#but most off all its the staff they are so kind and nice just

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

i forgot to post this BUT TURKISH AIRLINES you have my heart both on your service and food

[justjwab]

Top 10 posts customer service workers hate reading

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Jamil Viper - Luxe Couture Vignette

"If I let this opportunity pass me by"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Jamil: So, this is the "world's most beautiful plaza", the luxury shopping arcade Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: It's no wonder that the passage is lined with high-brand shops.

Ace: Woah! I totally dig those clothes in that shop's window! I'ma check 'em out.

Jamil: Hey, Ace! Ah man, I'll go and bring him back.

[Grim, Vil, and Azul look exasperated]

Shop Staff A: Welcome～!

Ace: Woooah! There's a ton of cool-lookin' clothes and accessories! This's so awesome!

Jamil: Hey… Don't just run off on your own. Come on, we're heading back to Vil-senpai.

Ace: It's just a little peek～ I saw somethin' I liked. Like see, like this T-shirt…

Ace: …Urk, it costs 100,000 Madol [1,000 Thaumarks]! That's waaay too expensive for me!

Jamil: That price is fairly standard for a high-brand shop… Hm?

Jamil: This stitching… It's pretty shoddy. Looks like they're using pretty low-quality cotton, too.

Jamil: Strangely, this doesn't look like the sort of thing that would be sold at this price.

Ace: Huh? Aren't T-shirts all made of the same stuff?

Jamil: Sure. But high-brand T-shirts are generally made with high-quality cotton.

Jamil: Better quality cotton is soft and have a nice feel to it.

Jamil: Not only does it not wrinkle easily, but when the cotton is made into T-shirts, it keeps its shape for longer and makes for a nice silhouette.

Jamil: The design of these other shirts isn’t too terrible… But the fabric quality is just too low.

Jamil: There's no way a shop selling at this level can have a store in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Which means… They must have lowered the quality of their material after opening. Did they run into some kind of business issues?

Ace: Hey! That jacket's so rough-lookin' and cool! Excuse me, I'd like to try this on!

Shop Staff B: Ohh my, I'm sorry. I'm afraid that jacket cannot be tried on here.

Jamil: …

Ace: Huh? Really?

Shop Staff B: That's right. That is a really pricey jacket. If it is somehow dirtied or damaged, it would be on the customer to compensate the loss, wouldn't you say?

Jamil: …So essentially, he has to decide to buy it or not without trying it on?

Shop Staff B: Well, I guess that's right.

Jamil: …Would I be allowed to try these slacks on?

Shop Staff A: Unfortunately, that won't be possible either. Sorry.

Jamil: Ah, right. Thought as much.

Ace: C'mon. Isn't that a stupid rule?

Middle-aged Man: Oh nice, this is a pretty nice shop. The prices seem pretty reasonable, too.

Shop Staff B: Oh, what an important looking customer! Welcome～! Is there something in particular you're looking for?

Middle-aged Man: I'm wanting a jacket, see… Think you have something that'll suit me?

Shop Staff A: Well, if that's the case, how about this one? It's one of our most popular designs.

Shop Staff B: I'm sure it will be perfect for you. Please, try it on!

Ace: Wha―!? But when I asked earlier, they said it wasn't allowed to be tried on!!

Shop Staff A: Students like you can't possibly buy something like that, so there's no reason for you to try it on, is there?

Shop Staff B: Please go home before you start to disturb our other customers. We don't have the free time to be dealing with you two.

Ace: Huh...!?

Jamil: …Not only are their products low-quality, but so are the staff's customer service.

Jamil: There's no reason to stick around in a shop like this. Let's go meet up with Vil-senpai and the others.

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wha was that all about, treatin' us like dirt just 'cause we're students!? That was terrible service. That pissed me off so much!

Ace: First they shoo us out, then they play all buddy-buddy up to the rich-lookin' guy.

Jamil: I bet that since they've been rubbing elbows with the rich and famous while working at that high-brand store…

Jamil: They've completely started to think that they've improved their own social standing.

Jamil: Thinking about those sorts of folks and getting upset about it is a waste of time. Just shake it off.

Jamil: Only the best brands, in both name and reputation, will flourish here at the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: I can't tell if they had a change in management since opening, or if they've suffered business losses…

Jamil: But from what I saw, I can't imagine that place continuing to be suitable for this passage.

Jamil: Even if we do nothing, I'm sure they'll have no choice but to close down eventually.

Ace: It could ruin a brand's rep if they got kicked out of the Crystal Galleria. That'd feel sooo good to see, though!

―The next day

Jamil: I really can't relax at all while at Vil-senpai's side. I'll have to relax as much as I can during my personal free time here.

Jamil: Maybe I'll check out the café at the far end of the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Hm? This shop looks… I guess I can check it out.

Clerk: Welcome! Please feel free to look around.

Jamil: …This place is completely different than the one yesterday. Now, where's that outfit I saw in the window…?

Jamil: Ah, here it is. I thought it looked like a pretty nice jacket from outside, but the pockets and lining give off a more casual feel.

Jamil: This isn't something I see often. The material is good and the sewing and embroidery is delicately done…

Clerk: Would you like to try it on? Come this way.

Jamil: Thank you.

Jamil: Yeah, the size is good and it fits well. I think this color also actually goes well with the clothes I brought with me, too…

Jamil: …How much is this jacket?

Clerk: That would be 50,000 Madol [500 Thaumarks].

Jamil: I see. Would you allow me to think on it?

Clerk: Of course! And please take your time to look at our other items.

Jamil: A 50,000 Madol jacket… That's a bit of a steep price for me… Hmm…

Jamil: The fabric's quality, the design, and the superb stitching make this very high quality…

Jamil: If I think of those factors, even 50,000 Madol is fairly cheap. Also…

Jamil: I've found this in the Crystal Galleria, of all places. If I let this opportunity pass me by, there won't be another chance to buy something like this.

Jamil: …Excuse me. Could I purchase the jacket I tried on earlier?

Clerk: Absolutely. I'll go fetch a new one for you. Please wait a moment.

Jamil: Sure.

Jamil: …I was able to buy a sensible jacket from a reasonable shop here in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Yeah. I'm definitely satisfied with this. And I'm sure this'll be a great memory.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Shop Staff A: KYAAA! VIL-SAMAAA! YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL!!

Shop Staff B: SO BEAUTIFUL! I JUST HAVE TO GET A PICTURE OF THAT STUNNING FACE!

Jamil: Hm? I think I saw those two screaming fans over there yesterday...

Shop Staff A: Oh, look! Do you think those guys walking alongside Vil-sama are models too? Should we ask for an autograph?

Shop Staff B: EXCUSE ME!! PLEASE GIVE US YOUR AUTOGRAPH!!

Jamil: …Hahah! You sure you want my autograph?

Shop Staff B: Absolutely! …Wait, huh? I feel like I've seen him before…

Shop Staff A: Wait! Isn't he that customer that we turned away yesterday…!?

Jamil: I'm honored that a mere student like myself would stir your recollections.

Shop Staff A: Wh-Who would have thought he'd be so famous to walk the tapis rouge…? And he looks so good in that outfit!

Shop Staff B: If we had sold clothing to those boys yesterday, it might've been such good publicity!!

Shop Staff A: H-Hey! Once you're finished here, would you care to come visit our shop once more?

Shop Staff B: We have a collection of garments that would look fabulous on you! Please allow us to design your new look!

Jamil: I have to decline. Your shop does not have any article of clothing that would suit me.

Jamil: After all, just as you said yesterday, there is no need to try anything on.

Shop Staff A/B: U-Uhhh… So when we said that yesterday, uh…

Jamil: If that is all, perhaps you should head home now? Not only are you bothering others around you…

Jamil: But I also do not have the free time to be dealing with you, either.

Requested by @ordinaryanon.

[eggcats]

Radiostatic fic, where when Vox is watching the hotel prepare for the Extermination and is like “they're going to FIGHT?!” he (internally) freaks out and decides to use the opportunity to try to get a deal out of the princess of hell himself. After all, he has the tech to fight - Angelic Security - it'd be remiss of him to not offer it to the princess and raise his status over that old timey prick!

–

“Vox, you of all people know that Angelic Security shit is a scam. Get your ass back in the chair.”

“Nonsense, Velvette! It's simply…untested. And what better way to beta test its worth than by using it against a direct assault from heaven?”

“If you die, I'm taking your room.”

–

So he goes over to the hotel to offer his help.

(Vaggie tries to stab him when he asks for a deal in exchange, and he doesn't know why he's so desperate to help, so he decides to offer it free of charge).

Alastor tries to veto it entirely, citing how all of his technology is both flashy and useless, but he's outvoted by Charlie. (She doesn't trust Vox, nor does she believe in his tech, but she's not in any position to not accept help where she can get it - at worst, she figures it doesn't work and Vox abandons them).

Alastor and him ignore one another to the best of their abilities - they're both too busy (and stressed) to even really bother with their normal hostilities. The most they do are just a few snarky lines whenever they cross paths, but overall it's fine. (Vox will absolutely not admit to himself that it's kind of nice to not be at each other's throats, for once. They've even had to work together once or twice).

So now Vox is struggling to help the hotel with the oncoming assault, and convinces himself that he'll be long gone before any real danger arrives - he's only here on the off chance they survive to up the status of the Vees. (Totally no other reason).

Except. He doesn't leave the night before, and surprises even himself by showing up ready for the fight.

And the fight actually seems to be going really well! (Vox refuses to acknowledge being impressed by Alastor’s shield, even to himself).

But then. Not too long after the shield breaks, Adam appears. And Vox doesn't understand why he feels like his heart has stopped for the second time. He does his best to ignore it, but then Adam effortlessly kills Pentious and all he can think about is the same thing happening to Alastor.

(He can't die like that loser, I'm the only one allowed to kill him! There's no way that pretentious angelic prick took him down!)

When Lucifer finally arrives to take down Adam, Vox disappears. He will find Alastor, because no one but him is allowed to kill him. He refuses.

Vox finds where Alastor was injured, but with him not being there Vox knows there's only one place he'd go - his radio tower. And he's right! He finds Alastor, alive! (Vox does not admit, even to himself, the blatant relief that goes through him).

Alastor does his best to defend himself, assuming that Vox is there to end him. However, Alastor is barely functioning and despite his best efforts, Vox isn't deterred.

–

“I'm here to help you, asshole! Let me see that injury so we can fix it, and then we can try to kill each other!”

–

Vox refuses to take no for an answer, and does stitch up Alastor's injury. (Vox cannot believe Alastor even survived it).

He succeeds in closing his wound, and ends up looking like he's lost a fight to a badger - covered in scratch and bite wounds. Vox complains about it the entire time, but he's secretly relieved Alastor is alive enough to not take his help lying down.

Anyway, after his help, Alastor finally gets himself ready to return to the hotel. (When he first stands up, he falters and tries to catch himself with his staff - obviously it fails with it broken - and Vox catches him instead. They refuse to look at each other as Vox helps Alastor leave his radio tower and walk back to the hotel).

It's not until Alastor asks Vox how long before he can expect to be on the news that Vox realizes he has no intention of letting anyone know that Alastor is injured. (Alastor obviously doesn't believe him, but Vox does keep quiet about it. He doesn't even tell Charlie when Alastor does his best to keep it from her, as well).

It's not until they arrive with the brand new hotel, Lucifer being present, and everyone recovering after the failed Extermination, that Vox realizes he intends on staying at the hotel, even without his original excuse.

(He needs to make sure Alastor recovers, after all).

[copperbadge]

Hey Sam, this came across my feed on twit and I wondered if you’d heard about it at all? :(

https://www.reddit.com/r/duolingo/comments/18sx06i/big_layoff_at_duolingo/

Direct link for the curious. Short version, a post on Reddit reported that Duolingo laid off a "large percentage" of its staff, replacing them with AI. I hadn't heard about it, but I knew there were reports about Duolingo trimming its offerings and losing a lot of goodwill after revamping itself a year ago; they've been public about their use of GPT-4 AI starting last March, and it was a tentpole of this year's annual convention, so I was aware of that as well.

The Reddit post is by a former Duolingo contractor, who also shares their severance letter, which is terse to say the least. They state that of their four-person team, two people were let go, with the others left to "babysit the AI". They say that they're a translator and that the people who remained were recast as "curators" for AI translation.

But the post is also not otherwise sourced. So here is everyone's periodic reminder that if the only source is Reddit and Reddit isn't citing other sources, you need to dig a little.

All journalistic sources I've seen (that aren't paywalled, like the Bloomberg article most of them cite) are visibly using the Reddit post as their entre, but also state that the percentage of contractors who were let go is about 10%. That's 10% of contract workers, not 10% of all staff, although admittedly I don't know how many people Duolingo employs, contract or otherwise. 10% is a meaningful chunk, but Duolingo has said that the contractors were let go because their projects had wrapped. While company reps state that this all could be related to the use of AI, they've also said that it's not a 1:1 replacement.

Mind you, the company isn't offering much in the way of backing that up, either.

So there are a couple of issues. Some workers probably were let go simply because their work was finished; the Reddit user doesn't seem to be one of those. We are still seeing that at least some of these jobs were replaced by AI, which is undoubtedly a harbinger of things to come. We don't know what impact this will have on the app. We don't know what kind of work the majority of those people were doing. There's a thread in the Reddit post about whether the voices are now "AI voices" but there's no citation to back up the idea either. They definitely aren't doing AI voice generation for the Latin, where one of the voice actors has a nice voice and also a very loud pet bird.

There is a bigger issue of contract work in the digital and translation industries in the first place; a lot of these people should have been full employees and would have had more protection from this if they had been. Translators have also been brutally devastated by machine/AI translation, which is its own issue. But these are separate and much larger problems that are in no way unique to Duolingo.

I don't like taking this stance because I feel like I'm defending both Duolingo and AI, which isn't my goal. My goal is to remind people that if you see a single source offering a vague statement, you should fact-check. 10% is likely a lot of people but it's not "a huge percentage". We have no real numbers on who was fired, just this person on Reddit saying they're a translator and they were let go. Do I believe them? Absolutely, I have no reason not to and the basic gist is backed up by statements from Duolingo. Do I trust this person's intel? Not especially, after the loud axe-grinding noises they made while posting. Do I trust Duolingo, whose goal is to make money and not look bad while doing it? Not especially either, simply from the standpoint of "the bigger the company the more they're likely to screw you".

But the point is we don't have good data, and this is a complicated and nuanced issue involving a lot of different factors. So either you have to let it go on past, or you have to be prepared to dig a little deeper than a person posting to Reddit about getting laid off.

In any case, Duolingo is one of the few activities that brings me joy right now (I know, I'm working on the issue) and is the only language learning structure that has ever actually worked for me, so despite the new intel and despite the fact that I know a lot of people think of Duolingo's revamp the way I think of Tumblr's new dash, I'm going to keep on with it.

(Plus I paid up for a year, so I might as well at least use it until the year runs out and then reassess.)

[therewasatale]

midnight practice

On Ao3.

Based on prompt.

It was around midnight, maybe even past midnight, you weren't sure. It didn't matter, time didn't matter.

The moon was up, high between the gray clouds, shining its silver rays on the Gibraltar base and the black waves under the cliffs.

You closed your room's door, and began your search. Watching your every step - especially you tried to put less weight on your left leg - you made your way through the corridors. Most people in the base were already sleeping, but some were still up; you were able to see faint light coming out under Angela's room and there was some dim light in Genji's room too.

The briefing room was occupied by Winston; who always kept an eye on the world and the trouble brewing out there.

Slowly the base started to fill up with life again.  

After a couple of minutes, you've finally arrived to your destination. Before stepping inside the practice range, you were able to hear measured and quick movements.

You opened the door and found Ramattra, alone. As you suspected.

Since he joined, and began helping, he isolated himself after every mission; sometimes just for a couple of hours, sometimes he needed a full day to decompress and think, ready himself for the next fight. Or so did Zenyatta tell you once.

However, this was just accepted by everyone, since he didn't destroy anything or hurt anyone in his isolation. Besides, after the fall of Overwatch and the rise of Talon, every one of you needed to get used to each other all over again.

After a couple of steps, you stopped next to the wall, and just watched him in silence. Practicing with his staff, jumping, kicking the air, perhaps fighting with an imaginary adversary. His every movement were precise, calculated. He was made to be a tool of war, and became a warrior after.

"You should be sleeping."

The sudden words made you flinch, and pain shot up from your left leg at the movement.

"You should be resting." There was a soft scolding in his voice.

He was right, but something didn't let you sleep for the last three days. Since the last encounter with Talon. And it wasn't just your healing leg.

"You're being alone for a long time now, Ramattra."

"I was never, how your kind say it - a people person." Finally, he stopped and turned towards you.

"I know that, but this is different. Even Zenyatta thinks something is off with you." You walked closer to him.

"My brother always worried about everyone, no wonder he ended up in here."

"Maybe, but you don't deny it, do you?" A tiny smile played on your lips as you heard a scoff from the omnic.

"I needed to clear my mind, and meditating didn't always work, it didn't help this time." 

A long moment stretched out between you two, but it wasn't awkward. You wouldn't have been able to tell when it changed into a pleasant silence, but it happened not long after Ramattra joined.

"Is this about the last mission? They managed to steal some data about those omnics, but we will help your people out in King's Row. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"And we will get de Kuiper out too, somehow. Even if it will get us in a pickle."

"In a pickle?" The omnic tilted his head.

"It's a human saying." You waved it off smiling.

"Ah yes, those idioms, the British girl once tried to teach me some, without even asking if I would like to learn such phrases. I managed to understand the bloody as an expletive attributive, and not the literally means covered in blood."

"Tracer is nice, but I'd say some rural Irish-english is an even bigger challenge."

"I believe you."

You took another step towards him. "So, why are you still here? The last mission went all right."

"The last mission could have been a disaster." His tone suddenly changed to a serious one.

Reading an omnic's faceplate was impossible, sometimes even the tone of their voice was challenging to figure out, but you felt some of Ramattra's. Anger, which he couldn't let go, so he just let it smolder and wake it up to use it at the right place and time.

"How?"

He looked at you, but didn't answer yet. The memoires of that mission came back to him, like they did for the last three days.

"What's bothering you, Ramattra?"

If any other human would have asked him, he would have just left. He didn't owe anyone an explanation. He still couldn't trust any other human. But you were different, over the time in his eyes you became different from the other humans.

"You were here for the last three days, you're making your brother worried, and making me worried as well." Carefully, without much thinking, you reached out and took his hand into yours.

Another long moment went by.

Your chest hammered, waiting for a reaction, or anything that indicates that you did something wrong, or stepped over a line, however, nothing happened.

He just let his hand rest in yours, enjoying a moment of peace.

For the last three days he tried to avoided to cause of his discomfort, tried deny its very existence. He watched your hand; it was smaller than his. Every part of yours were smaller than his; he still remembered how light you felt was when he carried your unconscious body to the dropship, how quickened and shaky your breathing became, and how much he didn't want to let you go from his arms.

For the last three days he tried to suppress those memories, and the feelings that they have awakened in him.

"Ramattra?" You swallowed back your nervousness.

It was no use. He wouldn’t be able to suppress it, He gently creased your fingers.

"The idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me." He ran his fingers over your hand, up on your arm, shoulder, neck and finally stopped under your chin.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you let your head tilted up when he gently held your chin, so you could only look at him. "Oh."

Three days ago, on the mission you protected Cassidy's back from a Talon sniper, and on the way, you had an unfortunate meet up with an assassin. It wasn't fatal, thanks to your luck, and a large helping of nanoboost from Ana. But you still ended up with a couple of deep cuts, some lacerations and bruises, even a bullet hole in your leg. Angela has already healed most of your injuries, but some scars will be permanent. It was a small price to pay for protecting a friend.

"I'm all right."

"Yes, and I will make sure you will be in the future too."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Those metallic fingers could have easily crushed your jaw, or every bone of your body if he wanted, and yet instead, they gently creased your skin on your chin and face. For a second, you closed your eyes and leaned against the gentle touch, enjoying the short moment of peace and safety.

He didn't pull away either, instead, he drew a couple of circles at the line of your chin, then just caressed under your eyes.

Finally, the tip of his index finger rested on your nose. Gently booping it once.

"Found something interesting?" You glanced up with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, I've never cared for humans, neither about your words, nor your anatomy. But you make me want to learn about your kin."

"Maybe it's not a bad thing." You placed a tiny kiss on his palm.

Ramattra couldn't help but let out a gentle humm before answering. "Maybe."

"Then how about you walk me to my room, and then I can teach you about anything you'd like to? And you can teach me in turn about your body."

After another tiny kiss you pulled away.

"Sounds intriguing, very well then." He stepped next to you, and let himself being led by you as you took his hand.

Your fingers linked with his, as you two stepped out from the gym.

[v1x3n]

-⸝⸝ʚ THE MOHAWK ɞ⸝⸝

141 - johnny 'soap' mctavish ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you're an art teacher who moved over to a new school for a new start, you weren't expecting to get in between 4 of the other teachers ; johnny mctavish - the chemistry teacher, simon riley - the english teacher, kyle garrick - the pe teacher and john price - the history teacher.

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : fluff - eventual angst, more fluff and smut.

part one / ?? - also not proof read

your last school got annoying, some shitty northern school where all the kids wouldnt listen. the annoying little pricks would run rampage across the place, litter everywhere because the school spent the money not on bins or cleaners but for stuff for the principal and the higher ups. so you quit and jumped from school to school untill you landed at this one.

this new school had its ups and downs but all good schools had that. the staff were nice and the kids were decent. not many kids were classed as 'rebels', most of them were good, well-behaved. well in school they were, you didnt want to see what kind of stuff they did after school. even just being in the school half a week, you had heard some stuff. normal British school rumours though. 'this teachers shagged students!' 'i heard the pe teacher is a nonce and cheating on his wife!' obviously they werent true though.

after a while you had met nearly every one in your floor, you hadnt met this one man who was strutting around. speaking to everyone and then eventually you. it was lunch break and you with a few other teachers were chatting, thats when he rocked up. he wore a ironed light blue shirt with a black/grey sweater on the top, his sleeves rolled up to the top of his forearm, just below his elbow. his pants were brown and perfectly outlined the shape of his bulking thighs. "yer new 'ere" he speaks, directly at you yet you hadnt noticed and continued eating your pasta pot. so he sat next to you, he dumped himself down and smiled cheekily at you, "i said 'yer new 'ere" his voice changed to a more dominating tone.

"ah sorry!" you slightly chuckle, pure nervousness. he returns a wide smile at you whilst he takes in your laugh. you give him your name and he replies with, "nice to meet ya, me names johnny"

as you continue eating your meal, he pulls out his. you take the chance to gaze up at his face, well more his hair. his kind of grown out Mohawk made you think what his personality was like. he seemed nice so far.

strange.

you couldnt say it wasnt pretty hot though, obviously you wouldn't tell people that! you were barley a week into being at this school and you had liked it so far, you wouldnt want your chances ruined because of your silly attraction to his hair. his fluffy, brown long hair.

"what department ye in, bonnie?"

"art"

"hm." he sits whilst chewing down on his beef sandwich.

the two of yous talked for a while, the whole of lunch actually. a few people tagged along, just another teacher who you had been talking too for the last few days, she was nice. her name was liv and she was luckily another art teacher. you three were talking, mostly about you : where you came from,other schools youve been at and what you thought on this school.

everyone shared their opinions on the school, you thought it was decent whilst the other two liked it. they had told you after a bit all the flaws dont seem like flaws. it was entertaining, all the rumours and drama that went around.

lunch soon finished and johnny smiled cheekily once more at you, "what days will you be working?"

"i get mondays off" you reply with a happy smile. "great! i ken see ya everyday" he smirks.

you giggle nervously at him and nod, "ill see ya, johnny"

"bye hen"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @nic-stars // @snowyaddiction

comment to join main taglist!

[genshin-scenarios]

A Flower Made of Playing Cards (Lyney x Reader)

Summary: A highschool idol AU commissioned by a very kind and patient anon!

It's mostly inspired by this headcanon post, where Lyney spends his civilian life starting to pine after you (a classmate) while keeping his idol life as 'Felis' a secret.

Content warnings: reader is implied to be at a height where Lyney can spin them under his arm?? That's pretty much it! Still gender neutral as usual

Preparing for the Stage:

When Lyney was first asked what he wanted to base his idol concept on, he decided on the magic of luck — something unpredictable and frankly, he wouldn’t bet on most of the time — but if a black cat of all things could disguise itself as a charming magician who made dreams come true, Lyney thought that could be the truth threaded within his performances. 

His luck in gaining a family as supportive as his own. His luck in being chosen out of many candidates to debut, and…

Suppose a bit of rotten luck could play into his concept too. The kinds where props or staff go missing on the day of his nationwide tour, and miracles come into play to get him out of a tight spot.

But like a cat landing on its feet, Lyney — as Felis — would always come through in the end with a smile.

There is comfort in the mysterious and ethereal. The audience places their faith in idols to remain as an untouchable being, talented and charming till the end; while the idol repeats their tricks and illusions, learning them down to a science of well-orchestrated plans.

With the right people to support him behind the curtains, Lyney is sure there is little he can’t do.

But at the end of the day, Lyney is still just a teenager. And when faced with you, who’d unknowingly puppeteered his heartstrings to skip at the quirk of your lips, eyes crinkling with laughter from your seat a few rows away…

No one said that stars couldn’t fall in love. In fact, the ways they do so might be more beautifully devastating than ever. And Lyney is nothing if not someone who burns as brightly as he shines onstage.

-

On the other side:

You’ve always thought of Lyney as a regular classmate; one who gets along with others but otherwise keeps to himself. And sure, he’s also really cute, but Lyney’s always just been a nice presence to hang around with, especially after you learned he has a knack for magic tricks and was willing to teach you a few, skilled fingers sifting through a deck of cards.

You’re starting to think that Lyney’s not just a friend to you anymore.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings at bay, you’re more than aware that the nerves building up in your stomach whenever he’s near spells out a crush. As you get to know him, Lyney’s somehow went from cute to pretty, and you know you're not crazy when you notice his quiet charm shifting into something more extroverted. 

There are no seating plans during the breaks between classes — particularly if it’s this week, where your science teacher has packed off to accompany a sports team to a tournament — so you spend the hour finishing your substitute work with Lyney by your side. Except once you’re both done, he takes to scrolling through his phone and showing you the posts on his feed every now and then, and you swear his chair has been shifting closer and closer every minute.

With quiet words, Lyney leans towards you with a quirk to his lips. You wonder if he realizes how dangerous this is to your wellbeing. 

“This cafe’s menu is themed after wizards! See the cauldron?”

“Maybe you could get a part-time job there as an entertainer.” You suggest.

Lyney hums. “But I only like to perform magic for my friends. Which totals to three people, including you.”

“Are the other two Lynette and Freminet?”

“Bingo!”

“I don’t know if your sister would be happy to hear that.” She’d probably say he sounds like a loner.

“Nevermind if that makes her cringe — she’s stuck with me anyways. But I’d like to think at least Freminet would be happy.”

“He’s a sweet kid,” You try not to get distracted by Lyney’s hair tickling your shoulder. “Maybe you should take him there with you.”

“Just between us, I think Freminet would be more comfortable if you were there too.” Lyney shrugs, eyes meeting yours with a clarity that tells you this is a genuine offer. “He’s a bit more chatty around you, which is saying a lot.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re too much for him?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m nothing if not quiet, introverted, shy…”

“Shy.” You repeat in disbelief. You might’ve believed that once upon a time, but certainly not now. “A shy person wouldn’t offer to teach a stranger how to do card tricks.”

“Maybe I was just enchanted by you.”

“You avoided me unless we were talking about magic.” You remind him, to which Lyney bumps his shoulder against yours with a huff. “Maybe at that time you were a little shy, but I highly doubt you’d be like that towards your brother.”

“I’ve let you talk too much to my siblings…” He’s pouting. “Your impression of me is ruined now.”

“There’d be nothing to ruin you with if you haven’t done anything.” You tap your chin. “Is there another big secret that I should ask them about?”

You don’t notice, but Lyney’s eyes widen before he tears his gaze away from you, trying to stop the blush rising on his cheeks. If he wasn’t sitting so close, he’d probably slap his face to snap out of it.

Which secret? His crush — or idol career?

Just the thought of you knowing about his feelings is enough to make him combust, but the idea of you realizing he was the idol Felis? You’ve already told Lyney you weren’t that interested in idols since they were real people, compared to 2D characters who you could headcanon about to your hearts’ content. 

A part of him is relieved this means that if you fell for him, it’d be for himself. But another part feels like it’s a waste of the possibilities floating around his head; what if he surprised you by inviting you to a concert, then watched as the understanding enters your face when he steps onstage? What if he dedicates one of his performances to you, or asks you to sneak out with him after a show?

He’s even wearing just one side of his earphones so there’s an opening to offer you the other; it’s less about the music at this point, and instead the little gestures that tell him he has a chance.

He’d take any interaction if it has to do with you, but only within the safety of his own home would Lyney allow himself to daydream — his imagination causing a burn on his cheeks.

Lynette tells him he’s been reading too many mangas, but an idol can dream. Lyney just hadn’t expected you to become one of said dreams so fast.

-

Rehearsals:

Somehow, practicing how he’d confess to you is harder than any other rehearsal Lyney’s done. Perhaps it’s because he knows he looks like an idiot, speaking to the wall-length mirror after he gave up on Lynette and Freminet as helpers.

…The things he’d like to say to you remain private, anyways. There’s no way Lyney could bring himself to sound so sappy to anyone’s face but yours.

Seeing as it’s off-season, the only idol work Lyney has is related to magazine and advertisements shoots. It’s nothing much compared to when he first did an overseas tour, so he has the chance to steal some time for himself — going for a coffee run after he dons a mask and large sweater, then a cap which hides most of his hair.

Today Lyney had to model for a limited-edition pocky series. It’s strawberry and something-flavored, so the dress and makeup people had the bright idea to add a ribbon to his hair. It’s fanservice, it’s cute, and Lyney doesn’t think much of it seeing as he can’t see himself, until he spots you outside of the cafe where he’s waiting for his order. 

He’s always been light on his feet, but Lyney doesn’t think he’s ever ducked into a corner so fast, quieting himself in an attempt to become invisible.

You haven’t seen him without his glasses before, so maybe you wouldn’t…?

“Order for Felix!”

Of course it’s his turn now that you’re here. He considers taking off the ribbon before thinking better of it, hoping it isn't visibly poking out from underneath his cap.

“...Here!” Lyney tries not to cringe as he goes up to the counter. On most days he gives the cashier a random name — sometimes ‘Felix’ because it could be his idol alias read wrongly — but right now it almost gives him a heart attack when he hears his not-name, because it’s followed by you accidentally bumping into him and apologizing for almost spilling his coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“It’s alright, nothing’s spilled.” Lyney realizes too late that you might recognise his voice, and starts to speak in a muffled tenor. “No worries at all. Thank you for your concern.”

“...Felix, was it?” You look at him in confusion. “Is your throat okay?”

Before you can look at him any closer, Lyney’s turned away from you and started to speed-walk out of the cafe like his life depends on it. 

“Perfectly fine, enjoy your day!” He says a bit louder to not appear too rude. He’s quite sure his ears are red as he makes his retreat, and by the time he makes enough distance between himself and the cafe, Lyney realizes something.

He didn’t even get to hear your coffee order!

-

Back to your side:

Out of all strange incidents that could happen over the weekend, you didn’t expect an encounter with some ‘Felix’ guy to linger in your mind until now.

To be honest, it was less about the stranger and just the ribbon you spotted in his hair when he ran away. As you listen to Lyney ramble about a magic trick he’s figured out recently, you watch the way his ash-blond locks sway with every motion.

…That pink ribbon from the stranger's head might look cute on Lyney. With how the breeze is playing with his hair, you can imagine the ends of the ribbon floating, threatening to fall loose and fly off the school rooftop you’re loitering at.

Lunch finished and forgotten, Lyney stands up as he’s reminded of something. He spins on his heel to look at you, hands linked behind his back.

“You know, over the weekend I saw a dance go viral.”

“The one on tiktok?”

“Yep! Want to try it?”

Lyney’s not usually this energetic, but it’s not so out-of-character that you’d start to find it odd. Instead, you’d like to preserve the easy smile on his lips while you still can — it’s a rare sight to see him this excited, steps light and gaze playful.

“I’m not a good dancer, though…” You hesitate, before Lyney comes closer to pull you to your feet with both hands — and how could you say no when your fingers are still loosely linked between you?

Lyney’s cheery demeanor slips into something more calm. With a content hum, he takes a small step away from you and positions his feet. You mimic him as he explains each move.

“Okay, so now you have to do a turn from this side.”

“How should I when you’re still holding onto me?”

“Like this,” Lyney urges you to turn, and as naturally as momentum brings you, he lets go of one of your hands to twirl you under his arm. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m quite sure the dance didn’t involve a partner.” You can’t keep your smile down, peering up at Lyney when you stand in front of him again. “Trying to set a new trend, are we?”

“Only if you’ll let me record us. I won’t post it anywhere though, since my manager might get mad at me.”

“Your manager at work?” You ask, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did you accidentally sign an extra clause or something? They shouldn’t be able to control how you act outside of your shift!” Lyney bursts into laughter, earning a light hit on the shoulder from you. “Hey! This is serious — what kind of part time job did you get yourself into?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular side-gig.” Lyney calms down, expression dusted with a pink blush as he looks at you fondly. “I’m a bit of a public figure, though I don’t normally dress that way when I’m at school.”

“Well then, Mr Popular.” You play along. “What should I be calling you instead then, when I see you during your job?”

“...Most people call me Felis, if that rings any bells.” He glances away. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t recognise my name. But I do have to sing, dance, and…”

“You’re an idol.” Your eyes widened, the words spoken so quietly, you had to repeat them just to make sure they didn’t slip away. “You’re that idol, aren’t you? The sparkly-looking guy on the billboards!”

“Not so loud!” Lyney hushes you, grabbing your shoulders in reflex before stopping. He clears his throat, taking a step away. You would’ve minded the distance more, if it were not for the sight of Lyney bashful in front of you. “...It’s a bit of a secret, just so I can still live peacefully as a civilian. I asked Lynette and Freminet to make sure no one could overhear us here. They might be as nervous as me about your reaction, I’m sure.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.” If anything, they might be more worried about Lyney recuperating. You speak tentatively, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Now that I’m checking properly though, you do have the same look.”

It takes everything in Lyney to not squirm at your touch, and it’s even more terrifying that he wants to keep you there. “I would hope so, seeing as we’re the same person.”

“I bet Felis doesn’t spin his fans under his arm,” You quirk a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s something else you have to tell me?”

“Of course not, that’s only reserved for the best of…” Lyney trails off, the word ‘friend’ dying on his tongue. Not that you aren’t one, but— “I thought it’d be important to tell you about my job, before I ask you the real question I have on my mind.”

Giving him a nod, you tell him you’re all ears.

“...If you’re free next week, would you want to go somewhere together? As a date, I mean.” He lets the question sit in the air. “I understand if not, of course, whether it be because you just see me as a friend or find the whole idol thing too much—”

“I’ll make sure I’m free.” It takes a moment for your answer to register in Lyney’s head before his eyes light up. “Rather, you might have to make sure I don’t mess anything up for you. Like… should I call you by another name? Do I also need to wear a disguise?” If you had a net right now, it’d be very helpful in catching the butterflies in your stomach, to keep you focused on what you’re saying.

Just you would be perfect. “As long as we dress casually, it should be fine.” Lyney’s smile is contagious, now that he’s settling into the fact you said yes. “Sunday afternoon?”

“Sounds good!” You’re cut off by the bell. Remembering that you have PE and haven’t changed yet, you curse under your breath and quickly apologize to Lyney. “I’ll see you later— or text, if not!”

By the time your sentence ends, the door to the rooftop has shut, and Lyney is left standing with the tiniest of smiles, looking at the ground to try and control his expression before his siblings can bombard him with questions.

Lyney has never felt nervous while singing love songs before, but his manager recently commented that he feels younger than usual. Like an actual teenager in love.

It checks out, considering how fast his heart races when he starts to associate lyrics with you. Gone is the Felis who shines like an untouchable star, and here enters an idol who might just be human.

He enjoys it, as afraid as he is at the same time. To place one’s heart in the hands of another is terrifying, but he’d rather it be you than anyone else.

…But maybe you shouldn’t attend any of his concerts for now. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his brain short-circuits at the sight of you within the crowd. 

His own little secret within a sea of people entrusting him with their dreams — what a thrilling thing indeed.

-

Speeding up:

After that day, you noticed that Lyney has loosened up more around you — in a way that means he’s more likely to smile and cling to you during conversations. If he had cat ears, you can imagine they’d be standing proud every time he managed to fluster you, watching for every micro-reaction as if his career depended on pulling that expression from you as he might with a crowd of adoring fans.

Except you think that Lyney’s adapting to this too quickly. How is it that he was the nervous one that day at the rooftop, but has been going on the offense ever since the next morning?!

Lynette apologized to you in advance, telling you that once Lyney has his eyes on a goal, he’d be merciless in trying to charm your heart. You just didn’t think it’d affect you this much, though that might have more to say about how quickly you’re falling rather than Lyney’s approach. 

Every time Lyney calls your name and decides it’s time to hang around you like sunshine to a flower, you’re reminded of the clips of Felis you’ve watched after learning of his job. It was a mix of curiosity and puzzling out what Lyney’s other side might be like…

But god, does he have to constantly sport a smile like that? You find out through a promotional video that the coffee shop stranger actually was Lyney, and the ribbon does look very cute in his hair.

It’s a shame you’re only seeing the whole design through a screen. And even worse is the way he’s blowing a kiss to the camera in this one music video—

“What’re you watching?” Lyney’s hands rest against the back of your seat as he leans to look over your shoulder, prompting a panicked noise from your throat. You fumble with your phone, flipping it over so he can’t see. The little smile Lyney’s wearing tells you he has an inkling, but he does you the favor of not spelling it out. “Must’ve been a pretty good video if you didn’t hear me coming over.”

“You snuck up on me!” Sending him a glare, you power off your phone protectively. “...And if you must know, I was just listening to a song.”

“Can I hear?” Despite his playful tone, Lyney does give you the space to deny him as he adjusts his glasses. “But of course, I understand if you don’t like to share headphones.”

“I don’t mind, but there’s something else I’m wondering about.” You tilt your head up to peer at Lyney more closely, reaching a hand out to graze against his fingers. “Are these real?”

“My hands? I’d hope so.”

“Your glasses.” You retort quietly, trying not to roll your eyes. “Despite how I had to make a reality check about you too, I do know in fact that you’re real.”

Lyney laughs, raising a fist to his mouth. “You flatter me. But to answer your question — yes, these are actual glasses. Though the prescription isn’t too bad, so I only wear contacts if needed elsewhere.” With a serious pause, Lyney meets your gaze. “I wear these to school though, because I need to look at the board from behind and admire you clearly.”

You prop your chin against your palm. “I’m starting to think you’ve gotten too flirty recently.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been holding back?” He hums, pulling a chair to sit beside you and mirror your pose. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me romantically at first, but after that…”

“...You’re lucky I find you cute.” You sigh in jest. “At this rate, you might wear me down before we even go on a first date.”

“There’s still a lot about myself I’d like to share with you.” Lyney quietly admits. “I just hope we’ll be able to talk with more freedom. And if you decide you still like me after that — I suppose I’d feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

The softness in his words somehow hits you harder than his previous flirtations. 

It’s me who should be feeling incredibly lucky.

Rather than one persona being more genuine than the other, you were starting to understand Lyney’s balance between the schoolmate you knew and the charming idol onscreen.

You see the truth of his smile underneath the blinding lights and exchanges in the hallways; the adorable way he fiddles with his pen during class versus his confident choreography.

It’s all Lyney. You just have to learn more about him and put his trust to good use.

He’s not the type to pull just anyone into his world, after all. Lyney has always held back just a little, so as to not let his secrets show from behind the curtains to even his familiar friends.

And now that he’s allowed you in, how could you possibly take his excitement for granted? You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too.

-

The date:

When Lyney greets you at the start of the date, the last thing you expected is for him to sneak a pink rose into your hair in place of a bouquet.

He claims it’s more discreet, especially considering the way he’s dressed with a mask and hat to hide his features, glasses also present. Despite these, Lyney is expressive enough that it doesn’t affect your conversations, and you allow him to take your hand as he leads you to the aquarium. It’s lunch time, so you’re going against the regular flow of people and enjoying the exhibits while it’s less populated.

Beneath the walkway tunnel where various rainbows of fish swim by, you gaze up in wonder at the shadow of a shark passing through.

Fontaine is nothing if not abundant in sea-related attractions, even if the main city is on land. You haven’t visited this aquarium since you were a kid, so it was nice to relive traipsing through a world washed in soothing, gentle blue.

“I think when we were younger, me and Lynette would talk about catching these fish if we were allowed into the tanks.” Lyney muses. “Perhaps that’s why our father says we’re like cats.”

“If we were in the wild though, catching fish for dinner would be a pretty good idea.” You gaze up. “But… if I was able to breathe underwater, I think I’d just spend all day escaping my troubles.”

“Would you have space for a partner in crime?”

“Only if they’d be able to help, by whisking us away from pursuers, for example.” You smile when Lyney starts swinging your hands lightly between you. “It’s stressful business when I have to worry about two of us getting caught, instead of just one.”

“I’d take the heat so you can get away first.” The conversation is childish, but Lyney’s sentiment makes a frown pull at your lips.

He’s confused when you stop walking and turn to face him. “No self-sacrifices! We either run together or get caught together. Nothing in-between.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he replies, tone warm. “Alright then. I’m at your mercy.”

“A bold claim, when you surprised me with this in my hair.” You point towards the rose Lyney’s managed to secure to your shirt with a pin, after his initial sneaky reveal. “...I’m just trying to make sure you’re not the only one giving between us, but it’s hard to keep up with all…” You gesture vaguely at him. “This.”

“You just signaled to all of me.” 

“That’s right!” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. Lyney resists the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers again. “You’re too pretty, and nice, then I find out you can sing and dance too—”

“But I like surprising you.” Lyney chirps back, a laugh in his voice as he notices the way your face is darkening with a blush. He does you the service of hiding this from passersby — if any actually entered the walkway now, empty as it is — with his hands cupping both of your cheeks. “Maybe it’s because I’m a workaholic, but I want to make sure your eyes are only on me.” It’s the most dangerous thing he could say to you, in public or not. “So maybe I should apologize for dragging you into my selfish whims.”

“...But you don’t intend to stop.” You say, feeling lightheaded.

“Of course not.” Lyney hums, eyes bright with a smile. “There are a lot of stars to compete with in the night sky.”

And you said we're in this together, did you not? It's not the first time someone's told him he doesn't have to do things alone, but… it means a lot, coming from you.

“I hope you don’t say this to all your fans,” you sigh, relaxing into the softness of his palms. They’re smooth, and you realize Lyney’s always felt a little warm to the touch. 

“You’re a fan?”

The lilt in Lyney’s voice tells you you’ve made a mistake in your choice of words. He’s much, much too happy that a previously-disinterested person like you has now seen enough of his idol content to make such a slip.

“A fan of Lyney Hearth.” You try to salvage your pride, gaze trained onto the ground.

“Oh… I see.”

Lyney’s eyes widen before he catches himself, suddenly glad he’s wearing a mask for a different reason.

God… What is he going to do with you?

-

After attempting to feed penguins, seals, and exploring the open pool where you’re allowed to touch reef creatures, you and Lyney make a beeline out of the aquarium and towards the main shopping street, where many cafes are abound.

Since you were working against the usual rush schedule, you managed to grab a seat at a local favorite which also served meals; corner of the cafe and out of sight.

The meal passes by without issue, and next you browse some stores nearby while slowly heading towards the park. You were in a hobby shop when a group suddenly exclaimed the name Felis, causing Lyney to flinch and pull you with him behind a shelf.

“Oh my god, they do have idol stuff!”

“Yeah, but we already have this! It’s not new merch, y’know.”

Lyney lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against the shelf of comics. “Nevermind, false alarm.”

“Are you always this jumpy?” You whisper back, resisting the urge to look around him and see what said Felis merch was as the group moves to another end of the store. Lyney doesn’t seem to realize his arms are still wrapped around you, and that if you simply tilted your head a little, your faces could touch.

“Only because I’m more distracted today.” With you. “It’s nice to know that people are having fun though. My manager would classify that as a good review.”

“Yes, but also, um…” You clear your throat, causing Lyney to finally turn his head and freeze at your proximity. “Not that I mind, but you’re still holding on to me.”

“...Am I too close?” He sheepishly asks.

Yes.

“Not at all.” You swallow your nerves. “But if the staff find us like this, we’re definitely going to get kicked out.”

-

One shared crepe and a walk in the park later, you reach a quiet area hidden between the trees that’s lit by the evening light. Lyney explains that he and other trainees would often come here to hide out and practice choreography together, when the training rooms became too suffocating. In hindsight, he’s quite sure this spot had eventually been bought out by their company, seeing as they never ran into any press or strangers here.

“We’d prop our phones on water bottles and record ourselves, since there was no mirror.” Lyney recounts. “It was mostly to catch our mistakes, but some managers encourage us to pretend we’re doing vlogs too, to get used to presenting our personalities to the camera. Whatever does get uploaded is screened, though.”

“Do you still have those videos?” You’re sitting on a bench, legs crossed and facing one-another. “The ones that didn’t get posted, I mean.”

“...Maybe? They’re really embarrassing though.” He chuckles, and almost moves to take off his mask before he thinks better of it. “And I think I only did those to update my family on how I was doing. They don’t believe my words entirely when I say I’m fine.”

“You are too good of a talker, so I’d be wary too.” You laugh, glancing up at the sky. The clouds are parting for purple and orange. “I think once upon a time, I might’ve dreamed about doing something creative too. Like singing, fashion, or etcetera.”

“Not every interest has to be placed in the public eye.” Lyney takes off his hat, giving you a wink. “Guess what’s inside.”

“A dove? More roses?”

“Take a look.”

Once you lean closer, Lyney raises the cap to shield your faces from one side, then pulls his mask aside to block the other. It’s over in a moment, but he brushes his lips over your cheek, and the one image that clings to your mind is the blush adorning his face and the clear look in his violet eyes.

Eyes that are trained on you — holding your attention until something flickers in the corner of your vision, and Lyney reveals a rose made of playing cards.

You look down to check for the flower pinned on your shirt: no longer there, and presumably transformed by Lyney’s trick of the senses. He allows you to take the handcrafted rose with a satisfied smile.

“I was nervous it might’ve fallen apart after walking around all day.” He admits. “It’s not as romantic as a regular rose, but I hope it holds its charm all the same.”

It’s very him. Lovely and careful in the ways he opens up his petals to you, but hiding a puzzle of spells underneath.

“It’ll last a lot longer, too.” You smile, storing it carefully to take home later. “How long did you spend on preparing that?”

“What do you mean? I transformed it in a second.” He muses. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil the magic. It took a lot of practice, but normally just with an audience that looks at the hat, instead of…” Lyney trails off, clapping his hands together as if to signal the next topic. “I can teach you to fold a flower like that though, if you’d like.”

“In the library as usual?” You allow the shift in conversation, if only because unlike Lyney, you do not have the solace of hiding your expression behind a disguise. “I’m starting to wonder if your skillset will ever be exhausted.”

“Well, I’m quite adept at interviews, modeling, and learning things by sight.” For his idol work, he means. “But I will admit I’ve been curious about baking. Maybe one day we could try that together.”

“Collecting points in more categories, I see. Maybe you can teach me how to dance, too.”

Lyney surprises you by swinging his legs off the bench and standing. He gives you a little bow, a glint in his eyes as he extends a hand towards you. “One of Felis’ you mean? I could do that now.”

Right now?!

“Don’t you trust me to?” Lyney pouts. “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“M… Maybe next time?” You’re not too sure, suddenly feeling intimidated by the idea of proper choreography. By instinct, you still take Lyney’s hand and get to your feet. “I need to mentally prepare— Whoa!”

Before you can finish, Lyney’s spun you around and lowered you into a dip, hands supporting you at your back and waist. He keeps it shallow and helps you back up — lips quirked as you’re suddenly pulled closer to him with the momentum, bodies and faces inches apart.

His pupils are dilated.

Your indignation quickly forms into surprise. There’s a quiet tension surrounding the air — a question asked, and your hand reaches up to take off Lyney’s mask in reply as he steals your breath away straight from your lips. 

You’ve been wondering when you’d finally get the chance to stop his honeyed words with a kiss.

After you get home, you find a playing card that Lyney’s slipped into your pocket. On it is his familiar scrawl, and a few simple words:

‘Thank you for today.  Love — your number 1 fan.’

You get a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you exchange messages upon a suit of hearts. Maybe you’ll start investing in a deck of your own, just for him.

[icannot3]

"Prom Night"

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 4.2k (a biggie, sorry)

Warnings/notes: NSFW BELOW THE CUT (just the standard stuff, yk?) P in V penetration. Oral (male receiving). Lots of plot before. Despite the title, both Peter and the reader are adults.

Taglist: @taintandviolent @lilthbunny (comment if you'd like to be added!)

..........

The music is loud, and the atmosphere radiates unadulterated exultation. Like any other traditional party event, bright neon lights illuminate the otherwise dimmed area. The dining hall of the institution looked nothing like it had before. The entire area had been cleared out besides the tables full of delectable treats to snack on in the corner. Students were laughing and dancing to the beat of the music, most very uncoordinated, but that didn't matter. For the first time ever, the young mutants got the chance to feel like normal teenagers. It brought you so much joy to know that it was your idea to have an annual prom at the school, this being the very first and very successful attempt at doing so.

You could see a few students of yours beginning to come out of their shells. Many of them never got the chance to participate in such a social setting. You can tell they felt moderately awkward at the start but slowly allowed themselves to enjoy. This prom was much different than the ones you attended in high school. You always remember them to be boring but customary, hence why everyone still went for the hell of it. Part of you wished you could have had a lively experience like this one, knowing all too well how different you felt in the crowd then, as a secret mutant scared of what others may do if they knew.

But that's all in the past, and truly you could not be happier as chaperone. In the crowd of people, you see bodies being pushed to the side as an undetectable figure zipps past them. You know it's Peter, one, because obviously his powers, and two, because the blur is quickly making its way to the snack bar. Who else would be so desperate to get to them? You giggle at his determined feat. It isn't long before he runs up to you, a plate with a large, overstacked assortment of cake and cookies in hand.

Peter places his free hand on your back, his hand warm against it. "Geez, you look like a supermodel!" Like any school dance, everyone was expected to dress to the nines. All funded by the Professor through the kindness of his very rich heart. The staff is expected to wear nothing short of this, everyone in expensive formal gowns to match the children. Peter's outfit makes him look exceptionally handsome, even though he's already loosened his silver tie sloppily from around his neck. Other than that, his suit is black with a white undershirt that compliments his silver accents. To be real, the color is his trademark. Quite literally, "Quicksilver."

You pull him into a hug he reciprocates as much as he can with only one arm. "Thanks, Quicky. You clean up nicely, too!" Your finger comes below his tie, playfully flicking it upwards to tease him. "You seem like you're already excited for the after party?"

His head jerks back, and Peter lets out a dramatic sigh. "You have no idea how uncomfortable these feel. Sure, women have to wear heels, but I really think that this is the equal evil we should also acknowledge. Plus, you guys get to shamelessly take them off at the dance because everyone understands. Xavier is absolutely insane for wearing this every day." He continues to passionately ramble about the inconvenience, referring to it as "neck prison." You cackle at everything he says because it's Peter. He's naturally always funny. Or perhaps it's your blossoming feelings for him that make you feel this way.

Sometimes, you wonder if Peter is just naturally a touchy person or if there's something more behind his lingering nudges and holds. You certainly entertain it regardless, allowing him to hug and hold you as he pleases. His fingers are delicately playing with the stray hairs against your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He has to know how crazy he drives you.

The timing feels perfect as a slow song comes on through the loud speakers. You silently prayed to whatever DJ God there may be for giving such a great opportunity. You hold his hand in yours, his plate being disregarded elsewhere as you take him to the dancefloor. "You gotta dance with me, I never got to do this with anyone in high school! Please?" Your request accidentally seems more like a demand with your excitement, but he knows you'd never make him do anything he doesn't want. He grins, keeping your hand in his own and wrapping his arm around your waist before swaying to the music.

You're friends. That's all. There's nothing more to it, and there never will be. You conclude that you'd simply have to die with these feelings because certainly they aren't ever going away. It's been years already that you've pined for him. Years that the two of you have been stuck by some imaginary friendship glue. Many of your days are together, you teach gym class with him. When you go on missions, Peter compliments your mutations so well that it's rare you're ever separated. He's what you would call your platonic soul mate.

But that platonic bit feels really out of place when he gives you a look that makes your heart ache. You decide that looking at his eyes that are staring deeply into your own is not helping subside your confidential feelings. Part of you wants to read more into his actions and convince yourself that he feels the same way, but you know that only leads to a shit-ton of misery once you realize that his feelings are still unrequited. So, instead, you rest your forehead against his chest and think about things that don't make you flustered. Like what you're doing tomorrow for training and not how his new cologne for the occasion smells stupidly nice.

The song picks up the beat for the chorus, and either Peter secretly takes dance classes on the low, or he's just naturally this smooth. His hand lifts yours up in the air as he encourages you to twirl. You do, the dress you wear swaying around with your spinning. He brings you back to his chest and then decides to continue to baffle you by dipping you to the floor. You lean back, trusting him fully as he pulls you back up.

By the time the song is over, the two of you are laughing, and you feel as if you can't breathe. "Didn't know you had that in you, Maxipad." The nickname is from an inside joke that you remind him of because it embarrasses him. You used it in hopes that it would make your own pitifully flustered state less noticeable.

"Please, all of those arcades I played Dance Evolution at growing up had me ready." He made his way back to his snack stash, grabbing a cookie. "Even though I was more of a Pin-ball guy. I still have record scores at the arcade in the town I grew up in."

You steal a cookie off of his plate, the bitter-sweet chocolate delight melting on your tastebuds. "You still need to show me what an arcade is like. Maybe we could hit that one." Previously, you had a conversation where you revealed that you've never been to an arcade in the past, which left Peter deeply offended. He vowed to take you to one soon, but the two of you as of lately had found yourselves so busy there was simply never a time.

"Damnit! You're right." His expression of distraught quickly changed to that of a happy one with an idea. "There's an arcade machine in my room I can introduce you to! I mean, it's nowhere near as fun as the entire arcade experience, but-"

"- That sounds perfect, Peter." You didn't even have to be convinced.

You stayed at the dance until it ended for another hour, and Peter seemed to be rather eager to get back, considering the cleaning was going to be a group effort with all of the teachers; but he took the initiative to do it all himself instead of waiting and finished it all within a minute. Not that anyone was complaining, though. It was well past midnight, and class would still be resumed tomorrow at the normal crack-ass of dawn. Any sane person would pass up Peter's offer and reschedule for another time. But not you, you were so unimaginably happy to get invited to his room that the offer still remained as good as gold.

He sped you to his room, and it was everything you expected. For a man almost in his thirties, his decor resembles that of a teenage boy. This ranges from posters, snacks, and scattered piles of clothes on the floor. You can sense his immediate panic due to him not preparing for your presence. Frantically, he zips through his room, and a moment later, it's spotless. You laugh at this. "You know you don't have to do that for me. Mine is probably way worse."

You saunter over to the large arcade machine in the corner, touching the plastic buttons. "Did you buy this thing?" It's clearly a very expensive piece of equipment, gathering by its newer looking condition. Peter comes up behind you, chuckling to himself. "Nah, bro." His response made you certain that he'd stolen it, likely in his youth when he was a bit more scandalous.

Turning around to face him, you notice he's rather close. As much as he was earlier, except clearly not for the reason of dancing. You can't help but remember how low his hand was against your back. If he'd moved it even an inch further, he would have been touching you much more sensually. You wouldn't mind if he had.

As a matter of fact, you gathered that it's strange he'd invite you up so late. Yes, it's Peter, and he's never been the predictable type. But never in the years that you've known him has he invited you to spend quality time together at one in the morning, in his bedroom.

Once again, you shake yourself out of your lingering thoughts, ashamed. You're so ridiculously horny that it's embarrassing. He remains where he stood, playing with the strap of your dress.

"That's gotta be uncomfortable. Do you want something else to put on?" His thumb grazes over the red mark where the strap had been rubbing against your shoulder. Before you can even answer the question, he's searching through his dresser. He pulls out a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sweats. Not wanting to be rude, you take the clothes and step in his personal bathroom for privacy. Looking in the mirror gave you a small boost of confidence. Your makeup looks still wonderfully intact, and the dress you picked hugs your curves beautifully. It makes you feel so elegant that you almost feel sad to take it off.

But you can't. When your fingers give the zipper on your back a hard tug after many other failed attempts, you begin to panic. The fabric must be seriously jammed for this to happen. You've never had this much of a struggle taking off an article of clothing. For over ten minutes, you desperately try, breaking a sweat as you do so. That sadness from earlier changes to desperation as you try to then pull the dress over your head. You are unable to do this. It's too tight and won't even come over your shoulders.

Peter must have started to grow concerned with your absence. Hearing a knock on the door makes you jump. His voice from the other side is quiet. "You alright in there, bud?"

Your hands cover your face in embarrassment. You feel like you want to scream. It takes you a moment to awnser, fighting yourself on what to do next. There's a small window in the bathroom you think is large enough to jump out of, but considering your mutation is not flight and the fact that you're on the second floor makes you decide against it.

Finally, deciding to fess up, you stand at the door, opening it. "I'm stuck. My zipper is stuck." Clearly having no issues himself, he is already in his own comfortable clothing. You can see his suit disregarded on the floor in the corner of the room, that godforsaken tie on top of the pile. You know you can trust Peter to help you. He's not a creep. Not anything besides the occasional childish sex joke.

Peter laughs, motioning for you to turn around. "Geez, it seems like you just want a reason for me to undress you." You turn your head back to give him an eye roll, but accept his help and lift your hair up to assist him. His hands are gentle as he fights with the zipper. He seems to struggle as well, fiddling with the fabric for quite a while before finally you feel the sweet release of the restrictive clasp coming undone. After hours, you can finally breathe.

He'd just undone the top, but his hands stayed in their spot. Tingles went down your spine as he continued to slowly bring the zipper down. It was getting low. When you put it on earlier, it went all the way down to your ass before it was zipped. Right before he gets to that point, you stop him with your hand. Turning around to face him, you awkwardly smile; his hand still behind you.

Ultimately, you had enough, placing your hand on his chest. You aren't brainless. That was definitely a signal. "Peter, did you really invite me up here to play games? If not, that's fine, but I'm kinda dying from anticipation right now. Sometimes, I feel like you're leading me on. But then you do things that make me think we're just friends, and it's really confusing. And I have no problem with just being friends, but it's the middle of the night, and I'm standing in your bedroom half naked instead of playing Pong like we said we would and -"

He ends your rambling by pulling you close, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. You deeply inhale, taking a moment to register what's going on before kissing back. It feels heavenly, like drifting down a lazy river that doesn't have any kids in it relaxing. Like, your brain is slowly going to mush and becoming more and more useless as you continue, but you're totally okay with becoming a human vegetable if that means you can just keep going. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection. He tightens his arms around your back before lifting you up off of the ground, slowly twirling you around in a circle while in the air. This makes you snicker against his lips, which he reciprocates. The happy moment makes your brain foggy with admiration.

"I'm an absolute loser for not doing this sooner." Peter lays you down on the bed, joining beside you. Your legs hang off of the edge of the furniture. "I really, really like you. I have for a while. When we decided to have a prom I wanted to ask you to go with me so bad and be all cheesy about it, but I pussied out so I decided that the next best option was to get Jean and Raven to teach me how to dance so that we could." His words are being sputtered out like rapid-fire. "Please tell me I'm not finally saying this too late, and you haven't met someone else?" His voice is soft, laced with hints of doubt. He brings his fingers up to your hair, brushing it off of your cheek and behind your ear.

Your discomposure becomes all the more obvious as you pick at your nails, fiddling with your hands anxiously. This entire moment is more than you could even fathom in the past, like a fairy-tale coming to life. He likes you. He has liked you! Every pent-up feeling you've ever had for years has been reciprocated. "Peter -." You pause, trying to think on what to say. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You wouldn't be late even if you had waited another few years to tell me that. I've liked you for a while."

Peter rolls himself on top of you, pressing multiple kisses to your face. He starts with your forehead, traveling his lips quickly down your nose, then rapidly on your cheeks. The affection feels pleasantly smothering. Finally, with one last final peck on the space between your brows, he connects himself to your lips once more. It's even better than the first time, giving you more of an electric sensation.

You grow heated, the sensation making you feel aroused. The kisses on your end grow more open-mouthed and inviting. When his tongue slips inside hungrily, you whimper, reveling in the feeling. This only encourages Peter more as he lifts his arm behind your back, making it arch while gliding his other hand down your torso. He groans delightfully, feeling your curves with fervor.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" His voice is deep with longing. His tongue laps against the sensitive flush of your neck. He finds the spot that makes you gasp the loudest, sucking the area just enough to make a small mark of his presence. You definitely don't ever want him to stop. He continues to go lower, trailing down between your breasts. Peter pulls you up, sliding the already half-off dress down your shoulders. His face turns bright red as a gawks at the sight of your bare chest. His finger rolls over your soft bud as he feels it harden beneath it. Squeezing your soft mound, he plays with you for just a little longer before connecting his lips to yours. There's a certain gentle urgency in his touch that brings you to an otherworldly place. Nothing else matters in this moment besides his hand that's slowly coming up your thigh. You can feel yourself already slick with arousal as you squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction. Peter senses this, using his hand to spread you apart as much as he can with your still clothed bottom-half.

He cups your center with his palm, rubbing over the area. His fingers curl inside of your folds, the ghost of a touch teasingly going over where you need him most. You mewl desperately for him, grinding into his hand. He grins against your neck, chuckling to himself. "So wet for me already? That's extremely hot. Have you ever gotten this worked up for me before, when you're all alone?"

He finally rubs slow circles against your clit, causing your eyes to screw shut with ecstacy. You can only bring yourself to nod as a response, finding yourself physically unable to speak in such a state. His hard-on is pressing against your leg. You can tell he's just as desperate as you are. Taking your hand, you press it against his chest to signal him to stop. His movements coming to an end leave you with a sense of longing as you get up, but quickly, you remove the rest of your dress and allow it to fall to the floor. Fervently, you slide down his pants and boxers. His cock springs to life after no longer being restricted by the confines. His tip is already leaking precum. The craziest thing about this entire ordeal is how natural it feels, but perhaps that's because of how often you find yourself imagining it.

Peter swallows, knowing where you're going with this as you wrap your hand around his shaft. You squeeze him lightly in your hand, testing the waters by giving a few slow pumps while watching his reactions. His face contorts in pleasure as he leans back on his elbows. He refuses to look away, fascinated by the sight of you. You experimentally lick from the bottom of his length to the tip, swirling your tongue around it. The taste is actually quite nice, faintly sweet. You suck his tip once more before finally bobbing your head down, taking as much of him as you can. It's only a little more than halfway before you can feel him against the back of your throat. You have to hold back gagging from the sensation. Peter lets out a deep groan, saying your name like it's his mantra. As you continue, his groans grow more needy. His hips instinctively thrust upwards, causing your eyes to water as he fucks your throat. A part of you grows embarrassed, knowing the tears in your eyes and swollen lips are not the greatest sight to see. But Peter trains his eyes on you, mesmerized.

He pulls you off of him, taking off his shirt before aligning himself with you. You look down and admire his toned muscles, stroking them curiously. It's wonderful. He feels and looks like one of those majestic Greek statues. Not the weird ones with small dicks and missing noses. Peter's cock teasingly rubs between your wet folds, brushing against your sensitive clit. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go inside. He begins to push his tip in, slowly bottoming out. When he finally does, he gasps, squeezing your hips. The feeling is delectable as he stretches you out so perfectly. You can feel your walls fluttering around him. Nodding your head, you signal for him to continue.

His pace quickens fast, and Peter pulls one of your legs up as he thrusts to go deeper. His eyes are trained on your expression, trying to find the perfect spot to hit in order to fully satisfy you. When he achieves this, the upward curve of his dick rubbing an area that makes your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull, he drills you just like that into the mattress. You find yourself unable to hold back the unholy noises you had no idea you could make. Pleasure overwhelming enough to make you mentally check out.

You begin feeling an all too familiar intense fondness in your abdomen. It's like a tital wave threatening to spill over. You grab Peter's shoulders, pulling him close. He peppers kisses along your collarbone, thrusts getting more uncoordinated and sloppy. He's getting close too, you can tell by his labored breathing and moans that are growing slightly more high-pitched and frequent. His hand reaches down, buzzing against your throbbing bud to finish you off. Your eyes shoot wide open, not expecting that suprise. Sure, you've seen him use this technique in the past to break glass, but never had you imagined that he could do this. He pumps once more deeply inside of you, sending you over the edge. Blinding pleasure explodes throughout your body, sending you into an oblivion. Peter pulls himself out, cumming on the soft skin of your stomach and letting out a guttural moan.

He collapses on top of you, nuzzling his head in the crook of your shoulder. Sweetly, his hand runs through your hair, a string of unintelligible compliments being whispered in your ear. "You're so perfect, baby. Never, never, never ever letting you go. Never. Don't ever leave me." Those are a few of the many you manage to make out. You tightly embrace him, allowing yourself to relax against him.

You feel a sudden shift, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself wearing the clothes he gave you earlier, all cleaned up. He is instantly laying beside you again, fully dressed, with a blanket covering the two of you. He pulls you against him as he lays on his back. Smiling, you trace small circles onto his chest. "We should do that more often, huh?"

He nods excitedly, pulling you in tightly. "Oh hell yeah, we've got years of being deprived we gotta make up for."

[calcium-chan]

DRAWMEGLE DUMP FROM LIKEFORVER AGO

drawmegle was this weird little website that was like omegle, except for drawing and nominally fewer nazis?? tho at launch that was a bit of an issue lol (idk the creator went on vacation right after advertising or something? oops). i got sucked into it for like a day or two and ended up drawing a bunch of stuff. ive lost some of it because there was this weird glitch that just deleted my drawings before i could save them or anything. OH WELL. thats also the reason some of these are slightly unfinished. im also going to be cropping most of these to just my side, exceptions where its funny, or the other persons art was nice or whatever. just know that these almost all had people on the other side who were also drawing their own thing. also of note, i wont be posting these in order of creation, its mostly arbitrary tbh

this first one is of haru from dorohedodo. i had just finished reading the manga about a month or so prior, and i really loved this character a lot. disregard the amogus or whatever. dorohedoro is really cool and its really special to me now. not a fan of the anime adaption but what the fuck else is new (im sorry if you like the anime, i just didnt like the style very much). Q hayashida is brilliant, and she clearly just really loves women like a lot, thank you miss Q!

next is this silly drawing of knives chau. scott pilgrim takes off had just aired, and i was slightly enamored with knives for a bit, i kin the scott pilgrim girl fucking sue me. i also drew kim, but the drawing deleted and this was the last save i had WAHOOOOOO its so fucking over. scott pilgrim takes off was obviously really really good in my opinion, and its like the perfect way to adapt an original work in my mind. uh shout outs knives or whatever.

oops shitty cowboy bebop drawing. i like this one well enough for how goofy it is. jets fucking face still kinda gets me. i love bebop a ton, but i dont think ive ever drawn the characters despite that. theyre actually a ton of fun to draw, like their shapes are all super varied and they have distinct style about them. very good cast of characters. i didnt even realize or mean to, but i kinda gave spike a fucking granny face, oops

uuuuhthese pissing dogs are really funny, they were fun to draw, and seeing peoples reactions to this one in particular was cool. having even a little bit of ability to draw on sites like this where randos are looking at your work as youre drawing it is always kind of an ego boost. like none of these drawings are really that great, but for the medium im happy with them, and having people show up and go "woah" was always really flattering and it was fun watching the other people draw and interacting with them in some limited capacity.

ggggundam bullshit. i left the other persons side this time because i thought it was kinda funny. i had been rewatching the early part of turn A gundam, and it really reminded me how fucking cool that series is? loran is like top 10 gender non conforming mech pilots (there are a surprising amount honestly). and it always kinda takes me off guard when i watch any gundam because they were just so forward thinking in a nominally "boy" coded genre. shoutouts the fucking gundam staff frfr.

@oretal joined me for these next two!

a lot of the shit in the second drawing is probably totally incomprehensible to like anyone outside of a select group. were both have that like, 3ds era nintendo brain parasite, so a lot of these are just weird obscure game characters or memes, or just straight up OCs. most of these are actually oretals little characters which have kind of entered that inside joke canon of being so ubiquitous between the two of us (and honestly i assume oretals friend group at large) that i kinda forget "glasses girl" isnt a well known character. many such cases. thank you oretal for drawing silly shit with me! i really like your drawing of james and your madotsuki yapping about blunt rotations to uboa. very cool

uuuh quick fire round of stuff i dont like how i drew but want to post anyways. the first one is my irl husband, aki from chainsaw man. i love him a lot, kinda hate this drawing tho, i think it was the first one i did? the second one is basil from omori, im a big fan of little blorbos who peep the horror, and basil is no exception. my friend got me the little vinyl figure of him for my birthday so i end up thinking about him a lot and i doodle him every now and then. very good design. the last one is kiruko from heavenly delusion. i did not have much hype going into the show after my middling feelings on summertime rendering (they were both in the news for being on disney+ for absolutely no reason). i dont remember what got me to watch it, but by the time episode 2 ended i was stuck in big time. i ended up binging the whole series in like one night and it was such a good time. the prototypical calcium show is probably somewhere between heavenly delusion and made in abyss. its a rough watch at times, but if you have this specific brainrot, its probably one of the best in its league tbh.

second to last is this drawing of vriska homestuck. i kept the other side because it was really pretty. im genuinely quite pleased witht his drawing, its not perfect but for what it is i find it visually appealing enough to like it. vriskas design is probably the best in homestuck, at least to me. its been a long time since ive read through homestuck proper, but something about these little shits sticks with you pretty much forever. actual fucking deadly brain parasites you get from dunking your head underwater in an infested pool, dead within days.

OOPS ALL KUMI CHAN! it had to be alien nine, it could only be alien nine. i love alien nine more than i love any of my blood relatives. kumi is literally me, i love this stupid fucking series so much you have no idea.

[curio-queries]

I think AYS definitely found its flow post-US trips. Compared to the later trips, you can tell their time in the US really was more spur of the moment, less thought out. I think that's probably why the editing and filming were better in the other places and they had product placement. I wonder if they originally had something else in mind for the content, such as making it just a bangtan bomb kind of like some of the solo adventures we got during chapter 2 (like jungkook's camping vlog), but then they decided to do more trips or pitched it to Disney or something so they put more money and effort into it.

About the behind the scenes content, I do think whatever was kept out of the main episodes was primarily for pacing reasons (despite the fact that I don't think the pacing was super great until Sapporo) and/or some content that was kept for the purpose of making money off the behind the scenes package. Weirdly I don't think bts cares at all about 4th wall breaks. I saw another blog complain about this a while ago, about being able to see staff in the background and ruining the vibe of AYS or messing up the illusion from a production standpoint, but I think bts themselves never try to put up that 4th wall. Obviously the content is supposed to stay focused on them, but the boys have never had a problem talking to their staff on the other side of the camera even during things like run episodes and even in AYS, the last night Sapporo, jikook are sitting around the table drinking and talking with their staff. Beyond what takes focus off the members or respecting that staff aren't public figures, I don't think the members ever care to create that illusion that they aren't filming something or surrounded by staff. I remember reading parts of bts' book and jungkook talks about jikook's trip to japan in 2017 and mentions how the company was worried about their safety if they went and when they arrived in japan, staff was already waiting for them. Even in a private trip that was meant just for the two of them, because of who they are staff were involved and they don't try to hide that.

Also side tangent, but their book was more interesting than I was expecting based on how I'd seen people talk about. A lot of it is summarization of events with bts' thoughts thrown in throughout, but there were some interesting tidbits I didn't know. Like jimin listening to Army sing-along of Young Forever and that's basically what made him come out of a dark place regarding the band's future and contract renewal tensions. Reminded me of Wembley when he cried and said that song had helped him a lot. Also the book and reading things as a timeline really emphasized how much jikook helped each other through that dark period from 2017-2019: the japan trip when they needed to get away from everything, then jimin showing up at a bar for jungkook and them both crying together (the crying together seems to be a theme for them LOL).

Anyway, back to AYS. For the title cards, we can see in Sapporo that they already edited most of the US trip, so the title cards were probably an idea they thought would be good when editing that, but then they didn't really fit as much in the editing of the other trips. Like the Sapporo vibes are just different from jimin's silly little title card recordings.

I really hope we get more AYS when they come out of MS. I expect group activities will be back in full swing, but since they seem to really enjoy traveling together, I think it'd be nice if we got to have future seasons. Its obviously still work, but I do think its on the more enjoyable end of work for them. I want to see them in Montana, US on a ranch riding horses, or in Venice, IT doing a romantic gondola ride, in the Australian outback where jungkook can finally fight a kangaroo.

Hi anon,

You definitely hit on many of the points we'd been discussing here through these posts so it's nice to see I'm not the only one with some of these thoughts.

After seeing the I Am Still documentary though, it's do feel more confident saying that this team's production engine likely gives very little control to their distribution partners. Again, I still need to do an album watchthrough of most of the Disney documentaries but for now, I'd wager that Hybe fully completes their product and then only sells it for distribution. Maybe there's some back-and-forth if there could possibly be any content censorship for brand cohesion but BTS content as a whole is already very low-risk on that front. I'd even go so far to say that the product placement sponsors had more of an impact on the actual end result of the content than Disney did. But that's purely supposition on my part.

Regarding the 4th wall breaks, I don't think i worded my viewpoint very well previously and I don't think i have much better to say here but I'll try. While I agree that BTS's content isn't trying to shy away from the fact that they have staff around them, I do think there are very specific methodologies behind how they've approached it in the past and likely will continue to.

Take Run BTS for example, at the beginning, they attempted to rely for more in on-screen graphics and having the members themselves deliver the necessary exposition. But...I've said this before and I'll say it again, their production actually really sucks at delivering content that needs to be informative. In my opinion, they realized they weren't doing a great job of this and it was a lot more effort to try to mask, when the episodes that they left in a disembodied staff member explaining didn't have any noticeable drop so they decided to just go with including it.

I know i haven't really talked much here about the Run Jin episodes (as I'm likely going to do review posts as well once I'm done with Run BTS) but one of the main things I've been keeping my eye on is how they're compensating for there only being one member. It's seemingly to fall into relying on guest cast and the staff to give Jin the necessary foil, sometimes successfully and other times less-so.

Anyway, back to AYS, it seems to me like they were absolutely still trying to find the line of staff inclusion. Honestly, I wonder if there was a version of the edit where them watching the first cut of episode 1 would have been only included in the bonus content. Without it though, that episode woukd have been much shorter so I think they kept it in the main release purely for time. It fits so well with the overall tone though and I'm so glad they included it.

Again, wondering about the future. I'm sure they will try to revive this show again after military service and I genuinely hope they try to stick to the format of several mini-trips compiled into one 'season'. It will take a skillful team to be sure there's cohesion though. These episodes worked because there is the overarching tjmeline of their solo projects as they prepare for their service that ties the little trips together. I still think my idea of scheduling trips while they're on tour could work but again only if the tour schedule is a little more relaxed than it has been in the past.

It's all theoretical at this point! I would love to see our guys traveling around to some of the less-dazzling destinations as well. I am from a very rural area in the western US and could not even comprehend what it woukd be like for BTS to even be aware of some of those places, let alone actually visit. That was some of the charm of the USA section. They were out in the middle of nowhere seeing just a little bit of Americana. (But I also completely agree with you and want to see a JK / Kangaroo moment as well!)

I'm remembering now another point that I'd wanted to delve into a little more with AYS, which was how they balanced luxury vs the simple life for this show. It's definitely something I noticed shifting over the episodes and I think that had more to do with those sponsorships as well as wanting to give JM and JK some comfortable experiences prior to their enlistment.

Sorry, i went on quite the tangent anon. If I didn't respond to any of the points that you'd like to further discuss, please point them out in another note. I've already rambled far too much for this one!

[succubus-interactivefiction]

It’s been six years since the horror you experienced while camping with your friends just after college graduation. Six years since a maniac tore through the campground killing everyone they encountered and in the end only you and one other remained. You don’t remember what exactly happened towards the end, your therapist says that you blocked it all out, but when the authorities finally arrived they found you and your girlfriend barricaded in one of the small cabins half starved and huddled together to fight the cold.

It took years of therapy before you managed to finally put the worst of it behind you and move on. Unfortunately your girlfriend was not able to manage the same and was sent to a psychiatric hospital after she attempted to kill her neighbor. Since then you have not heard anything from her being blocked from seeing or speaking to her for both your sakes.

Now, six years later, you have moved to a small town hidden away deep in the mountains after acing the interview of a lifetime. Your new employer has big plans for the small town of Rock Gate and it is up to you as one of the new locations heads of staff to help see it through. For almost four years you have helped to oversee the massive expansion into the area, but it’s starting again. People are dying.

Overnight the town is cut off from the outside world, the murder rate skyrockets, and the town panics. Friends and neighbors turn on each other as they seek someone to blame. The residents see danger in every shadow and everything spirals out of control. While everyone around you panics, something inside you solidifies and you realize that you are not afraid, you have survived before, and you will again.

Play as a Cis or Trans woman, with full customization over your physical appearance, your wardrobe, which kind of vehicle you drive, and even what kind of weapon you use to survive.

Explore a town driven to darkness by a killer and try to survive the chaos.

Discover the supernatural world hidden beneath the skin of civilization as the madness drives its inhabitants from the shadows.

Find romance amidst the insanity with one of several ROs.

Learn the truth about what happened six years ago.

Fight, Kill, Survive

Jannie Smith | Your Ex 🚩 The only other survivor of the massacre six years ago, you haven’t seen Jannie in five years, not since she was locked away from the world after attempting to kill her neighbor during a flashback. So when she shows up in Rock Gate working as a barista it comes as the shock of a lifetime. Despite the time apart she seems to still be infatuated with you and you quickly learn that despite her pleasant exterior something much darker is lurking within her soul, something that may be your undoing. Appearance: Jannie is rather tall for a woman coming in at 6’5” and now has an athletic physique, whereas she was very lanky six years ago. Naturally dark blond she prefers to keep her waist length hair dyed a deep, almost blood red. Her green eyes always seem to twinkle when she sees you, but remain dead when she has to interact with others, and you only ever see her smile when you are close, her strangely long canines prominently visible when she does. Tropes: Second Chance, Bad Girl, I Have a Secret, Red Flag

Kory Kane | Your Boss Rigid, cold, and uncompromising, your boss is regarded with fear at best, and hatred at worst, by most of your co-workers. Kory never has a nice thing to say for a job well done, expecting every employee to simply do their job. She tends to keep her life outside of work private from everyone else but after a chance run-in with her outside of the bounds of your job you learn that she is a caring, if somewhat restrained individual. Appearance: Coming in at a diminutive 5’2” Kory is easily the shortest of your co-workers, which probably contributes to her workplace attitude. Her make-up is always perfect, her shoulder length salt and pepper hair is always immaculate and held in a tight bun when at work, and she always wears perfectly fitted suits on the job. Her beautiful hazel eyes rarely show any emotion but when she gets the chance to talk about her hobbies they seem to light up the room. Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Fucking the Boss, Forbidden Love

Devon Low | Your Co-worker The bane of your existence, your worst enemy, a never ending nightmare. Devon Low has been nothing but trouble for you since the new office opened. It seems like she hated you from the very moment you met and has done little to change that impression in the four years the site has been operating. Normally a sweet, good natured woman when interacting with everyone other than yourself her attitude turns completely frosty as soon as she notices you in the room. Appearance: With her curvy build, bright smile, and hip length pink hair Devon is the office darling. Her deep, ocean blue eyes seem to take in far more than others can see and she sometimes appears distracted by things you can not witness. Devon tends to wear more casual attire that hugs her 5’11” body and despite your bosses repeated attempts to have her appear more professional Devon has resisted every attempt. Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Opposites Attract, Childhood Sweethearts

Laura Kingston | Your Neighbor 🚩 Born and raised in Rock Gate, Laura has been your neighbor since you moved to town for work. From the moment she showed up at your door with a smile and freshly baked cookies the two of you have been the best of friends, spending nearly every free moment together. It’s not uncommon for one of you to simply walk into the other's home without knocking, or to pick the other up from work for lunch. You have yet to tell Laura about what happened to you six years ago but she has witnessed several of your issues with PTSD and has guessed that something happened, but has yet to ask. Appearance: Laura is one of the more unique people you know with her pin-up sense of style, odd eyes, tiny frame, and pointed ears. Standing at 5’7” Laura is always ready with a smile and a kind word to cheer you up. Her heterochromatic purple and blue eyes seem to be constantly twinkling with mischief from behind the fringe of her bright blue pin-up hairstyle. Laura has more tattoos and piercings than anyone else in town which sets her apart even more. Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Forbidden Romance, Paranormal Romance

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Welp. Meant as well. Can I request basic relationship headcanons for Marcille from Delicious in Dungeon?

Let's go, first delicious in dungeon ask! For best girl aswell!

-Marcille would be very loyal and trustworthy as a partner. Marcille would have your best interest always on her mind. Spending quality time and getting you gifts would be her ways of showing her appreciation for you.

-If, you're a short-living species, like human/half-foot. She will be stressed out about your time together. You made her feel special, but in future you would be gone, far before she could even be considered middle aged elf. So, she tries to enjoy all the time she has with you. She is slightly protective, if you are short-living species. She will talk about all the risks, if you're about to do something dangerous. But, she doesn't want to be controlling about it. So, if you're certain about it she will let you do it.

-If, you're a long-living species like her, she will be more relaxed with you. Just taking each days, as they go. She wouldn't mind spending long times apart, as she knows you will be exactly the same after you come back.

-Marcille would teach you some basic magic. As in healing and casting a light. Something easy and something would come in handy with everyday life.

-She is little anxious, when you find out her research is about dark magic. She fears, that you might leave her. Most people aren't so accepting of her research, her requests for certain books always denied. So, when you're fine with her research, she tackles you in a hug, tears swelling in her eyes. After that, she would openly share and discuss her research with you. It fills her with joy, to have a partner as accepting as you.

-Marcille loves dancing, but her dance moves aren't exactly the best. Even than, she still can't resist the chance to dance whenever there is music. As her partner, she will drag you to dance with her. She doesn't care what kind of moves she is pulling, with you. As long as two of you are having fun. Although, she does pull off impressive headspin.

-Her being huge fan of Daltian clan book series, she would try to get you into the series aswell. If, you do get into the series, she will have long discussions with you about it. If, you don't... She will be little disappointed but won't hold it against you. She would love it, if you acted out some scenes from the book with her.

-Her staff is important to her. So, she will take good care of it, fixing it whenever she needs to it. She appreciates it when you help with fixing the staff and just overall being with her.

-She loves to spend time with you. Especially, if its a shopping date. She wants to look good for you... And to make you look cute. She will be getting you new outfits and accessories. She insists, that you wear something nice on your dates. If, you turn in with sweatpants and dirty shirt, she will make you change. She doesn't scare, if she has to use magic to make you change, she will make you do it.

-She doesn't like being outside of her comfort zone. Or, stressed for that matter. So, whenever she is stressing her mind, let it be about dungeon adventures or some spells she is learning, she will come to you to vent. She will be clingy, during these times. She will whine about how stressing and dangerous adventuring in the dungeons is. She will melt the moment, you wrap your arms around her. You can see her, visibly relax at your touch.

[mercurygray]

What Friends Are For

It's a normal afternoon at the airfield, with administration staff running errands and a baseball game in the outfield, until a replacement plane brings a new pilot...and a new perspective on an old face.

It had been the most normal afternoon in the world before the plane came in.

The day’s mission (a milk run of a diversion route, hardly worth worrying over) wasn’t due back for several hours, and everyone who’d been left off the roster was taking advantage of the July sunshine. There were men napping in deck chairs outside the Aero Club and half of a baseball game in the newly mown infield, a strange sense of peace smoothing over everything - until Anita’s voice was heard coming in over the tannoy that everyone was to clear the field and the runway for a flight in from Framlingham.

A wild scramble started at the Aero Club and the motor pool, a jumbled rush for jeeps and bicycles and anything else that could get you to the tarmac as fast as possible. Framlingham meant replacement planes, and replacement planes meant ferry pilots - and ferry pilots just might be female.

Two to a plane, a pilot and and a co-pilot who could run radios in a pinch. It was a job for flyers who were not quite 1A, not exactly front line and not exactly behind it either, and the Air Forces had decided that before they saddled their walking wounded with the indignity of being singled out for noncombat flights, they’d let the women do it. Look nice in the papers, wouldn’t it - fresh-faced young woman straight from college airfields and the Ninety-Nines clubroom. Girl flyers to ferry planes for bomber boys. It would be allowed that they were just level headed enough to fly the plane from point A to point B, but combat duty would be a bridge too far. Handling one of the heavies in anything stronger than a swift breeze was a job for men, not women. (Until someone needed to motivate the men, in which case - it’s so easy they’ve got girls doing it.)

And besides all that - it might be good for morale, to have a couple of cute faces around.

The baseball players made it in first - Egan and DeMarco and Biddick, shirts off and baseball gloves abandoned at the side of the tarmac while the B-17 touched down, slowing steadily and then turning on to the taxiway, one of the crew chiefs waving it down to an open hardstand to give it another once over. The crowd followed. “I call dibs if one’s a blonde,” Dickie was heard to say to his co-pilot, Curt shoving him playfully and telling him where he could put it.

They waited a ways off while the propellers stopped spinning, the familiar whine of the engine dying down until the silence said it was safe to approach.

A figure in Santiago blue emerged from the hatch near the nose, bag tossed on the tarmac and landing with a soft thump on the ground. (More than one man was thinking about how nice those legs looked, getting down out of the plane.)

“Still fun though, wasn’t it?” the woman was asking, waiting for another person to join her on the ground, fixing her gloves and loosening her jacket.

“God, yes,” the second voice agreed, the smile in her voice hardly trying to hide. “I forgot how much.” A second bag, a second pair of legs - but the face that went with it made every single man there pull up short.

Benny got there first. “Callaway?”

Sure enough, there she was - Cordelia Callaway, last seen on a truck south to Wing Headquarters at Horham, trying to brush the creases out of her trousers and shoving a pair of leather pilot’s gloves into her coat pockets. It was strange to see her away from her tower, and perhaps stranger still to see she was pulling down both her briefcase and a navigator’s board, its pencil hanging by a string.

“She was going my way,” the pilot in blue offered, as if some kind of apology were needed. “We were short-handed and it seemed silly to make an old friend wait for the truck.”

The answer provoked more questions than answers, but no one quite seemed to know quite what to ask - or how. “Are you gonna introduce us, Lieutenant?” Gale asked breezily, joining the party with his cap still on and a book tucked under his arm. “Some of us like to pretend we still have manners.”

Cord, too, was a little off balance. “This is Laura Simpson. She’s a... friend of mind from back home. Laura, this is Major Gale Cleven - Captain Benny DeMarco - Lieutenant Curtis Biddick - Lieutenant Dickie Snyder...and Major John Egan. They’re all pilots here at the 100th.”

“You any relation to the Laura Simpson whose father’s an admiral?” Dickie asked, as Laura went around shaking hands.

“Guilty as charged,” the pilot replied. “Hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“And how do they have you flying for the Army?”

“Nepotism only gets you anywhere if your uncle’s a six star general,” Laura said, grinning at her own joke. “The Navy won’t let me near a plane, much less the carrier to put it on - and believe me, Daddy asked. So it’s all Army, all day for this gal. I don’t mind it much, as long as I’m flying. Besides,” she added, with a wink for effect, “I have it on good authority the boys are cuter on this side of the war.”

That won some points - the smiles got wider and at least one man stood up just a little taller. “Are you going to stick around for dinner, Miss Simpson? The cuter boys always have room for another pretty face,” Dickie offered, obviously trying hard to get the last word in.

“Well, it is the last flight of the day for me,” Laura said, shrugging. “And it just so happens I brought my party clothes, too.”

“I should get going,” Cordelia said quietly, adjusting the grip on her briefcase and hefting the navigator’s board under her arm. “I’ve got film for Bowman and Brennan.”

“I’ll catch you later,” Laura promised. “I’m sure these fine gentlemen will get me over to the women’s quarters in one piece.” She looked around with a winning smile. “Someone going to offer to carry my bag?”

Three hands went up, but Curt’s went straight to the bag itself, which made him the winner, and the whole group set off back to base, Dickie jogging around to retrieve the rest of the baseball gloves.

“Mighty nice of you to jumpseat Callaway back to us, Miss Simpson,” Bucky said with a smile, his long stride loping a little to keep pace with Laura, who wasn’t nearly as tall as him.

“Oh, I didn’t jumpseat anyone,” Laura said strongly, smiling slightly herself. “She drove.”

There were stares, and Bucky actually lost a step. “Callaway’s not a pilot, she’s a flight control officer.”

His stare was just this side of predatory, his dark eyes focused and narrow, but Laura still laughed. “If you think that’s true, there’s a lot about Cordelia Callaway you don’t know, Major.”

“Enlighten us, then,” Curt offered, as generous with his smiles as he’d been with his carrying of her bag.

Laura met his eye with a generosity of her own. “Buy me a drink later and maybe I’ll tell you, Lieutenant.”

Later was after they’d let her fill out paperwork with Jack Kidd about the plane she’d just brought in, and let him make the necessary calls for a seat on a truck headed back to Framlingham so she could be returned to the ferrying roster tomorrow, and after Captain Brennan had made sure there were quarters ready in the women’s block and filled her in on the rest of the base’s amenities. And finally, after all the ts had been crossed and is had been dotted and her bags had been left in the women’s quarters, it was just close enough to happy hour that the whole party found themselves in the officer’s club for a few drinks before dinner.

“So how does an admiral’s daughter end up knowing a WAC from Ohio?” Curt said with single-minded focus, once the drinks had been poured and seats had been found near the fireplace. “Because there ain’t a lot of naval bases in Dayton, the last time I checked.”

“We met on the East Coast air race circuit,” Laura offered plainly, glancing around to blank and confused stares. "You all really don't know who she is, do you?" She laughed and took a sip of her whiskey. "Cord Callaway is the 1939 Cleveland Powder Puff women's pylons champion. She's not just a pilot - she's a racer. And an acrobat, while we’re talking."

"You're shitting me." That was Bucky, sitting back in his chair.

"Not for a moment," Laura assured him. "She's one of the best fliers I know. She did the course at Cleveland and took five seconds off the standing record that year - and she did it in last year’s plane."

"So what the hell's she doing up in a control tower?"

"You'd have to ask her that, Lieutenant Biddick. I only know part of the story."

“So share the part you know,” Bucky advised.

Laura looked around at the waiting faces and settled into her chair. “You all know she grew up at Wright Patterson, right? Her old man’s an engineer there - helps run tests on government contract models. She grew up flying - took lessons from officers at the base when her dad was working late. Practice something long enough and you get good at it, and she got good. The guys who were teaching her were all test pilots - taught her rolls and spins, and she got good at those, too. The Air Force usually sent a couple of guys to Cleveland, and one year she went with. They let her take one of the planes out as a joke, and she smoked three quarters of the field - no one knew who she was or where she’d come from. Next thing you know she’s got a Ninety-Nines membership and an invite to the next meet and one of the guys at Curtis is talking to her about flying their plane - once they find out she’s Wilson Callaway’s daughter. They figure that making it easy enough for a girl to fly will be a selling point.” She smirked. “It’s not just six star generals and admirals, you know.”

Bucky cut in. “Get to the part about the tower.”

If Laura seemed surprised by his insistence she didn’t say anything, just kept on with the story. “Jackie Cochran had reached out to a number of us in...was that the same year? I think it was. Wanting to talk about flying for England - ferrying duties. I didn’t feel like it, but then Nancy Love reached out...maybe a year later, a year and a half, about doing the same thing stateside, after Arnold asked her, and that sounded good to me. I called around to see who else I might be seeing, and I thought for sure Cord would be game, but she - she said she wasn’t doing it, that she was joining the WAC instead to do air traffic.” She paused, took a sip of her drink. “There was ...a guy she’d been mentioning a lot, and apparently there’d been an accident. He was due to join his squadron in a week.” Laura took another sip of whiskey, ice clipping around in her glass. The entire group had gone silent. “Captain James Chapman. Jimmy. When your number’s up, I suppose.” She raised her eyebrows and finished the rest of her whiskey. “And that’s what I know about that. If you want whatever’s left of the story, you’ll have to get it from her.”

It was a somber note to end on, but the mess sergeant was ringing the bell for chow, and man by man they trooped out to the dining hall, Curt and Dickie having apparently claimed the right to have Laura sit at their table. By the time they got to dinner everyone was talking and laughing again.

--

The officer’s club certainly wasn’t crowded after dinner, but Bucky still slid into the seat directly next to Cord and made himself comfortable watching Laura with her current dance partner across the room. For a moment the two sat in silence. “I think Curt’s getting ready to propose to your friend,” Bucky said, casually.

The observation made her glance up in alarm. He was right - Curt looked very serious indeed, his hand gently cradling hers as the two danced. “Someone had better tell him to save it,” she warned. “Laura’s already spoken for. She’s got a boyfriend over in Fighter Command with a right hook that’s just as good as Curt’s.”

Bucky seemed to be considering it for a moment, but he remained in his chair, his eyes fixed on Cord again. “You know, she’s telling some wild stories about your course record in Cleveland, Lieutenant.”

Cord met his eye for a moment in fear, her eyes quickly falling back to her drink. “I wish she wouldn’t,” she said, softly.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Bucky leaned over the table, his glass in both hands. “About being a pilot?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“So then why’d you give up flying?” Bucky wasn’t taking no for an answer here, clearly trying to understand more. “They would have let you, same as her. Was it this guy - this guy Jimmy?”

The name made her freeze for a moment, a deer under the hunter’s eye. “She told that story, too?”

Bucky nodded and leaned back in his chair again. “I have to say, I’m kinda struggling to picture you breaking your heart over a boyfriend, but what do I know?”

“That’s not why I did it.” Her tone was almost harsh. “It wasn’t a broken heart, and he ...wasn’t my boyfriend.” She said all this like that would be the end of the matter, and then made the mistake of glancing at Bucky, who said nothing, spreading his hands and raising his eyebrows like he was inviting her to say more. “It was an accident,” she said, finally. “A terrible, perfectly avoidable accident.” Again he said nothing, the silence guilting her to speak. “Control gave him and the next pilot in the flight pattern the wrong approach angle and windspeed - they collided in midair.”

If Bucky had a smart reply to that, he couldn’t immediately find it, and Cord, for once, looked vindicated. Every pilot worth his salt knew you invited trouble by talking about air accidents, and what she’d just described was one hell of a mistake. “Decided then war didn’t need more pilots,” she added, draining her drink with a bitter look. “It needed more people to get them back on the ground safe.” She scraped her chair backwards and stood up, leaving the empty glass between them. “I’m going to bed. I think Laura knows where she’s staying. Don’t let her get into too much trouble.” And then, just like that, she was gone, and Bucky was left alone at the table, staring at her wake. Plane crashes, pylons champions... Cord Callaway, a pilot!

The music wound down and Laura flung herself into Cord’s vacated seat, flushed and smiling and breathing heavily, a fresh glass in her hand. “You look like a man trying to figure something out, Major.”

“I am,” Bucky decided, sitting up a little and smoothing out his jacket. “I’m trying to figure out how the two of you are friends when you’re goddamn delightful and Callaway is -”

Laura rolled her eyes. “She’s not always like that, you know. She’s got a big job up there, and she takes it very seriously.” She brushed a hair out of her eyes and took a long sip of her drink. “You know, Cord talked a lot about you, on the way over,” she said, watching Bucky for signs of life. He looked up in surprise. “I mean, she talked about everyone, but she talked a lot about you in particular, Major Egan.”

Bucky scoffed. “Well, that’s not surprising. I’m a stone in her shoe. She trying to warn you off me?”

Laura shook her head. “She’s lived around pilots her whole life, Major. Cowboys and showoffs aren’t new.” Another pause, another drink. “No, I think it’s something else. You’re the guy they look up to - the one who’s invincible, who tells them it can be done and then does it. That’s how Jimmy was. And she saw what losing him did to the other guys with him.” She sat up a little in her chair and leaned over the table. “Did she tell you the part of the story about how she met his mother afterwards? She and his father were coming to see him off - missed the telegram. Instead of a vacation they got their son in a box, before he’d ever even got to the war. So she doesn't do it to be an ice queen, Major Egan. She does it because however she feels about you, she respects what you do. And I think - no, I know - that she cares about you. Maybe not that way - but she cares."

She gathered up her glass and moved off, to the table that Dickie and a few of the others were sharing, leaving Bucky to wonder in peace about secrets, and friends who shared stories, and just what kind of guy Jimmy Chapman must have been, to make a girl give up flying for him.

[lurkingshan]

Happy wednesday!

So I was bored and thought I would ask a silly question.

From the bl couples we know and love, who do you think, if given the opportunity, would go completely overboard in their valentine day's celebrations? And what would they do?

Rose💜

Oh, Rose, what a delightful question. Now, if I may offer an observation to give context for this list: Valentine's Day is a specific kind of romantic celebration that many loving couples simply do not bother with. It's a cheesefest, a celebration of consumerism, and often a very public display of love that lots of folks just don't go in for, so a couple's absence from this list does not indicate a lack of genuine affection. Valentines Day is for simps (affectionate). And, in most (but not all) couples, there is only one simp in the relationship. With that said, let's talk about the top 10 simps in bl.

Karan, Cherry Magic Thailand

Let's get this out of the way right off the top, because Karan has reached levels of simpitude previously unknown to man. He is exactly the kind of nerd who would make a big embarrassing deal about this holiday while Achi blushes his way through the day. I believe he has learned from his bad date faux pas, however, so he will make sure to stick to things Achi actually likes and try to reign in the worst of his overspending to avoid making his boyfriend uncomfortable. I'm picturing a homemade lunchbox with heart shaped food, a big bouquet of flowers presented at the office in front of their coworkers, a romantic klongboat ride, and a sentimental gift like a framed photo.

Kurosawa, Cherry Magic Japan

Now you may think its cheating to include two different versions of the same character on this list, but I disagree because Kurosawa is the OG simp and their simping presents very differently. Kurosawa is going for a quieter display, making Adachi a nice dinner at home and reading him an original poem he composed on his lunch breaks. Adachi will blush and stammer and feel bad about not getting Kurosawa a gift, and Kurosawa will tell him his presence is gift enough.

Ten, Cooking Crush

Was there any doubt he would be on this list? Ten loves nothing more than a thoughtful, heartfelt act of service, and Valentines Day gives him a perfect excuse. He's making Prem a sentimental homemade meal tied to one of their cooking lesson memories, and he's created a new magnet featuring the two of them to go on Prem's oven mitt. Prem pretends to hate it but won't stop smiling every time Ten looks away, and later reveals he made them a heart-shaped dessert.

Yai, I Feel You Linger in the Air

Another poet for our list. Yai would love this cheesy ass holiday and take it as an excuse to dress Jom up all fancy, go dancing at the speakeasy, and whisper poetry into his ear to his heart's content. Jom with his modern POV on the holiday rolls his eyes at first, but then gets swept up in the romance and rewards Yai handsomely when they get home.

Hantae, Sing My Crush

This holiday was made for Hantae. He loves nothing more than being loud and embarrassing about his love for Baram. He has a whole Day of Fun planned for them, which Baram goes along with, pretending he didn't get Hantae anything until they get home and he pulls out his guitar to play a new original song he wrote for his man.

Gun and Cher, A Boss and A Babe

The rare simp4simp relationship, we have a twofer! Gun and Cher go all out on Valentines Day to the point of making it a competition for who can pull off the most surprises to make the other happiest. They do this at the office in full view of all their friends and coworkers, of course. In the end it's a draw and Gun lets the staff go home early to their sweethearts, everybody wins.

Gavreel, Gameboys

Picture Gavreel stalking Cairo around the house trying to smother him with kisses, attempting to cook a meal that he definitely burns, ands presenting Cairo with a new body pillow with his image on it for when they are apart. Cairo protests every step of the way, but is secretly touched and loving every minute.

Lian, Cutie Pie

Lian is a traditional romantic so he will be taking Kuea out for a fancy dinner, presenting him with a giant bouquet of flowers and the most expensive bottle of champagne available, and then taking him home for some sensual and loving missionary sex. Kuea eats it up.

Tinn, My School President

Did you think we were getting out of this list without mentioning our most promising young simp? Ha! Tinn loves this holiday and takes it as an excuse to engage in PDA all over campus. Gun returns the favor just to see him blush, and they end the day on a cute date out to an amusement park where they take lots of couple photos and generally nauseate all their friends with all their social media posts.