#brazen studios

[dennistamayo]

I didn’t let hand-drawn animation die for good

With Snipple Animation in Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines being the main animation studio for my future projects, I will use 8 additional animation studios. Double Plus Productions & Renegade Animation in Glendale, California, Creative Capers Entertainment in Altadena, California, Studio Yotta in Vancouver, Washington, Tonic DNA in Montreal, Canada, Yowza! Animation in Toronto, Canada, Titmouse, Inc. in Vancouver, Canada & Brazen Animation in Richardson, Texas. Oh! & one more thing, Toon City in Manila don’t do overseas animation work for Cartoon Network shows ether.

[kdinjenzen]

So with all the stuff going on around Nintendo Vs Pocketpair I feel like people are missing the point of what's going on.

And this article actually finally brings up the biggest point: Nintendo has 1000s of patents and chooses not to enforce them all on everyone.

The idea that, quoting the article and Serkan Toto, "Nintendo's sweeping list of patents means it likely "could have sued half of the gaming industry back in 2017," …so like WHY NOT DO THAT?

There's a million reasons to not do it for Nintendo but TLDR is it's just bad business for them to do so.

The real take away is -what has PocketPair/Palworld done- that has brought out Nintendo to start enforcing these things in this particular situation?

A lot if you pay attention to PocketPair/Palworld's marketing and social presence. They threw rocks at Nintendo, so Nintendo is finally pushing back.

Now I'm not going to fully go to bat for Nintendo and say "they are a good company" because there's no such thing truly…

But in most cases with Nintendo, they C&D folks multiple times before even thinking of escalating anything to real legal trouble. Which is kinder than most companies.

The final thought of the article says that Nintendo may feel "threatened" by PalWorld but… I don't buy it.

Pokemon is THE highest grossing franchise in the world… ever… of all time. It's total revenue is around $100 BILLION with a B.

PalWorld, even at it's height, didn't even come close.

The aspects that I think Nintendo decided to act upon in their mind for this is the brazen bold rudeness and shit talking that happened on social media/marketing with PocketPair/Palworld.

PLUS the fact that Pokemon fans were also quick to be like "bruh, even if this isn't stolen it's obviously design lifted" for a lot of Palworld's Pals.

Add in the fact that both Microsoft and now Sony have pulled PalWorld onto their platforms… Nintendo is going to notice and get mad.

The truth is that PocketPair is an indie dev… with major AAA studios behind it now in a lot of ways. Which actually hurts PocketPair in a sense.

Nintendo tends to ignore indie stuff and has actually collabed with many indie studios before in major ways, so they aren't anti-indie.

Nintendo is OLD SCHOOL and expects a little bit of respect.

Nintendo has not taken action against pretty much any of the other true new Tiny Critter Collecting Indie IP that have popped up, a lot of them are ON Nintendo platforms and have had Nintendo feature them in directs…

But PocketPair threw rocks. Nintendo easily saw this as disrespect, but could be ignored.

What CAN'T be is the outcry from their own fanbase to "look into things" with PalWorld to see what, if anything, was lifted from Nintendo directly.

And Nintendo did. They took over a year to look into it.

This isn't Nintendo doing a knee jerk reaction, they went over things and took their time to research what PalWorld and PocketPair were doing.

Nintendo isn't stupid. They don't pick fights for no reason.

Regardless of if you LIKE Nintendo, or your feelings on a big company taking on a little company… Nintendo is very likely on the right side of business, IP, and patent law here.

Nintendo -losing- here would be, actually, really bad for small folks more than big guys in the long run.

Adding in the fact that PocketPair launched a generative Ai art game on top of all that…

This feel like, yes, Nintendo is flexing in a lot of ways but… they chose who to flex on and not to flex on -everyone-… so there seems to be a solid reason as to -why-.

Again the real take away is that IF Nintendo could have sued half of the gaming industry (as of 2017) with all the patents they have … why didn't they and WHY are they choosing to sue PocketPair/Palworld -now-?

Because that's more important than anything else.

[sweetmilkespresso]

Treat You Better | CS55-> ? Fic & SMAU

order: Ex!Carlos x ChronicIll!Fem!Reader x Mystery Driver

flavor: angst

ingredients: angst, chronic illness, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, and fluff

You can't help but look at your past relationship and compare it to the one you have now.

bariata's note: Hi, this is my first real fic in the f1 fandom. It's more of test to see if people would be interested in more like this. I hope you enjoy what I've brewed up for you.

Sometimes you can't help but think about what you used to have.

Back when you and Carlos first got together you felt ontop of the world. You were in love and it felt like nothing could stop the rush you felt everytime you touched. You knew in your heart you loved him. You knew in your heart that he loved you too. Well, until you got sick.

It had started with the migraines.

They happened every few weeks coming and going like a tidal wave.

Eventually the migraines got closer and closer together until you got them daily.

They made you nauseous and every light became a potential trigger for a flare up.

You went from following Carlos from race to race to laying alone in the dark of your Monnaco apartment, in far too much pain to do anything.

That's when your relationship began to crumble.

It started with little things.

Carlos would complain about your constant rainchecks and I-Owe-Yous.

Next was the eyeroles and frowns whenever you mentioned your pain.

Overtime your body started to decline. Fatigue and exhaustion plagued your every waking moment. The aches and pains more pronounced as each day passed.

It was hard to stand and walk on your own.

As your body started to deteriorate so did your relationship.

What was originally little quips and snide remarks turned into white hot arguments.

Soon he was referring to you as:

"Too much" and "Exhausting"

You shot back that he was acting childish.

Not everything revolved around him and his needs. Things like this don't suddenly disappear because others find it tiring.

Until one day he'd had enough.

He'd locked you out of the apartment and threw out your things.

The two of you were done.

----

Looking back at that time you had felt so alone.

After you had broken up you moved into a little studio apartment that barely seemed fit for a person let alone a person with needs like yours.

Everything was too cramped and there was little you could do accessibility wise. You were renting the place after all.

----

But then he walked into your life.

It had been gradual at first.

He'd message or call you asking for an update since you'd went quiet on all your socials.

Soon enough he was inviting you over or coming to your place to visit.

It was incredibly cramped with the two of you in your little studio but you made it work.

He was so considerate of what you were feeling.

Whenever you cancelled he would just smile and say "Okay, there's always next time."

He was brazen and open about what he felt.

How he sat you down and point-blank made his intentions of "courting" you very clear.

You remember your first kiss.

You remembered how he cupped your cheek and asked permission before gently pressing your lips together in a chaste kiss.

He'd asked you to move in with him only a few months into your new relationship.

You agreed wholeheartedly. Your lease on your old studio apartment had been coming up anyways.

He happily helped you move in.

He didn't let you lift a single finger. Every little thing was taken care of. He hired a crew to move your stuff from your old studio to his place.

He was certainly full of surprises.

----

"Hey, y/n. Can you come over here and tell me if this is sturdy enough?" He asked you from the tile floor of the bathroom as he screwed a hand rail into the walls.

"What do you think about this one?" He asked as he passed you an ipad with plans for renovating the place.

"We can get the counters lowered and widen the space here so you can wheel your chair through and reach."

He installed ramps for all the doors.

He attached a wheel chair rack to every car he owned.

Since the house was two stories he even hired a guy to build a chair lift so you could reach the second floor.

Once your hands started shaking he would kneel down and tie your shoes for you.

Every little action was full of adoration.

He made it so easy to love him.

----

You're brought back to the present by a loud snore from right next to you.

Looking to your left you are met with the sleeping face of the love of your life.

You thumb over the pictures in your phone.

Smiling at the pictures you press post.

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram In a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

[shibaraki]

PAS DE DEUX ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, no curse au (ballet), principal dancer gojo, reader is a photographer for his ballet company, fluff, flirting + casual touch, barre exercising, getting together, first kisses

wc: 2.4K

Gojo Satoru is just a man.

Albeit a coveted man, able to do anything on stage exactly as he would in rehearsal. High arabesques and tight pirouettes. Otherworldly form. Broad hands able to memorise another’s centre of gravity within the first twenty seconds. Swan-like and slender. All agile limbs, a body brazen with self-assurance and packed with strength, reflected in how effortlessly he can catch, spin, and dip his partners. Low, on perfect pointe.

A beautiful, talented, annoying man. That which has chosen to breathe down your neck as you fiddle with your camera, rather than occupy any other corner of the large studio.

“You’re distracting me, Satoru”.

“How am I distracting?” he asked, inclining his head. You gave him a look, and emphatically motioned at him from head to toe. Satoru cracks a grin, those piercing blue eyes gleaming, “By existing?”

“No, because you're all up in my space. I’ll show you the pictures in a second so back up,” you snap, your hand fluttering dismissively at him. “And put a shirt on!”

A low, vibrating hum, and a smile that holds a sincere gentleness to it that you wouldn’t have expected to find. He looks almost boyish. You turn from it and feel his presence move away like the sun being blocked out, steady warmth then the absence of it.

He does not put his shirt on. Instead Satoru takes position at the barre and walks his fingers along the top. Dawn filtered in through the small windows, casting a spotlight onto every dip and curve. You resolutely do not look at that narrow waist, nor how closely his tights clung to his hips, his thighs. Pulled over his soft soled slippers are a pair of grey stirrup leg warmers, bunched around his calves. He’s—

You draw a sharp inhale and refocus on the LCD screen, the neckstrap suddenly uncomfortably heavy.

Satoru is a bit older than most of the other dancers you photograph but no more mature for it. Granted he’s gentler in his discipline, more experienced, and always less eager for the practice to be over. He liked the day to drag on and on, especially if someone was watching him.

People said he was arrogant. Maybe that was a little true and with good reason. But your lense saw through the veneer that Satoru wore. Session after session, through rehearsals and classes and auditions, you saw pride for his craft, and how deeply he loved imbuing that love into his juniors.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so, but watching him dance felt transcendent. Whoever the pair, he made every pas de deux seem seamless, like two halves of the same entity coming together. Solo he was in a league of his own. Sometimes he danced as if he loved beyond the scope of his skin. Sometimes he danced as if the whole world had betrayed him.

“How’d I do this time?” you hear him ask in that very cavalier way that betrayed his interest immediately, becoming antsy in your prolonged silence. “Pretty good, right?”

Today you managed to shoot him demonstrating a particularly heartbreaking variation of a grand jeté. He reached the peak and fell so gracefully that you’d felt the whole room hold its breath. Another beep and the camera screen flickers to that very photo. Right leg stretched anterior, his left posterior to his body, evenly split into a horizon as he soared through the air. Rather than poise to mimic an elegant wingspan he had curved an arm into an arc over his face, almost as if in anguish, while the other draped behind him.

“Why ask if you already know?” you deflected, switching to the next photograph. “You definitely have a flair for the dramatic”.

“Maybe I want to hear it from your mouth,” you can hear the layered petulance behind his words. It makes you restless to think your praise could hold any significance to him. “Tense today, aren’t we? You should do some barre exercises with me. Loosen you up a little,” he continues, clicking his tongue. “I could even teach you some steps”.

You snort lightly, “That’s a ridiculous idea”.

“I don’t think so,” Satoru disagrees, a contemplative tone to his voice. Intensity returns to his gaze as it roams over your form. “You’re the only person in the company I haven’t danced with yet. Can you blame me?”

“It wouldn’t be dancing, Satoru. You know I can’t dance,” you insist, or so you think, the weak response barely audible over the heartbeat flooding your ears. “I’d look like a fucked up marionette”.

A hand crosses your line of sight. You hadn’t even noticed his approach. Satoru plucks the camera from your slackened grasp and slips the neckstrap over your head in one swift movement. “Then let me pull your strings,” he teases, proffering his open palm. Your throat grows dry.

“That was awful,” you tell him, clutching to whatever dignity you have left. Then you take it. Long fingers enclose over your knuckles and he smiles.

Sometimes when you want something you’ll take it in whatever manner the universe is willing to give it.

“Ha. Worked though”.

As mercy would have it, Satoru guides you as he would a beginner. You’ve lived and worked amongst dancers for years. Your mind is familiar with the lifestyle, the lingo and the routine, but your muscles are not. “Another rep. Heels together with your toes turned out—that’s it, bend slightly,” your pulse rockets at the light touch to your hip, firm yet gentle in encouraging you to bend. The room is much hotter than you recall. “Place one foot in front of you. Point. Now sweep it around to the back in a C-shape,” warmth lingers where his fingertips had been as he steps back. “Point your feet,” he says, his lips suddenly close to your ear.

“What—?”

“As you circle,” Satoru repeats. “Point your feet.” You exhale and repeat. “Hm. Good at taking instructions, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to kill you,” comes your shaky response, already feeling clammy. It doesn’t escape you that he still hasn’t put a shirt on. Your inner thigh muscles are burning. Satoru laughs and the irritation ebbs away because he sounds happy. Giddy, even.

“This one will open your hips nicely,” Satoru finds your waist again and pivots you to face the barre. His body heat seeps through your t-shirt where he’s pressed against your back. Hands slide beneath your arms and down to your wrists, delicately placing them atop the barre. “Keep taking deep breaths for me. Bend your knees—hold,” the ache forces your eyes shut for the five seconds he keeps you inert, plunged into fleeting darkness with just his low, honeyed voice to guide you.

This really was a terrible idea.

“Rise to plié,” Satoru murmurs. “Up into demi-pointe. There you are, now hold again”.

Shadows pool into the studio space as the evening draws on. You’re rendered a sticky mess, and not in the manner you’d have liked. Wondrously, and despite the soreness that will no doubt wear in tomorrow, you had begun to feel you were working with your body and not against it.

Satoru had barely broken a sweat. You take comfort in the splotchy flush covering his cheeks and how his chest rises and falls, both signs of exertion. Equally as distracting. “You’re almost a natural,” he says, running a hand through his silky white hair.

Unsteady on your feet, you roll your eyes skyward while the burning in your lungs dwindles. “Sure. We’ll be onto our own pas de deux in no time,” you joke offhandedly. But Satoru’s expression wanes into something like longing in your periphery. Fondness, and then to amusement.

“Maybe not. Your pointe needs work,” he says.

“Well excuse me, big shot. I’m not even wearing the right shoes—”

“Want to try some lifts?”

A stone of dread drops into your stomach. The barre digs into your lower back as you lean against the wall, “We do some—some routine warmups and you think I’m ready for partnered lifts?!”

Satoru’s voice remains steady but his lips are starting to purse as he mirrors your posture, “I can take your weight”.

You didn’t doubt it. Satoru’s ability appeared to defy physics all together and that translated well with his counterparts too, whoever they may be. You’ve seen him lift people of every different shape and weight. Each one would become weightless in his embrace.

“No. No lifts,” you tell him, trying for a cadence that inspired authority. Satoru arched his brow and you got the sense that to him you were akin to a small disgruntled cat. Whether it’s the fatigue that lowers your inhibitions or plain pettiness, you hear yourself say, “I think you just want an excuse to touch me more”.

A pulse of magnetised desire rippled through the atmosphere. You don’t miss the way his breathing hitched, or how the hand absently rubbing the back of his neck stilled only for a moment before falling to his hip. Satoru swallows. Your eyes follow how his thumb strums the waistband of his tights—tights that leave very little to the imagination.

Anticipation prickles through your belly when he takes a step forward, then another, until his nose bumps your own. “You’re not supposed to say the quiet part out loud,” he murmurs, a little breathless. It ghosts across your lips. There’s trepidation in his gaze, searching your expression for rejection or discomfort, neither of which he will find.

You are reminded again that for all his apparent confidence and talent, Gojo Satoru was still very much human.

Your hands lingered in the narrow space between your bodies. Restlessly clenching, uncurling. Not knowing where to put them. The bare skin of his abdomen brushes your knuckles. “Satoru,” you begin.

He hums, palms coming to rest on your hips. He leans into you, emboldened by the invocation of his name, and echoes yours back.

“Did you seriously…” your thoughts drift as he dips lower, lingering. The blood rushes to your head. You could easily tip your head, align your mouths, and bring him into a kiss. Somehow the simplicity of that makes this whole charade even more laughable. “Don’t tell me you made me do a workout instead of just asking me on a date like a normal person”.

The response registers visibly on his face. He blinks, delicate pale lashes fanning over his cheeks, and in the next breath he’s lighting up, eyes first, glittering urainian blue. “That was hardly a workout,” he says, warmth bleeding into his voice. “It was a warmup”.

“Warmup my ass”.

“Can, if you want”.

Laughing, you cradle his jaw and say, “Stop being annoying and kiss me”.

Satoru’s hands have slipped beneath your shirt. He squeezes, smiles at the feel of soft flesh yielding under his thumbs, “Alright”.

Always has to have the last word, you think amusedly. Satoru pressed impossibly close. The barre has since become numb where it prods at your back. Your lips part as he tilts and your mouths brush, want knotted deep in your belly. It is slow at first, hesitant. But every movement of Satoru’s lips turns into sweet affirmation. Quick, then long, then greedy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and feel him shudder as you suck gently at his plush bottom lip. He paws at you with more fervour, languidly licking into your mouth. Soft wet sounds reach your ears and a contented hum reverberates through your skin that you can’t help returning. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk.

When you eventually part for breath your chest is pounding. He watches you closely. Half lidded and entirely too pleased. Something about the certainty and satisfaction stunned you then. Coloured the world around you in roseate. “You really do like me, don’t you?”

Satoru doesn’t falter. Quiet and deeply amused, he replies, “What gave it away? The constant pestering, the always staying behind after hours, the never wearing a shirt, the—?”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” you sighed, smoothing your palms down his bare chest simply because you can. “…I like you too, you know”.

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “What gave it away? The constant pestering?” you kissing the corner of his mouth, “The always staying after hours?” and then his cheek.

Satoru turns quickly to chase as you recline, nipping at your mouth. “Point taken,” he rumbles, pinching at the fabric of your shirt and lightly tugging it. “Pattern dictates this should go, next”.

“You know we need to lock up. If I let you start we’ll never stop,” you laughed, wriggling out from his embrace. The studio will be shrouded in complete darkness soon, and now you both need to shower. Satoru reluctantly lets you go, trailing after you as you collect your camera and pass it between your hands.

The screen flickers on, back to that incredible grand jeté. Satoru hooks his chin over your shoulder. “You really do photograph beautifully,” you think aloud. His jaw shifts and you can tell he’s smiling. “What were you thinking about, when you jumped?”

Satoru sniffed, not even pretending to think of something profound. “Mochi stuffed with whipped cream and zunda”.

You sigh fondly, eyes falling closed. Beautiful, talented, annoying man indeed.

[http-tokki]

need to know

~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au) ~tags/cw: tattoo artist choso, fem reader, tattoo artist au, tattoos, needles, satosugu is canon, modern au, choso has a scar over his nose instead of his markings, strangers to friend to lovers (strangers rn) tiny lil man verbal bashing cause men are weak lil babies when getting tattoos, reader is a lil chubby, choso is on antidepressants, smoking/vaping, drinking ~ wc: 2.9k ~ "Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?"

You: Wednesday 8:45pm Hi, I was just wondering if your books were still open? It says they are in your bio but in case I've missed it and they're closed, please ignore this message, sorry! :)

Kamo: Wednesday 9:23pm Hey. No, they are still open. When were you looking to book? Do you have a specific design? Or are you looking for a flash?

 

You: Thursday 11:36am Oh, hi, awesome! Thank you for getting back to me so quickly! I was looking to book next month, towards the end. On a weekend if that would be possible (I don't mind the time), and for the design, just a flash (design 3A) on your latest post on my upper arm, around 15-20cm. :)

You: Thursday 11:52pm Unless you think it should be smaller or somewhere else, I'm not picky! I really want something of yours tattooed on me :)

 Kamo: Thursday 12:15pm Sure, no problem! I have the 24th free at 12pm. Does that work for you? The spot and size are fine, but I'll make up smaller and bigger stencils on the day in case you change your mind. The total would be $600 for the piece. However, I require a $100 deposit to secure your spot. I can send you the payment details once you confirm your interest. Please read through my FAQs on cancellation policies and further information.

You: Thursday 12:20pm 24th at 12pm is perfect! Thank you!! I'll send a deposit through now! Ahh, so excited! :)

 

Kamo: Thursday 1:07pm You're welcome. Here is the link x. Please send a screenshot of your payment as proof. For the rest of the amount, I accept cash only. If you have any other questions, feel free to message me. See you on the 24th.

You: Thursday 3:30pm Sending it now! Yay! Thank you so much! Super excited, see you! :)

Kamo: Thursday 4:35 pm Seen 

--

 "I sound like an idiot, don't I?" you grumble as your friend reads over your chat with a tattoo artist.

You watch your friend tilt their glasses down, squinting at the screen as their mouth curls into a grimace. They try to hide it with a sniffle, disguising their obvious disgust over your intense enthusiasm.

"Not an idiot," they hand the phone back to you, a frown set in the crooked way it always did when they were uncomfortable. "Just really, really eager, which can be cute if you like that."

--

Choso is growing tired. 

At what? There are too many contributing factors to the headache that had begun blooming his eyes five minutes after stepping into the studio to pinpoint the main culprit of his budding exhaustion. Maybe it was the late night/early morning combo, or perhaps it was the horrific lack of water and food he hadn't consumed in the last twenty-four hours. When was the last time he had taken his medication? Choso begins to run through the previous days in an attempt to remember when he had even glanced at the Zoloft sheet sitting in the bottom drawer of his trolley, but his attention is diverted from his lack of self-care to the man sitting in his tattoo chair. 

It is coming up on the two-hour mark since his client walked in. With a brazen attitude that could rival a Greek god, the man had outlined what had to be the simplest fucking tattoo known to man. Choso had rolled his eyes at the frankly impressive and thorough drawing done by the twenty-something gym bro before shifting the paper off to his younger brother. 

"Come on, it's easy! An hour tops, and then you've got like two fifty in your hand! You technically owe me an observation session, and this can be it." Yuji had gripped his brother's sleeve, tugging on it the way he used to when they were kids. 

Taking in his younger half-brother as his apprentice was a good idea in theory. The two lived and worked together, so there was ample time for obvs and practice, but today was already busy, and Choso was feeling like complete and utter shit. 

"Yuji, I don't want to do this. I have a client coming in at twelve for a full session, and I've got this headache and-"

"It's easy money, come on! Please." it technically was easy money. The design was a small band wrapped around the bicep, with no adornments or script, just a flat black line; it was the client himself that made Choso apprehensive. 

"Fine." Choso sighed, and Yuji almost jumped into the air in excitement. "You prep and clean him; I'm not doing anything but the actual tattoo." 

Yuji nodded eagerly and just about ran into the front room to confirm the walk-in appointment. 

That was almost two hours ago, and Choso is still here, finishing up the outlines of the band on a guy twice his size but carrying on like a toddler. Each touch of the needle on skin had the man flinching and hissing through his teeth, and there is only so much Choso could take. 

Choso eyes the clock nervously, his next appointment slot ticking closer but the second. There isn't going to be enough time to get out and grab a coffee or snack from the corner store. After another quick glance at the amount of work before him, Choso calls it fifteen minutes to twelve and clicks off the tattoo gun with a disappointed sigh.

 "Hey, I'm sorry, but we might have to split this into two sessions." 

He looks back over at this current client, who is sweating profusely. It takes everything in him to scowl in disgust at the once brazen man before him, but not the look on his client's face; Choso knows some form of repugnance had slipped through his composure. 

 "Yeah, sure, man, no sweat," the client replies, relief blatant in his sigh. "Sorry for taking so many breaks. I've got a weak pain tolerance."

That makes Choso feel a little bad.

"You're fine. I've just got a pre-booked client coming in like ten and need to set up." A little lie to hurry the man up. 

Hope is so close. So attainable that Choso can almost feel the sun on his face, but the shop bells slice through any dream of a break. 

"Hi, I'm here for my twelve with Kamo?" 

Choso slouches, attention now on the conversation happening in the front room. It's not even twelve yet! Why would she be here so early? 

"Yep! We've got you down for twelve, but Choso's still with someone, so if you wanna wait here, that's okay!" Yuji giggles in response. 

"Ohh, I'm just here to ask if umm…Choso wanted a coffee or anything?" his name is a question on her tongue. "I'm going to go get one and wanted to ask if anyone wanted anything so you don't have to wait in line." 

That's nice. Choso thinks and leans back on his chair, attempting to glimpse his new client, who has Yuji giggling at every word. 

"I was just about to step out to get coffee so I can come with you, but I can get Cho's; you don't need to pay for him." Another giggle. God, his younger brother is shameless. 

"That's okay! I can get them; just write your orders down so I don't forget!" the girl insists.  

"Ohh, but-"disappointment fills Yuji's voice. 

"Yuji, can you come here please!" Choso shouts down the hall, pulling his brother away from his new crush. 

Yuji groans, then the shop bells ring again, and then the sound of footsteps shuffles down the hall. 

"Yes?" 

"Can you wrap him up and finish the payment? I need a smoke." Choso rolled back from the bed, handing over the second skin he has yet to unwrap. 

Choso's brother sighs but offers the male client a friendly smile, sits down in the now vacant rollaway stool, and begins to prep the skin for wrap-up.

"I'll be back in five; if anyone needs me, tell them to wait." Choso grumbles the last part and offers a stiff wave to his current client before disappearing into the hall. 

 The knots in Choso's shoulder have been building for days now, and no amount of rolling or stretching seems to relieve the tension in his muscles, but it is nice to stretch and feel the blood move around him again. Heavy boots echo through the small shop as he stalks to the front desk, floorboards creaking under the weight of thick rubber soles. His fingers slip into his back pocket to reach for the small pack of menthols hastily shoved down after the abrupt end of his morning break. 

Stepping out into the world, Choso is blinded by the sun. Having forgotten about the passage of time while being stuck indoors all day, he now stands stunned in the small alcove of the shop's entrance. The sun nears the centre of the sky, beating down the world in a heat never seen before. It wasn't even the beginning of summer, and the sweltering days were breaking temperature records. Choso shields his eyes with a hand, and even then, his vision is blurred as his retinas adjust. 

The street is quiet; an abnormal silence had fallen over the usually busy road, but with the rising blistering temps, he suspects people aren't willing to brave the heat to shop or eat. Choso finds the familiar recess in the wall, a door had been there years ago but has long since been boarded up and now acts as refuge for him and his brother. Through any weather, time of day or season, the small alcove is a sanctuary for tired and burnt-out artists needing a second away from the constant buzz of tattoo guns. 

Choso scans the few open cafes and bars for his mystery client. Mainly office workers on lunch break and mothers with strollers waiting for the afternoon pick up; he can't see anyone that fits the image he had concocted in his mind on the short walk over until he spots a girl standing in line across the way. The tattoos that adorn her legs are what Choso notices first. Patchwork pieces from different artists in black and white with pops of colour here and there, but for the most part are monochromatic, all spaced far enough to be their own pieces but not so much that they seem gap-y. He is impressed at the choice, knowing that when getting patchwork pieces, they are usually slapped in any available location, but from what he can see, every piece flowed into each other and told a story against her skin. Her arms are equally as covered, though with more room, and he is eager to see the works up close. A flash of pink catches his attention, and he narrows his attention on the pink My Melody backpack that she swings at her side, pink wallet clutched in her free hand as she shifts her weight from her toes to her heels. Choso smirks at the bag and finds himself willing her to turn so he can see the face of the girl who we had been staring at for the past five minutes. 

He is staring and he needs to stop before he gets caught. Shifting his attention from the random woman, he fishes out his phone and focuses on the seemingly endless DMs and texts stacked on the lock screen. Sometimes, he wonders if he really should have gone into a career where his livelihood relied on communicating with strangers. With expert precision and one hand, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled packet and slips the filter between his teeth. Biting down the filter, the taste of menthol fills his mouth, and relief floods his veins before settling in the deep groves of his brain. The cigarette isn't even lit yet, but his nervous system knows that the taste of mint will soon be followed by nicotine, and all will be well for a few minutes. Breaking the habit of smoking has been on Choso's New Year's resolution lists for the past three years, but he only ever lasts a few weeks before turning back to the comfort of those overpriced joints. Maybe next year will be the year. Choso digs through his pockets, fingers grasping for the lighter he keeps in his right pant pocket, but there is nothing. Maybe the other side? Still nothing. Third pocket? Fourth pocket? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Fuck. 

There isn't enough time to go back inside to search for matches, and he had already popped the filter and doesn't want to waste the smoke, but it would get gross sitting in the packet- his headache grew. 

"Choso?" a soft voice asks from above.

Choso looks up from his lap and is greeted by the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Breathing is no longer automatic as he stares at you, and when his lungs start to contract almost painfully, he realises and takes in an all too obvious breath.

It wasn't fair to look like that. With the sun illuminating your silhouette, cradling you in an angelic aura that has Choso debating on whether he should get on his knees and pray to you, but too much time has passed since you spoke and he acknowledged you that he has to say something, but all he can manage is a muffled yeah?

"I'm your twelve, but you look like you need a light?" you hold out a bright pink light between pretty pink manicured fingers. 

Choso offers a tight-lipped smile to prevent the cigarette from falling from his mouth and takes the lighter, flicking it to life. "Thanks, I owe ya."

He holds the flame to the tobacco, and only when it glows bright does he pull the disposable away.

"It didn't cost me anything, so nothing to owe."

There is a beat of silence as you throw the light back into your bag before bending down to pick up the coffee you had set at your feet. "Also, a coffee." another offer towards him. 

"The guy at the desk gave me your order, and I always buy my artists something before a session. I'm not hitting on you."

Your admission of this not being a move stirs something in him. Choso accepts the cold cup with a soft thank you, angling his hand away from yours, careful not to burn you with the lit smoke.

 "I'll meet you inside. Give you a moment to yourself." you nod towards the door of the studio, feet already turning to start walking towards the entrance. 

He watches you walk away, a smile creeping on his face despite not knowing why. You're as cute from the front as you are from the back, and he's glad the girl he had seen in the coffee shop is you. Soft curves make up your figure, dipping at your waist before filling out again over your bust. Choso feels his stomach twist in that familiar feeling, but he can't think of you like that; you're a client and nothing more. There is a mesmerising way in which you walk that has Choso unable to look away, and even when you've stepped into the studio, his gaze lingers on the empty space you once stood in until the rancid taste of burnt filter fills his mouth. Never in his life has he been as thankful for coffee as he is in that moment when burnt paper fills his senses. Taking a big gulp of the sweet but still bitter drink, it takes everything in him not to spit in the street, but he was raised better than that and will wait until he is in the small bathroom to spit up the gross contents.

 --

 When Choso returns, you are sitting on the small couch in the waiting room, filling out consent forms. Head down as you read the number of your ID and scribe it down in the open line; he walks past you, suddenly horrified by his heavy choice of shoe. The thick thud of the rubber soles on the hardwood has you lifting your head and smiling at your artist. Choso feels his stomach flip.

"So," Choso starts, but the smoke still in his throat chokes the word. He clears his throat and restarts his sentence. "So, do you smoke, or do you just carry the lighter?"

"My best friend smokes, so I just carry it 'cause you never know when you're gonna need a light." Your laugh is contained, almost forced, as if the interaction you are having is uncomfortable for you. Had he done something wrong?

"Ohh." Is his only reply as you return to the balanced folder on your lap.

Another moment of silence before Choso steps towards the hall. "I'll let Yuji check you in, and then just come in when you're ready." Had he already made you that uncomfortable in the two minutes you had spoken outside? Choso takes a deep breath as he steps into his space and suddenly wishes the whiney baby was the one getting tattooed.

--

You: Saturday 12:05pm Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:06pm suck his dick? ik guys like that :P 

You: Saturday 12:06pm Idk what I expected from you. I need actual advice, please Saturo. U owe me!

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:07pm ooh first name, you're kinda scary. Okay, here is what you do. You act like a normal human and then flirt a lil and suss out if he's into it and then ask him out to drinks?

You: Saturday 12:08pm That works if I KNEW HOW TO FLIRT. Ugh im screwed, he's so fine fuck

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:09pm eww, you're getting ur jizz all over the screen. just breathe and be normal okay, pretend he's me.

You: Saturday 12:10pm  Ignoring the first comment. Im gonna sneak a pic and show u BRO YOU NEED TO SEE HIM

Number ONE best friend: 12:10pm creepy but okeeeeyyy. Sugu also says to breathe and be normal but to ignore anything you think I would do

You: Saturday 12:11pm Thanks, Suguru, please kill him for me, ill talk to u guys in a bit

Number ONE best friend:  good luck bestie 8======D

a/n: okay so there is going to be a part two but I'm not sure when, please give me feedback if you want it or want me to stop, put the laptop down and go outside lmao lil texting format, lemme know how y'all feel about that

[lieslab]

Skz finds you struggling with self-harm

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Genre: Angst & comfort/hurt

Word Count: 10.8k

A/N: This was a request and each member deals with a different type of behavior that can be considered a form of self-harm. To whoever requested this, I'm sorry for taking about a week. In a word document, this is about forty-five pages, so thank you for being patient while waiting. I hope you can find some comfort here <3

_ _ _

Bang Chan:

TW: Cigarettes and brief mention of cancer.

"What is this?" Chan gestured towards you. 

"What does it look like?" You grumbled with the end of the cigarette in the corner of your mouth. 

You ignored your boyfriend and kept glancing off into the darkened sky. You thought he was asleep as you stepped out onto your balcony, but apparently not. Either he wasn't asleep or you accidentally woke him up when you snuck out of your shared bed. 

He stayed quiet while he observed you. You ignored his heavy gaze and pretended he wasn't there. You adjusted the cigarette back to the middle of your mouth. The end glowed a warm orange while you inhaled another mouthful of the smoke. 

The oversized hoodie hung off your body. You threw it on hoping it'd catch the scent of nicotine instead of your pajamas. Silence hung over the two of you along with the stars. You didn't utter a word. Quite frankly, you didn't want to tell your boyfriend why you were outside on your balcony smoking a cigarette at 4am. 

It was almost like he could read your mind. You exhaled and the tendrils of smoke drifted off into the distance. Realizing this was his chance, Chan broke the silence.

"Do you wanna talk abo-" 

"Nope," you cut him off. 

He pressed his lips together trying to figure out what to say to you. He knew whatever you were going through was bad. You only turn to cigarettes when life seems unbearable. Too caught up in his own life, he hadn't realized you were struggling so much. Worry and guilt began to nip at him. 

He had shifted to wrap his arm around you in the bed, but you weren't there. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a barren bed and your silhouette outside on the balcony. He knew what you were doing the moment he opened the balcony door. He was instantly engulfed by the scent of tobacco. 

No wonder you tasted so much like peppermint lately. Chewing peppermint gum, one piece after the next. Showing up to his studio tasting like mouthwash. You brushed your teeth after you smoked. Swishing around mouthwash and chasing the mouth-burning liquid with more minty gum hoping it'd block out the scent. 

"Bad day?" He finally offered. 

You snickered, "more like a bad life." 

His heart squeezed in his chest at your remark. Surely, you didn't associate him with the bad part of your life, did you? Yeah, he was busy a lot because of his job, but what about the times you shared? Was it all bad? 

Sensing his worry, you changed your wording. 

"It's not a bad life, but things seem to be piling up lately. It's one thing after the next after the next. I purchase a pack of cigarettes and then the nicotine releases dopamine. I know it's bad, but it brings me a state of peace. Is it terrible to just want to relax for a while?" 

"No," he admitted after a few silent seconds. "It's not bad, but it's dangerous." 

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. In the brazen moonlight, Chan could see everything. The full moon lit up every feature of your face. Seeing you like this beneath the soft glow, he wanted to smile, but your words twisted him with trepidation. 

"I know I should care," you reopened your eyes. You blinked trying to hide the tears building up. "But honestly, I really don't give a shit. It says right on the box that it can cause lung cancer. I already feel rotten enough on the inside, so maybe it's what I deserve." 

"Nobody deserves that." 

You stared down at the burning cigarette in your hand. Embers drifted into the darkness while others scattered onto the ground below. The rolled paper around the cigarette continued to burn. Your brain begged for you to take another hit of the nicotine, but now your heart was in turmoil. 

"You are an adult, you know. You're free to live your life as you wish. No matter what you choose to do, I can't stop you. However, as your significant other, I don't want to see you hurt." 

"I know," your voice came out weak. All those emotions you had been suppressing were coming up again. "Can I be honest?" 

"Of course, you can." 

"I hate the taste of them," you chuckled and dropped the cigarette. The heel of your shoe crushed it into the ground. Your fingers gripped the metal ledge of the fence around the balcony. 

Chan didn't utter a sound. 

"It's been going on for a while, unfortunately. For a month, at least, and I'm not sure if I can easily stop." You hung your hands together over the edge of the railing. 

"That's alright, you don't have to quit cold turkey. Maybe try to wean yourself off of them, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Tobacco stained your teeth. The soured flavor clung to your tongue. The scent draped over you like a heavy curtain.  You bit down on the inside of your cheek wondering how you were going to pull yourself away from the thing you spent the past month finding comfort in. 

"You don't have to do it alone," Chan spoke up again. "I'll be right here if you need me. You can talk to me whenever you need to." 

You nodded your head. 

"Do you want to discuss what made you turn to them in the first place?" 

"Not really." 

"Then we don't have to do that." He turned back to the moon and changed the topic. "The full moon is beautiful tonight. I don't remember the last time I've been able to stare at the moon like this." 

"It's nice." 

"Peaceful and quiet." 

You mumbled an agreement as a yawn left your mouth. 

"You wanna go back inside and get some more sleep?" 

"That sounds good." 

Not bothered by the scent, Chan walked over and put an arm around your shoulders. The two of you walked back into your bedroom. He locked the balcony door while you pulled off the hoodie you were wearing. You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

After climbing into the bed, you curled yourself up against your boyfriend, happy that you were able to find someone as patient and understanding as him. 

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Using alcohol to cope with problems, depression, and self-hatred.

Lee Know was used to you occasionally drinking. You did it, he did it, and your friends did it. However, when he came home on the third day in a row to find you with a bottle of wine, his eyebrows furrowed. 

There you were curled up on your favorite spot on the couch. The large TV sat in front of you and you grinned while watching some raunchy romance show. His eyes scanned the area. A bowl of popcorn sat in your lap. A glass of wine was tucked into your hand. Too enthralled in your show, you didn't hear him come in. 

The bright screen lit up the transparent bottle to show that it was nearly gone. You just opened that bottle yesterday, so how was it gone already? He blinked in shock and stepped closer towards you. 

He snuck up behind you, without meaning to startle you, and stuck his hands on your shoulders. You let out a yelp and jumped. The popcorn bowl upturned and kernels and popcorn pieces scattered across the carpet. 

"Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you." 

"Well, you did," you frowned and stared at the mess. You sighed, placed your glass on the coffee table in front of you, and began to stand up. The world seemed to tilt and you fell forward. 

"Woah!" Lee Know jerked forward, grabbed the back of your shirt from over the couch, and yanked you back to safety. 

You laughed as you plopped back down on the couch. Your boyfriend frowned at your reaction. If he wouldn't have caught you, you would have hit the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge of the couch. You giggled while he pulled you into his grasp. 

He leaned back comfortably against the arm of the couch. With you in his arms, he tugged you back against his chest. Your ear was pressed up against his heart. The gentle thrum soothed your soul. 

"How much alcohol have you had to drink today?" He began to run a hand through your hair. 

You half-shrugged on top of him. 

"One glass?" 

"More." 

"Two?"

"More." 

"Three?" 

"I don't know." 

"Four?" 

"Mmh, maybe." 

He paused and glanced back over to the bottle of the wine. Last night, it was nearly full, so you drank more than half of it. You were upping your alcohol content steadily. He frowned and stared back at you. You seemed okay the past few days, but clearly something was bothering you. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Do you ever hate yourself?" 

"Huh?" He was caught off-guard by your comment. 

"Do you ever hate yourself?" You repeated. "Lately, I've been feeling like I'm not a very good person." 

Lee Know kept watching you. You were pronouncing your words properly, so you must not have been too drunk. He glanced up at the analog clock stuck to the side wall. You were home before him in the early evenings. You had, at least, five hours to drink before he got home. 

"Why do you think that you're not a good person?" 

"I don't know." 

"There must be some reason." 

"I feel ugly!" You blurted out. "I feel gross and disgusting about myself. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see. I've been sad and I haven't wanted to get out of bed. I have zero motivation to get out of bed or brush my teeth or do anything." 

"Oh?" 

"I feel icky inside and out. You tell me all the time that I'm beautiful. You're always there, but I'm not able to see myself like you are. Maybe I feel so gross because it's a struggle to get out of bed. I don't know, but the other day I had a glass of wine and it felt nice and then I had another and I felt okay again." 

"So you're using alcohol to attempt to cope?" There was a sadness in Lee Know's voice. 

"Uh-huh and you know what?" 

"What?" 

"It's working very well. I am so light and I feel so good. I feel like I can laugh again. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside." 

Lee Know tilted himself closer towards your face. He leaned over you and cupped your cheeks gently. You peeled open your eyes and met his. A goofy grin filled your face at the sudden closeness. 

"Whatcha doing?" 

"Don't I make you feel warm and fuzzy? Do I have to remind you?" 

"Of course, you make me feel that way! You give me butterflies. I love you so much, you don't even know. I can't put it into words how you make me feel." 

"So you're feeling bad about yourself?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"What if I gave you a kiss every time your brain said something bad about you? You stop drinking the wine and I'll replace it with kisses." 

His boba eyes stared intently into yours. You blinked in shock. It wasn't often that Lee Know was so touchy with you. He patiently waited for your answer and squished your cheeks a little more. A grin began to stretch across his face. He cooed and squished your cheeks more. You began to giggle at his antics. 

"Is that a yes?" 

"Uh-huh." 

He bent down and gave you a quick upside down kiss. Still tipsy, you squealed in delight. He puckered his lips and did it again. Pulling away, he rubbed your cheeks. "So how was it?" 

"I think I need another one." 

"Already?" He threw his head back and let out a dramatic groan. 

"You said if my brain was saying something bad!" 

"That's right, I did say that. So I must prevail in my efforts to comfort the love of my life. Pucker up and get ready for a love bombing." 

"A love wh-" 

Before you could finish, he leaned down and began placing kisses all over your face. Your laughter only added fuel to his fire. He kept going and going and going until he ran out of air panting. He threw himself back over the arm of the couch gasping for breath. 

"More!" You cried out. 

"More?" He threw his hands up. "You're just taking advantage of my love!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

"Yeah-huh!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around you tightly, and squeezed your body. You wiggled, but your arms were pinned to your sides. You whined and squirmed, but you were no match for him. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Prison of love." He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You're here until further notice." 

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Razors/razor blades, cutting, and self-hatred.

“They couldn’t have grown legs and walked away,” Changbin grumbled. He climbed further into the cabinet, beneath the bathroom sink, and pushed products aside. Dropped down on all fours, his torso was completely inside the darken and confined space. 

He was attempting to try and find a pack of his disposable razors, but he couldn’t find any of them. He swore he just bought another pack last week, but they were missing. He pushed aside backup bottles of body wash and shampoo. Diving further into conditioner and cotton balls, he dug back further, but to no avail. 

He pushed himself backwards and whacked his head on the top of the cabinet in the process. A loud groan left his mouth and it woke you up. In the room next door, you had fallen asleep early. Exhausted from another day at work, you were defeated by the time you came home. Within seconds of your body hitting the pillow, you were out. 

You blinked your bleary eyes and rubbed them wondering what was going on. Through the thin bathroom door, Changbin was mumbling. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed to be upset about something. 

As you pushed yourself away from the tangled blankets, Changbin dived back beneath the cabinet to look again. He shoved the small basket of product to the side and when his razors weren’t in the very back, he jerked himself out again. A hand went to the porcelain sink to propel himself up. 

Crash! 

You stumbled over your feet worried that your boyfriend might have fallen. Picking up your pace, you knocked when you arrived at the door and called out to make sure Changbin was alright. Not hearing a response, you panicked even more. 

“I’m coming in,” you called out. 

When you stepped inside, you found a teary eyed Changbin staring at the floor. You stepped up beside him quickly wondering what was wrong. On the tile floor, lay the scattered remnants of the bathroom trash can. A shampoo bottle laid beside it. 

Right there on top? One of Changbin’s disposable razors was completely dismantled. Twisted blue plastic with a missing razor blade. You made sure to hide it deep within the trash can beneath the snotty tissues and makeup remover wipes. You didn’t take into consideration that the trash can might fall over. 

The pieces began to click together in your brain. You had been using Changbin’s razors for a while now. Prying apart the plastic and so desperate to feel something again. You found a friend in the cold metal blade. The stinging sensation somehow seemed to mend your internal wounds. 

Humiliation filled you and the guilt of it all crept in. You swallowed the lump in your throat as your own tears filled your eyes. You remained cemented to the floor unable to speak and unable to explain. There was nothing to explain anyways, Changbin knew what you were doing instantly. 

The two of you stayed silent. Changbin ran through your behavior the past few days in his head. You stopped wearing pajama shorts to bed, but fall had turned into winter. He didn’t question why you switched your clothes. When you didn’t want to be touched as much, he hadn’t questioned it. 

Boundaries and communication were so important to him. He knew not to cross them. The two of you were honest with each other constantly. It helped your relationship flow smoothly, it helped prevent arguments, and it left the two of you satisfied; but this? How long had you been keeping this a secret? 

“Why?” He finally got out. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke. You felt so small. So helpless. Rather, you let down one of the most important people in your life. Would he see you through the lens that you saw yourself? 

He turned around to face you. There was no hint of anger. His face wasn’t twisted and there wasn’t a scowl. Hurt was in his eyes. He reached out and cupped your face again. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I’ll replace your razors and I won’t do it again.” 

“But why?” His thumbs brushed against your cheeks to wipe away tears. “Why are you hurting yourself?” You blurred in his vision. 

You blinked rapidly trying to get the tears to stop. You didn’t want to admit you hated yourself. You didn’t admit you found comfort in the pain. You didn’t want to admit any of it. You were stuck at a crossroad. 

“Please talk to me.” He waited patiently for you to speak. When you didn’t, he pulled you into his burly arms. Warmth cocooned your body and cradled your soul. 

“I didn’t mean to start. I’ve struggled with it before, you already know that.” You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. “It got bad again and I just wanted to self-soothe. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.” 

He rubbed your back gently. Your head was tucked beneath his chin. His heartbeat walloped in his chest. “You didn’t disappoint me, you’re hurting inside. You have to learn how to be gentle with yourself, baby. You could never disappoint me.” 

More tears filled your eyes. They began to trickle down and soak his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. You let yourself be held by him. 

“You’re allowed to hurt and you’re allowed to be sad, but how about we try to do something else that doesn’t harm you? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You don’t understand how precious your existence is to me. You mean everything to me.” 

A strangled sob came from the back of your throat. You broke down completely in his arms. He treated you with such tenderness and love, it made you cry harder. He soothed you quietly while he began listing some of your best qualities. 

You cried and cried and cried until you were completely defeated. Everything you had been holding back came up. Beneath your pajama pants, your thighs stung from the fabric brushing up against them. You tried to hide them. You forced yourself into your jeans. 

The fabric rubbed and created irritation. The water in the shower hurt. They always hurt. Just as old wounds began to itch and heal, you created new ones to remind yourself just how worthless you were. The cycle had started again and it’d continue until you stopped. 

Changbin spoke to you how a mother spoke to her newborn baby. Praising you for the smallest things. Dotting on you and gently rocking you side to side. They say a mother’s heartbeat comforts a baby in the wound. With you pressed up against and hearing Changbin’s heart through your sobs, maybe that’s why you felt comfortable enough to fall apart. 

When you finally finished sobbing, you were left breathless and exhausted. Changbin’s heartbeat continued to thrum. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you and Changbin planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

You didn’t object as he picked you up and carried you back to your shared room. Concerned about your well-being still laced him. No matter how much he wanted to continue talking about it, you needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, he’d help you come up with a better plan to cope, but for now, he’d be by your side until you woke up again. 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Skin picking, hair pulling, anxiety, and blood.

You didn’t realize Hyunjin moved from his spot until you felt his hand gently cup your wrist. You glanced down with confusion etched onto your face. He gave you a reassuring smile before he spoke. “You’re doing it again.” 

You glanced down with a frown. Sure enough, you were doing it again without realizing it. Lost in your overwhelming thoughts, you began to pick at the scratch on your arm. Your sharpened nails plucked at the skin. The darkened red bits of healing wounds were reopened. A fresh trail of trickling blood steadily streaked down your arm. 

“Ah, shit.” 

You stood up and mumbled an apology. In the bathroom, you began washing your hands in the bathroom sink, so you could address the problem. Out in the kitchen, Hyunjin was doing the same thing. With hands still damp from hastily drying them with the kitchen towel, he walked into the bathroom and gently tugged your wrist again. 

The uncomfortable feeling of humiliation crept inside as Hyunjin observed your bleeding arm. Lately, you found yourself doing things without even realizing it. Digging your nails along your skin and creating scratches. Gnawing at the sides of your nails and ripping off perfectly healthy skin. 

A few days ago, you began to pluck at the end of your eyebrow. You didn’t realize it until Hyunjin came home and pointed it out. On the side of your head, beneath a top layer of hair, there was a bald patch growing back. It never really registered what you were doing until it was too late. 

Wound tight with anxiety, you floated away from reality and let yourself meander a river of worry. Your fingers moved without realizing it. Your body was desperate to soothe itself even when you were consciously away from the driver’s seat of your brain. 

Hyunjin didn’t mind pointing it out. He knew how you could be and if anything, he was happy he could get you to stop. Pulling you out of that cloudy blank daze and helping bring you back to reality. He was careful with every movement. He didn’t want to startle or injure you more. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” you mumbled. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

You stayed silent and let him rinse the blood off your arm. You watched him clean up, disinfect, and bandage the scratch on your forearm. It had been healing for the past few days. The other day, you dug your nails into the delicate skin. When you scraped your nails down, your skin came with it. Pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of warm blood beneath your fingers, you realized you had injured yourself yet again.

You knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hyunjin was a constant reminder of that. There was no judgment from him whatsoever. However, every time he caught you doing it, you felt like a child upsetting a parent. He hadn’t made it known that he was annoyed with your behavior, but you were sure he felt that way deep down. 

The thought nagged at you while he threw the last bits of band-aid paper into the trash can. He hummed softly beneath his breath and washed his hands like it wasn’t a big deal. Suds filled his hands and the scent of citrus hit your nose. 

“Why are you never mad at me?” You finally snapped. You didn’t mean for it to come off so snarky, but you didn’t understand why he was so cool, calm, and collected about your behavior. In your head, it was inexcusable. 

“Why would I be?” He asked cooly. His face remained neutral and he dried his hands on a hand towel. 

“Aren’t you annoyed or angry or, I don’t know, upset maybe? Sometimes I’m aware I do it, but I continue doing it. I don’t care if it hurts. It just….I don’t know!” You threw up your hands exasperated. “Why are you so okay with it?” 

Hyunjin eyed you for a moment. You still couldn’t read his thoughts. He kept his face neutral until he cocked his head to the side. “What if it was me?” 

“Huh?” 

“If I did what you did. If I picked and plucked and tore and scraped and scratched; would you be annoyed or upset?” 

“No!” Your head shook frantically. “Of course, I wouldn’t be like that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re you. I love you and you deserve compassion. I’d never want you to feel like you were doing something wrong and I-” You paused for a moment. “Oh.” 

The side of Hyunjin’s lips tugged into the start of a smile. “Yeah, exactly. Do I think you should do it? No, but I understand why you’re doing it.” 

“I don’t know how to stop,” you finally admitted. 

“I was doing some research the other day and they said it helps if you wear gloves. However, I know that’s not always a possibility because you hate gloves. There was another article I found about keeping your hands busy.” 

“So like a stress ball?” 

“That’s one option, but I was thinking of something else.” He laced his fingers through yours and began to pull you away from the bathroom. “You know how you always like my art? You’re always wishing you could create art as well as I do?” 

“Yeah.” 

He pulled you into your bedroom and retrieved a plastic bag from beneath the bed. He handed it to you and let you open it. You stared at it cautiously and then glanced up at him. 

“Go ahead and open it. It’s not going to hurt you or anything. Come on,” he grinned, “you’ll love it.” 

You stuck your hand inside and began to pull out objects. A sketchpad was followed by a bright pink eraser and a pack of fancy pencils Hyunjin always used to create sketches. He beamed when a smile appeared on your face. 

“You got these for me?” 

“You’ve been wanting to do art for a while now. I can help teach you and I created a YouTube video playlist of videos I first watched when I created art. When I’m not around, you’ll be able to watch them and learn.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. 

“I know it might not help entirely, but it’s a good distraction. If you start this and don’t like it, I’ve been talking to Felix. He sent over some of the recipes he makes a lot. Maybe you could give baking a shot?” He offered. 

Tears began to fill your eyes from the warmth that fluttered through your heart. 

“What?” His face fell. “Do you not like this? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rushed towards you and began to wipe away your tears. “I don’t want to seem overbearing and like I’m trying to fix you. That’s not what I’m trying to do, I swear! I-I just want to help you.” 

You laughed at his distress. He paused upon seeing your reaction. You sniffled and shook your head. Pulling away, you began to speak. 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m not sad, I’m so happy. You didn’t have to do all this for me. I’m so grateful and I feel so overwhelmed.” 

“So they’re happy tears?” 

You nodded and laughed again. More tears streamed down your cheeks. A smile began to grow on Hyunjin’s face again. 

“Thank you for caring about me.” 

“I’ll always care about you.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll do anything to see you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Gambling and gambling addiction.

The question sat unspoken on your tongue. You knew what you were doing was wrong and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. You shifted in your spot on the couch for a fourth time trying to gather up the courage to ask. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes were glued to the latest anime the two of you had been watching. He was clueless about your antics. You sucked in a deep breath and called out his name. When he didn’t respond, you called his name a little louder. 

He snapped his head towards you with his big eyes and round cheeks. Even without meaning to, your boyfriend was attractive. You pushed away the thought and focused back on the task at hand. 

“Can I ask for a favor?” 

“What kind of favor?” 

In the background, the characters in the anime continued fighting each other. Brightly colored hair flung around and over dramatic sound effects whirled. Fists flew and bodies bucked. Screams of despair from the hero and bouts of anger from the villain continued.

The anime reminded you of yourself. You were the hero and you were the villain. Always flipping back and forth between the two, a switch toggled, but it never flipped fully. You were reckless with life decisions. Messy without thinking things through. Acting in the heat of the moment without thinking about the effects. 

“Can I borrow five-hundred dollars?” 

“Huh?” Han’s eyes widened in shock. “Five…hundred? What? Why?” 

Your eyes met the ground. You felt pathetic. Your form of self-harm wasn’t physically damaging your body. You didn’t turn to substances to cope with things. You threw yourself into gambling instead. Every paycheck, you went through money like water. You were a pro at self-sabotaging.  

You managed to keep just enough to make ends meet and then you’d blow the rest of it. Chasing the high of winning, you didn’t know how to stop. The worst part? You were pretty decent at it. Whether it was making bets with your friends about small things or feeding freshly dispensed ATM cash into slot machines at the casino, you were good. 

Lately, you had been on a winning streak. The cash was pooling in. Over and over again you won and each time, the dopamine rush was more intense than the last. You were seeing green, at least, until greed brought you to your knees. 

You bet everything in the heat of the moment. You bet it all and within a few seconds, you lost everything. It was there and then it was gone. Even worse, you realized you hadn’t put the money aside for your half of the rent. You were royally fucked and with no more money to bet to try and make some of it back, you were screwed. 

You didn’t leave the casino giddy with excitement. You didn’t sprint to the front desk to redeem your money from the ticket in your hand happily. You didn’t relish the fresh air outside with loaded pockets feeling unstoppable. You left with tears in your eyes and humiliation coursing through your veins. 

“Five-hundred?” Han repeated again, completely baffled. He reached over, paused the show, and sat up. “Baby, why do you need five-hundred dollars? Did something happen?” 

You could have lied. You could have said something went wrong with the payroll at work. You could have said the system broke and your paycheck would be delayed. You could have pretended your bank account was hacked. As you ran through the lies in your head, they made you feel even more grimy and worthless. 

Heart taught with distress, you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your hands into fists. Your nails dug into your palms. This was your fault. You did this. You made your bed and now you’d have to lie in it. 

“I really fucked up,” you finally admitted. You stayed silent for a few moments. You weren’t sure how Han would react to your admission of guilt. You let out a sigh before you opened your eyes and spoke again. “I think I have a problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” Han stretched forward. He laid down on his stomach and tucked his palms beneath his head. He tilted his head up to stare at you from his position. “Anything I can help with?” 

“I might have gambled all my money away.” 

“You what?” 

“I know it sounds bad.” You were sheepish to speak. “I forgot to set aside rent money. I know it’s no excuse, but it left my mind.” 

Han stared at you without a word. You were too afraid to glance over at him. Your eyes never left the floor. 

“So the five-hundred dollars is to cover my half of the rent. I promise I’ll pay you back!” You peeked over at him. Eyes filled with desperation, you hoped he’d understand. “I don’t like asking you for assistance, but our landlord won’t budge on the rent being due at the end of this week and I don’t get paid until next week.” 

“Did you just start this or…” He trailed off. 

“It’s been happening for a few months. When I hang out with my friends, we go to the casinos and stuff. It was really fun and before I knew it, I was hooked on it. I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried.” 

“Of course, I’ll cover your part of the rent.” 

Relief filled your veins. 

“But.” 

“But?” 

“But it sounds like this is a big issue. This was a pretty big incident that happened to you. What would happen if this occurs again and there’s nobody there to help you?” 

You frowned and shifted once more uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. “Honestly, I never really thought about it. I think I might be obsessed with it. I live for the feeling of being a winner.” 

“Don’t you think you should stop before you become a loser?” 

Your face fell at his words. He scooted closer to you and scooped you up to his chest. You could barely breathe as his arms constricted around you. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but this is concerning. I care about you and I don’t want to see you lose everything. Do you understand where I’m coming from?” 

You weakly nodded your head. He clutched to you tightly in the silence. The anime was still paused in the background. A fist froze in mid-air as it was ready to slam into the villain who stood with wide eyes of terror. His fingers found the ends of your hair and he began to twirl his fingers around it. 

“Han?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I’ve been doing it for a while now. I thought I’d be able to give it up, but it’s like an itch that won’t go away.” 

He paused for a moment before he hummed. His tongue clicked while he thought about the situation. His fingers lazily tapped along your spine. You laid with your head on his chest. He sat sideways on the couch while he held you. 

“I’ve heard that there are some therapists that specialize in therapy for gambling addicts.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You stiffened in his arms at the words. Shame filled you once more. That’s exactly what you were, you were an addict. This whole time you were afraid to label it, but that’s what it was. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I feel pathetic.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Han clutched you tighter. “A lot of people struggle with addictions. It doesn’t mean you’re worth any less to me. If anything, I’m proud of you for coming to me with this problem. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem and you’re right there.” 

“Your addiction doesn’t define you,” he continued. “We all struggle with a lot of different things. It can come in different varieties and all shapes and sizes. You don’t have to be ashamed of something that’s so normal.” 

“I don’t think this is normal.” 

“Not for everyone, no. However, I’m sure there’s thousands of people out there just like you. Some people are in denial and don’t want to admit it. Others are afraid and some feel like they have nobody to turn to. Everyone has their reasons and I’m sure you have yours.” 

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. They eased some of your anxiety about the whole situation. You mumbled an apology for everything and he reassured you that it’d be okay. He stared at you with such love and admiration, even when you weren’t paying attention to it. 

“So how about we finish our anime and we can figure everything out after this episode?” 

“You want to see who wins the battle, don’t you?” A smirk began to appear on your face. 

“Maybe just a little.” 

“You might want to watch, at least, the next two episodes.” 

“You already know what happens?” 

“Nope, I’m just betting on the fight being cut early and something dramatic happening.” 

He stared at you unamused and despite the situation that had bloomed due to your actions, all you could do was laugh at your own word-play. 

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Overworking, caffeine addiction, and anxiety.

A frown filled Felix’s face when he laid his eyes upon you. He arrived home late tonight due to a few extra late dance practices. He expected to find you asleep in your bed, but instead you were hunched over your desk in the pitch black. 

The bright light of your laptop illuminated your face while your fingers moved over the keys. Your eyes were narrowed and you were stuck in a trance. Beside you, three empty energy drinks sat. A fourth was directly beside you and half drank. 

This morning, there weren’t any on the desk. He made sure of that because he removed them and tossed them into the recycling bin after you left for work. He ventured further into the room, let his bag fall towards the ground, and began to speak. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

He was met by the sound of you typing. The white light from your laptop highlighted the deep bags from beneath your eyes. You felt like your brain was melting, but the high caffeine content kept you going. You weren’t behind on work, in fact, you were ahead of everything. 

You worked a normal nine to five and then came home and worked some more. Sometimes your line of work required you to do extra work at home and sometimes you just wanted to work ahead. Felix often tried to get you to lay off overworking yourself, but you never listened. 

You had been like this for the past two weeks. You barely ate and slept. You were always hunched over your laptop. Emailing coworkers and upper management. Passing and trading reports back and forth. Filing and submitting different claims. Making phone calls, so on, and so forth. 

Felix’s shoulders slumped when you didn’t respond. Just looking at the purple bags looming beneath your eyes made him tired. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes. 

“Baby, come on. You can finish this in the morning. You’ve been working all day and you need to get some sleep.” 

You blinked upon hearing the voice and briefly glanced over at your boyfriend. His eyes were half closed with sleepiness. It was past one in the morning. You gazed down at the clock on your screen. 

“Go ahead and get in bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me finish up this report real quick.” You went back to your screen and continued to type. 

Felix let out a sigh, but went about his evening routine. He slipped into pajamas, completed his skincare routine, brushed his teeth, and slipped into the bed. It was cold without the warmth of your body. His head slumped against the pillow defeatedly and he waited for you. 

And he waited and he waited and then he waited some more. He tossed to one side and then the other. He tried to lay on his back and then he tried to sleep on his stomach. Haunted by the quick pecking of your laptop keyboard, he couldn’t get himself to sleep. 

He huffed slightly annoyed, shoved the blankets away from his legs, and he sat up. “Baby, are you coming to bed? You said you’d only take a few more minutes.” He glanced over at the clock beside him. “It’s been nearly a half hour since then.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you responded absentmindedly. Your eyes were bloodshot and your spine ached. You tilted your neck to the side and small pops sounded. Ignoring them, you took another sip of your energy drink, and went back to typing. 

Felix’s eyes narrowed and daggers hit your back. His arms crossed over his chest. You were unaware as you continued typing on your laptop. After nearly another minute of silence, he finally shoved himself up. 

Unbeknownst to you, he left your bedroom and headed for the living room. He wasted no time shutting off the internet router box and slipped back into your bedroom without a sound. It didn’t take long until you frantically clicked your mouse and let out a groan. 

“Something wrong?” 

“The internet went out in the middle of my report!” 

“That sucks.” His voice held no sympathy. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

You grumbled, but eventually shut your laptop and climbed into the bed. Happily, he curled up into the bed beside you and buried his head into your chest. It didn’t take long before he fell asleep due to exhaustion, but you couldn’t. 

The caffeine had you wired. You were wound up and didn’t want to sit still. You laid there for a while to make sure Felix was fully asleep. Once you were sure he was out, you slipped out of bed and ventured out into the living room. You reset the router and within minutes, you were back online. 

Nearly an hour later, Felix was well aware that you weren’t there. He woke up and reached out to cuddle you, but you were gone. He sat up wondering where you were. Upon realizing you weren’t in the bedroom, he went out to look for you. 

That’s when he found you in the living room with two more energy drinks beside you. You were sipping a third one. Felix was flabbergasted at your behavior. How much caffeine was cruising through your veins? 

“Baby?” 

You stopped typing and glanced up to face your boyfriend. You paused and meekly smiled at his sudden appearance. “Hi?” 

His arms crossed over his chest and your heart sunk. He stared at you without a word. You slowly put down the energy drink on the coffee table. 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What?” 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“How many energy drinks have you had today?” 

“I-” You paused to think about his question. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Felix, it’s not that big of a deal. I always drink energy drinks. Calm down and go back to bed. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” 

“No. Put your laptop down and let’s go. You’re going to bed. Do you know how many days this has happened? Multiple.” 

“You’re being irrational!” Your voice started to rise. “Stop being so fucking dramatic! God, they’re just energy drinks, Felix! It’s not like they’re going to kill me!” 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

You rubbed your sleepy eyes and let out an annoyed groan. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you care so much? I’m doing my job!” 

“Part of your job is to take care of yourself as a person! When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep? When was the last time you had a decent meal?” His voice began to crack. Tears started to fill his eyes. “When was the last time you were happy and not slung over your computer?” 

You felt like you had been slapped in the face by his words. Your mouth went dry, almost like you inhaled a mouthful of sand. You wanted to say something back, but there was nothing you could use to justify yourself. 

“Why don’t you care about yourself the way I care about you?” His bottom lip quivered. “You’re always telling me to take care of myself. You’re always making sure I’m not overworking myself, but what about you? I don’t want you to die.” 

Tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was frustrated. Why couldn’t you see yourself like he could? Why didn’t you care? Why weren’t you listening to him? 

“Felix,” your voice came out softer. 

He shook his head and blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears. “I’m going back to bed. You can just stay here sipping your energy drinks and overworking yourself. When you collapse with a heart attack, don’t come crying to me.” He stormed back towards your room upset with your behavior. 

The slam of your bedroom door caused you to jump. You looked down at the energy drinks you were consuming and guilt began to fill you. He was right. He was right about all of it. You were absolutely miserable. 

The caffeine made you shaky and it spiked your anxiety. You were so dependent on it, if you didn’t have any, you started to develop a throbbing headache. You became aware of your heart rapidly beating in your chest. How much longer could you keep up this behavior before it burst? 

With a sigh, you shut your laptop and pushed it onto the coffee table. You walked back to the room you shared with Felix. Shame filled you once more. Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. 

Felix was turned away from your side of the bed. He was facing the wall with his arms still crossed over his chest. Silent tears flooded down his cheeks still. You weren’t sure if he was awake or not, so you softly called his name. 

“What?” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. He was completely defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t realize my behavior was upsetting you so much. I didn’t think it was making you worry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”  

There was silence for a while until he spoke again. “I’ll always worry about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Part of our relationship is to look out for one another.” 

You padded over and slipped beneath the covers. Once he felt the bed stop shifting, he spun around so he could face you. The dim light from a nearby lamp caused a soft yellow glow to overcast. There were tears still in his eyes. They were smeared along his cheeks. 

Your heart hurt at the sight of him. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbled into your skin and the vibrations caused tingles to run through you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear. I sent an email to my boss and told her I wouldn’t be there tomorrow. You have the day off, right?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Let’s spend the day together, yeah?” 

He pulled away from you. His eyes sparkled as they met yours. “Really?” 

You nodded your head before you leaned over and kissed his cheek. A rosy blush dusted the tops of them. “You wanna help me get rid of my energy drink stash tomorrow?” 

“You have a stash?” 

“I always have a stash.” 

“You’re not gonna get mad?” 

“No. You’re right, I need to stop. I kinda feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. It’s beating so fast right now.” 

“Or maybe that’s just because I’m here.” A cheesy grin filled his face. He leaned up and kissed your cheek this time. 

“Yeah, maybe it’s just because you’re here.” 

He snuggled back down into the crook of your neck. You let out a soft sigh at his warmth. It didn’t take long until you both fell asleep tangled around each other. 

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Starvation, disordered eating, binging, and poor self esteem/body image.

Seungmin chewed his instant noodles peacefully across from you. With a fork in one hand and his phone in the other, he was content while scrolling through social media. On the other side of the table, you sipped your glass of ice water and did the same. 

The only difference was that you did not have instant noodles in front of you. You sat up straight at the kitchen table with your fingers digging into your plastic cup. Condensation pooled against your fingers and left a ring along the wood. You scrolled through your social media too. 

The scent of beef broth filled your nostrils. Your empty stomach twisted and contorted. It rumbled for the third time. You shifted in your chair and continued scrolling through your phone. Your fingers paled as you dug them into your cup tighter. 

You silently salivated in your seat. The things you’d do to have a single bite of your boyfriend’s noodles; the warmth of flavorful sodium filled broth lining your stomach. Your teeth bit down onto your bottom lip once again. 

The feeling of hunger was sharp and dull. Your stomach searched for food, but it had nothing. The feeling of cold water pooling in the bottom of your stomach filled you with a sense of pride. You were starving, yeah, but you had self control. In your brain, this was a win. 

When your stomach roared again, Seungmin glanced over the top of his phone. He eyed you suspiciously. Lately, you seemed to be pushing away food. He didn’t talk about it much because he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

After all, he had been on his own fair share of diets. He knew they could be difficult, but you never mentioned a diet. In fact, he hadn’t seen you eat anything recently. Realizing this, a frown filled his face. 

You glanced up at the feeling of eyes on you. When your eyes met Seungmin’s, you raised an eyebrow. He copied your expression without a word. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked. 

Your eyes went back down to the instant noodles. He picked up another forkful of them. Noodles snaked through the fork prongs and dripped with broth. You pulled your eyes away and shook your head. Your eyes went back to your phone and you swallowed another mouthful of cold water. 

He glanced at his noodles and then back to you. Down to his noodles and back to you. When your stomach cried out again, his eyes went back to you for a final time. This time he blurted it out without warning. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Bullshit. Your stomach has been roaring like a lion for the past five minutes. You’re starving, so why aren’t you eating?” You kept your eyes secured to your phone. “Talk to me, babe.” 

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the phone. You didn’t put it down because you were too afraid you’d spill and that’d ruin everything. You gave a slight head shake and went back to scrolling. 

Seungmin sighed, got up, and began rummaging through the cupboards. You watched with curious eyes while he pulled out another cup of instant ramen. You tried to ignore him, but when he added hot water, the smell of beef broth caused your stomach to rumble once more. 

You cursed beneath your breath and set your phone down. As you pushed yourself back, the wooden legs of your chair scraped against the ground. Seungmin turned around, alerted by the noise, to find you leaving the room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the bedroom.” 

“No you’re not. Get back here and sit down. We’re going to have a conversation about why you’re not eating. Sit your ass in the chair.” 

“But I-” 

“No. Sit down and shut up.” He placed the cup of noodles in the spot where you were sitting. His eyes narrowed while he stared at you. 

You wanted to turn around and ignore him. When Seungmin made up his mind, he made up his mind. There was no use in running away from the problem. He’d hunt you down and figure out the root of the problem anyway. 

You sighed and sat back down. He pushed a fork over to you and plopped down in his own seat. You stared down at the cup of noodles and your mind began to wander. 

How many calories were in it? How much sodium? What if this single cup of noodles caused you to lose control? What if this single meal caused you to spiral into a binge? On and on your internal thoughts went and Seungmin had no idea. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry,” you repeated. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited in silence for your real answer. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You shifted beneath his eyes again. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. 

“I don’t feel like I deserve to eat,” you meekly admitted. You didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the steam rising from the cup of noodles. 

“Why not?” 

You shrugged, but then continued anyway. “I feel like I deserved to be punished for not being good enough.” Your fingers played with the ends of your hoodie sleeves. 

“Not good enough? What do you mean you’re not good enough? What are you talking about?” 

“I could be better. My body isn’t in the best shape right now. It’s a simple way to lose weight. Honestly, I kind of like the feeling of starving. It makes me feel strangely powerful.” 

“But you have to eat.” He leaned forward and reached his hand out. He was gentle as he cupped his hand over yours. “How are you going to have the strength to get through your days without food?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. It felt pathetic when you said it out loud. Your stomach continued rumbling. The scent of beef broth was overwhelming now that it was closer. 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“It just started this week.” 

Seungmin stared at you wondering how he could help you. He knew about eating disorders, but he didn’t know how to help you. The answer seemed so simple to him, but your brain wasn’t wired like his was. 

Food was not fuel for you, it was a daily challenge; a struggle. A battle of binging and starvation. Something you loved and loathed at the exact same time. It was gluttony, but perfection; a twisted combination of the two. You never seemed to find middle ground. 

“That notebook that you’ve been writing in recently in our bedroom. You’ve been counting calories, haven’t you?” 

You didn’t have to respond. Seungmin already knew the answer. A frown filled his face. The noodles were beginning to lose their warmth. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked. 

“Of course, I trust you. What kind of question is that? I’m dating you, obviously I trust you.” 

“Can I make you food from now on? Not every meal, but just one a day, so I know you’re eating something. It’d make me feel better.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to agree, but you also didn’t want this to spiral out of control and funnel into something you lost yourself completely to. The question weighed heavily on your mind. He was asking you to give up control to the one thing that you could control.

“Can we try it for one day?” His voice softened. “One day and if you don’t like it, we can figure out something else.” 

You finally nodded your head slowly. Your eyes wandered down to the fork beside you. You let out a soft sigh before you picked it up, twisted it into the cup of noodles, and took a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue. You relished the taste with closed eyes. 

“How is it?” 

“It’s really good.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t decide to poison it then.” 

“Seungmin!” 

He let out a laugh and sat back. A small smile appeared on your face. He kept you busy with conversation, so your mind couldn’t go back to focusing on your food. Eventually, you managed to eat half of them before you pushed them away. Seungmin allowed it without complaint. 

“Whoops, I think you got something here.” He leaned across the table and began to reach for your shirt. 

You looked down to see what it was, but before you could see, he reached up and flicked the end of your nose. 

You let out a yelp and pulled away. Shooting him a glare, he could only laugh in amusement. He always knew how to keep you on your toes. 

_ _ _

I.N:

TW: Doom scrolling and self-isolation.

The world was on fire. Maybe not physically, but that’s what it felt like. You had fallen into the toxic cycle of doom scrolling again. Climate change, war, protests, violence, politics, upcoming elections, riots, and death. You flipped through your TikTok page and soaked it up like a sponge. 

Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. 

The algorithm was a little too good at its job. The moment you began liking content about one issue, more videos appeared. Soon there was another and another and another until your TikTok page was a manifesto of doom and gloom. 

The memes went away. The animal videos went away. The videos about your hobbies and interests went away. The videos from your favorite creators went away. Even videos about your boyfriend’s band disappeared. 

The more you scrolled, the worse you felt. How could you live at a time like this? A time when the world was flooded with such chaos. Man made disasters, disease outbreaks, deadly weather events, and crime. Murders, shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, and so on. Another child dead, another place shot up, and another country suffering. 

How could you not be sad? How could you not live with depression? How were you supposed to go on living with the realization that there was so much suffering? Why weren’t people nicer? Why are humans cruel to one another? When did humans lose their humanity? 

Eventually, you turned off your phone and let it fall onto the side of the bed. Tears filled your eyes when you rethought about it. So many stories about higher powers out there. Ancient gods and goddesses, magnificent unearthly creators passed down from generation to generation, and yet suffering still existed. Why? 

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wasn’t working. You reached a hand from beneath your warm blanket and wiped away your tears. You felt guilty for feeling so upset about everything. You should have been thankful that you were able to live the life you lived, but you still felt conflicted about the extent of suffering. None of it was fair. 

I.N let himself into the apartment he shared with you. He kicked off his shoes and let out a sigh of relief glad to be home. He knew you weren’t home tonight and you probably wouldn’t be home for a while. You told him you were going out with friends earlier. 

Lately, you seemed a little down, so he was happy you were finally getting back out there. You loved your friends dearly and they loved you. Besides, you could use a bit of cheering up. 

He hummed to himself and moved throughout the house. He walked directly into the bedroom ready to shower and dress in comfortable pajamas. All of his plans crashed when he heard sniffling as he opened the door. He flipped on the light and there you were curled into a ball in your bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“Sorry about that, baby.” He flipped the main switch back off and flipped on the closet light instead. The too bright white light disappeared and was replaced with a softer lighting. “I thought you were going out to hang out with your friends.” 

“I was going to, but I called off.” Your voice wobbled slightly. You sniffled again and pawed at your eyes. 

Upon seeing your teary eyes, he walked over and slipped into the bed beside you. He pulled the covers away from you and tucked himself right beside you. You wanted to cry at his actions, but you managed to keep your tears back. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work or something? Did one of your friends say something?” He studied your face with concern. 

You shook your head and sniffled again. “Do you ever just realize how bad everything is in the world? There’s so much death and destruction.” Tears filled your eyes once more. “How are we supposed to deal with it?” 

He knew what you were talking about instantly. You did this sometimes. Sometimes he caught you doom scrolling and stopped you. He often distracted you from it with things like your Nintendo Switches or TV shows. You must have started doom scrolling when he was away. 

“The ice is melting in Antarctica and the polar bears…” You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence, as your bottom lip quivered. 

You wore your heart on your sleeve. Empathy was a bittersweet thing for you. You were born with too much of it and you didn’t know how to turn it off. Your heart went out to everyone and everything. Even in the cruelest people, you were able to find empathy in them. 

I.N pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your torso. You buried your head into his chest. He gently rubbed a hand along your back. 

“You know, animals are very good at adapting to a variety of situations. A lot of them are more intelligent than we realize. I’m sure the polar bears are the same way.” 

That was the thing about Jeongin. He never belittled you for being empathetic. He never called you too sensitive or a crybaby. He didn’t brush away your concerns about things. He listened to your rambles patiently and tried his best to help alter and adjust the way you viewed things. 

You didn’t like your empathy, but he thought it was a gift. You thought about things that he didn’t. You looked at the world with such kindness and compassion. You could easily befriend a stranger if you wanted to. You provided him with a different outlook on life. 

“It’s all so sad. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why are we letting people suffer?” 

“I wish I knew why, but I don’t know. Unfortunately, life isn’t fair to everyone. It really sucks, huh?” 

“I hate it,” you grumbled. “I hate being stuck here and not being able to do anything about it.” A sigh escaped your lips. 

“What happened with your friends?” 

“I called off. I felt worthless, so I told them I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t want to tell them what was really bothering me.” 

“Why don’t you go hang out with them? I’m sure they want to see you. You said they’ve been texting you about how much they miss you recently. I’m sure it’d be a good distraction for you.” 

“You’re right, but I don’t know. They’re already hanging out and they think I’m sick. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You could tell them you’re feeling better.” His fingers found your hair and began playing with it. He enjoyed the feathery feeling between his fingers. 

“Can you come with me?” 

“Do you want that?” 

“Honestly, yeah. We haven’t been anywhere recently. They’ve been asking about you too.” 

“I’d be happy to tag along. Where are they? Dinner or something?” 

You pushed yourself up off his lap. “They’re actually bowling right now.” Feeling a bit better, you stood up from the bed. The previous thoughts of earlier were in the back of your head now. 

“Have you ever bowled before?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re not going to tell me?” 

“If I say yes, you’ll know I’ve had an advantage. If I say no, then you’ll know I haven’t, so the answer is maybe.” 

“I’m gonna beat you.” 

“No, you’re not!” 

“The loser gets to let the other person pick out their outfits for a week, deal?” I.N asked. 

“You’re on!” You rushed out the bedroom door. You sprinted towards the hall to grab your shoes from the sneaker shelf. “Let’s go!” 

I.N smiled to himself as he went after you. He might not have done much, but, at least, he could help distract you from everything on your mind. He put on his shoes and hurried to follow you out the door. 

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist: @fairytaleskiess

Masterlist

[octuscle]

Bro, I always go on grindr and watch all this good looking gay muscular Koreans in the map (im in germany). They are on the Otter side of the world... I overcame myself and wrote to someone to maybe get a photo or two. But he immediately freaked out and told me he would show me what it would be, to be just an eye candy to someone else... I've been feeling very strange ever since, as if something was happening to me. Do you know what's happening here?

Lunch break. Finally you find a little distraction. Eating always helps you. You can tell by the paunch you carry around that you need help a lot. Of course, you're sitting alone in the cafeteria again. And you're secretly surfing Grindr on your cell phone for lots of unavailable guys. But today you get a surprisingly large number of positive messages. All well and good, but you want to go for a walk before you have to go back to your desk. So you finish your salad with turkey breast and take another spin around the block. Including the evening run, your goal is to get 20,000 steps.

Back at the office, you close the door behind you. Sure, that's not okay during work, but you've never had so many chat requests. Your account literally explodes. Damn, was your profile name always hot_otter_dick? Sure, that's also your channel at OnlyFans. It's time for a live stream again. Turn on the camera and unbutton your shirt. You ask into the camera, grinning, whether the other lads out there are also so hot. You run your hand over your chest. Shit, where does this new self-confidence come from? Actually, you would never show your flabby chest online. Especially not when you're at work. Take it easy! Flabby? Good one! You have countless laps in the pool to thank for your slim and firm body. And it's your job to show off your chest. That's why you've set up your little studio at home.

"Lads, do you agree that it's time to trim the fur again?" The news is all over the place. Your fans love it when you trim your chest hair on camera. Don't shave it off. A little bit always has to stay. Otters are otters.

Shit, today some of your fans are really pushy and brazen. You should shake your ass, you should show your dick… Mostly Asians. Sure, with them it's already night, sitting jerking off in front of the screen. And with you is just early afternoon… Of course, this is all pure meat show… But you earn your money with it. And you earn not little…

After trimming your chest hair you go to the pool. It's not yours, of course. But it's good to have rich friends. You are pleasing to them. And you take advantage of it. Of course, in principle, you have become a whore. But let's not fool ourselves: There is not much going on with your brain, you will never be much more than eye candy for a wealthy audience.

Otter found @rawworld

[tylermileslockett]

Herakles labor 6: Slay the Stymphalian Birds:

Here's what (Psuedo) Apollodorus, in his book "The Library" (1-2nd century A.D.) has to say about this labor, "The sixth labour he enjoined on him was to chase away the Stymphalian birds. Now at the city of Stymphalus in Arcadia was the lake called Stymphalian, embossed in a deep wood. To it countless birds had flocked for refuge, fearing to be preyed upon by the wolves. So when Hercules was at a loss how to drive the birds from the wood, Athena gave him brazen castanets, which she had received from Hephaestus. By clashing these on a certain mountain that overhung the lake, he scared the birds. They could not abide the sound, but fluttered up in a fright, and in that way Hercules shot them."

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in October to kickstarter.  to get unseen free hi-hes art subscribe to my email newsletter

Follow my backerkit kickstarter notification page.

Thank you for supporting independent artists! 🤘❤️🏛😁

[tf2heritageposts]

Elizabeth Eden Harris[2] (born May 31, 1997), known professionally as Cupcakke (often stylized as cupcakKe; pronounced /ˈkʌpkeɪk/ "cupcake"),[3] is an American rapper and singer-songwriter known for her hypersexualized, brazen, and often comical persona and music.[4][5]

Born in Chicago, Illinois, Cupcakke began her career as a rapper in 2012 by releasing material online. She drew attention in 2015 when she released two music videos, "Vagina" and "Deepthroat", on YouTube that went viral; the songs were later included on her debut mixtape, Cum Cake (2016), which was included on Rolling Stone's list of the Best Rap Albums of 2016 at number 23.[6] A second mixtape, S.T.D (Shelters to Deltas), released in 2016, preceded her studio albums: Audacious (2016), Queen Elizabitch (2017), Ephorize (2018), Eden (2018), and Dauntless Manifesto (2024).

Aside from a brief retirement at the end of 2019, Cupcakke has been steadily releasing standalone singles, such as "Squidward Nose" (2019), "Discounts" (2020), "Mosh Pit" (2021), and "H2hoe" (2022).

Elizabeth Eden Harris was born on May 31, 1997,[7] in Chicago, Illinois, and was raised on King Drive, near Parkway Gardens. Harris was raised by a single mother and spent nearly four years in Chicago's homeless shelters starting at age seven.[8] In the lyrics of her song "Ace Hardware", Harris recounts her experiences struggling with depression and being raped by her father, who is a pastor.[9][10] She has referred to her father as a "deadbeat", "con artist", and "child molester."[11] She attended Dulles Elementary School[12] with other established Chicago rappers such as Lil Reese and Chief Keef. She got an early start into music and poetry at the age of ten by her involvement in her local church. It was also there that she got her start in performing, where she would perform for her local pastors by reciting poetry about her Christianity and faith.[13]

When she was 13, she met a fellow churchgoer who encouraged her to turn the poetry into rap music, and she became infatuated with the art form. She cites 50 Cent, Lil' Kim, and Da Brat as early influences to her musical style.[14][13]

Harris released her first music video, "Gold Digger" onto her official YouTube channel in August 2012. She was only 15 at the time of its release—the original video has since been deleted.[5] Over the next few years, she continued to release original music, as well as freestyles using beats from other artists through her YouTube channel, where she has amassed over 919,000 subscribers.[15]

In October 2015, the official music video for her song "Vagina" was released on YouTube via YMCFilmz. According to Cupcakke, she wrote the song because she was inspired by Khia's dirty rap song "My Neck, My Back (Lick It)" from 2002.[16] One month later, Harris released "Deepthroat" on her own channel. Within weeks, the two videos went viral on YouTube, Worldstar, and Facebook. The songs later became singles for Harris' debut mixtape, Cum Cake, which was released in February 2016. Its release was also supported by further singles such as "Juicy Coochie", "Tit for Tat", and "Pedophile". A writer for Pitchfork, which included it on "9 Rap Mixtapes You Might Have Missed This Year", called the mixtape a "well rounded introduction to a skilled writer" and said it used songs "about love, loss, and hardship with its more explicit tracks to create a full profile of the up-and-coming Chicago rapper".[17] "Pedophile" was also specifically noted for its "blunt commentary" on sexual assault.[5]

In June 2016, Harris released her second mixtape, S.T.D (Shelters to Deltas). It was preceded by the single "Best Dick Sucker". Other tracks, such as "Doggy Style" and "Motherlands", were also later released as singles. The mixtape was listed among Rolling Stone's "Best Rap Albums of 2016 So Far".[6]

In October 2016, Harris released her debut studio album, Audacious.[18] The album was preceded by the single "Picking Cotton", which was described by MTV News as "a protest song about racist cops".[13] Other tracks on the album such as "Spider-Man Dick" and "LGBT" were accompanied by music videos.[19][20] In an interview Harris stated that she made the song "LGBT" "...strictly for the gay community to know that they are loved and don't need to feel judged."[21]

In February 2017, Harris released "Cumshot", which served as the lead single to her second studio album. On March 7, English singer-songwriter Charli XCX premiered her song "Lipgloss", which featured Harris. The song was later included on XCX's mixtape, Number 1 Angel, which was released on March 10.[22]

Her second studio album, titled Queen Elizabitch, was released on March 31, 2017.[23] The Fader described it as "the type of nasty rap that made her a viral sensation, alongside all-out pop bangers like '33rd' and the confessional a cappella freestyle 'Reality, Pt. 4'."[24] Stereogum also noted that the album "sees CupcakKe engaging with the current political climate and radio trends in a way that could help her cross over to a more mainstream audience".[25][26]

On April 7, 2017, Queen Elizabitch was removed from online streaming services and digital music stores due to an illegal backing track that Harris had purchased from what she described as a "shady producer". She soon announced on Twitter that Queen Elizabitch would be re-released on April 16.[27] She then released the singles "Exit" and "Cartoons" in November 2017.[28][29]

Her third studio album, Ephorize, was released on January 5, 2018.[30] Exclaim! called it "her most polished work to date" and noted that "she still slides in plenty of deliciously dirty one-liners throughout the new record."[31] HotNewHipHop commented that "Ephorize might be one of the most introspective bodies of work she's dropped off to date."[32] Pitchfork called it Cupcakke's "best album yet, with terrific production and a barrage of raps that reveal Elizabeth Harris to be far more than her hilarious and absurdly raunchy one-liners."[33] She released music videos for the songs "Duck Duck Goose" and "Fullest".[34] The former features her "showing off an extensive collection of dildos as well as a souvenir Statue of Liberty."[35]

On November 9, 2018, Harris released her fourth studio album, Eden. She released music videos for the lead single "Quiz", and for the following singles "Hot Pockets" and "Blackjack".

On January 8, 2019, Harris was reportedly taken to a hospital in Chicago after tweeting that she was going to commit suicide.[36] In a tweet posted the next day, Harris wrote "I've been fighting with depression for the longest. Sorry that I did it public last night but I'm ok. I went to the hospital & I'm finally getting the help that I need to get through, be happy, & deliver great music. Thanks for all the prayers but please don't worry bout me."[37]

On January 11, 2019, the single "Squidward Nose" was released,[38] and on February 21, a music video for the song featuring John Early premiered.[39] On April 17, 2019, Harris released a remix of Lil Nas X's song "Old Town Road", titled "Old Town Hoe", on her YouTube channel,[40] and its music video the following day.[41]

In September 2019, Harris made several posts on social media criticizing several artists such as Camila Cabello (she accused Cabello of racism) and Shawn Mendes, followed by her retirement announcement in an Instagram Live video.[42] She stated, "This live is going to be the last video that y'all [will] see of me. I am completely done with music". She said that she would no longer be releasing music to the public and that she would be removing her music from all streaming platforms.[43] She stated that she was disturbed to see children in videos and young people at her shows singing along to her explicit songs, felt she was corrupting the youth with her raunchy songs.[44][45] Harris also told fans that she has a "very bad gambling addiction" and that she had lost $700,000 at a casino in September 2018.[45][46] Harris' Instagram and Twitter accounts were deactivated after the livestream ended.[45] Her music remained available on streaming platforms.[46]

On November 7, 2019, Harris came out of retirement after a 40-day absence on all social media platforms with a tweet; "Jesus fasted for 40 days & so did I...... Nov 16th".[47] On March 6, 2020, Harris released a new single, "Lawd Jesus".[48] Harris uploaded her first video to YouTube since her previous deletion of all videos on her channel the previous year, with the double video for singles "Grilling Niggas" and "Lawd Jesus", on May 13, 2020.[49]

On June 1, 2020, Cupcakke released the single "Lemon Pepper"[50] with half of the proceeds going towards the Minnesota Bail fund.[51] Another single, "Discounts" was released on June 26.[52] The song received critical acclaim, peaked at number 78 on the UK Singles Downloads Chart and number 80 on the UK Singles Sales Chart, becoming her first single to do so.[53][54] "Discounts" also reached number one on the US iTunes chart, which is her first song to do so. She is also the only female rapper to have a number-one song on the iTunes chart with no label.

On December 16, 2020, Harris received significant media attention after releasing "How to Rob (Remix)", a diss track. It was released on YouTube and sees Harris take aim at Megan Thee Stallion, Lizzo, and Lil' Kim, among others.[55] The song received positive reviews.

On March 1, 2021, "Deepthroat" was certified Gold by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), which denotes five hundred thousand units based on sales and track-equivalent on-demand streams.[56] It is her first song to be certified by the RIAA.[57] In June, Rolling Stone magazine reported that Harris will be co-hosting the upcoming OutTV reality show Hot Haus with Tiffany Pollard, which will mark the rapper's TV hosting debut. Harris said of the casting decision, "As soon as I heard what this show stood for, owning your sexuality and talent, I knew I had to be involved."[58]

In 2021, her songs went viral on TikTok, mainly in the form of remixes; she later joined the platform because of it.[59]

On May 31, 2022, Harris released the single "H2Hoe".

On June 23, 2024, Harris announced her album Dauntless Manifesto, which was released on June 28, 2024.

wow

[cat-astro-pick]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟒

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝐸𝑧𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟎

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟏

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟐

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟑

"Why are you so dismissive?"

"Of what?"

"...Of me."

"I've been busy working on new stuff. Well, cause it's a new genre I'm trying out and I-."

"You know, you're a big talker when you lie."

I'd never heard his voice so low. In fact, I'd never thought of him as capable of such an intimidating voice in the first place. I'd always assumed Ezreal's vocal cords would only produce beautiful voices, but…apparently not.

I sucked in a breath, not wanting to sound pathetic. I let it out slowly, not wanting it to look like a sigh, and Ezreal's eyebrows twitched. It's always like this. He caught the part I didn't want to be caught, too fast, and then he comforted me. Comfort that I didn't ask for. If it were simply hypocrisy, it wouldn't bother me so much. The reason I'm bothered, yes, is because Ezreal is such an innocent, nice guy ever. I've never seen him this mad before. Not recently, not even before. The anger he was feeling today was purely my fault, and I couldn't be grumpy or irritable with him. Guilt pierced through my heart like a sledgehammer. Even the act of putting my hands in my pockets felt unnatural because I knew better than anyone else that, it was my fault. If it were dramatic, this is where I should have dropped to my knees, but an unknown emotion squeezed the words out of my mouth. It molded the words, forcing them out of my throat.

"...What if I tell you now that I don't remember?"

"What?"

A series of brief memories haunt me. When they started, I don't know. A tone of frustration, denser than embarrassment and irritation, pierces my ears. I hid under the shadows created by cap like a frightened kitten. I was the one who spoke the unforgivable words, and I was the one who ran away in fear. Yeah, I'm that kind of human being, that's what I'm made of. I was unreasonably frightened, but I'm sure Ezreal didn't mean to scare me. If he wanted me to be scared and beg for forgiveness, he wouldn't have made that stupid face. I did something wrong, I deserved to be reprimanded, but it was Ezreal who was acting like a sinner. Simply because I, scared him.

"I don't remember. I don't even know what I said to you."

"..."

"If you want me to be a little more brazen, I don't understand why you've been obsessing over what I said for days, when I was probably drunk and out of it anyway."

"...Enough."

Hell is a fitting place for me to end up. It's better to throw yourself down the stairs to the other side without thinking twice about the ambiguity of heaven or hell, and it's the same with relationships. Even in this one-sided love relationship, I can't be honest anymore. That I crave more than attention from you, that those are the real, deep feelings we've been screaming about since we were kids, and that those simple four-letter words keep hurting me. So, prove it to me. Cause when I realize you don't care about me in the slightest, I'm going to want to die. Prove to me how you feel about me, how far you'll take my immature rants, and if you even care about me. If you don't, then we're done.

My brain felt like it was in two pieces. Egos fighting. I am pushing myself and pushing Ezreal at the same time, to the point where there is no consensus. If someone asks me where and how our relationship went wrong, I don't know what to say. I can't even remember when I started falling for him.

"What the hell did I say to you that made you so mad that Kayn is talking shit to me? Nah, I don't understand why you're mad in the first place!"

No, he's not even angry, he's just hurt. This is not even in my mind.

"What did you come all the way to the studio for? What did you say to them?"

He used to come by often, just like I used to. She probably didn't say anything, because I'd embarrass her.

"'You're-'"

"I said enough!"

The sharp voice cut between us, but nothing else existed but silence. I wish he'd slap me, but when I glance down, all I see is a tightly clenched fist. I know he's not the kind of man to swing a fist. And it's not that I'm a masochist who's desperate to hit him, it's just that his knuckles are so pitifully red and white from clenching so hard.

"..."

He's crying. His eyes, which should be sparkling and shining under the spotlight on the stage, are wet with tears, not starry lights. In the end, it was me who was stupid from start to finish. I prided myself on being able to read other people's moods with ease, but this time, I missed it. I couldn't tell if the heavens were punishing me for my arrogance, or if I was just as dumb as a moth to a flame when it came to Ezreal. In the first place, Ezreal's emotion wasn't anger. It was frustration, fear, and finally impatience. He's not the kind of person to cry tears of anger.

I wonder why I didn't realize that.

“Ez…”

" Do I really make you miserable?"

"...What?"

"You said I'm the reason you're tired to death every day."

"...What are you talking about..."

A cold sweat trickled down my spine. I'd assumed the worst, but there was worse waiting for me than I'd ever imagined. Ezreal couldn't have been thinking this on his own. He's not that pessimistic.

"If you really think I'm to blame for your misfortune."

No. It's not like that. I tried to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat and felt like they were being strangled. I felt like I was slowly suffocating. Like sand being sucked out of the middle of a desert, I was slowly being eaten away.

"Then it would be more helpful if I left you."

His loosely tied hair whipped in the wind. I stare at the distant, distant back of his head, and it feels like the end of the world. It was only after my already weary hand gripped his arm that I realized that tears from the bitter wind were wetting my cheeks. I was a sinner, and I shed many tears for nought. I became impatient. And soon I felt tempted to scream, frustrating. It seemed to me that despair had taken hold of me to the end and would not let go. Many days and nights passed, many of which were ordinary days where I didn't care what happened. And, yes, honestly, I wanted to tell myself that Ezreal was making my life miserable, even though I knew it wasn't him that was making me miserable, it was my feelings for him.

"I'm not miserable because of you."

A sense of unreality envelops my toes. It wasn't the coziness of a lazy daydream. Each delicate feature of his face in my vision crumbled into shards. The shards ran down my cheeks, dangling precariously from the tip of my chin, before falling to the floor and becoming jewelry for ants.

"I mistook you for misfortune, because I... have a crush on you."

Yes, this is penance. And, confession.

.

.

.

[ts4ritsa]

Alright! (It's my first Smut req, sorry if it's bad). Anyway, smut request where Ryota is crushing and lusting/lovesick over a playfull, friendly and sweet Fem!reader who likes him back but is oblivious; and Ryota needs a live nude model as inspiration/reference to a project. The reader offers to help by modeling for him, and he can't help himself. Reader realizes he likes her and it goes from there.

-🌙

₊˚ପ⊹ live model smut imagine ;

ft. ryota mitarai from danganronpa * ˚ ✦

tags / cw: n.sfw, fem!reader, ryota is a little lovesick, u riding him, semi-public(?)

poor ryota couldn’t help the way his body ached for you, not when he felt your soft walls wrapping around him nicely as you slowly rocked your hips on top of his. you looked so pretty too, so sweet, it was so kind of you to help him out with his little situation.

he was already so embarrassed. ryota swears he didn’t mean for this to happen, he wasn’t trying to find a reason to see you like this, let alone be with you like this. plus, he never wanted to make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries. he respects you way too much for that. not only did you kindly offer to act as a model just so he could get pose references though, you offered to ease the tight feeling in his pants too. gosh, you were killing him. you’re just too good to him, really. he never thought you would go this far with him, for him. and definitely not in a studio.

though you were glad to help him out, he wasn’t free from your teasing giggles and playful remarks. as you whisper sweet nothings above him, he tenses and can’t help the way he feels himself growing harder inside of you. soft pleas and sounds of pleasure fall from his lips — mixed in with your moans — when you feel it too and decide to increase your pace ever so slightly.

his hands eventually find their way to your hips. in contrast to his shy demeanor, he desperately tries to express his brazen want for you to go faster and deeper. his expression is one of pure ecstasy, fully enveloped by the warmth of your beautiful body on his.

before this, ryota wouldn’t have dared to act on his feelings towards you. even if he constantly just couldn’t deny the need in his body that he wanted you, and only you, to satiate, he would have never mustered up the courage to ask you for help. though he found himself nearly slipping up and exposing how he felt sometimes, your oblivious tendencies always saved him, and he could not have been more thankful. but alas, the odds would not always be in his favor…

© ts4ritsa

a/n: this was so fun to write! thank you for requesting 🌙 anon ^^

[haggishlyhagging]

In the silent-film era, Hollywood's film industry grew quickly to meet audience demand, and thus it was more pragmatically welcoming to women writers, editors, directors, and producers than it would be at any other time afterward. Directors like Dorothy Arzner, Lois Weber, and Alice Guy-Blaché (the latter widely considered to be the first true "auteur" of cinema), and actor-producers like Mary Pickford (founder of United Artists studios) and Clara Bow created films that weren't the escapist fantasies Hollywood would come to prize, but human stories that included complex relationships and forward-thinking subject matter: Weber's The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, for instance, was about the need for legalized birth control. At one point, women headed up dozens of production companies. But, as film journalist and historian Melissa Silverstein notes, "As it became more about money, the women behind the scenes disappeared." The expensive technology that turned silents into "talkies" beginning in the 1920s necessitated the involvement of Wall Street, which invested in young studios and became the big bosses of directors and producers, imposing a masculinized and increasingly sex-segregated workforce as part of the burgeoning corporate studio system. Women in powerful creative and decision-making roles were suddenly seen as amateurish and unprofessional; for the male-dominated financial forces that took charge of the Hollywood economy, and with larger and larger amounts of cash at stake, they were simply too much of a risk.

Onscreen, representations of women followed a similar trajectory. In what's now known as the pre-Code era of Hollywood films, women were smart, professional, ambitious, forthright, opaque, tricky, even criminal. They blackmailed bosses, had babies out of wedlock, seduced other women—and the thrillers were even steamier. Jean Harlow's Red-Headed Woman was a brazen social climber more than willing to seduce any man to get what she wanted; Barbara Stanwyck, in Baby Face, was an exploited young woman who used sex to move from penniless to paid ("She had IT and made IT pay" leered the film's poster). And, of course, there was Mae West, the bombshell vaudevillian, playwright, producer, and model for every one of Samantha Jones's Sex and the City single-entendres, whose winking catchphrases—"Come up and see me some-time"; "When a girl goes bad, men go right after her"—have long epitomized pre-Code Hollywood's sassy repartee. It's not that the heroines essayed by these dames were like men; they weren't. They were simply as human onscreen as the men, as full of appetite and humor and stubbornness and fallibility. And that was part of the problem that the Hays Code was enacted to fix.

-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once

[kakairuficfinder]

Personal Favorites

These are the KKIR fics that really resonated with me. I hope you love them as much as I have.

The Last Mission by Flailinginlove [M, 69K]

When a badly burnt body wearing Iruka's dog tags is found just inside Fire Country's borders, Tsunade demands answers. Kakashi's tags are a heavy weight against Iruka's chest as he tells her about the relationship they've kept hidden for years, the one he'll have to start referring to in the past tense. It isn't until he gets home that he notices something engraved on the charred metal of his tags: a coded, one-word message meant just for him. It's the only clue he has, not much to go on, but that won't stop him from doing everything he can to bring Kakashi safely home.

Icha Icha Nights by Adelaida, anniemaar, flailinginlove [E, 50K]

A foolish bet is going to get Iruka and his friends killed if he can't find a way to save them from the ruthless king who has imprisoned them. Each night he tells the king stories to buy them more time, but in between the lewd tales he spins, he discovers that not all of his friends are what they seem and neither is the king.

Anata by TumblingTroublesomeTumbleweeds [E, 55k]

Kakashi has decided to stealth date his way into Iruka’s future. … Snapshots of Kakashi and Iruka being totally married even though Iruka doesn’t exactly realize that they’re totally married. Neither does the rest of Konoha. But Kakashi does.

My Yakuza Boyfriend by decaf_kitty [E, 55k]

Kakashi Hatake is a disgraced cop with no options left. So he joins the local yakuza family. His boss, Iruka Umino, is beautiful and dangerous. Of course, Kakashi falls in love with him the instant they meet.

The Shinobi Bachelor by PerfectNezumi [T, 66K]

The Elders want Kakashi to produce a heir to his bloodline, so Tsunade sets up a competition for him to find his soulmate.

Uncomplicated by wizardinblack [E, 63K]

After a rough break up Iruka turns to the world of online dating in a desperate attempt to get laid. He meets Kakashi and things are totally great and not complicated at all!

(Run) Far Away from Home by chuchisushi [T, 31K]

A Princess Mononoke AU: It's a long journey west for a cursed former-prince, and he finds nothing for his troubles except a bloody war, a beautiful man raised by wolves, and a new beginning.

Love, Karate, and the Things We Lose to Find Ourselves by nbdweeb [M, 49K]

After years of working as a child and family social worker, Iruka Umino decided he was ready to start a family of his own, and his college sweetheart turned husband Mizuki Touji was cautiously along for the ride. When an emergency case came across his desk one day, Iruka knew he'd met his son. That's how two year old Naruto found his way into their lives, and for a brief moment, Iruka held everything he'd ever wanted in the palm of his hand. Or so he thought. Before he knows it, Iruka has a rambunctious 7 year old on his hands. Parenthood isn't easy, neither is his marriage, but he always manages to maintain his carefully constructed life. But when Naruto starts acting out at school and at home, Mizuki's already thinning patience runs out and things take a turn for the worst. Caught between an angry spouse and a distressed child, Iruka is at a loss for what to do until he stumbles across a newspaper ad for karate classes. He thinks he's found the perfect solution; an outlet for Naruto and a reprieve from the trouble at home. When they enter Konoha Martial Arts Studio for the first time, Iruka has no idea how the handsome and kindhearted instructor Kakashi Hatake would change their lives forever.

Take Me Home by masc_malfunction [M, 44K]

Ask around, and anyone would tell you the same: Kakashi Hatake is bad news. He's cocky, he's brazen, and his gang is infamous for being impossible to take down. Rumors are always flying around town, about his age, his looks, his more unsavory behaviors…frequently, about if there was anyone who could be a match for him.

Tunnel Vision by demonofabove [NR, 24K]

Kakashi is asked to look after Iruka, who has amnesia. It would ordinarily be an easy mission; but things are much more complex than he expects… Because apparently, Iruka thinks they're dating.

Perfect Storm by aoiandplayer3 [E, 38K]

Stuck together because of a storm, two teachers fall for each other. Kind of fluffy.

Strange by decaf_kitty [E, 86K]

Iruka Umino is a lone werewolf without a pack; he spends most of his time working downtown cleaning hotel rooms and taking care of Naruto, a youkai fox. But he's recently started to notice a soft strange scent in the city, and he wants to know its source. After hunting it down, Iruka finds a silver-haired man with a scar on his face, and he unpredictably loses himself in lust.

You Are by OneSaltyLeo [E, 11K]

Iruka hasn't felt well in a long time, not since the scar was applied to his face. What he's contemplating has been building for years, but just when it all reaches its climax, just when he's ready to hit delete on everything, something strange shows up in his Inbox.

There You Are, There You Are by CountingNothings [M, 94K]

Sometimes, when you don't believe you deserve the good thing that’s coming for you, you spend a lot of time trying to jump out of the way. Kakashi and Iruka are shinobi. Evasion is almost second nature. (It begins with a long weekend onsen meet-cute, and then, as is only right for two people who love romance novels as much as they do, it takes ten years for them to figure out that they're in one.)

A Liar in Babel by surveycorpsjean [E, 35K]

Iruka narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “Tell me why I’m here.” “You need the money,” Kakashi says, brunt and cruel. “And I need a sugar baby.”

I'll Fall, If You Do by ladyxdaydream [M, 89K]

College was rapidly coming to an end and Iruka had his whole future planned out. Or, well, at least he thought he did. But how could he account for the stranger who would veer him so desperately off course?

One More Light by tmo

How time traveler Kakashi met the love of his life. Romance Trope 5: A character is constantly misplaced in time, but still attempts to lead some semblance of a normal life with their loved one (source: The Time-Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger)

The Bijozakura Seal by megyal [M, 38K]

Kakashi and Iruka are bonded together, entirely against their wishes. While Iruka begins to deal with it, Kakashi still has… doubts.

I Kissed a Boy (And I Liked It) by My_private_tsukuyomi [T, 15K]

Kakashi Hatake was sixteen and never been kissed, a fact that, according to some of his friends, was a travesty. However, girls just never appealed to him, and he didn't know why. He finds out when an everyday act suddenly causes his entire world to tilt on its axis.

The culprit? A tube of cherry chapstick.

Catch A Falling Star by My_private_tsukuyomi [E, 44K]

After the things he's suffered, Kakashi was convinced that, outside of the dance that had always been his solace, feelings were something best left to others. Feelings, especially love, were dangerous and only brought pain. Then a chance encounter and a single dance with a handsome stranger threatened to tear all of his carefully constructed walls to shreds. Was it even possible to allow himself to trust after all this time? What is it about Iruka Umino that makes him want to try?

[angie-long-legs-moved]

Starter for @that-m0th

Angel's finger quivered against the trigger.

On the other end of the gun? The very man whose name was embellished in rhinestones across the barrel.

It was symbolic, really, threatening the Overlord with his own weapon. While Angel was far handier with his usual tommy guns, it had to be Valentino's own prized revolver to back him into a corner. His favourite toy to inflict violence with, wielded by his favourite toy to inflict violence upon. And, all symbolism aside, Angel needed to utilise the threat of true, final death - he needed a gun that was loaded with holy bullets.

It had been far too easy to steal it. Although the Vees ran a tight ship when it came to security, Valentino was famously careless with his weapons, often leaving firearms idle on coffee tables or couches or amongst the heaps of clutter that the studio accumulated. Angel supposed that the idea of anyone taking advantage of this had likely never even crossed Val's mind - if any of his employees were stupid enough to even attempt to gun him down, they wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

And yet, here Angel was, hands shaking around the sleek pink revolver, pointed with brazen betrayal at its owner - his owner.

However, this was not murder. This was bargaining.

"Let me go."

His voice was low but firm. This was a hail Mary, a shot in the dark, a last-ditch effort to lever some kind of control over the man he was bound to. Adrenaline coursed through his blood like electricity, but he couldn't afford to let Valentino see the way it made him tremble.

"Let me go, or I'll shoot, Val. I swear ta God."

[steveconte]

“WE LIKE IT”  - Music

“WE LIKE IT”  - Music & Lyrics by Steve Conte & Andy Partridge

Steve Conte - Vocals, Guitars, Percussion, Handclaps

John Conte - Bass

Prairie Prince - Drums

Rob Schwimmer - Keyboards 

Backing vocals - Ian Hunter, Rick Tedesco, Kevin Tyler Preston, Glen Matlock, Prairie Prince, Thommy Price, Marshall Crenshaw, Tommy Henrickson, Kyf Brewer, Marc Broussard, Steve Lillywhite, Kasim Sultan, Jessie Wagner, Palmyra Delran, Genya Ravan, Simon Kirke, Danko Jones, Nasty Suicide, Dennis Dunaway, Kevin Salem, Danny B. Harvey, Jonathan Clarke, Robert Eriksson, Dregen & Majsan, Kevin March, Chips Kiesbye, Rich Ragany, Keith Roth, Damon Johnson, Rich Jones, Billy Hopeless, Alycia Jones, Jay Millete, John & Jennifer Kerns, Danni Action Michael Imperioli, Frank Lammers, Christian Keiber, Kerry McGann, The Brazen Giant Ensemble, Ryan Hamilton, Ben Rubin, Jan Verdoorn, Mickey Leigh, Westley Crawford, Janie Barnett, Nicki Richards, Lajuan Carter-Dent, Baz Conte

We Like It  (Conte/Partridge)

Yeah, yeah we like it

Yeah, yeah we like it

I’ve got something gonna make you scream

Yeah, yeah we like it

I’m the candidate pushing your American dream

Yeah, yeah we like it

All politicians got their pants on fire

Everybody knows the situation is dire

I’m no messiah and I ain’t no liar

But I know what ya want and I know you’re gonna like it

Yeah, yeah we like it

A tap in the kitchen, that turns on the beer

Yeah, yeah we like it

There’ll be no hangovers, they’re illegal here

Yeah, yeah we like it

Now everyone is beautiful from north to south

The only ugly things are what come out our mouths

Peace, love and fun is what it’s all about 

‘Cause I know what ya want and I know you’re gonna like it

Improve your life, husband or wife

Until you're bored or dead and done

Promise you cash, your own fat stash

You know we print it by the ton

You won't go belly up

i'll overflow your cup

'Cause I know what you want and I know your gonna like it

Yeah, yeah we like it

Yeah, yeah we like it…

*Produced by Steve Conte (Additional remote production by Andrew Hollander & Andy Partridge)

*Arrangers - Andy Partridge & Steve Conte

*Published by Thunderdog Music / Teosto (Worldwide), ASCAP (North America) and Warner Chappell / PRS

*Recorded at Renegade Studios, NYC 

*Mixed by Geoff Sanoff

[hils79]

Hils Watches Love Me, Love My Voice - Ep 4

First of all shoutout to this post because when I tried to take the below screenshot it was suddenly blocked despite all the other episodes being fine. Turned off Hardware Acceleration as instructed and it immediately worked. Reblog to save the life of a liveblogger/reviewer

I love that Gu Sheng having to work with one of Mo Qingcheng's fans is the closest we've had to any sort of real drama, and this is being played as funny rather than angsty or dramatic. Like 'awkward, my employee has a crush on the dude who keeps flirting with me'

I love how brazen he is. Openly admitting he's trying to get a girlfriend. I wonder who it could be... Also, LOL at Gu Sheng in the background pretending not to eavesdrop

I would like a man with a nice voice to recite poetry to me late at night when I can't sleep

That does not sound pleasant

Confession: I am in my 40s and it literally never occurred to me that conch shells have creatures living inside them or that you could eat them. I mean I couldn't eat them because I am allergic to mollusks but people can and do eat them. Every day is a school day as they say. I do enjoy these little recipe segments.

He just did the dorkiest little laugh it's a shame I can't capture video/sound. So cute.

Oh no I'm in danger. Look how soft he looks in this sweater.

I was just thinking this is the most heterosexual drama I have watched in ages. But there we go the intern has a crush on Mo Qingcheng. Get in line, my dude.

Wait, what? Don't the rest of them literally work and live in a recording studio? One that is specifically designed for them? Why do they need to use hers? I mean obviously I am ready for them to finally meet but do better with your plot device shenanigans.

Uh...you've literally had a crush on him since before this drama started.

Yes, it's definitely that and not all the cute flirting you've both been doing

Ohhhhh! Now I understand! She was just going to record her parts in her studio. I thought they were all going to record together for some reason. Except apparently he wants them to do that? Amazing.

The intern has a lil dragon/dinosaur on his shoulder. Adorable.

This poor girl. Everyone is staring at her and being weird because they all know Mo Qingcheng has a massive crush on her.

I would literally die of embarrassment if I was her

Of course he had to cancel. It's only been 4 episodes. I did think it was a bit soon for them to be meeting in person.

Excellent!

Oh, wait, I was wrong. Maybe they are going to meet.

This is all very cute

I mean I'm not sure anyone would expect a cardiologist to also be a famous voice actor

He sure is! Also, I headcanon manager lady as bi now.

Yeah, I tend to remember people if they have a cute animal with them

The boys are making fun of how he eats. That's how you know they're a family

I thought she said she had to go back to school after she'd recorded her song. I mean don't get me wrong I would totally ditch school to spend the day with my voice crush who turns out to be hot and also a doctor

I love how much they roast him

Ooh we're at the getting into each other's personal space stage already

He's so pretty