carefully, so deliberately, and yet it had felt… wrong. bland. like something was missing, and he couldn’t figure out what.

it’s the way he had snapped at you.

his grip tightens around his glass. he hadn’t meant to. he had been frustrated, overwhelmed, his thoughts eating him alive, and you had just – been there. and he had let his irritation get the best of him. he doesn’t even remember what he said exactly, just the way your face had shifted, the way something in your expression had dimmed before you had looked away and left him alone.

had he hurt you? the thought unsettles him more than he’d like to admit.

“i don’t know, man.” he leans back, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. “people are so fucking unpredictable.”

jay raises an eyebrow. “where’s this coming from?”

jake shakes his head. “just—” he exhales. “you think you know someone, you think they’re a certain way, and then suddenly… they’re not. and you don’t know when it happened, or why, or if it was always going to happen and you were just too blind to see it coming.”

there’s a brief pause. then sunghoon says, “sounds like someone’s got abandonment issues.”

jake scoffs. “that’s not what i—” he stops himself. clenches his jaw. takes another sip of his drink. it burns down his throat, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts spiraling in his head.

jay is watching him carefully. “you want to talk about it?”

jake doesn’t answer immediately. he should say no. he should shut it down, brush it off, make some joke and move on. but something about tonight, about the weight pressing down on his chest, makes him want to keep talking. so he does.

“my dad left when i was six.”

it’s abrupt. unprompted. but neither jay nor sunghoon say anything, just let him speak.

“one day he was there, the next he wasn’t. no warning. no explanation.” he exhales, shaking his head. “i remember my mom sat me down and told me he wasn’t coming back, and i didn’t get it at first. i thought—maybe he was just on a long trip. maybe he’d call. maybe—”

he swallows hard. “but he never did.”

the words hang heavy in the air. he doesn’t know why he’s saying this. he doesn’t talk about his dad, ever. but something about tonight makes it easier. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the lingering feeling of wrongness from earlier today. maybe it’s the way your face had fallen when he snapped at you. maybe it’s the way his chest has felt empty since then.

jay sighs. “that’s rough, man.”

and jay means it. because in all the years that he’s known jake, he’s never told them up front of his issues. sure, they’ve picked up some hints of it, how he barely talks about his family, how there used to be a picture frame in their old dorm room with only him and his mom, how he sparingly mentioned his family and even then, not a word about his father.

they had wondered, but never pried. some things are better left alone unless ready to be tackled.

sunghoon, uncharacteristically serious, says, “that’s why you’re like this, huh?”

jake frowns. “like what?”

sunghoon shrugs. “like you don’t trust people to stay.”

jake doesn’t respond. because what is there to say? he’s not wrong.

he glances down at his phone, at the unopened messages from his mom. she had called earlier, left a voicemail. he knows what she wants. it’s the anniversary of the day his dad left. she always calls on this day. but he hasn’t called back yet. he doesn’t know if he wants to.

his mind flickers back to you. the way you had looked at him after he snapped. the way you hadn’t said anything, hadn’t fought back, just accepted it and left.

had you expected it from him? had you seen it coming? had he proved you right?

jay’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “you ever think that maybe you push people away before they can leave?”

jake stills. something inside him twists. because – he doesn’t. does he?

he thinks about the way you had stayed, despite everything. how you had shown up, day after day, putting up with his moods, his silence, his sharp edges. how you had gotten his lunch, even when he had barely acknowledged you all morning. how you had tried, always tried.

and how he had snapped at you anyway.

he rubs a hand down his face. he suddenly feels exhausted. the weight on his chest has only gotten heavier.

“maybe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “maybe i do.”

neither jay nor sunghoon push further. they just let him sit with it, let him stew in his own thoughts.

jake exhales slowly, the realization sinking in like a stone in his stomach.

he doesn’t know why he feels like he’s already losing something he didn’t even know he wanted to keep.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

tl;dr: how do i become ok with my partner using porn? do i have to become ok with it?

detail/context: i am in a LDR. im demisexual, my partner is allosexual.

i thought i was ok with porn use at first, but about a year into the relationship i realized it bothers me a lot. i feel like im not enough, and i really dont know how i could ever be better than the limitless amount of content on the internet. it felt especially bad after my partner mentioned that they would probably continue to use porn even when we close the distance and live together. i tried my best to make peace with it, but found myself crying like 3x the usual amount, so i talked to my partner about. i already felt guilty, because i told them i dont care about porn use before, and now i suddenly was not cool with it. i felt like i was deceiving them. but my partner was very understanding and said they will stop using porn because they care more about me than any of that. which is great and very sweet of them! its been a few months and they told me that while they miss porn somewhat, its not really a big deal.

except now, several months later, i keep feeling like im taking something from them. i feel im being unreasonable and abusive and selfish. like, all the other progressive people are totally cool with it. so why is it so hard for me? what the fuck do i do.

some other relevant bits: i dont look at porn myself bc it generally speaking does nothing for me. me and my partner still masturbate, mostly to each other's nudes. i told them i dont care if the fantasize about whatever they want, but in their words, they cant really masturbate without some sort of visual input. they have some rather extreme kinks they dont want to involve me in even in imagination, so thats what they mostly used porn for, and also the main thing that makes me feel like im taking something away from them.

hi anon,

god okay there's a lot of meat on this question, let's do this.

first thing's first, because this is important: this is not abusive behavior. stop that. asking your partner to stop doing something that makes you feel stressed and upset is not what abuse it. that's called "being a human person with feelings and wants" and it's not illegal.

okay, so, second: do you need to be okay with your partner using porn? I mean, no. you don't have to be okay with anything, technically. your boundaries can be whatever you want them to be. but given the distress you're still feeling even though your partner has fully acquiesced to the thing you asked for and, frankly, sounds pretty fine with it, there's clearly some lingering dissatisfaction on your end. you wouldn't be here if the situation was as simple as "asked my partner not to use porn anymore, they don't, all is well, thumbs up emoji."

so that brings us to your first question, which is how you, sweet anon, can learn to be okay with this. I'm going to tell you straight up: I don't have a singular hard answer to that. I don't know you, I don't know your brain and the specific emotional baggage you bring to this, everyone is different, etc etc. but like. let's talk about it.

here's the thing: me personally, I don't understand why people are bothered by their partners enjoying porn. like, I get it in theory, especially when it's a situation where you're describing where you feel you're being negatively compared. and don't get me wrong, I've definitely worked with some people with real shithead partners who explicitly WERE comparing them to actors in porn, saying they wished they looked more like the actors, etc. and that absolutely is uncool, we do not condone.

but in general, to me, it kind of feels like this: suppose you're a cook, right? you're a great cook, you love to do it. and nothing makes you happier than making a big delicious meal for you and your beloved partner to share together. and they like eating your food! of course they do! you prepare it with love and you know all of their favorite things.

they're still going to want oreos sometimes.

and that's not a slight on you. it's not that you're cooking is worse than oreos. it's not that you're failing to make them happy and there's a gaping hole in their soul that only an oreo can fill. it's not that they're sitting with you at the dining table eating your delicious homemade meals thinking "goddamn, I wish this was just a plate full of oreos." it's just that, you know, oreos are yummy and sometimes they really hit the spot. you can like two things without either of those things negating or diminishing the other.

and I'm, like, absolutely not under the impression that a dinky oreos metaphor is going to totally change how you feel about this. I want to be so clear that I don't think you're being, like, heinous or unreasonable or anything. you're feeling a very real distress, and I have to imagine that it's exacerbated by the fact that you and your partner are long distance and you might feel like you're failing to show up for them in a lot of ways, including sexually. that's a very normal reason to feel insecure! a lot of people do! long distance relationships seem really hard! and I think realistically the only way through this discomfort, if you do want to go through the discomfort, is to really zero in on what's making you feel uncomfortable and insecure about your partner jacking it to something other than you, and honestly talk them about the areas where you're feeling like something may be lacking and find ways to mutually reassure each other that everything's cool. you know, get that reassurance that they do in fact love and enjoy your delicious meals and that the oreos don't negate that.

lastly, and I cannot emphasize this enough, it's fine if your partner watching porn never feels super comfortable for you. you're allowed to ask your partner not to do things! if they really hate it they need to say something about it! idk it can be very admirable to want to change your view on things but also most people have some stuff that's just always going to feel like a boundary they don't want to compromise and that's Fine.

[undertalethingems]

honestly I’m just glad that u have a schedule for posting new pages of unexpected guests tbh

like so many fan comics are just posted randomly, which, fair, but you’ve been doing this for yeeears, and not with multiple comics, but just this singular one! idk exactly how long unexpected guests has been going for, but I’ve personally been following for about 5ish years now, and there was already a good chunk of comic I was able to catch up on at the time! the dedication is insane!

and you do this all FOR FREE??? like, that’s crazy?? this is probably one of my favorite pieces of undertale media, and it feels illegal that it’s free smh

so what u miss some uploads or are late sometimes? you literally have a life outside of this comic, and this is probably something that you just do for fun. all of y’all who get impatient, i get it, u like the comic and want to c more, but plz, have some patience 🙏. it’s kinda rude and annoying to pester someone about this kinda thing, even if done with non malicious intentions.

anyway, sorry if i’m overstepping, but i just love ur work, and i felt bad seeing all the people complaining about the late chapter. take all the time u need!

oh yeah, I've mentioned in the past that when i was first planning how to make unexpected guests as a comic, i knew I'd need a posting schedule just for my own sake. I procrastinate a lot, even on things i like doing, and a regular deadline has (usually) helped me stay on top of things, while also giving my readers an 'anchor' so that yeah, they're not left wondering when the next update will be. I'd seen how that affects other comics, and knew i wanted to avoid it if i could. The first page was posted March 2nd, 2017, and somehow, I'm still at it??? I'm surprised too :'D

And yeah, it's all just because i had a story i wanted to share, and had the time and skill to do it in comic form. I really do appreciate when people deign to give me money over it, that's their hard earned cash they're handing over for pictures of silly skeletons. But I'd be doing it anyway because it's more fun sharing pictures of silly skeletons with other people.

And yeah, sometimes I'm busy, or my brain won't cooperate with me for one reason or another, and that means the comic gets put to the wayside a little. I don't think there's a single artist this doesn't happen to. But i really appreciate that for every impatient or entitled person that comes along, there's many more people who are understanding and offer their rebuttals and support. I have waaaay more positive messages like this one hoarded in my inbox than I've ever had negative, haha.

so thank you for the kind words, they genuinely mean a lot to me ^^

[pearlcatcher-problems]

maferzin ᛜ amphithere ᛜ queen of the roost

she ! the bean ! the long noodle ! I keep referring to her as the spaghetti project, so thankful to have it done after all the chaos this month q wq

Lore rambles about the amphitheres / roost under the cut to keep things tidy

Amphitheres. Noisy, multi-winged beasts that flocked in the remains of a Harpy outpost after the lich's fall due to a surplus of energy there, choosing to leech directly from the corrupted magics to fuel their flock rather than worry of possible risks as the benefits far outweigh any possible negatives. They have a drive for survival and know that they do so better in numbers, which requires above all protection, sustenance, and a strong sense of community between the flock. They're smart, but they're... not smart. While they can understand difficult concepts and engage in philosophy, a lot of the time they'd just rather.... not. In general, Roost Amphitheres tend to find more joy in the more 'stupid' aspects in life: unironically engaging in the equivalent to 'meme culture' in their little community.

Unironically, these little pea-brained idiots name themselves after whatever little thing makes them giggle the most so that they get to hear it time and time again and share that experience with friends. As amphitheres depends on identifying each other via scent patterns, the name is as much an accessory to them as the garb they wrap themselves in. There are some Amphitheres who may change their name once a week, others that simply end up finding something that feels right to them and staying with it their whole lives.

( Fun fact: most of the Roost Amphitheres are named after parts of the dubbed nanalan show because it tickles my brain so much! Maferzin, Peepo, and Nasa are all ones that have survived the name cycle over the years to keep to this homage! )

They are quick to react and slow to forgive, making them risky allies for many reasons. It's not uncommon for them to end up scrapping with dragonkin over veiled insults towards their nonsense habits or their more beast-like mannerisms when feeding / playing / existing in general, which has made creating long-lasting allies a hardship. In recent years, researchers from the main allied outpost have tried to gain access to Roost grounds to survey the lich's remains and form diplomatic bonds with the Amphitheres under Spire's guidance, which has been... mostly successful. There's been a glut of magic from the lich this season as his corpse will take aeons to properly decay, leaving the Amphitheres full to glut on his magic, jolly, and generally more amicable.

Physiologically, amphitheres are serpentine creatures that have bodies covered with scale and fur, and have no proper 'limbs' beyond wings. Six tends to be the norm, but some have been recorded with more or less depending on their heritage and how heavily the corruption has settled through their bloodline. 'Maneuvering' wing limbs usually have a singular or pair of clawed digits to allow them to grip or climb, whereas their main 'flying' wings are relatively normal. Some breeds may even fold up maneuvering wings for ease of flying depending on how poorly laid out they are. Two horns is the norm, but four have been recorded. Some may grind off their horns entirely if they get in the way of flying or entangled too much, it's also not uncommon for some to be broken from brawling.

Maferzin is the head of the roost, Queen of the Amphithere flock and considers herself to be quite the catch. She's large for an amphithere, but still dwarfed in comparison to Spire- something that goes to his favour as she's not used to feeling small and dainty around other dragons. As matriarch, her bloodline has cemented itself through the Roost's lineage, having multiple offspring thriving within their flock now, some expecting clutches of their own. She is a good leader in making the right call for her people, but not always the most empathetic to the struggles of others. She is a deep romantic at heart though and has found peace with the plentiful season in being able to simply thrive and enjoy the finer things in life: good company, a plentiful den, the newest in allied clan garb from the neighbouring silk trader....

She's never been one for frivolities, but with the new trade agreements and allies have come gifts. This has been a new pleasure she's very much enjoyed: thoroughly dressing both herself and her kin up in whichever finery the neighbouring seamstress sends their way ( she's honestly just thrilled to have a new body shape / flight pattern to clothe!! ) She has learned to keep whichever poorly-shaped pearls around her midsection, as they're the ones most likely to be pulled as she scales and winds herself around things.

While the species is jovial now, when starved... things change. They will attack anything that moves and wipe out entire ecosystems if left to their own unchecked. They are nasty buggers to fight as many of them tend to be venomous and they are always in large numbers. When alerted, many of them will create noise to pass on the alarm to neighbouring Amphitheres, usually in the form of hissing or rattling of tails ( for those who have rattles. ) Having them be peaceful long-term is a beneficial goal for everyone, as their existence allows plentiful research on lichfall from the main outpost, and having them be calm allows safe trade routes through their domain for other outposts. As such, the main outpost has devised a back up plan for if things do fall into a bad season via a storage system of liquid ley via the elementals at the oasis.

It's a delicate balance keeping it all afloat, but they're all somehow bound by the lich's fall and need to support themselves somehow.

Also, the base sketch of this was from literal years ago but I've been crying for the energy to actually tackle it. Feeling very good about being able to do so now!

[quartztwst]

MagiKey AU

(MORE INDEPTH VERSION/some rewrites and fix ups + explanations) WARNING: LONG

What is Twisted Wonderland in this universe?

Twisted Wonderland is a world where magic and fantasy races exists (beastmen, merfolk, fae, humans, etc). Although, their magic cannot compare to the magical users in their universe. These magical users are blessed with a sparkly charm with higher magic than the rest of the world.

What is MagiKey?

MagiKey is a magical people/users agency. Their job is to provide, recruit, and now train MagiKey users how to do their jobs! This agency is top secret and not a lot of people know about these organizations.

MagiKey was made by ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇.

Dire Crowley is not the founder but he does watch over the MagiKey users (he does not pay attention) and "blesses" them with a MagiKey. Usually the age range of being blessed with a MagiKey is 13-14 but there are some times where people are given it at 15-17.

13-14 is the most common age though but it is not impossible to receive the key when you are older unless you become over 20.

There is another agency which is the equivalent to RSA in the TWST universe. They have different charms like MagiKeys. (Their name might be MagiSword. I don't know yet.)

How do you use a Magikey?

To unlock your Magikey, you have to say the magic words: "Magic Magikey Unlock!"

It's embarrassing but this is crucial for users to link their MagiKeys so they can transform easier.

If you do not know the words to activate your MagiKey, then you are unable to use the magic in the MagiKey, making it just an ordinary key that goes nowhere.

If you are able to unlock the MagiKey, then you are able to access it's power/magic in exchange of your "imagination."

The MagiKey depends on your "imagination" to provide magic and attacks. If you have weak "imagination," then your attacks will be weak or stunted.

If you have stronger imagination, your attacks and abilities will grow in strength and/or in complexity.

This is the reason why MagiKeys are given to people who are younger than 18 because this is where people's imagination is most active and intense.

About the MagiKey

MagiKeys all have different aesthetics and themes so there are some cases where MagiKeys' outfits and themes do not match/reflect on the user. (Ex: Qix Trix)

The outfits can also change as you grow older. This happens when you least expect it and it might not be what you like.

(Example):

There are also some cases where your personality has a change when you transform.

Since the agencies are a secret, it is crucial for you to keep your actual identity a secret to the public unless it's other magical users. If you breach this and this information is given to MagiKey providers/staff, your MagiKey will be taken and you will no longer be a MagiKey user.

Villains VS Enemies

Villains are magical users who rebel against their duties and use their power for their own business. They usually cause trouble for civilians and/or magical users. (Ex: Octavinelle + other dorms if it calls for it.)

Enemies are goopy ink beings that are born from negative and intense places like funerals or stuff like that. Just places where a lot of negative energy/emotions are produced. There are some instances where a lot of negative energy from one singular person can produce them.

These enemies can take any shape and form. There are also different levels to them. They can range to small goopy monsters to full fledged humanoid people who can speak and comprehend.

Usually, the small goopy monsters are most common and the humanoid ones only form if the negative energy has been there for an extremely extended period.

These enemies have their own state of mind and become completely separate from the person who produced them.

What are Corrupted Magical Users?

This is when a Magical person/user is consumed by intense negative emotions and uses too much power. When negative energy and emotions happen, this will dictate the "imagination" they are giving to the MagiKey.

If you are consumed with intense negativity, your imagination becomes negative so the powers produced from the Magikey will be a reflection of your negativity, becoming warped and corrupted.

This works the same for positive/regular emotions. If you have positive energy, this will reflect in your magic attacks.

If you have been consumed by your own negativity and power, black ink will surround your body to form a more powerful and bigger body.

(Example):

When defeating a corrupted user, you are to aim for their weak spot in a powerful attack. The weak spot is where the magical user is which will kill them.

But every magical user is not taught to save and only taught to kill corrupted users so most magical people choose to kill them because it is a life or death situation.

To save a corrupted magical user, you must attack the ink around the user's body and pull them out.

The corrupted user in the ink body is not conscious and have no knowledge of what is happening to them and others.

These situations do not occur often but these do psychological damage to magical users who have to kill the corrupted users. This is why some magical users are blessed with abilities to boost people's energy and mood. (Ex: Fragaria)

After killing, the corpse of the corrupted magical user will fall onto the ground, along with the key/or charm.

You are to return the item back to the respected agency. If you fail to do so, you will be hunted down by the agency or most likely other magical users and both charms will be taken; yours and the one you stole.

What do they do with the MagiKeys with a dead user?

If the Magikey has been corrupted, it will go into study but if the user has been just killed or died, they will give it to a new user but this isn't after for a few years. They have new keys coming too.

The Nepenthe

A small group of people who hunt down other magical users and destroy their charms. This group has been led by MagiKey user Rollo Flamme but after his own key being destroyed, it has been going through some changes in ideals and tactics by a different leader 🍓✨️

This group isn't known by any of the magical users and the agencies since it has been recently created. Their original name was the Anti-Magical User Group but after some changes, the name has been changed to fit the ideals of the leader.

Smaller Facts

Magical Users refer to all Magical girls/guys/people from both agencies!

Magikey Users refer to just Magical users in MagiKey!

Another way to become a magical user is to steal a key!

Magical User ranks are different from MagiKey popularity ranks! Magical User ranks are who is the most powerful while MagiKey popularity ranks are just who is the most popular MagiKey user!

Malleus Draconia is one of the most powerful Magical users!

There are fanclubs and fandoms for certain Magical users! (Ex: Vil)

People do know of Magical users but they are evacuated when a battle is happening but there are clips online. They do not know the Magical users real identity though.

Ill add more if I feel like it but feel free to ask questions!!

[user946468]

The Game Within | Chishiya Shuntarou Fanfiction

Chapter 1/?

Prompt ; You get trapped in a TV show, dedicated to stick by the rules of the game you hid in the shadows, watching from a distance, acting clueless. But what happens when your also being watched?

Originally posted on ao3! @user951250

There was a few lone people by the hot tub, thankfully not being too annoyingly loud, but loud enough for you to hear them from a few feet away. A cute, rather short girl with some type of tropical drink- a color so vibrant you can never help but wonder what the fuck they actually put in the drinks they make here- she had a cherry in her mouth. On the other end of the stem a cherry hung into a guys mouth- it was all very sensual, and you would usually feel like you were interrupting something but there was something humorous in how the guy sitting in front of them was staring at them with such disgust and confusion, and all at once looking very distraught.

It was funny on his part, and utterly pathetic on yours. All that you have been able to do these past weeks has been to people watch, after these hellish weeks of fighting for a life in a world that is not even your own. A world you thought was your own- for an optimistic few minutes until the the sun light seemed to warm and blinding to just be a dream, the stores, cars and roads too abandoned to be somewhere you somehow were unfortunate enough to sleep walk too- but as soon as the singular billboard shown a bright sign that rung alarm bells in your brain; you thought that was it- you've gone fucking insane. It was insane, so that meant you were too. However you learned the hard way dwelling on your sanity in an empty city wasn't fading your surroundings back to the familiar walls of your room no matter how hard you closed your eyes.

You knew where you were, but that's something too ludicrous to say out loud, let alone think- something you wont even say to yourself now. Who's to say you wont jolt awake in your bed a few seconds from now and laugh about your own stupidity? You stayed there for a long time, mind reeling and dwelling on ever logical possibility to make where you were- where you are make sense. The only thing you could think of was to follow the billboard, on a negative side to confirm your intuition; on a positive side to humor yourself.

But there was nothing humors about the cold shock you felt when you seen the conscious, lively people in-front of the arena, all as confused and anxious as you were, nor was their humor in the blood that stained your clothes, the seething warmth of the liquid that sprayed you. It was all too real too fast. 4 of Diamonds, a maze of mirrors with secret codes, and a lot blood. It took you three, close-to expired visa's and two more games for you to be pushed and try to understand your meaning in all of this... if it wasn't you going into psychosis after all.

During your third game, and your fourth game, and all your games after- you always repeated too yourself what you did know rather than thinking about what you didn't know. If you wanted to be grounded, you knew that these people that you were seeing weren't real. Not in your world anyways, and isn't that what really matters? When you wanted to have a clear mind before a game you reminded yourself that every participant you were up against, they weren't going to make it out in the end. It was dehumanizing, and dissociating, and borderline insane- but it kept you safe. And you were going to play by the rules, how the games intended. From the day of your first game the thought that death was creeping behind your back never ceased your mind, not while alone, scavenging for food, or in the middle of a game. It was the first thing you thought about when you went to sleep, first thing on your mind when you woke up.

Especially when you think back to your games, the games you won out of sheer dumb luck. The luck that your life lies on so tenderly, threatening to collapse at any moment. You weren't particularity athletic, or a team player, neither did you have the mental capacity to call your self a diamond or hearts player, you just got dealt a good hand. Low number cards, yet to anything above a 6. Sheer dumb luck. Somewhere along the lines of trying to keep your sanity intact you got recruited to the beach, partially because you had one game card they were deprived of and partially because they were getting desperate for more ranks. All though staying at the beach was breaching multiple rules you made for yourself in your brain, it truly was a blessing in disguise. Warm bed, clean water, hot food, you even felt a wall of safety grow around you, it was a false sense of security and you knew that, but couldn't you appreciate the slight comfort it brought?

The first day at the beach you made two new rules; One was made when you first meet Hatter- an a lot less incriminating interaction than the one you've seen on TV, it was over almost as soon as it started. Him taking your cards, brief run down of the rules and a toss of a room key, then him guiding you by your back to the main floor, he left with some rushed good-bye's and him trailing off about "Never having a foreign before..." That interaction was enough to make your mind blank for the next three hours. Knowing you're in the same place as fictional characters is one thing, seeing and interacting with them is brain numbing. Your truly happy you came into the beach with such ease, with no one but the Hatter and a few low class militant controls- you don't wanna know how you would've reacted if you've seen Mira in there, knowing everything you know; So you've made a rule to blend into the crowd. And to your displeasure that wouldn't mean sitting back and watching people slowly lose their sense of sanity in front of you, but to join them. Like clockwork, every other day you force yourself to the bar and get a shot with whatever fruity drink you see first, and get just drunk enough that socializing doesn't seem like its own mind game.

The second rule was to never, ever neglect bathing every again. You really don't like to think about it.

You don't really like to think about anything anymore when you don't have too, and the cold air mixed with your sore muscles was a perfect brain distractor. Or at least it was, until mild discomfort turned into a borderline ache all over your body when the sky got darker and the night got colder. The couple (throuple?) by the pool have already left, a chilled glass cup sitting alone, being the only thing to prove they were ever there. A nice reminder that you haven't gone insane yet and hallucinated them. Despite the throbbing in your legs, you stayed still. You were waiting.

Another reason you liked to stay out here was the view, specifically onto the third and fourth floor. The higher ranked area's were a mystery to you despite everything, but from down here you could see all of the front facing rooms at anytime of the day- except for one. The third room to the left always has it's curtains drawn, and when they are open it's only ever enough to see a dark crack ruining from roof to floor. Except for right now. This was against your rules, to watch, to pry where you didn't need to- but there was some sort of sick satisfaction you got from watching everyone when you knew their endings. And Chishiya had a long way ahead of him.

After the initial discomfort of knowing, watching has been the most entertaining thing for you to do. Anyone if you’re bored enough, executives preferably, Chishiya by favor. Mostly because he was the hardest to spot around the beach, always hiding away doing god know's what- but not now. He's talking to someone (Kuina?), if him glancing into his darkroom ever so often and nodding is anything to go by. He's toying with something in his hands, too small to be seen by you, and he keeps looking around the outskirt below him- not anxiously, just watching. Could it be the taser he used in the spades game? If he had the taser now did he already meet Arisu? Was it a replica? Or maybe it was something else, a different devices he needed someone to test it on... and you were a solid target laying out in the open. Not that you would particularly mind.

You pried at your brain to focus seeing that the balcony was now empty, the curtain still open an inch wide. You needed to get up and back inside, away from the cold and into your warm bed. Groaning you stood up stiffly, allowing your eye's to glance back once more to the third floor, almost disappointed- but he was back, to your surprise, like he never left. Lightly leaning against the railing, hood on, but this time without the device in hand, watching. Specifically glancing back in your direction, and if you squint it’s almost like he’s staring at you. With a final look around he retreats back behind the curtains.

Fuck, did he notice you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were only a few things you appreciated here, the normalcy's in your surroundings was one thing. The sun, moon, sky, the stars- they were also the only thing making you contempt with this situation- they’re the only things that stayed the same. Your visa expires tomorrow, and a game was much needed to help tame the anxious pit in your stomach- but even a gruesome death game you don't have the luxury of having, being meet with an empty table and pity glances from the two girls you rode in the backseat with.

Maybe you would've argued your way into the game, or even fought for the phone if you cared enough to, but no sooner than you could scoff something shining through the trees got your attention. The sight of a small bright arrow pointed further down the road, and the good news is it didn’t seem to be a painfully long way ahead. You were almost grateful to be turning away when you heard the cheery chirp of their phones, leaving the group behind to wander on your own. You don't get that a lot anymore. You also didn’t want to think about how you’ll get back later tonight. If you will, at all.

Swatting away the last thick branch from a particularly overgrown tree you see an arrow pointing down into a lit tunnel, the yellow toned light gave it a sense of warmth-a burning warmth of a lighter, a fire you shouldn't play with, only look at from afar. Nonetheless, you continue to the tunnel- you feel more uncertain with each step, pausing when you’re directly under the arrow. A bus was parked a few feet ahead of you, a familiar bus, one with graffiti too distinctive to be a copy. Your half minded to turn back completely, find a new game and forget you ever came across the highway- but the moon was taunting, reminding you of your visa. Getting closer to midnight every minute you stared aimlessly into the light, way to close for comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[taniahylian]

Tristes tropiques: The worst chapter in Reverse 1999

Alright, so I’ve wanted to talk about ch8 of the main story since I’ve finished it because it’s, imo, the worst drop in writing quality we’ve seen in the game so far. It has a lot of inconsistencies, things that aren’t explained or happen off-screen, and the emotional segments are rushed/not impactful enough, and about characters we’ve barely seen (excluding Anjo Nala, who is the best part of the chapter imo). Now, as you can see, this will be quite a negative take, so if you liked this chapter, please don’t let me ruin your fun lol. Also, it’ll have spoilers, so be warned.

Part 1: The representation.

Alright, had to get this out of the way first because it’s what everyone is talking about. The representation.

Is the representation bad? Yes. Really, really bad if we compare it with literally all other stories in the game. To put things in perspective, imagine if in the Notes of Shuori event nothing changed but they clamed this was Japan instead of China, yet characters still spoke in Chinese, had Chinese names, and many of the references were Chinese. That would have been outrageous, wouldn’t it? Well, that’s basically what happened here but with Brazil and other Latin American countries.

What they tried to do, basically, was dump all of Latin America (you, know a region that’s bigger and more diverse than Europe) into one singular “culture” and put this in fictional Sao Paulo. Why do I say that? Because many of the words they use for different things are in Spanish, and many characters speak in Spanish, have Spanish-sounding names, and reference things from other countries in Latin America. Also, one of the npcs, whose name I don’t care to remember, is literally a walking Mexican stereotype. To me what this says is that they didn’t do any research at all about Brazil (for those of you who don’t know, they speak Portuguese and are also far enough away from Mexico that these two cultures aren’t really comparable); enough that they couldn’t get even the language right, or even the geography or the Sao Paulo landscape, judging by what I’ve seen being said by Brazilian players.

Remember when they accurately portrayed the Secession building in Vienna? Or Jantar Mantar in Mor Pank? Or how they usually have characters speak small phrases in their native language, which is appropriate to the region and their character? Well, Bluepoch doesn’t, apparently.

Then there’s the whole “life here is hell, this is hopeless and everything here sucks” aspect of their portrayal of Sao Paulo (and their infamous tweet). This feels especially disrespectful when the story so far has always had quite a good amount of nuance. Vienna for example, having the contrast of being the “city of freedom”, yet having such a strict oppression of arcanists. Or San Francisco, having such a huge poverty and gang problem, yet still portraying the people living in these conditions as actual humans with hopes and dreams that they sometimes were able to accomplish.

And finally, to wrap up this representation thing… it feels disrespectful that the only Brazilian character we get is Mr. Duncan. Mainly because it seems he’s not really Mr. Duncan, but actually Mr. Karson. You know, an English man. I think they should’ve made Lopera Brazilian because so far having her be from Colombia adds nothing to the story, and if she was from Sao Paulo it’d make a lot more sense for her to be Vertin’s guide/translator in the city.

Okay, so that’s what we get from the representation in this chapter, which is pretty bad (haven’t read Anjo’s character story, which I’ve heard is better in this aspect, but that’s not actually part of ch8, so I excluded it). However, honestly I wouldn’t mind that much if the story had at least been good. So… let’s talk about that next, shall we?

Part 2: The story.

The good.

Okay, first let’s get the good things out of the way, because I don’t want to sit here and pretend that everything about this chapter was bad; that would be unfair and disingenuous.

I liked Lopera and Molly. They were interesting characters and have a lot of potential for the future of the story, which I really hope they deliver in future chapters.

I liked White Rum; she’s a funny character, and the concept of an Awakened pirate ship that has the skeletal hand of her former captain (Anne Bonnie, my favorite pirate of all time) is quite an interesting and unique idea, and I wish we got more characters like this. Also, I need to see her interact with Regulus lol.

I absolutely adored Anjo Nala. She’s the highlight of the story for me; an interesting, complex, and adorable character with a lot of potential for stories to tell, both about her past and her future. I really became attached to her over the course of this story, and I think they did a good job making you care for her… in this specific chapter. Don’t look back at versions 2.0 and 2.1 if you don’t want to get your fun ruined, because consistency is something they didn’t care about at all while writing this patch. And that brings us to…

The bad.

Buckle up my friends because what’s bad about this chapter is really, really, REALLY bad. Consistency is something they don’t believe in anymore, retcons are on the market, and setting up characters/settings/relationships is a thing of the past.

Does it sound like I’m being too harsh? Maybe, but it’s deserved, so idc.

Let’s start from the least bad, shall we? Anjo Nala’s hunger. In 2.0 and 2.1, as well as the first of Anjo’s monologues (the things you unlock after getting traces of a specific character), it’s implied that she can’t eat human food. Not that she doesn’t find it satisfactory, or that she doesn’t like it. It’s heavily implied she literally can’t eat it.

But then she steals some bread and Vertin gives her chocolate, and she eats both, so… what’s up with that? Also, they never really explain what her hunger is for. Was it really just normal human food? Or something else? In her trailer (which btw I wouldn’t consider it part of the main story because it’s a freaking trailer, but whatever) she “feeds on someone’s love” by using her tail. Okay, but then that person turns into a “walking corpse”. Does she have to do that every time she’s hungry? What happens if she doesn’t? Is human food substitute enough? The game never answers these questions, which is a mistake because this whole thing is a central part of Anjo’s character, as well as her turning from her bloodthirsty self to the Anjo we meet in this chapter.

And this brings us to my second issue… the inconsistency of Anjo’s character with the two events we had before this patch. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying anything she ever did was her fault since she was simply a slave following orders, and one thing that is consistent about her character is that she doesn’t like when people do give her orders. However, what really annoys me is how in 2.0 she was very bloodthirsty. Sure, she didn’t know J and his gang, and she had done these types of jobs before, but imo it would’ve been more consistent with the other patches if she was indifferent about killing them, rather than excited. 2.1 was slightly more consistent with ch8 when it comes to Anjo’s character, but it’s kind of implied it was all an act, and her “real” personality was that of 2.0.

Now, I’ve seen some ppl explain this as “well, in a wilderness interaction she says she acts however her master prefers her to”. Okay, but why put such important information in a freaking wilderness interaction and not in the main story??? You can’t even see those unless you have the character, and seeing as Anjo is limited, not everyone will have her. This is a fact.

Another problem I have with Anjo (this is the last, I promise) is that we’re not introduced to her again in ch8, which surely is a decision. Why? Because 2.0 and 2.1 aren’t part of the main story; they’re side events, which are time-limited and, at the moment, not available in-game. This is a problem because anyone who didn’t play those events for one reason or another will be very confused by Anjo Nala and how Vertin reacts to her. It would’ve been better if we were introduced to her from the pov of Lopera, for example, when she raided the Manus base and captured her. And then we could have Vertin run into her on the ship and explain to Sotheby (with a little more detail than what we got) that she actually met her before.

I’m just saying, this isn’t the first time we got a character in a main chapter that had been previously introduced only in an event (Marta/Bessmert), but in that case, if you missed the event, you could still fully enjoy the main chapter, because you wouldn’t even know that you were missing information. That’s not the case here.

And speaking of Urd… okay, let’s talk about how little sense it makes for the Foundation to want to find her in this chapter. In ch5 Vertin and her team found a suspicious radio that talked about a travel note about Aperion written by someone named “Urd”. In this case it makes sense for them to want to investigate, since the base Ms. Radio was in had things that belonged to the Manus, and they found some Manus followers there as well. Even after ch5 and everything that happened, it still makes sense for Vertin to want to keep looking for Urd because now she has the suspicion, based on what 6 said, that Urd is her mother.

However, although it makes sense for Vertin to want to find Urd, it doesn’t make sense for the freaking Foundation to want to find some random UTTU editor. Because that’s really all Urd is, isn’t she? She’s not the head of UTTU (that’d be Pandora), and the fact that she can traverse the storm, which is the only reason we’re given in ch8, is shared among all UTTU editors, as we learn from Barbara.

But even if we assume the Foundation wants to know how UTTU keeps its editors safe… first of all, why? We already have the equilibrium umbrellas, don’t we? We spent a whole chapter seeing their creation, and even saw ppl die for this cause. Why would they need yet another method for surviving the storm? If they instead suspected UTTU to be involved with the Manus somehow, and that’s how they’re traversing the storm, then at least give us that!

Furthermore, the Foundation already knew where she was! They were the ones who gave her the white marble chair with a button! If they just wanted to speak with her, surely a simply call would’ve sufficed? Why send Vertin?

And that’s another thing! Constantine knows Vertin’s mom, and I'm sure she’s not the only one in the Foundation who does, yet the Foundation tried to cover it up and tell Vertin that she doesn’t have a mother. Clearly they have some motivation for keeping it hidden, right? Then… why send Vertin specifically to search for Urd? Why not send some other random investigator, preferentially one with experience finding ppl? Why Vertin???

If Vertin had gone out of her own will, like in ch5, I’d have no problem with this, but no; the Foundation sent her this time. And I just can’t bring myself to understand why.

Maybe if Urd isn’t Vertin’s mom, that would explain this, but for now this makes no sense at all.

Next I want to talk about Lopera and Molly’s relationship. I said before that I truly liked their characters and their relationship, which is true, but… I wish it had been better stablished. Why? Because we had only had one, one single scene, of them together and the suddenly there was a grand betrayal and we’re supposed to feel bad for Lopera? Lmao.

If I felt slightly bad for Lopera it was because of the voice acting, the music and the art. I can assure you, not one single ounce of those feelings came from the actual story being told. It’s even worse when it comes to Igor because he barely exchanged words with Lopera, and all we know from their relationship comes from Lopera telling us “he’s better than my biological father”. And let’s not talk about Ptoleme. He literally only appeared to be a jerk for like five minutes and neither Molly nor Lopera seem to care much about him. How are we supposed to care about that entire family? They really don’t feel like a family at all (except for Lopera and Molly, but even then, it’s the bare minimum this chapter could do with this concept).

It would’ve been so much better if we had this whole chapter to stablish Lopera’s relationship with her adoptive family, with Zeno, the veterans and the Sao Paulo community, and then in the next chapter we could have the big betrayal be more impactful. But here? We barely spent any time with these characters!

And then we have the actual betrayal scene, which is… nonsensical. At best.

What happened in it? Molly arrived at the Colonel’s manor with her squad of Zeno soldiers and attacked the few Apostles Brotherhood ppl that remained, then says she’s glad that Lopera was able to rescue Dr. Dores and that they should all go back to the base. None of this is suspicious, imo, because Vertin had already told Lopera that she was going to call Zeno for reinforcements, specifically to assist with the rescue of Dr. Dores. It’s true that Molly hesitates a little when Lopera asks “what about the timekeeper?”, and that she dismisses Lopera’s concerns about evacuating Sao Paulo, but imo this shouldn’t be enough for Lopera to be so suspicious of her freaking sister. Also, why ask “who’s waiting for you in Tierra del Fuego”? Why would Lopera every think this was anything other than a mission from Zeno???

Sure, they didn’t tell her about it, but also she’s been gone from the base for a couple of days and she knows there’s been traitors and rebels. A lot could’ve changed in that time. Even if she didn’t want to leave because she got attached to Sao Paulo, I think it’s weird that she immediately was so confrontational about it, especially with her sister, who famously just follows their father’s orders without questions.

This could’ve worked if Lopera was already suspicious of her family beforehand, or maybe even of Zeno’s higher ups, or if Molly and her squad had just waltzed in without attacking the Manus or being attacked by them. But that’s not what happened. Also, if she really was suspicious, why not go back to the base and question Igor about this whole thing like Molly suggested? I don’t see why she immediately would think base=bad when her whole family and the army she’s part of is currently at the base.

Like, I get she already had trauma because of her biological father being a jerk, but that situation doesn’t seem to have anything to do with this one imo. All in all, what I’m saying is that the bad writing of this scene lessens the emotional impact.

And it’s not the only emotional scene that’s affected by the blatant bad writing in this chapter. No, that “honor” goes to the scene the trailer for this patch opens with; Anjo being ordered to kill Vertin by Ptoleme.

Okay, so as a refresher, Igor requests that his son, Ptoleme, is sent to the base because “he can only trust in his children because they always obey him”. Okay, so then what does Ptoleme do when ordered to bring back Kimberly, preferentially without a fuss? Of course, cause the biggest scene imaginable, which leads to Kimberly being freed.

Now, I wouldn’t be so harsh on him if his actions were reasonable but due to circumstances led to an unfavorable outcome for him, but that’s not what happened. Okay, he ordered Anjo to kill Vertin. Whatever, he’s a sadistic asshole, but this at least kinda makes sense. What makes no sense whatsoever is that he not only gave Vertin a gun because “he won’t shoot an unarmed civilian” (why does he care? Also ultimately he orders Anjo to kill her, so he wouldn’t have shot an unarmed civilian anyways), but also that he kept trying to make Vertin shoot Anjo.

Why? Just why? There was no reason for him to want Vertin to kill Anjo. None at all. And if what he wanted was to convince Anjo to kill Vertin… he can’t play both the “I’ll free you if you kill her” and the “Vertin, kill her, she’s a monster” cards at the same time. It makes him look like a pathetic moron with no sense of reality whatsoever, and in retrospective makes Igor look like a bigger idiot who doesn’t know his children at all. I think the reason they did this is because they wanted to replicate the infamous orange scene from ch2, but without all the logic, lore and emotional impact behind it, just hoping players would feel emotions by association.

And finally, we come to my biggest complain about this chapter: the retcon about how the storm works. Because yes, it is a retcon. Why do I say that? Mainly based on ch6.

In ch6 we learn that Heinrich, in 1912, left Vienna to study at Berlin. There, he met the Manus and joined them, surviving that storm, and subsequent ones, until time returned to 1913 and he went back to Vienna, reuniting with his old friends and telling them about the storm.

Now, how is this relevant? Well, from Heinrich’s story we learned two things; 1) you can indeed see again someone who was once reversed by the storm, but only if time ever goes back to that era, and 2) The fact that his friends recognized him and he recognized his friends, and his friends’ existence was consistent even though the storm had once reversed them. You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?

At the end of ch8, Vertin says “the storm doesn’t kill ppl, at least not physically”. Okay Vertin, did you have a lobotomy between chapters? The storm has never killed ppl; it’s just the end of an era, remember? It reverses time! It’s in the freaking name! The scariest part about the storm isn’t the storm itself, but the storm syndrome, which is when most casualties seem to happen. Sure, the storm sucked for Vertin because she kept traversing eras and losing the friends she made in them, but those friends remained anchored in their own time (perhaps with the exception of ppl who had already crossed the storm at least once, like The Ring and Isabella, but I digress).

My point is, that I really don’t like where this retcon is headed, but I do hope they somehow fix it in the future, either by making it clear that not everyone who gets reversed is reincarnated and there’s very strict conditions that should be met (like having knowledge about the storm, for example), or this hypothesis is wrong and the storm isn’t actually making ppl reincarnate.

One reason I especially don’t like this new reincarnation thing is that… Mr. Duncan isn’t Mr. Karson. Let’s not lie to ourselves. He looks nothing like Mr. Karson (and I wish the game would stop gaslighting me), doesn’t act like Mr. Karson, doesn’t speak like Mr. Karson, and doesn’t even have the same nationality as him! The only things that are similar about them is that they’re both old war veterans who once had a dog and now have a soft spot for young ladies. And if this is the approach they’ll use to bring back characters in the future… thanks, but I’d rather they stayed reversed.

Think about it! Will they next say that Anjo is Schneider? They look similar enough (more similar than Duncan and Karson, that’s for sure!), both were antagonists that joined the manus for reasons beyond their control, both had a fight with Vertin in which they almost got killed, and both have a snake bracelet on their left arm. Surely that’s enough to say they’re one and the same, according to this logic!

My point is that using such simple similarities, they can literally invent any new character they want and then say “this is actually this other character, who was once reversed by the storm”, regardless of if they’re actually similar at all, and I don’t think that people who wanted them to bring back Schneider or Marian, or Mr. Karson, or 888, or literally anyone, wanted them to be brought back like this.

But that’s enough of me ranting lol. What do you think? Did you like this chapter? What are your main complains about it?

To be clear I’m not saying we should stop playing the game or anything like that; from what I’ve heard the next event is actually good, and I have faith Bluepoch will listen to the players and make sure ch9 is better than whatever ch8 was, but it’s precisely this why it is important for us, as players, to speak out when we don’t like something so that Bluepoch knows they can’t get away with such blatant drops in quality.

Now, if you somehow made it to the end, thanks for reading!

[emmabirb8]

Bill Cipher really is the funkiest little guy, isn't he?

He's a demon. He had parents. He destroyed his home dimension save for one singular atom. He was born different from the rest of his people and could see in 3D. He's a narcissistic maniac. He misses his mommy. He's a cruel, manipulative asshole. He accidentally got a little too attached and fell in love with a human, then had a drunken meltdown when they broke up. He created a throne of frozen human agony and tried to kill two twelve year olds.

He's incredibly lonely.

Personally, my biggest takeaway from The Book of Bill is the confirmation that my suspicions about him are (most likely) correct. Bill Cipher is miserable. He's been miserable since losing his family and entire home dimension, and everything he's done since then is nothing but one big attempt to distract himself from his mistakes.

Like, okay. I get that Bill is a master manipulator. He's a big fat liar, and everything he says and does is meant to be taken with a grain of salt. He wants readers and viewers to feel bad for him. He wants us to sympathize and woobify and get attached so he can use that to his advantage. BUT ALSO, I think The Book of Bill still sheds light on the fact that he IS broken deep down.

Everything that we know of Bill is almost entirely a meticulously constructed facade. He's a faker. He's all smoke and mirrors. He suffered a massive trauma (whether it happened on purpose or by accident is up for debate since he is nothing if not a horrendously unreliable narrator), and he had to find some way to cope. So he decided to live in denial. Denial of his failures, his true feelings, and, ultimately, everything that he is. He described the "entity" that destroyed his home dimension as a "monster," and, knowing what we know, that's what he believes about himself. He told Ford the answer of who that entity was would "eat [him] alive" and, in actuality, I think that was more of a thinly veiled admission that his deep-seated guilt over what he did eats him alive. Bill buried that guilt, all those negative feelings, all his mistakes deep, DEEP down, and then decided that if he was a monster, he might as well be a damn fierce one.

Bill became great at manipulation because that was the key to making his whole scheme work -- if he could control what everyone thought of him, make people fear him, bend them to his will and squeeze whatever he can out of them, he could be the meanest, nastiest, most cunning monster to ever exist, and he could keep living in denial. They can't make fun of you for your differences, for being weird (something I suspect happened to him in his home dimension) if you're the KING of weird and can kill with the snap of your fingers. If they fear you, they won't look too closely, into the tiny minuscule cracks in your facade, and see the painful truth.

Bill leaned hard into his role as Nightmare Demon to fool himself into believing all of that too.

But like I said, he's lonely. He has no one (besides his "henchmaniacs," but they're no substitute for real connection). I find it SO interesting how he speaks to Ford in The Book of Bill. "We both know you don't really want to be left alone. Admit it, you LOVE how important I make you feel. . . . [N]obody else really gets you, do they? Without me, you'll always feel unseen, surrounded by dolts who don't recognize your true potential. You've always felt alone in a crowd, haven't you? . . . you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?" -- I think he's projecting. Those are all things that are true about himself and his connection to Ford, but he's pinning it on Ford because he can't bring himself to face it head on.

Bill Cipher is a villain. He's evil. He's a demon. He really did ALL OF THAT.

But he is also a pathetic dorky sopping wet meow meow of a character who is constantly desperately trying to run away from himself.

And now, in the Theraprism, he has no access to his usual coping mechanisms. He has no choice but to finally face reality and figure out a way to do what he's been avoiding doing for literal millennia: to just be.

[brucewaynehater101]

None of the GLs interested their cities enough to get boons before they got their rings and once they got their rings it cut them off from receiving boons from any singular place on any planet since they technically had to belong to everywhere

Cities that have developed the sentience and enough sapience to be able to grant any sort of blessing or boon have to be BIG and have to have something that gives them weight of sorts in either historical or mystical terms or both would be better though some cities can suddenly awaken with the right catalyst. A city that can draw more people to it is a stronger city. Gotham got mystical weight first, twisted and bloody, and then historical as time passed. Metropolis had a catalyst in the form of both Lex Luthor and Superman. A lot of cities without as much history or distinction suddenly "woke up" with the catalyst of their heroes.

Those who usually catch the interest of the cities would be people who make a big difference, whether positive or negative doesn't particularly matter, what matters is that they are the sort that bring some sort of distinction to the city or they are the sort that keeps the city strong and healthy. Most importantly, they are dedicated to just that city, people who go about creating kingdoms and empires never receive any sort of boon or favor from even their capitol cities because conquering a city is the equivalent of one spouse cheating on another. Protecting other cities, or the planet in general, is somewhat tolerated as long as the main city is obviously the priority. Artists and writers tend to become city favorites after they're dead which doesn't really do much for them. (Florence is still throwing a fit that the remains of Dante aren't in Florence's custody) The Joker was something unique who brought a certain distinction to Gotham. Poison Ivy improved the health of the city to some degree. Tim kept Gotham stable even when it didn't want to be stable anymore. The city might also like those that seem to personify some aspect or some neighborhood within the city. Jason, for example, was Crime Alley to his bones, and not just the Crime Alley of the present, but also Crime Alley when it was Park Alley, before the deaths of Martha and Thomas Wayne put Gotham on such a downward spiral. The only other Gothamite that Gotham has ever found that so perfectly encompasses some part of itself was Bruce.

When the Joker killed Jason, killed her little Park Alley and made him into Crime Alley completely, Gotham felt not only the pain of the death of one of her favorites, but also got the echoes of losing Martha and Thomas again. That and the Joker had diluted his brand with Harleen who was generally better at the whole schtick so he wasn't unique anymore and he had seemingly abandoned and forsworn Gotham for another country with that whole really weird and pretty racist Joker being ambassador in the middle east bit. Then of course the Joker crippled Barbara who was the daughter of one of Gotham's chosen as well as a force that worked for Gotham's health. And Joker had become something that actively made people avoid Gotham and was messing with her whole power base of the population of Gotham. The Joker killing Jason led to No Man's land. Everything else led to Gotham hating the Joker as much as a sentient semi sapient city can hate anyone.

Dick, Stephanie, Duke, Cass, and Damian were offered boons and favors more or less because Bruce took them in and Bruce is Gotham's absolute favorite rather than because Gotham was particularly interested in them first. Tim is offered boons and favors on his own merits once Gotham calmed down enough to be sorry and realize their birdy is wonderful. Bruce personifies Gotham in many ways and he brings distinction to the city, is an example of Gotham's history, and people often come to Gotham to work for Wayne Enterprises aka Bruce's (and later Tim's) company.

Hmm... I appreciate the questions about GL being answered from this post.

More about this AU can be seen from this post

Anyways, I am truly vibing with the criteria for sentient semi-eldritch city beings. It does make sense that they would need either specific reasons/energies/events to develop into consciousness. Their different origins would probably play into how the beings react to certain people/events, what boons they give out, how many boons are possible, and their overall characteristics. They do not follow human morals and more so favor people based on their ability to protect, uplift, or expand the city... or how intriguing that person is.

As far as who of the Bats received offers of boons based on Bruce, I think this is limited to Dick, Cass, and Damian. Steph (if not for her own independent work as Spoiler) might have been offered a boon due to Tim. Duke, on the other hand, was part of the We Are Robins. Gotham would've been keeping a keen eye on him before he joined the Bats.

I'm curious what the time frame between "training to be vigilante" and "offered a boon" is. Tim is the outlier that doesn't count, ofc.

I love this AU and your additions to it. I'm curious what other notable figures (outside of the vigilantes and rogues) got Gotham's boon. Would the CoO have any?

[mangoofthesea]

Going to have a little rant about being aroace spec and being in a relationship

Okay, for a bit of background context - I've been in my current relationship for nearly 7 months. They're incredibly sweet, considerate, kind, funny, nerdy, and great. They knew I was ace from shortly after we met and we had been acquaintances then friends for 2 year before getting together. We talked a lot about relationships and how we function during the months before we got together.

When we got together we had a lot of logistical conversations about how this would work, largely because neither of us is very traditionally romantic, nor did we want to do things like good morning or goodnight messages (both with too poor memory mainly) or spending 24/7 together (we're at university, those two elements are present in many of the couples we know).

They described themselves as being 'more of a companion' like it was a negative thing I would have to come to terms with. I countered that this was exactly what I wanted, and that i had thought a lot about it as i had liked them for a long time and it was them specifically I was interested in for them. (They identify as bi, I've wondered if they might be some form of arospec because of the way they talk about relationships and attraction but it's not come up and they seem happy with their current lables)

Honestly, I feel like the way we function could better be put as queerplatonic at times, but also we operate generally as a romantic relationship and so call it such for friends and family. We've both grown up in fairly traditional environments but are both queer and different presentations of non-binary. I love them, I think they're awesome.

We also made sure and continue to make sure we both have an existence outside of our relationship. They worried I would zone in on just the relationship and forget external ones but we've managed to avoid it (I think it's something they've had happen in relationships previously)

Basically, every part of our relationship has been a very conscious and negotiated thing in order to get the the current existence and balance we have now.

And this is where I get annoyed at the 'usual standards' for these kinds of monogamous partnerships/relationships.

As I said, I love my partner. I don't live with them at the moment though and am in a shared house. My housemates will often come as a higher priority because I have been close with them longer and our lives are deeply intertwined right now. I love them like my family and would do untold things for both of them.

But much of my immediate family ask how my partner is rather than how my housemates, who are very important to me and that I live with are, and this annoys me. The default of the singular 'romantic' partner over close platonic connection irritates me!

Then the other thing is both me and my partner, despite having our own very happy way of co-existing, we both often feel like we're not living up to the 'correct' standard for the other. I nearly started crying when they said I was a good partner when I was talking about some of my insecurities one night because I had been feeling so out of my depth and like I was getting everything wrong. Because we're not acting like the movies or tv shows or the 'traditional' standard of romance. They feel like they should get me gifts like flowers or chocolate more often and always warns me not to expect really regular gifts of that sort when they do give them to me. I'm always just happy to have the one off gift! Because they are present, considerate, thoughtful and loving every other day of the week, I don't care whether or not they are doing the traditional dance of "romance"

It essentially feels like I'm having to push uphill and back on the expectations of society for how I'm supposed to behave in my own relationship. And that makes me mad.

Ace and aro spec people have their own versions of important relationships that are not confined by romantic description. Hell, everyone does if they try! Platonic connection feels so undervalued in western society. I was raised by a parent who could never find a good romantic partner, but never sought positive long lasting connection elsewhere. And I now hate feeling like I'm trying to remind everyone around me that, yes, I love my partner and they are important, but they are not my everything and I don't want them to be. My friends are and will remain crucial to my existence, and my partner is the same with their circle of people.

There is space for more than one type of connection to be important in your life and I wish more people believed that

[lightofraye]

Perfectly Imperfect

So... a mutual sent me a link, facepalming as they did so. Puzzled, as the preview seemed... odd. Like... it's obviously a Heller (the tweeter), given the person's username and such. That any one of them would be this "negative" of Jensen was incredible.

My mutual urged me to click and read, as the preview did not do it justice.

I read the whole thread... and wanted to headdesk. It's pure objectification, through and through. Google assisted in this definition: to treat a person like a tool or toy, as if they had no feelings, opinions, or rights of their own.

Now I know that seems like a stretch, perhaps, but it isn't. Every single thing this person listed was purely about Jensen's looks, voice, body. Not a singular thing about him as a person. Where's the talk about his career? Stuff he's shared in conventions? Past roles that really had an impact?

I almost never see this. All I usually see is whining of lack of content, misreading/misunderstanding something that may be related to him (see Culture Crave's post about Amazon's shows or how Damian Holbrook stated OTH's reboot was fanfiction at the moment), or insistence that he never did anything wrong.

He must always be perfect.

You wanna hear the problematic things that he's done that the AAs ignore/defend/deny?

How about how he participated, by order of CW, in YANA? Because CW saw how Jared was capitalizing on Always Keep Fighting as a personal charity and wanted in--and Jared said no. So Jensen and Misha were ordered, essentially, to do YANA.

How about when CW was insulting (no honestly they were) Mark Sheppard by offering him (and Misha) regular star roles in Supernatural... with guest star pay? Mark asked Jared, Jensen and Misha to stand with him in demanding to be paid the regular salary for the role... and guess what? Misha caved. Jensen caved. The only one who didn't was Jared. There's a reason why those two are still good friends.

How about when Jensen went about The Winchesters? No matter how you twist the narrative it changes nothing of the truth: Jensen did not buy Supernatural's IP. That would've cost upward of $100 million or more and the WB/CW would never sell a successful IP. All they did was go "Sure, you could play in our playground." He got Kripke's blessing. But he did not talk to Jared. No, he didn't need Jared's permission, but it would've been professional courtesy to include him in the very idea, the process, to be all "Hey, I wanna do this, you don't have to be included, I'm just letting you know I'm interested in this attempt." Jared probably would've been "Okay, cool. Have fun. Thanks for telling me."

Jensen's failure to do so made Hollywood go "Dayum, dude, not cool."

We see it again in how the One Tree Hill reboot went. CMM, Joy and James are all saying "Yeah, we weren't consulted, so we're not doing it."

It could've been a ten minute phone call. There's zero excuse for not calling them.

Then Jensen insulted fans far and wide by accusing them of not being true fans if they didn't watch The Winchesters. That "hate watching" was a thing. That's just downright rude of him and he never apologized for mistreating fans like that. They were right to be upset; he could've just said "I hear you. You're right. Not cool of me."

Lastly, and not least, how he failed as an executive producer. (Danneel was no better with her claims how it was "so easier than acting". My god woman, shut up.) It is an executive producer's responsibility to ensure safety, that everything runs smoothly on set... and he didn't. He was barely there. Danneel was barely there. And a man nearly lost his life over it.

These are just the ones on the top of my head.

I know what some will say: "Well, you're just hating on Jensen! Jared's no better!"

And you'd be right. (What? Shocker! Yes, I know Jared's not perfect either. Geez, people.)

Jared's done and said things that weren't all that great either. While he never intended to have this person get doxxed (as he never shared their real name), some fans figured out who did a shitty customer service job and doxxed them. Supposedly he's said some not so great things as well. That bar fight? Yeah, okay... not great. He owned up to it, though, and followed the procedure the courts laid down for him for his probation/community service.

I also see these two men as very decent men. Jared is adorable, I love his ongoing talk of trying to destigmatize mental health. He seems very secure in himself and is content with who he is. Jensen is a wounded soul, and I can see the good in him.

It's time we actually acknowledge Jensen is flawed. That the AAs keep pushing the "perfect" narrative is doing no one favors, especially him.

[saveadancejustforyou]

Right I'm sorry this is late but life is lifing but I hope that you like this and can hopefully take something away from it🥺

I will say straight off the bat I've made an observation that most people who are sending in their charts either have very intense and relevant taurus or leo placements which I find interesting in terms of what placements and signs are draw to certain energies.

Sun in Leo.....the performer of the zodiac, i find only focusing on sun placements as a singular thing to be redundant as in my opinion it's about how your signs work together in cohesion with one another and usually sun sign descriptors are wildly general and offer little to no clarity or perspective so I'm interested in seeing how your Sun plays a role in the puzzle of your chart as a whole.

Moon signs are essentially a key into our internal monologues, it encapsulates our emotions, habits, subconcious thoughts, and how we operate intuitively. Your moon, as well as your Sun, is fire. A lot of the times, people associate fire signs with anger, but I believe the categories (earth, fire, air, water) are more suited to showing how different approaches are made. The moon in aries tells me you probably have a direct, passionate approach within your life and most likely operate on incredibly strong gut feelings.

There's a really bold energy that comes along with this placement and if your Sun was in a sign such as pisces or cancer I could see this placement being softened by working in conjunction with a sign that's a little more subdued but I believe your Sun in leo only exacerbates your emotions.

A negative of this sign is that whilst you are incredibly self sufficient and can regulate your emotions normally, sometimes you may not be the most considerate when dealing with someone who doesn't operate on the same wavelength you do, almost a "Well if I can hold it together, why can't you?" But i do think this would be a personal communication issue as opposed to a workplace issue because I actually believe (just a hunch) you could work in a place either for rehabilitation (in any capacity) or something soothing or helping/fixing others.

Keywords:regulated, selfless, bold, intuitive

Now what I really find interesting is the three virgo placements, you have three virgo placements ruling some really important aspects within your chart and I think this has a considerable impact on the rest of your chart and how all the placements mesh together.

Mercury in virgo.....this is torturous lmao as soon as I saw this, I said......wow! If overthinking could be a placement, it would be this. People often place gemini as the anxiety ridden sign of the zodiac, but I think virgo is the other side of the nervous coin. I think gemini represents more restless anxiety, fidgeting, and rushed anxiety, whereas in my opinion, virgo seems to have more deep roots within anxiety and can most definitely lead to overthinking existentialism and shame. Mercury is also the ruler of virgo and gemini, so your placement is essentially at home. But make no mistake, this placement is gorgeous. It is so rooted in intellectualism and analytics. It alludes to the fact that you enjoy dissecting and analysing situations and probably are a very eloquent speaker. This is a placement for precision, clarity, and nitpicking. lmao

Keywords:eloquent, intellectual, clear, concise

Venus in virgo is a very demure placement, lmao. Venus placements show us what we are like in romantic relationships and what we crave and cope with best! Venus in virgo is a modest placement, it alludes to the fact that you may be attracted to people who are good with their hands, competent and importantly clean😩hygiene would be an absolute deal breaker for you within a connection with someone romantic (or otherwise really).

With this placement, it essentially elevates the traits of virgo. It's a very no-nonsense type of placement. I don't believe you're a hopeless romantic or someone who focuses intensely on romance, you most likely are attracted to people who boast their intellect and knowledge, however I do think this is the only form of boasting you'd accept😩there's a real dislike of surface level(or what you deem to be surface level) people, you do not suffer fools gladly. There is a possibility that you may come across as a contrarian and hyper critical to others when you try and help because of the non emotional and logical approach you take to emotional situations.

Keywords:modest, logical, shy, resilient, witty

Mars in virgo isn't actually the square placement people make it out to be, it's actually a very covert lustful and passionate placement, you are most likely very attentive to a romantic partners needs and wants once they have broken down your guards down and theres a real deep and sustainable connection (you dont strike me as impulsive in love). This is also a placement that indicates you may be at ease, or thrive the most in a career path that allows you to be of service to others, you may be an incredibly selfless person who only feels satiated when helping others.

This placement is a tricky one because it often falsely gives the impression of a calm person who has all of their things in order but underneath that there is a restlessness and anxiety that may only be revealed to those who know your demeanour well. There's a real strive for detail and perfectionism which can be an isolating character trait, everything needs to be done in a certain way for you to feel satiated and content and this placement is also an indication you may be a complainer (hi twin)

Keywords:critical, lustful, deceiving, attentive

The last thing I'm gonna talk about is this scorpio ascendant, there's a real calm yet unapproachable aura to this placement, you may be seen as intense or intimidating even though your intentions are harmless (it's giving RBF), there's also a stubbornness here that could cause friction. Whilst there is a calm demeanour outwardly presented, there is a world of complexities inside that could lead to restlessness and nerves (much like your mars in virgo). I'm also sure you've seen things about how scorpio rising have very intense eyes and stares, and it's true! There's a sensuality to this placement, and yous really do look like 👁👁, you may have been told that you're looking right through people as opposed to at them.

Keywords:intense, mysterious, multi faceted

[sysmedsaresexist]

What does "less than one personality" mean?

Is it ableist, dehumanizing, or harmful?

Spiegel was the clinician who first put forth this idea in 1993, when MPD was being renamed to DID. It was said that those with DID did not have "multiple personalities", but rather "a dissociated identity," or "less than one personality".

I think Middleton explained the concept best.

Characteristically people with DID switch between different identity states, none of which has the full range of memory and the full range of affect that an integrated personality that's non-dissociative has.

One way of conceptualising it is, yes, people with this condition switch between different identity states, but it can be usefully conceptualised as not so much as having multiple personalities but having access to less than one personality in any context or in any time. So if they are confronted with a certain event, a person with DID in that particular state summons up what resources that they can lay their hands on in that state, but that may mean that that precludes them from the full access to other resources or memories that may help their decision-making, which sometimes represents a situation where they do things that appear very unusual or reactive in a way that is totally out of keeping with the circumstances.

Carolyn Spring also has a good description:

Dissociative disorders are characterised by ‘a disruption in the usually integrated functions of consciousness, memory, identity or perception of the environment’. So for example memories and feelings may not go together – memories may be recalled with no accompanying affect or emotions, or there may be overwhelming feelings with no conscious memory of their cause. There is also often a lack of a coherent sense of autobiography, and this itself leads to problems with a sense of identity – ‘Who am I?’ and ‘What has happened in my life?’ This all results from dissociation acting as a creative survival mechanism in the face of overwhelming trauma, whereby the mind shields itself by segregating the experience, or splitting it off into its constituent parts rather than experiencing it as what would be an unendurable ‘whole’.

As a concept, this has nothing to do with personhood or ability to function as separate people-- though many alters do lack access to significant portions of memory and emotional growth that would inhibit and disrupt their ability to act completely independent of the system, and it ignores the internal communication and teamwork that makes sharing information across alters a key part of healing and treating DID.

It's really frustrating when people without DID/OSDD start making really broad, misleading statements about this topic, and pushing it as something negative or wrong based on made up arguments.

Frequently, topics that have nothing to do with the concept are dragged into it (like personhood) in order to make it look and sound worse than it really is.

You see people say things like, "The phrasing I more often hear is that alters are each part of the whole collective personality. This is based on a philosophy that a "person" is the biological human, and they therefore have a singular "personality.""

I have never heard anyone say that, and it's extremely misleading and flat out wrong.

It's rare that people specify what the parts make up, but typically, it's "person" or "individual".

It is important to bear in mind that the parts ‘are not actually separate identities or personalities in one body, but rather parts of a single individual that are not yet functioning together in a smooth, coordinated, and flexible way’. The ultimate work of therapy is to facilitate an increased coordination between these parts, so that they can indeed function together and perhaps even merge or ‘fuse’. By working on increased communication and cooperation between parts, often there is a corresponding increase in levels of co-consciousness, which can help the DID client to feel in much better control of their life.

Even the ISSTD says "person".

Although the DID patient has the subjective experience of having separate identities, it is important for clinicians to keep in mind that the patient is not a collection of separate people sharing the same body. The DID patient should be seen as a whole person, with the identities sharing responsibility for daily life. Clinicians working with DID patients generally must hold the whole person (i.e., system of alternate identities) responsible for the behavior of any or all of the constituent identities, even in the presence of amnesia or the sense of lack of control or agency over behavior.

Now while the philosophical view could be SAID to lead to one person = one personality, it doesn't mean that the connotation behind that is appropriate in this case.

And it's not even true. Even if I was one "person"-- as in, I had a full, continuous memory stream, I would still have different "personalities" for different situations.

Like every person does.

Even we, as alters, can change and adjust our personalities based on situational needs.

Not only do we share this brain and body, but I am not the full person I would have been if I had integrated the trauma and full range of memories from my childhood and adolescence. I would probably be more scared of people, of commitment, I might be more or less scared of public speaking, of wearing more vibrant clothing, I might have different interests or pursued different avenues of education and work. How would my (MY, me, as an alter) advice to other survivors be different if I had access to all of the memories?

Who would we have become if we hadn't had to break apart the continuity of our memory and consciousness to survive?

We are now parts of one person, together holding one whole, continuous stream of memory (plus extra), living this life together as best as we can, with access to what we can offer each other in terms of advice and ideas from our own limited resources.

[multi-thread]

Our Intro Post!

This blog is sort of a reaction to the journaling we've all been doing ever since becoming aware of having a dissociative disorder. We started doing it immediately, because we were worried about whether or not we'd obtain memory issues the more time that past. After awhile however, it became a way to productively vent out emotions and gain a better understanding of ourselves.

The only issue with this is that it means we'll mostly end up remembering the negative emotions from certain days. This blog is basically supposed to be the opposing side of our experiences. We'll talk about joys we've managed to find while experiencing our sense of self in this manner and everyday casual experiences.

Despite the difficulties we've all had with having to reckon with these new emotions we were unaware of our whole life, we've also never felt happier then when we get to help these parts of ourself feel loved and comforted. I feel like I've finally started living.

↓ Keep reading for extra info about how we'll run this blog ↓

We'll tag most of our posts with the name of whoever is writing or reblogging. Sometimes there might be exceptions with stuff like co-fronting, co-consciousness, or dissociation making it difficult to tell who's fronting. Usually, we'll try our best though.

We're free to answer questions about our experiences, I actually quite like the good-natured curiosity, but anything about our trauma is strictly off the table.

If you submit a picture of three animals or three cute objects then we'll save it to a folder and use it as a future profile picture

The blog's 18+ since I would want to freely talk about adult experiences such as sexual experiences, fetishes, and drug use. If you don't respect this basic boundary well, then don't tell me. I'll block you immediately.

I feel strange stating this, but some people get nervous about it so, you can follow me whether or not you're a system. In fact, I'd hope my discussion of every day experiences could help those who are questioning. Most people with DID/OSDD/etc experience a long period of denial (I know I did), so I would like to be able to ease people and know that it's not the end of the world. You're still alive, you'll get through this.

We'll sorta freely switch between plural pronouns and singular pronouns. This pinned post uses predominately "we" as a way to show that all that's stated generally applies to all our feelings, but we'll probably use predominately "I" in later posts even when referring to us collectively.

[local-pr1nter]

Mondo Oowada Dynamics Pt. 1

NOT MY GIF THE SOURCE IS AT THE BOTTOM RIGHT

(*Quick note! I address Chihiro with he/him pronouns!)

To start off, let's start with his own class, class 78.

At first everyone thought of him as this intimidating delinquent, not knowing what else to think of him and typically steering clear of him. Aoi, Byakuya, and Kiyotaka had the most negative opinions on him at first.

Leon, Sayaka, and Makoto were the first ones to actually see past the delinquent exterior and befriend the biker.

Hifumi, Celestia, Kyoko, Mukuro, and Sakura remain indifferent to the biker.

Junko finds it hilarious to rile him up - often getting him in trouble with Kiyotaka or their teacher. Mostly Kiyotaka. Mondo isn't particularly fond of the fashionista.

Eventually Kiyotaka and Mondo challenge each other to an endurance contest - and they quickly become friends the next day. It's jarring for everyone, but it actually makes everyone else relax - just a tiny bit.

Chihiro, Aoi, Sakura, and Yasuhiro start to open up, extending their own companionship towards the biker as well.

Byakuya, Hifumi, Celestia, Junko, and Mukuro continue to ignore the biker. They don't exactly become friends - only tolerating each other through extended friends.

Mondo clings on to a few students - Kiyotaka, Chihiro, Leon, Makoto, Sayaka, and Yasuhiro, seeing all of them as good friends.

And oh boy do they get into trouble.

Mondo and Leon always get into trouble - nothing serious, just ditching class or playing nonsensical jokes on each other. They're mostly seen as the delinquents of the class, when they're actually just two dorks sharing one singular braincell.

MONDO AND CHIHIRO ARE GYM BROS YEEEEEEAH

Mondo is Chihiros biggest hype man.

Chihiro looks up to Mondo, always boosting his confidence and erasing his doubts about his masculinity (not completely but it definitely helps ease it a bit)

They're homies.

Makoto tends to be more of a chill friend when compared to Leon.

Makoto reminds Mondo of Takemichi - acting as a calm voice of reason to contrast his brash, impulsive actions.

But still a chill dude, yk?

They don't hang out all that often, but when they do it's a pretty chill hangout, mostly talking about their life over lunch or smth.

Sayaka took one look at Mondo and said "Yeah that's a friend shape right there"

But in actuality they bonded over his makeup Sayaka is OBSESSED.

All it took was one session of doing each other's makeup before they were glued at the hip. Sayaka loves to do his nails or eyeshadow, and they often binge shows together or gossip about other students

The best way I can describe it is a male/female pairing that people think they're dating, when in reality they're just besties. Or mlm and wlw solidarity whichever tickles your fancy.

Yasuhiro was that one dude that Mondo wasn't all that sure about at first - thought he was some weirdo that was constantly on w33d.

And then he figured out he was just like that. That was just his default state.

It got much easier to get along after that revelation.

They're pretty chill when they hang out too. Not chill/relaxed like Makoto, but a chaotic type of chill - which makes zero sense but I'll try to elaborate.

Yasuhiro spouts random bullshit - Mondo eventually latches onto one topic - they converse over said bullshit topic, usually resulting in heated debates or staying up past midnight.

It's really rare, as they mostly hang out through mutual friends, but one on one hangouts? It's either that one video of a drunk guy swinging around a belt, then getting restrained by another guy with said belt - or the two guys arguing over the Wicked Witch of the East.

If I could find the video I would share it but noooooo I suck at searching

And then there's Kiyotaka.

KYOUDAI

As many others, I adore their dynamic. Platonic or romantic, they're great.

For this I'll just focus on platonic stuff.

Literally glued at the hip. By default they hang around each other, doing everything together unless something comes up.

On Mondo's end, he helps Kiyotaka relax and learn to have fun while they're still in high school. This ranges from late night drives, video games, and hang outs with their classmates. Mondo adores his kyoudai!! Normalize male friendships!! I love their ship but I love their friendship/brotherhood just as much AHHHHH

Oh and Mondo likes to cuddle all of his close friends.

You gotta pry him off with a crowbar.

Man got big to hug his friends and dogs simultaneously.

OH AND THERE'S THE TWO GIRLS THAT TERRIFY HIM.

Kyoko's mere aura scares the shit out of him. She is intimidating, but he'll never admit it due to pride.

The same goes with Toko, but it's more understandable as everyone is scared of Toko and Syo. He can tolerate Toko, but Syo? No way in hell.

He can tolerate Kyoko though.

I think they would get along pretty well in both a romantic or platonic aspect.

But platonically? They're a crime solving duo. Mondo's the brawn, she's the brain.

Man I really need to separate this into another part just to expand on the more negative dynamics huh-

Also can y'all tell Mondo is one of my favorites he's great-