#maybe then the companies would make their free apps better

[cruesuffix]

last spoti wrapped post but this was the evolution from last year to this year when i realized i could just convert all my fav tracks on spotify to mp3s on my fav offline app…get ready for next year when i’ve downloaded every song i can think of and no longer need that stupid ass app unless it’s to discover new songs!!

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 8

[prompt: phone sex]

male reader x shin ryujin

16k words

The phone rings one too many times, and Ryujin is in the middle of scrunching up the paper slip that Chaeryeong handed her earlier that afternoon when she hears your voice.

The sounds of her scrambling for the receiver and her head smacking against the headboard come through in pretty good quality.

That never gets old.

"Stimulating conversations," you offer smoothly, like it isn't a euphemism and instead some high-brow intellectual pursuit. "How can I help you?"

Ryujin is speechless for an unbearable five, ten seconds until she lets out the kind of low chuckle that probably sounds better than it looks. "Hi," she says, "hello, I, uh- I don't know how all of this works."

"Why don't we start with who you're looking to speak with tonight?" you ask.

Ryujin sighs. She runs a hand through her hair, looking at the messy tangle of clothes on her bedroom floor with mild resentment. She’ll take her chances, figuring a direct approach is the best route when she doesn't really know where any of the lines get drawn or who is allowed to say what and who isn't.

"Um. Okay. Who you got?"

"We have a large variety of operators to suit any taste," you explain kindly. She appreciates that. "Do you have someone specific in mind? A gender perhaps, to start?"

"Well," Ryujin starts, running her tongue along the edges of her teeth. Lia has this thing she constantly says, that there's always a thousand and one reasons not to do something, and Ryujin is the first person to make fun of her for it - but here she is, finally putting that adage to use.

"I was actually calling to, um," she exhales loudly. "A guy? I mean look - girls. Girls are great, but if you - mmm." She clears her throat. Because she knows how she wants to do this, and it's most definitely: "A man."

You wait for a second before replying, and Ryujin allows the stillness to expand over and fill out every corner of her bedroom before a bright, "Alrighty, well," comes filtering out her phone, tinny but as enticing as ever. "That would be me."

"Oh."

"Yeah," you reply, easy and unhurried. You sound exactly like the kind of person whose company people pay handsomely to be around; the professionalism is undeniable, but there's something to be said for your tone. The softness to the vowels, the almost imperceptible upward lilt to the words - Ryujin gets that, maybe.

You're pretty confident in the answer, but you ask anyway, "have you ever done anything like this?"

Ryujin opens her mouth and hesitates for a brief moment.

"Well," she muses. She's tried porn, she's tried her own fantasies, she's tried cranking up the hot water and touching herself with the head of the shower aimed somewhere she's told by other girls: it's there, free of charge. "I haven't."

"But you have a boyfriend," you state. "You have a man, who you enjoy things with?"

Ryujin laughs nervously. "It's...it's been a little while. Not recently. Sorry. I know you don't-"

"No, no, not at all, you're doing fine, it's just that you sound very attractive over the phone. Excuse the assumption."

Ryujin laughs and rakes her fingers through her fringe. She knows it's a line, but she laughs anyway. She could - if she was looking for the deranged fulfillment of it - pore through a billion comments on instagram, on twitter that call her a lot of things: gorgeous, beautiful, hot. The last comment she read before almost deleting her app entirely was someone who decided to textually imitate a dog barking to a picture Yeji had taken of her in a coffee shop. There's a novelty, she thinks, in being charmed by someone who has no idea who she is.

"You have good ears then," she says, smirking into the receiver. "So do you normally do, what, ask questions? I have no idea."

"Yeah, it helps me build a profile," you reply, "but if you had something else in mind-"

"No, please, shoot." She grabs the pillow from behind her back and flops against the mattress, staring up into the ceiling fan.

"Do you feel comfortable sharing your age with me?"

"Twenty," she answers without missing a beat, even though that isn't right. It's weirdly important to her, keeping it private, and she isn't sure why - but then you say something pleasant and complimentary about college and new experiences that she's unable to register, and you ask her for her name so quick she just blurts it out:

"Ryujin."

"Pretty."

"Fuck," Ryujin grins, immediately chewing on her knuckle to bite back a gasp. "Sorry. The name is cute or, whatever. Whatever. Sorry for the curse. God, I don't really have a filter - what about you? Do you have a name, Mr. Operator?"

"I do."

Ryujin lifts a leg up and puts it down again. She doesn't know if she should already have taken off her pajamas or if that's weird. Or if the fact that it doesn't bother her means this is more or less wholesome. She turns over onto her stomach, humming into the phone and now she doesn't know why she's thinking about your face. You could be- well, fuck, you could be anyone, but there's this gnawing compulsion to put something together.

You tell her your name and she scoffs for a second, before quieting down and returning you a, "pretty."

"Ryujin, tell me." There's probably a slightly too long pause from your end of the line before you get on with asking her, "when was your last orgasm?"

She drops the phone right in her face. It bounces off the bridge of her nose before landing in bedsheets beside her and her eyes are welling with tears while she scrambles blindly across her bed, cursing into the receiver and squirming. She pulls the phone to her ear and catches the last couple seconds of you reassuring her that it's okay, that it's completely fine if she's hung up or gone.

"Actually, I have," and she curls her fingers into a fist, "never came in my whole life."

You clear your throat to keep a less than professional sound from coming out. A quiet space she feels necessary to fill: “Not even once.”

"Really?"

"I know. And I've only recently realized that's, uh - er- a pretty un-normal thing." Ryujin makes a waving motion with her hand even though you can't see it, trailing off into silence and blushing furiously. "Sorry," she apologizes. She doesn't know what she’s apologizing for, but she does it again. "Sorry about that."

"I should be the one feeling sorry for you," you rib.

"Fucking tell me about it."

"Hey, this reminds me, would you be averse to the idea of touching yourself?"

The question stutters Ryujin in her tracks, and she doesn't even say no but a drawn-out "nngh" leaks out before she can stumble into something more intelligible. "Isn't that, like, what you're supposed to do on these calls?"

"Every call is different, Ryujin."

She chews on her lower lip, rolling it under her front teeth. You say her name like you know her, and it's throwing her for a loop. The comfort you have with the whole situation - asking her a million questions and not demanding answers, taking cues and reassurances in stride and turning everything into some sort of ploy for getting her naked. Fuck, she'll take a bit of a plunge:

"Should I be touching myself?"

"It's not my place to say."

"Okay, well that's kind of a frustrating answer."

"So you're saying you like being told what to do," you tell her, and you hear the sharp inhale in reply.

"If I knew what I liked, you think I'd be calling a sex hotline and hoping some stranger might take pity on me?"

You laugh out loud, and her response is the quickest, the cutest little, "seriously!" before she chuckles too.

"Ryujin?" you ask.

"Yeah?"

"Are you straight?"

She nearly chokes - because it's like you're able to just read her mind - and if you can do that then there's nothing you can't do, maybe. And here, excitement feels a lot like apprehension. She twists and curls in on herself, thighs rubbing together, the flat of her hand traveling across her stomach.

"I'm-"

"Because no one should have to pretend that they're interested in guys," you interrupt her and, god, for as much time as she's spent dwelling on that, she wishes it were that simple. 

It would be a hell of a lot easier if she knew why she wanted to get her face between Yeji's thighs and drag her tongue all over her clit until that prettier-than-perfect face of hers cinches up in a pleasure that comes with just the right amount of agony - or if she knew why she didn't feel anything like remorse or guilt or envy when her boyfriend came around instead of wanting, you know, to get on her knees with her mouth around his cock too -

Fuck, it's all very complicated.

"Straight," she answers. She likes cock, as much as anyone realistically can, and she knows the body on a man can get her dripping and easy in all the right ways. So, she just swallows. Says, "straight enough."

"If you were to touch yourself, right now, and someone - say, a man - were telling you exactly what to do: what would spring to mind, if anything."

"Mmm. Is this you asking me to touch myself?"

"Again. That's up to you."

Your voice is light. Very pleasant. Very male, Ryujin realizes. She gulps.

"Can you, I mean," she says, running a hand down the length of her thigh, pressing down at the hollow.

"Ryujin,” you say, letting her mull over how it sounds in your mouth. “Take a breath for me, please."

Her exhale leaves her with a heavy push and she tries not to laugh. Nervous tic. She's getting goosebumps, but she feels warmer than before.

"We could say this isn't the first time, you and me, in some very broad and abstract sense. How does that make you feel?"

"Strange." She touches her outer thighs again and arches her back. "Kind of horny," she admits. And it is odd - your words, the things you say - and maybe it's her nerves because the experience is new, and so are you, and so are her feelings, all wrapped in one.

"Do you want to do something about that?"

There's silence between you for what seems like a very long time, your breathing quiet but apparent - a signal you haven't abandoned her in some state of vulnerability. Ryujin inhales deeply. She's shaking in her fingertips. The tension has her taut and waiting, and that's funny, really, because it's what she's been doing for years. The rubbing. The touching.

Her hips rock forward gently and she answers the unasked question with a sweetly husked, "uh-huh."

"What are you wearing?"

"Ah, really?" Ryujin laughs. Her fingers pause at her waistline. "That old, bad porn trope."

"I like hearing about people's clothes, is all," you excuse yourself lightly. "Helps me get a sense of things."

"Yeah, alright. Sweats. Baggy ones." Her lips fall apart. "Shirt."

"Is that all? Nothing sexy."

"What's sexy?"

"Sexy is…"

She listens to you mull it over, listening for a ruffling or two. "For a girl with a nice body - some body - some curves," you continue, and Ryujin has to drop another finger to the hot line of her thigh, her lower belly. "You need lace. Silk. You've gotta leave the best bits a little hidden, at least for a while longer."

"Wow. You sound a hell of a lot like you'd enjoy taking someone's pants off," she half-teases. "Do you make all your calls like this? One sordid fantasy at a time, huh?"

"Something like that," you reply. And then, as if reading her mind, "are you doing anything, right now?"

"I'm touching myself," she exhales. "Are you?"

"Ryujin, not yet. Please be patient."

She makes a face even though you can't see it or taunt her. That's an unfair request - you have an unfair request.

"Just, wait," you tell her. She's drawing lazy, winding circles across her thigh. "Let me show you something, will you do that for me?"

"But, what."

"Tell me everything. All the things you're thinking. Things you want to do."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

She blinks away her initial disbelief and reaches around for her lamp to switch it off. Until it's just the hallway light peeking in through the crack between her door and the door jamb and you, a stranger who won't be seeing her face or hearing her say anything stupid. She shakes out a few more breaths, shuffles against the sheets, and glides her fingertips past her belly button.

Her hand rises up her stomach in one decisive movement, until her fingers curl beneath the bottoms of her bra, trapped in its underwire. "I'm thinking - unh - about, ah. My friend?"

You're quiet and let the silence linger, until she seems like she might not find her way; so you repeat, "Go ahead."

"And a guy she used to like, fuck, she'd show up here, drunk on, ah. A weeknight. Somewhere, fuck, around midnight. Walk past me into the kitchen where we had the - the light. God." Her hips stutter and she grits out the rest through her teeth. "In the refrigerator. Ah, yeah, a midnight snack. Always looked way too fucking good for, um, oh, for a casual booty-call."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Yuna," she practically pants, and immediately realizes she shouldn't have said that either.

"Did you always know what was going on? Between Yuna and her-"

"Boy-toy, yes - it was so obvious, I always knew, yeah," she said, clumsily grabbing the sheets with one hand as she drifts further between the peaks. "Just - fuck - he'd be picking at, ah, something with chopsticks."

"In your kitchen?"

"My, uh, table. And I'd be working up the nerve to ask."

You sigh over the phone, "ask him what?"

"What it was, like, I knew she was only- shit." She keens high in her throat. "What it was like, fucking taking that cock of his, and bending Yuna's tight little, ah, ass over and, mm, railing her on the side of her fucking bed - and just pumping her full of cum just like that until- Jesus, she would walk around after and sometimes-"

You groan softly. This encouraging little sound.

"-fuck - sorry, I mean. Yeah, he, sometimes he'd make her walk around with his, ah, stuff inside. Down her fucking pants and, it's like, fucking disgusting, I swear-"

"And?" You breathe a heavy edged noise over the line.

Actually okay, so maybe this was more than she bargained for, maybe she bit off more than she can chew - maybe, she feels like her insides are collapsing; all the fire pooling around in her stomach and gathering into a melting sort of weightlessness.

"And it makes me feel fucking-"

"Fucking what."

"Why am I talking about this, why-"

"Talking to me? Fucking wet, Ryujin, answer the question."

She pants down at her phone and then turns her face into her forearm, rubbing and making sounds. She thinks about, oh, fucking Yuna and how she showed up to hang out once, with cum leaking down the crease of her inner thigh, smearing against her skin and down between her legs.

"Wet." She swallows. "How do I-"

"Say that you wish it was you," you tell her. "That you wanted that, to be fucked. To feel a cock inside."

Her head falls back. "That," she manages, "fucking, that."

You drawl so that the question might roll off, easy: "Is that the kind of girl you are? Told not to curse, not supposed to let anyone else play with you - you just need it, don't you? Do you need someone's cum? Just tell me."

"I think so, ah," and she stops moving her hand. "I think I'm gonna go now. This is fucking embarrassing, like. Okay, sorry."

"Don't hang up," you tell her, and the soft edge to it is one she really wants to indulge. "Don't," you repeat, a little louder.

You start talking, about the same sorts of things she's imagined herself: the sex and the sounds and what he can do to her. You build a slow and aching heat between her thighs that has her dripping through her underwear and grinding against her fingers. Telling her how she's the one that needs to be filled, needs a man who can wrap her legs around his waist, get to the deepest parts of her, the parts untouched and willing.

Ryujin gets that - she wonders, half out of it and stroking faster than she usually would be, how much of it has anything to do with who the voice is on the other end of the receiver, and how it could be what a desperate, pathetic, tired part of her has always wanted.

"Are you?" she asks, panting over the phone.

"Am I what?" you whisper back to her.

"Are you," and you hear how she inhales sharply through her nose, a desperate gasp leaving her lips on the exhale, "going to, um. Are you touching yourself right now?"

Your reply is immediate, and her eyes flutter and close the second you tell her exactly what she wants to hear:

"God, yes."

She drags her hand up the center of her body, runs her fingertips over her jaw and presses the heel of her wrist to her neck to feel her pulse slamming hard.

"I'm fucking throbbing, Ryujin; you sound gorgeous like this, like nothing I've ever heard, I'm stroking my cock just picturing you, please-"

"Tell me." She's mouthing into the center of her palm, saying the words, tasting salt and musk. "Fuck, ah," she babbles, "tell me what you would do with me."

"I'd get you on your knees," you tell her without hesitating for a beat.

"Fuck."

"I'd come up behind you and tell you not to be scared, baby. I wouldn't hurt you, I'd just touch you real gentle. Push my fingers past your tongue, slide a little down your throat."

"Uh huh," she moans, her head falling back and rolling, rocking against the mattress.

"Want you sucking on my fingers. Need your hands around my cock, or better, my balls, play with them. You're going to take those fingers - every finger I got, all five, yeah?- all ten of them," you joke, "and open up your tight cunt - like you are now, like such a good fucking girl-"

The girl fucking yelps. Just this honest sound of depravity; it's what she's paying you for. It's a silly line of bullshit, but it makes her bite hard and ache a little around her own knuckles and moan in her palm and dig her nails hard into her flesh. Her thumb fumbles across the top edge of her underwear and you pant again into her ear as if on cue, giving her a small bit of guidance that has her jolting in pleasure. She didn't know that was there, fuck, fuck-

"Like that, Ryujin. Breathe," and she does.

"Please," she whines, trying to find somewhere for her arm to settle, resting finally in her hair - setting the phone to speaker in a foolish moment of lapsed-judgment, just before it nearly clatters off the side of her bed.

Keep going - she's telling you over and over - keep going, and you’re picturing her there: eyes closed, legs spread wide, bent knees quivering and toes curling into the sheets. It doesn’t sound fake - you've heard a million of them, you've learned them in their different tones and accents and you can spot a faker a mile away. And the girl on the phone right now isn't pretending or thinking about whatever's happening somewhere else.

(You don't join in for everyone. You can't. It's an asinine consideration that you'd be rubbing your fist up and down your cock while it's sore and wanting - aching from the neglect or lack of rhythm. You have to remind yourself it's just a job, that the logistics just can't support such selflessness.

But then there's the very fucking premise.

That the girl on the other end of the line is inches from the goalposts, fingering her cunt and sighing into the throes of her first orgasm - first ever, because you did this, you brought her this far - you're the fucking culprit, and no matter how many girls, or boys-pretending-to-be-girls, how many people have gotten off with the help of your voice, your instruction, this one sets a different fucking precedent.

You're not lying when you say, "I'm rock fucking hard, Ryujin," or "there's precum all over my knuckles, baby."

Because there is, and the poor thing chokes out another desperate sound when you tell her.)

"I'm right there, ah, fuck, keep going-"

"I've got my hand around my shaft, just enough that I can fuck it, can't I? The head is getting slick - baby - and my palm is gliding nice and easy. Are you cumming, Ryujin? You better be, you better be cumming right now."

There's a heaving gasp and she calls out for you, babbling curses and "please" and "fuck" in alternating succession, with enough punctuation for you to have to let your lip slip under the hard bite of your front teeth. "Don't stop," she tells you, voice thready.

"You need this so bad."

"Yes," she gasps. "How would you-"

"How would I fuck you?" you finish her thought.

She waits a moment, sucking in shallow breaths and then replying weakly, "I really like... I like doggy."

"On your knees?"

"Yeah," she stammers, "I like when, like- ah, like, pulling my hair."

"Fuck, I love that," you say into her mewling. "Splayed out with your tits against a pillow and getting your pretty, little pussy pounded? I bet that'd feel so good, huh? Hands so rough on your hips, on your throat, squeezing your neck so you'll turn pink. Just to see you smile, I'd probably fucking let you take whatever you want."

You're met with a broken moan, a long string of syllables ending on a note that has your shoulders clenching and cock jumping in your grip.

Tense over the things you can't see: Ryujin biting down into the side of her hand, the other knocking painfully against the wooden side rail on her mattress, her thighs tightening and screaming and clamping around her wrist as she pulls weaker, wilder whimpers out of her chest each time her fingers drag across her slit and the sensitive curve of her swollen clit. She's dying, she thinks, she's going to fucking die - the in and out of her soaked pussy, through all that sticky, satiny skin, slick fingers diving in, twisting until there's nowhere for them to go.

No other recourse than to fuck in, fuck, fuck, like that, fucking god.

There's heavy silence on the line for god knows how long - well, you have to check the log. But for her, it feels like fucking forever. That was - that was it. It's so fucking mind-wracking how good it was, she can't quite wrap her brain around it. Nowhere near. She thinks she'll have a better idea after two rounds, definitely by four. She'll buy something, use the discount, go shopping - an orgasm just to make sure she's not bullshitting herself.

You clear your throat.

She moves sluggishly, away from the side and against the headboard - the heat still unbearably oppressive, her t-shirt clinging and sticking. "That," she stumbles through the afterglow.

"Do I need to apologize to you?" you ask lightly.

"What? Oh god, no - no way. No way. I just."

"Yes?"

"Like I didn't know it was this-"

"Did you just cum, Ryujin?"

She's laying there with the phone pressed to her brow. A hand palmed over her own racing pulse. The faint smell of her own cunt lingering around her face.

"I don't know," she tells you, and promptly hangs up.

-

The darkness in Ryujin's bedroom is punctuated only by the faint, hazy light streaming in from the hall, and her bedroom fan making its creaking little circles, as she waits in her post-nut-high for her breathing to normalize. Her mind is buzzing, and out of all this, she has a hell of a bill and a couple conclusions:

She's a coward and a pervert, but definitely, definitely bisexual.

Or, like. She's in some weird gray area between not liking whenever anyone buys her drinks, but also the girls at least let her dance a little close. That's a strange thing, isn't it? For how often her mouth does stupid shit - you think at least someone would figure it out for her.

But you, oh fuck. You-

She's fucking shaken up, for sure.

-

(It's a home office set-up, actually.

Your desk isn't organized; you're sure the photos on the wall are askew and the paint looks slightly worse for wear if you were to turn the lights on - which you never really do. There's an aging lamp tucked into the back corner, a bottle of scotch next to your handset that's closer to halfway empty than halfway full, and you can't stop imagining it.

Promise, This never happens.

You've got the name stuck to the roof of your mouth even though you know it's fake. Stuck with something so painfully abstract. Imagining this girl that is probably as brash and bawdy as her voice, or more exciting than either - maybe her hair is long enough to brush along her breasts. Or maybe it hangs just over her shoulders. God knows just how that would frame her features.

You can see it, really. You pump a handful of coconut oil into your palm and the details solidify so easily in your head: her pretty mouth, nose, the dimples in her cheeks - eyes glazed and sultry and gazing at you.

Smelling sweet, all the places you need, skin hot, clit swollen-

Just- fuck. Fuck.

Ryujin, huh, imagine that.

Ryujin.

And you jerk off right into the soft embrace of a tissue.)

-

A little more than a week later:

Ryujin's all wrapped up on the couch, with an arm cushioning her head and watching TV when there's a sudden commotion from the front door. Yuna - her friend, her very nice, very male friend who never shows up after midnight unless there's a promise of sex - comes bumbling into the room.

He has no regard for boundaries.

So,

Yuna starts to say, smug, from where the hallway becomes the living room, "Ryujin - look at us. Stuck on a Friday night. You gotta boyfriend or something?"

She's completely unfazed by this interaction. She's pretty sure he has his own key, so like, he should be used to it by now too.

"Kind of." She shuts off the TV to turn her attention towards the topic at hand. "Why?"

Yuna runs a hand through all her long, silky hair and gestures her cock-du-jour on over to the door of her room. "Waiting for a call, maybe." She waggles her eyebrows. "Are you any good, I mean, you never seem to..."

Annoying brat. 

Ryujin smacks the back of her neck and interrupts, "you gonna fuck him? Go ahead and fuck him, Yuna." She checks the lock. The kitchen. Gets up and tries to ignore the heat flaring behind her ears.

"We could pretend," Yuna muses, tugging the waistband of Ryujin's shorts around her fingers before she's out of arm's reach. The elastic flips back into her waist with a dull snap.

"Dumb idea. That's a dumb, dumb idea," she reasons, because she knows Yuna has no self control. None, and it's showing; the second her shoulders sag forward and her eyes dart, craving, Ryujin steps back in. "Don't be stupid."

Yuna's lips are tilted, playful. Ryujin wants to smack that look right off her face. Like she fucking deserves any kind of victory just because she found out she can fuck anyone she wants while lacking the self-awareness to somehow be contented with anyone. She's not going to call her a slut - out of a matter of principle - but god, does she fucking want to.

"Gotta get ready, is what you should do," Ryujin mumbles under her breath.

"Fine." Yuna shrugs and pecks an annoying kiss to Ryujin's temple on her way to the shower, waving a hand over her head with a casual, "If you want something, you've only got a half-hour."

Ryujin pushes her hair out of her face and does what she does best: overanalyze and overthink the situation.

Whatever. Yuna won't give it up regardless, not in any way she'd actually be able to enjoy. Her cheeks go a little redder while she pretends to not be considering it.

God, a threesome in total functional harmony however: her working her mouth on Yeji (Ryujin doesn't know why she's thinking about Yeji, but she is), Yeji working her mouth on her boyfriend, her boyfriend working his mouth on her -

That'd be something, she thinks. Like one of those Escher diagrams, but one where everyone cums at the end.

The thought makes Ryujin wet enough to squeeze her thighs together and stand up a little straighter.

Then she hears the showerhead turn on, and she wonders just why, exactly, Yuna is such a spoiled asshole.

-

Turns out,

The universe just has this habit of providing Ryujin with what she wants right alongside everything she doesn't.

She’s stretched out in her sweats, sat up at the top of her bed again and touching herself beneath the sheet in a pointless attempt to contain the mess. Fucking horny - it's honestly unbelievable - and her left hand's making lecherous, slick noises until it's absolutely gross. Until Ryujin's gasping and panting and sweating from the nape of her neck and the back of her knees.

All because Yuna's the loudest little-fucking-whore of a roommate anyone has ever heard.

She's moaning like she's getting fucking plowed into the next life. And apparently, the cock she's got in her cunt is fucking huge if those little murmuring whimpers are anything to go on. She keeps begging the guy, coy, for a kiss while she's probably folded up like a lawn chair in there, getting railed, and the fact that the boy keeps obliging is as admirable as it is kind of insulting.

"Goddamn," she thinks out loud, because the walls are paper-fucking-thin. The apartments in the area are built in an earthquake-safe way, which in reality, means they can either withstand a magnitude 6.0 and come out without any severe structural damages - or that it's so cheaply constructed the building will go down like a matchbox house before it stands a chance against a tremor of any significance.

They're easier to replace that way she’s told. And Ryujin's apartment is definitely of the latter; she can hear everything.

The skin on skin, their bodies sliding together in the slippery sheets. Her mouth smacking wet around his tongue as he bucks forward and asks her to do a hundred filthy things, asking her where it feels best - that sort of thing, which gets her wound and agitated and frustrated, and fucking horny as fuck. Ryujin's bent-inward and panting when he really gets to work - the creaks and groans, their mingled pants and the constant thudding and swaying of the headboard smacking into the wall.

She doesn't even need to put her ear to the partition like she's sixteen years old all over again, hoping to catch her old brother going at it while her mom was out. Trying to figure out this whole sex thing - what all the fuss was about.

Just the way Ryujin sighs is nothing short of despondent. Slightly pitiful.

And every tight circle she's running over clit feels so fucking good, until she realizes the room goes real quiet for a bit. The stillness - no slapping, no movement, just wet, panted-breaths and muffled speech. She nearly asks aloud what's wrong - but she hears it: Yuna's hushed but totally undeniable,

"Been so long- don't, don't- hold up," she croons in these high, sing-song little huffs. "That - uhn, ah - that's my - that's my good spot, there, keep - yes, harder!"

Ryujin slams her eyes closed, dropping down onto the mattress and wishing she'd slipped her hands into her sweats sooner. Fuck. And as Yuna's back starts banging against the wall - so rhythmic and fucking thorough - Ryujin can feel the heat curling behind the backs of her knees, radiating along her calf and reaching into the smalls of her feet. Fuck. Fuck, she doesn't even get to watch.

Right there. So good, please, so fucking good, is what Ryujin can’t not hear coming right through the drywall.

She’s three knuckles deep in her pussy, all stretched out, and she's practically drooling - "spread me, baby. Hold the, fuck, spread my lips open. See me- unh. Ah - see me? Please, do it-" - the boy groaning about it as he fucks her, and then, Yuna, needling him with a quiet, breathy, "harder, can't you?"

The answer seems to make Yuna squirm and scream.

And Ryujin's nearly rolling - rocking, fucking humping her own fingers because it's starting to ache a little, a cramping in her wrist and arm and jaw that she's trying really hard to ignore, rubbing and fingering and fucking herself closer, the heels of her feet sinking hard against the sheets, throbbing and aching around the flicks of her knuckles, harder, faster - faster -

"Fucking hell-" she seethes and stops moving all at once - because god, Yuna is un-fucking-believable.

The absolute bitch, she's doing it again: squealing and cursing and calling his name into her orgasm and just basking, it sounds like, right in it. Because she always does this, every single fucking time, she acts like it's the best feeling in the fucking world and she fucking loves everything, and that shit just - Ryujin grits her teeth and grimaces and pulls her slick fingers from her body - that just ruins it.

All that build-up and for what?

Fuck, Yuna really has the nerve to go there too. She's talking about sucking her own damn cunt or some bullshit-

Yeah, it's not fucking fair, Ryujin concedes.

Or maybe she's being punished. She could live with that, but god. The unfairness of it all. She tries, for a half a minute, to let her throbbing stop being a goddamn nuisance. But the noises coming from the other room are making her crankier, more angry, more irate - and definitely hornier than she ever really intended, even though she knows Yuna is thoroughly distracted in there.

Ryujin sits up a little straighter. Squares her shoulders, steadies herself and fishes around in her pockets with her uncoordinated, cum-coated hands until she finds her wallet, a credit card, her cell -

And there's an aching, a sore pulse of neglect between her legs; that's all too much. A quick peek down confirms that, yep, she's practically dripped right out of her shorts and even gotten a dark spot in the front of them. How great is that.

Yuna is over there, all, "thank you - ah - can you please do me a favor and fuck my mouth with your big, big, huge, fucking cock-" and this guy, he sounds so patient, telling her how he wants to do exactly that, but he wants to fill her tiny pussy up first, fuck her here, fuck her there, fuck a baby right into her. Wants to get his cum all over her face, smear her mouth and her throat and her cheeks - 

Ryujin inhales through her nose and holds, eyes falling closed in something between misery and anguish.

He's telling her, yeah, of course he'll fill up her throat - give her so much it's leaking out of her fucking nose - and Yuna sounds like she's moaning and garbling an objection to that last part - but it doesn't actually fucking matter.

"Geez," is Ryujin's quiet, little gasped-out response. He just fucking pounds her right back into place; her next orgasm. Fuck-

And there it is: the slew of moans that start back up and just keep on keeping on.

Shin Ryujin is going to lose her fucking mind.

-

Ryujin only lasts a handful more days before she calls again.

It’s another Wednesday night, if only to increase the odds that you’re working. Yeah, she could go with another guy, but another guy might not do everything you did, talking quietly and calmly - so composed while Ryujin was losing some part of her sanity to the thumb she pressed on her clit. 

No, it has to be you.

That's what Ryujin makes herself say when the operator apologizes and explains you're busy.

"Will he be working much longer? Please, I, um-"

"If you give me your number," the operator tells her, "I can add him as a preferred associate. You'll get him next time instead of going to the line."

Ryujin pauses, finger held to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication isn't there, that maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some people do it already.

Oh god, this is kind of fucked up.

Maybe a little. Maybe.

Ryujin pauses, finger to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication, isn't there, or maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone you like-like for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some of things other people are undoubtedly doing with this service, Ryujin decides, and rattles off the digits so fast the operator asks for clarification.

"If your schedule doesn't open," the line says, "call back and leave a message with when."

Ryujin shrugs and says, "yeah, okay."

-

You make Ryujin sit through forty-five-fucking minutes of on-hold music - this barely audible synthetic noise that signals a connection is still there, truly a genre for no one - all before she just cuts the fucking line and lays down on the couch.

Okay.

Okay, fine.

Whatever.

-

(You are… going through the motions.

Some girl on the other line is barely holding it together; you can hear her thighs making slick noises. God. She sounds desperate, she's holding the phone all tight and saying your name. She's fucking babbling; it's not attractive, not while you're tilted back as far as your office chair will go and staring up in the ceiling.

You're bored, mostly.

"Please, please, I'm-"

"Going to cum, I know, princess." She asked you to call her that. "Mouth all open? Can't help it? Just need to lick it nice and fast?"

The answer comes all choppy: "I can't, ah, a-ah-nymore, no, I, can't, need-"

"Do you have any idea? How hard I'm fucking stroking my cock right now? Sitting right in my lap. Jerking it right for you," you say, and then she makes an embarrassingly wet noise, gasping through a choked whine, "so I'm ready to give you what you really fucking need."

"Yes," she chokes. "There - um, please, I just-"

"The biggest fucking load," you tell her. She has no idea, really, that you've got one hand on the receiver, the other just pinching the bridge of your nose - neither of which are you jerking the cum out of your cock and balls like a fucking hydrant as you’d described. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and you keep your face turned to the side as she starts screaming. As it starts running into one noise that lasts forever - so unbearable that, this time, you consider going out to the bathroom to grab a glass of water and a handful of painkillers. "Need it deep. Let me pour it in, yeah?"

"Yes," she gasps again, heard on this distant frequency because, yes, yes, you've plugged your ear with a finger.

"That'll satisfy you. C'mon, now, princess - give it right up," you tell her, but your eyes are a little dull when her moan turns out all-gagging and twitchy and spasming through it, until finally:

"Ugh."

You wait a moment for the gasping and hitching to finish.

"Good girl," is your distant reply, followed by a polite, perfunctory, "call back anytime.")

-

Ryujin feels like she's in grade eleven again as she stares at her phone. Boys. Drama. Girls. The drama.

The overanalyzing, the wondering, the hesitating. Fuck. She wishes she knew a way to change this, because she doesn't feel particularly mature and is somehow reduced to this girl, this idiot sitting here all embarrassed and staring and moping about a thousand different calamities at once.

She's looking right at the lock screen: the wallpaper of her and Yeji and Chaeryeong out getting coffee on a random Sunday, all bundled up. Winter. Like three, four years ago, maybe.

Ryujin looks like shit, it's funny.

But Yeji -

How she can make the winter pallor look good is beyond Ryujin's understanding. It's unfair. All the things are. Her brain is back and forth and spinning, spinning like the hands on the old clock hung up on the wall in the kitchen. So stuck on what's not quite normal. Stuck on what doesn't fucking matter - who even fucking cares who the fuck she's attracted to?

She feels it between her legs.

Has been for like a month, or longer, without an outlet. Without anything to give her the hint that maybe she can get back to it - the right it.

She doesn't need to call, she tells herself. She's not some weirdo who's sitting on this for days just in the hopes that her boyfriend is having a bad week with work or whatever. It's only Wednesday, technically. Still way early. Just another few days, she reasons, another few hours - what does it matter?

Wednesday. She can feel the word settle inside of her.

Though only once her bottom lip is chewed to hell, does she pick up her phone and decide she will.

-

(You're in your bedroom this time around, finishing up your own weekday workout - on the bike, fifteen-second sprints - when your phone goes off. A simple dinging. Very unassuming.

The operator comes in with a cool, level, "line two, callback."

Then there's nothing but silence for a few beats.

You towel some of the sweat off your face. It's warm - your skin, flushed. Bouncing your phone in your palm. The same feeling that's been tugging at your throat for the past two weeks starts to flare and swell.

Not quite a hope, not quite expectation: just something close.

"Are they still there?"

The operator confirms. "Shall I put them through?")

-

Ryujin fumbles in her own rush of bravado, hands pressing against the fronts of her thighs in an unflattering, nervous little gesture as the connection clicks and picks up.

"This is him," comes your voice, a little husky and raspy from all the day-to-day talk, but even and easygoing and maybe - just maybe - something she can hang on to. Ryujin gives an acknowledging "Mmmn," like the phone call isn't causing her major inner-turmoil.

"Right, ah." You sound kind of, dare she say, nervous yourself. You clear your throat into the line and ask, "what brings you here, stranger?"

Ryujin pauses at this; the red in her ears reaches her fucking jaw. Stranger. Jesus christ, okay, okay-

She laughs. Stops immediately at how self-conscious she sounds. Clears her throat and tucks some of her hair back - settles herself into it like her life hangs in the balance. "I'm here to get my rocks off."

"It's not usually my place to say," you begin in earnest, "but if you're anything like me, and this is gonna sound completely off-the-cusp, but those two weeks really seem to build up, don't they?"

God.

She pulls her sock off her ankle. There's eczema on her heel, and it's the kind of thing she can imagine Yeji telling her to not scratch - that she's going to fuck up her skin. It's funny the stupid fucking things she can remember and all the things she forgets. Like just now, with your voice in her ear, a little unsure in a way that says you've got other, much more important things you should be doing. But you're here with her.

With Ryujin.

God. She might hate herself a little.

"Um," is how she finds her bearings. "Actually."

"It's a joke. Not that- I mean." She hears some rustling - assumes it's coming through the ear piece. There's an abrupt slamming on her side of the line and it seems like the worst kind of deja-fucking-vu. Her neighbors. She forgets it's even this late into the evening. That other people don't have to work so hard in their free-time.

"Maybe this isn't a good night," she says, not so much as thinking the words.

"What?" you ask. Then it dawns on you. "No, no. If you're there, I'm here." You clear your throat. "Besides, there's nobody I'd rather hear from than a woman so desperate she's signed onto my frequent flier's club."

She stops chewing the insides of her cheeks long enough to give you a tired, irritated sound. "Whatever."

And you nearly choke trying not to laugh.

"I don't, um-"

"What, do I have a nice voice?" You laugh quietly.

Under normal circumstances, that wry edge, the bit of try-hard-humor would have her rolling her fucking eyes clean out of their sockets. So when instead she opens her mouth and a fatal-fucked-flirty-feminine, stop, comes out, the vowel pulled long like a plea or a request - well, Ryujin's forehead drops against her bedspread in immediate regret.

You seem startled by it too, going quiet for a second.

"I-I'm-"

"Cute," you decide.

Her ears are red-hot and her cheeks have to be pinking and god, she hates this. That she's hearing this so soon, and it's making her brain hazy and soft and stuttering through, um's and yeah, well, um's. A part of her can't believe she's paying for this, and then, at the same time, she can't believe she's not actually putting cash down for more right this second.

Because it feels -

Like maybe -

Her shoulders rise. She wants this to be quick; she hates this feeling of embarrassment creeping its way in and grabbing onto her with both hands, like this weird, pseudo-affection. She's a grown fucking woman and here she is, letting all her guard down for someone she doesn't even fucking know.

You can feel the tension, hear it. Your lips purse. You try for something easy.

"Go on and give me the details, Ryujin."

Before you'd even picked up, she'd already half-undone her shirt, the flaps of the collar hanging loose with her hands gently petting her ribcage - so easily giving and pliant that there's a good portion of her, in spite of the doubt, in spite of what seems completely illogical about all this, that has her realizing maybe she wants this more than she can possibly understand.

God, she feels like a fucking fool.

"It's pretty boring."

"Not to me. I've spent the last few weeks talking to a bunch of assholes who don't appreciate what they got in the first place," you reply. She imagines you're a little playful about it. Wonders, momentarily, how good that smirk looks - if your eyebrows are lifting like you've been teasing her since day one. Fuck. 

“Your operator is a total asshole too, by the way."

"Don't say that," is Ryujin's shy reply, practically moaned out. "You sound like someone I'd absolutely fucking hate, jesus, stop that."

"Just because you don't get on with someone, doesn't mean they can't get you off."

"Smooth, or something."

"I'm taking a break, relaxing a little, enjoying an overrated TV show or whatever this is - not really minding my business," you say, but your smile is so audible it's fucking offensive. And she's - she's maybe, definitely into that. Like the fucking embarrassment in this is turning her on. Ryujin puts the tip of her finger in the waist of her shorts, experimentally, gently, this small brush and press to her sensitive lower stomach. And it's true. All she hears is her own breathing in the receiver, a bit labored over the slightest, least indecent touch. It's amazing, how much her body can want even when her head can't seem to catch up.

"What do you like?" she asks. “You’re a person, working bits and all, something’s gotta get you all worked up and flustered, no?”

"Will you believe me if I tell you this is my absolute favorite?"

"Do you always dodge the question?"

"It's just like a courtesy," you clarify, "it's not personal."

"Now I sound like a desperate pervert."

"On the contrary," is your warm, buttery reply, and it is fucking aggravating just how well this works on her. "I think there are much better things people can say about you."

God, that - the thought, the possibility of something about her that has nothing to do with how 'thick' or 'thin' her thighs are, or the silhouette of her ass in safety shorts, or how her voice makes guys want to ask if they can take her home and fuck the answers from her, or any of that; it's kind of liberating, just a tiny bit. That it can be a good thing for some reason. God.

Ryujin rubs herself. "Yeah, well."

She wants it all the same and says nothing, shifting a little until her hips tilt slightly upwards, letting her pull at the drawstring of her shorts, loosening the grip. She's already kind of feeling woozy in all the best ways, soft and feminine in how she slides her hand underneath her shorts. Over panties first, with no clear idea if you can tell and honestly, too distracted to wonder about that, if she should care or not, too caught up with her fingertips over the raised seam in her underwear - where the fabric's wet from her.

A shush comes into the line when Ryujin swallows.

The ache between her legs grows louder.

"You still there, Ryujin?"

"Of course," and then, she finds a little more reassured finality: "fuck, yeah, fuck. Please, I..."

"Ryujin," you say with all the calm and control in the world, "talk to me."

-

(So - truthfully, honestly, factually - you are a total wreck.

You're sitting there in a heap of bedsheets and a cold sweat when Ryujin finally mutters into the silence, "thanks, for that, I, uh- that felt really good, exactly what I needed," and hangs up before you can ask about her day or comment on the weather or suggest calling back tomorrow.

She is just perfect, the way she lets a small "I..." slip when she's close. Perfect, how she groans her little broken, satisfied sigh of a yes, her last, fleeting exhale just a sweet, high, barely there please, her body tensing with every little shudder and moan and pant. How the pace goes fast and then slow - like she's gotta think it out a second, her own fingers bringing her closer and closer until there's nothing but a flurry of movement and ragged breaths - an enthusiastic little mmph noise - followed by Ryujin's wet and slick little laugh that sounds like relief.

Like you did something to help, like she needed you and wanted you.

There's cum sticking all up your torso and along your wrist, the inside of your thigh - everywhere you could manage, frankly - and, shit, it's not fair, you realize:

She can find you, whenever she needs you.

And you -

You're just sitting here. Nowhere near sure she'll even call again.)

-

There's a sizable difference between being lonely and being alone, Ryujin thinks, running the cloth under the stream of the shower and then pressing it damp against her throat, wiping at the backs of her knees.

Lonely means that something's missing - it's something she feels when she catches a glance at the handsome arm reached around Chaeryeong's waist, the way she dances so close to someone she just met, or whenever she tells her that she's thinking about, maybe, probably, definitely, absolutely going home with him if her friends don't stop her from leaving. God, her smile is always so cute when he's near. When someone's calling her over for drinks - hips sashaying like she doesn't know the whole bar is staring at the creases where her thighs flare into her ass - because he gave her a look from across the room, and she's swaying from drink to drink.

Like, of course, they're fucking; it's a known, unsaid thing.

She knows it, he knows it. Chaeryeong fucking owns it.

Alone however, is just what it says on the tin.

That's something else Ryujin has yet to learn - that everyone loves differently, cares for different things. Yuna is still single after all, and she can never shake the feeling that it's simply to spite her for some perceived slight or another; Yuna can't live without company, no matter how brief or short or meaningless, so perhaps it's better she never catches on or finds anyone worth keeping around.

And Yeji?

Ryujin sighs, rakes the comb through her wet hair.

The showerhead is running hot between Ryujin's fingers, and the water coming off of her skin turns to steam instantly, filling the bathroom with a permanent cloud, stuck in flux - rising towards the ceiling. She passes her fingers under it, watches the flow, a quiet hm escaping the back of her throat - and she considers the way it feels beating against her throat and chest.

Down the concave curve of her stomach. How it burns red right over her thighs. The pressure slips and sinks low, lower - and when she puts a palm out for a little stability, her left leg can't help but buckle just so, lifting itself out and off to the side. So she stands, toes pointing against the shower floor, face first into her arm against the cool tile.

Ryujin sees where the rivulets of water have gathered above her clavicle - feels them trail down over the tightness in her breasts and between. A couple images pass through her mind at once - thoughts of fingers trailing a line back up the center of her body and a gentle tap against her chin, turning her face to some perfect all-consuming kiss - a hand squeezing at her calf, rubbing her muscles gently - Yeji smiling into the crook of her neck, the grasp on her hip, wrist flexing. Her back bowed and fingers, broad and experienced -

"Don't need you," Ryujin quietly says to nobody, which -

You're doing so well, Ryujin hears back in her imagination, you're so beautiful, you can keep this up, I know you can. I bet it feels good, doesn't it? Just let go and I'll...

Ryujin whimpers out. She can feel that line deep inside her going taut, buckling in her core, the reverberations down to her wrists and fingertips and toes. If she didn't have the wall in front of her, she knows she'd be on her knees - kneeling to the hot water pulsing around the knots of nerves right behind her clit. The pressure hitting her like the crack of a whip.

"Fuck me," she says to no one, gasping in that way you only can when no one is listening.

Yeji's smile is what's gotten her this close so many times, the smell of the ends of her hair tickling Ryujin's nose. Hell, she can't stop thinking about the way her nose crinkles or her dimples flare just when she finds Ryujin's name in her mouth.

It's not fair.

She's so close to cumming and letting whatever happens happen. The slick of her release pouring right out into the drain of the shower, washed away with the excess. So when her whole hand shifts and catches in just the right, delicious, frustrating way, Ryujin inhales so deep through the end of the sentence that, as a result, her knees wobble.

She feels like fucking crying.

It's that sweet little lilt in Yeji's voice, saying things like: "It's alright. I promise you can keep this up a little longer." And "Oh, god, baby." And, at worst, the way her voice shakes with a "come here, honey. Let me-"

Ryujin has to catch herself when her footing slips a little from under her. Then, your voice, coming in distant at first, grows louder, clearer. Into something catastrophic, right against her throat, like it knows the very inside-and-out of her, "go on. Fuck, please, cum all over me, baby - show me a face no one else gets to see."

And for the first time,

Ryujin gets herself off. Alone.

She moans and sighs out. Gasps, "there you go-" and whispers an, "ah, jesus." She manages the most silent, the least decipherable, fuck, as it leaves her mouth like a prayer. Her left knee twitches, body curling into itself, and her hand moves - fingers closing and her eyes clenched shut, a wave, cresting - she just-

Collapses.

Wanting: Yeji, sure - and she came - but the only thing she can really wrap her head around is the truth that she's so, utterly fucked.

-

"Are you sure there's no one you can bring?" Yeji asks in the middle of slapping the ever-loving shit out of a coffee maker that has, for as far as anyone can remember, never worked.

"Uh," is Ryujin's inconvenienced reaction, the tips of her fingers idly sorting through her credit card statements, which a more-sober, less-horny version of herself is a little out of sorts over. "I'm not sure there's anyone I'd want to bring."

"Uh huh," Yeji replies.

She pauses and rests the bottom edge of the coffee maker on the edge of the kitchen counter, stopping herself mid-smack - leaning away to try and give the stupid thing a once-over.

"Who the hell says it's got to be someone you wanna make babies with? Maybe it's just someone you'd think would look good beside you, smiling at the cameras with. Or."

"Or."

Yeji's lips tilt. "Or someone you wouldn't mind screwing in the bathroom."

Ryujin spins the pen in her fingers and gives Yeji a look that says back off and can you chill out already, in the sort of way it takes years to ferment - the silent understandings, the good-natured naggings, the good-fucking-luck-with-that-buddy's. Yeji knows she's getting on Ryujin's nerves. Knows that has never stopped her before.

"In my defense," Yeji clarifies, "I can count at least a hundred people that would crawl over broken glass to sleep with you and, uh-" She knocks the coffee maker off of its stand and holds it gingerly to her chest like some child, motherly. "-I don't wanna take a bullet for your unintentional chastity, Shin Ryujin."

"First of all, don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor here," she replies. "Second-"

"Can't hurt just asking, right? I could set you up, you know, someone you've never even met - no pre-burnt bridges to maneuver."

There’s a world, and Ryujin imagines it for all of a second, where she stands up and grabs hold of Yeji by her cute little ponytail - if nothing else, just to stop the way it bounces every time she steps - and maybe, she also kisses her on the mouth so hard she stumbles. Or perhaps she could pull that ribbon free of its holdings and unravel it down against Yeji's jaw. Pull a whimper, a tiny little ah that says this was inevitable. Maybe they crash onto her bed. Maybe she gets her fingers sticky with how soaked through the cotton of Yeji's shorts have gotten in those short, heated moments - what a world that would be.

"One of what's-his-name's friends? I’m assuming."

Yeji looks annoyed and proud and beautiful; all at once.

"Yes, and what's-his-name's pillow talk is exceedingly whiny about how my best friend is so incredibly standoffish and abrasive and-"

"Okay. I'll go." Anything to stop the image of Yeji with the comforter pulled up to her tits and hair splayed all over the place; red and flushed. Her lips curling with the curve of the sheets and god -

"Just for an hour?" Ryujin asks.

Yeji finally places the coffee maker back onto its stand.

"I mean, nothing much happens an hour into a birthday party," Yeji reassures. "It'll be fun."

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me."

Ryujin wonders just how far Yeji could go - if she knows that she can snap her fingers together, and Ryujin will be there: ready to do anything.

-

Ryujin is trying to go to sleep, is how she'll explain it if anyone asks. Though she prays to god no one ever will.

She tries books. And she tries scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. And there's this one guy she kinda-sorta-dated's updates: photos of a vacation to Boracay, which seems nice; his chest is a little more defined, more chiseled than when she was seventeen and kind of fumbling her way around a college boy and his stupid fucking preoccupation with who should be paying for drinks at whatever run down establishment was his pick of the night. Ryujin makes a face at the screen, pursing her lips; there's a girl in the photo - she looks too young for how her ass is falling out the one-piece. To the extent that she makes sure to send an unsolicited meme she's tagged herself in - like "here is my past and here are his balls", and gets a block and a report as a thank you.

It makes her feel good. That's what's most important.

And then, with little other distraction and a decent lack of luck, she picks up the phone.

It rings for a while before the operator comes in and says, "You're at number nine."

"What?"

"The queue. This call has you at number nine."

Ryujin slowly leans up from the pillows and squints into her bedroom.

"Huh."

"Would you still like to be connected, miss?

Ryujin thinks it over for a moment. Of course you're popular, a part of her mind comments, because you've got a voice like gravel-slung honey-gold. She's imagining eight other girls just like her, laying in their bed, panties on their ankles and thumbs covered with spit. All desperate for you. All curled up - one right after the other - with no fucking idea.

"Miss," the operator comes back with.

The line goes quiet - a few beats, but not too uncomfortable a silence. Then she gets a soft little exhale out, saying, "can I leave a callback number?"

"If you like." The operator considers the idea. "I can’t promise whether he’ll call you.”

“No, yeah.” Ryujin curls an arm under her chest and plays a finger against the swell of her breast through her night shirt. Gets lost in her own consideration. “Don't think he would anyway."

-

A new day is defined by new possibilities, or something or another you read once stitched into a frame; Something you muse over the rim of your coffee, nose-deep in the laptop at the kitchen counter top.

Last night ended a bit unexpectedly - this not considering the couple's awkward fight which took up two-thirds of the evening. Or the girlfriend-slash-fiancée of that guy, which somehow led you to wonder just how old was too old. But as you were logging your final client session of the night a ping came through the employee portal and let you know that someone had left their number with the operator in the hopes you'd call.

You swig back the rest of your coffee, roll your shoulders and shrug. Oh, there are at least a million reasons not to call a number that randomly, offhandedly arrives in the middle of the night and gets patched through a phonesex hot line under the cover of darkness.

The same number could be out there, defacing the wall of a truck stop bathroom, or inked into the skin of a squat prison convict who's got a brow like the horizon. Maybe, it belongs to that married business man that took your personal phone number as his private line and spent all the time bragging how he was going to quit his wife and make a run for it with you - just you - even though you'd rather stab him with a fork than be involved with that kind of psychopathy and are honestly just looking for that extra bump in commissions every time his wife calls to ask the exact same thing.

Your clients call. You talk.

You take the cash.

The point is: there's more fucking deviants out there than there are stars in the sky. You would know; you talk to a new handful every goddamn day.

Yet it doesn't really matter. You're gonna do it. Because you're feeling restless. Because - and it sounds insane - there's at least some probability, no matter how remote, that you will pick up that receiver and punch in a number and the line will connect with the girl who's been on your mind almost constantly for the better half of two months. That you might listen to the dial tone turn into her answering with a genuinely indifferent, "this is Ryujin," or whatever her name actually is -

You're living in a pipe dream. You're probably reaching, actually. And all you know about this woman, is, what? What does it really, factually, truly amount to, the amount you feel you've come to know about her.

You know more about how she prefers to methodically, meticulously begin, then draw out, and finally end a blowjob to someone that ain't you than you do about any detail in her life story, frankly. You're reaching, and you know it.

You pick up the phone and dial.

-

(It goes straight to voicemail, and get this: that’s her real fucking name.)

-

Yuna has the audacity to ask, as she slides into the booth, "who do you keep texting?"

Ryujin's eyebrow arches.

The younger girl nods towards where Ryujin's thumbs are practically flying over the keyboard.

"No one." Ryujin puts the phone on her lap and crosses her arms over her chest. Then the words seem to echo through the inside of her skull, so she shakes her head a little, in emphasis. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

She's right though - and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why it's hard to answer.

Chaeryeong washes the shot of whisky down with a swallow of lemon-lime. Her eyes slide open to Ryujin as she wipes at her bottom lip. Then she spikes a finger into Ryujin's ribs.

"Spill."

It's a dangerous order, and she doesn't realize it at first. Chaeryeong's bad ideas have an annoying habit of flinging themselves on Ryujin, like a bomb dropped at low altitude - sudden, quick, and more than enough to shake everything up. Chaeryeong will make Ryujin go out dancing - and then she'll lose her clutch purse. Chaeryeong will remember she started the evening with a scarf - so they need to walk out a whole block or two to find it.

More importantly: Chaeryeong is not a great drunk.

So, of course she spills. She relays her findings, carefully and as deliberately as she can muster.

"Does he have a nice voice?" Chaeryeong asks.

"It's kind of deep?”

Chaeryeong snorts. Apologizes immediately.

"Not... deep. Sultry. I guess. Smooth, easy to hear." Ryujin tells the two across the table.

Yuna whistles low. "Romantic as shit."

“Fuck, I don’t know. In, like a sexy sort of way." Ryujin raises both palms in a vague gesture. She clears her throat at the two pairs of eyes staring back at her as though the words coming out of her mouth belonged to a foreign language. "Uh. Sort of raspy, or something, sometimes, like he's... on the phone a lot, and you know," Ryujin flushes, suddenly caught and wondering where all the confidence went, "yeah."

Yuna's leaning forward, chin in her palm. "I'm having a hard time believing texting is a sort of standard operating procedure."

"Well try a little harder," Ryujin snaps, eyes finding Yuna's and making herself fucking clear.

Chaeryeong has this look about her, she's trying to keep it all in, but then there's her eyes, cinched at the corners and dead-fucking-giveaways. She puts an arm against the table and points at Ryujin with an up-reaching thumb. "This is the cutest shit, like ever, and you two are texting like actual lovers instead of two, apparently rando-stranger fuck buddies, or whatever."

Yuna - for whatever reason - feels at liberty to throw gasoline on the fire. "Does that mean you think he's going to get jealous if you bring some dude along to Lia's birthday?"

Ryujin sucks in a breath; the fact that he'd never - well.

"Ryujin's in love," Yuna adds for dramatic effect, for the sake of being the worst fucking person. She can be so fucking petty. It's a side of her no one ever sees, because she's just so sweet all the time. Like right now, she's doing that smile-smirk thing that gets Chaeryeong giggling against her hand and then coughing into it a second later.

"Jesus christ," Ryujin starts gathering her jacket and purse. "He's- not- this is- God, I'm done." She slips her shoulder under the strap. "Thanks for listening to me sound like a teenager."

"Isn't that just normal for you," Yuna quips back, pulling at her straw until there's only air rushing through the bend of it. "Where are you going?"

"I can't stay here," Ryujin says as if it's obvious, as well as her point, the argument she's trying to make. "Besides, Yeji is gonna want me to get my dress and shit all sorted out."

"Don't fall in love with one of the robot voices at the cross-walk on your way home, or anything!" Yuna laughs out, giving a flippant wave goodbye.

Ryujin lets her eyes roll because sometimes, she hates her friends.

-

It still throws you for a loop whenever Ryujin pings your phone with a text that says something like:

have you jerked yourself off to exhaustion or is there one more in you for someone like me?

Or,

my roommate is getting pounded through the springs of her mattress, wanna see if you can hear it?

Or,

are you free? I really fucking need to cum. bad.

Each text is something you tuck into yourself. Save and mark and spend all your time in those long-form responses imagining how her face looked when her brain typed out the words for you. You wonder if she's sighing through her fingers or hiding her lips behind a pillow while the heat coils in the pits of her hips.

As time goes by, Ryujin slips a little more. From one text about whatever book or series she was rereading last and another about the sadism of politicians and how people are more likely to agree with what they've heard someone else say than the facts of a given subject, to texts with a few scattered thoughts to strings of sexting that has you cumming into the palm of your hand and through your sheets and in the middle of a dream in which there's no clothes and a pretty fucking filthy proposition.

"How have you been lately," you decide, and consider, briefly, the very strong likelihood this call is gonna send her right through the goddamn roof.

When Ryujin eventually finds herself able to get out: "fine," there's a tell-tale pause, then an even longer pause, that implies she'd definitely rather say anything else. Then she kind of stutters a, "pretty good. Not too bad. All that stuff, I suppose."

And not to say any part of this has felt like routine. Both of you breathing into the end of a telephone and letting your eyes clench tight while you cum all over yourself - imagining everything she told you she wanted you to do to her, how it'd all go: "fucking with my arms grappled behind my back," she'd hum, "head pushed into the bedsheets, you're smothering me, ah- I'd let you cum wherever the fuck you like, but please-" or maybe a bit simpler: "so my thighs are straddling your face?" is about the gist.

A second goes by, another, a third.

"Hang on," you end up having to tell her sometimes, "I need a fucking towel-"

"You really are, huh, jerking off with me- I get you that hot, is what you're telling me? Or is just too much imagining how you'd fuck your way right into my guts through my pretty little pussy? Ah, jesus," the cadence of her voice climbs high before ending up back where it belongs, "Jesus, fuck."

"Can you imagine," is how it'd start, "how good it'd feel? My pussy, or- anywhere, everywhere. I think you'd ruin me for anyone else - you- with how, god-"

You can hear Ryujin shift on the sheets, licking at her bottom lip. Silently cumming. Cumming for you.

"Okay."

"Okay what," Ryujin quietly says back.

The gears turning.

You press your hand into the side of your neck. "Fuck me. Now, in a second. Tell me the last fucking thing in the world you want me to be or do and-"

"Wait."

There's this half-breath. This hmm that almost trips off Ryujin's tongue. Her eyes squinting open to a new thought. You think she's about to be sly. About to surprise you with an offhand fuck yes I'd ride that face like a bus seat; that she might come back with, yes I'll put you right in the middle of the best part of me, god you'll love it, and I promise not to make you cum if you're nice enough not to let your hands wander. But.

It's funny how things are -

"I have a confession," she says, matter-of-factly.

That's not entirely unusual. You've had more of those come through your line in a year than a confessional grate might get in a lifetime. So it doesn't sound like something special to you; Ryujin and you are in this candid don't-ask-don't-tell in regards to payments and the exchange of goods and services, but here you are, still using lines and bits. Practiced.

"In the name of the father, and of the son, and-"

"Funny." Ryujin gets the hint to backtrack. "Uhm, I mean. Remember the roommate I was telling you about?"

You hum a, "maybe."

"Uh," and now the hushed voice from her throat sounds distant, suddenly out of the scope of the receiver, "can I be totally, honestly- just really, extremely honest here, are you- or?"

You stop thinking about the ebbs and flows of her voice, how it dips down then arches up a little. Because now her voice has become something that is nervous, bordering on uneasy. So you stop, take stock and hold on. You weren't expecting a voice of worry or tension, or not at least while she wasn't thrown back into her bed and rubbing furiously at the ache between her legs.

"Yeah, of course," you offer her up.

"This is so embarrassing," she's saying, and some part of you feels ready to sink - you haven't the faintest idea for what, but there is something. Your chest clenches.

You can't help the worry and reply: "Okay, um. I mean- yeah. Me too, I can admit I feel a bit- and you can, y'know, be a little-"

"I'm not straight," she says finally, with a little quiver of her voice right at the tail end.

A blink comes, another - there's nothing coming out of you and you have no idea why that should be at all difficult, so the silence grows long. A new sort of awkward; the kind that you find out isn't just the rush of cum cooling in a pair of sweat-damp underwear. No - this is embarrassment, the kind that taints you.

"What?" You exhale a strained laugh, almost too-bright. "Are you- is this some sort of-?"

"Nope, no, this is crazy, sorry." She laughs. "Sorry."

"You certainly had me fooled." You sit up straighter in your bed, resting elbows on your knees. The moon is filtering through the windowsill and bathing the room in blue - casting light all the wrong ways. Making your own heart beat just a little too fast. "Fuck, um. Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure." Her voice sounds uncharacteristically soft.

"What are you into?" and you as soon as you ask, you're laughing - because you've heard Ryujin wax lyrical for weeks, pontificate about every manner and way she'd take a cock between her hands, lips, fingers. Every. Single. Place, she wants one in - and now you can't believe this is what you went with: "I mean, like girls?"

"It's probably safe to assume I have some, y'know- degree of- yeah."

You chuckle a bit. The stiffness in your shoulders settling out.

"I've been in love, I realize - boy, with my roommate - for a while."

It's said with a sad laugh - as if this were a little shameful. Some deep, dark secret no one could ever be privy to; some stain on her soul that might wash out only after one final scrubbing with dish detergent and the cruelest bristles. A thing that keeps her up at night -

“Not the roommate, by the way, who we listen to get fucking railed like she’s on-demand pornography every weekend. Just to be clear."

"Good, jesus, that'd be fucking something."

Ryujin sounds more cheerful when her voice comes back through the line, "right?"

You wipe the perspiration of your top lip. You laugh nervously at this girl admitting to being in love over the phone - a stranger, truly, in all ways - to some fucked up audio-fetish sex line personality. And now - the fuck's wrong with you?

"Are you mad?" she asks, and some part of you is wrung. A small string of tension twisting so hard inside your gut, you're losing touch.

"No," you let her know. "No, not at all."

And that is honest. This is honest. There's this itching little scratch all over the insides of your skin that seems intent on driving a fucking wedge. Right at the center of your chest, tearing you apart. It feels as you've lost - not an object, not a material. Not an idea, nor a concept - but a feeling, that for once, was distinctly, overwhelmingly yours, without your wanting, or permission, or comprehension.

Ryujin sighs, this elongated relief coming in. She sinks back against the headboard.

She tells you everything. How Yeji smiles, and it's like the whole fucking room has gone up in lights, just from her and her alone. How there is nothing that she'd rather spend all her days around. She talks and you sit there, silent and listening. She talks about her. Her name and everything Yeji does and everything she wants.

The more you listen, you realize it's all real; she's not confused, or mistaken, or out to play a game or convince herself of something she believes is inherently untrue. She's not frustrated, or longing. She doesn't have this stomach-rolling pit of anxiety digging a cavern at her center because she just can't go through the rest of her life, living a life like everyone else. Not ever.

Because, all you really notice is-

She loves Yeji. The quiet kind. And she's sitting there, legs curled under her ass, crying. Not sad, or frightened, or wounded, just this beautiful sort of awed: it's the kind that only someone who is too inexperienced at crying should have. Where you just-

Look away.

"I'm not taking my phone into the bath with me," is the last thing she says to you, tears flooding out in her last couple words, before you can only offer her a meek: "anytime, Ryujin, I'm here."

-

(Four, five weeks go by in the blink of an eye. A month where you figure it's best to let her text or call or make it clear she wants your voice.

She never does.)

-

Lia is taking her sweet time to apply concealer over the cut Ryujin earned herself trying to get a stupid thing off a shelf - that's how low and unreasonable her tolerance for anything mildly inconvenient is.

"That fucking hurts," Ryujin tells her, wincing.

Lia ignores her.

She keeps on dabbing at the spot on her temple with the makeup brush until there isn't any trace of bruising, or where the jagged scar of a cut ends and skin begins, not anymore. At this point, she has gotten better, has developed a kind of surgeon's eye: zeroing in and unblinking, until every inch of damage is looking like Ryujin did when she was brought into this world -

(which is not perfect, but what it ought to look like, all things considered.)

Lia holds her hands in place on either side of Ryujin's head. "Stay."

It takes less than five minutes, and during those, Yuna just offers from around the bathroom door, "Ryujin, sweetheart, you’re looking hot tonight."

There's nothing more Ryujin wants to do than set the girl straight - the girl can't not keep a chirp to herself, for once in her fucking life. Because this flimsy slip of a dress around her middle feels too tight, the air choked out of her lungs if she shifts her weight onto the wrong foot. The hem rides way too fucking high up her thighs. So, if anyone didn't want a good long look at her ass tonight, they better come up with a plan B if she has to so much as approach a staircase.

"Have I ever not," she bites.

Yuna snorts.

And luckily for Ryujin, Lia feels the same way:

"Yuna, would it kill you to find something productive to do with your time?"

Yuna opens her mouth like she has something to say (she usually does) before retreating further away, the edge of her hair disappearing around the doorway. Then Ryujin's grinning - eyes taking in how Lia glowers a bit back, silently judging the stupidity in Ryujin's expression and also, admiring how good the girl looks. "Not bad, though, really."

Lia tells her with an underhanded wave of the brush and a wink: "historically, you do always get laid on my birthday, remember?"

Ryujin jerks a little, and the scar above her eye throbs into Lia's thumb. "Thanks?"

-

The party is miserable, but it's not Lia's fault. It's not really Yeji's fault either. They tried, that's really all she can say for them - her and her permanent-plus-one whose face Ryujin wants to both claw at and kiss until it’s swollen-

What she really can't wrap her mind around, though, is the guy sitting right fucking beside her. The idiot.

"Really, I'm telling you," her date - who is about 3.5 out of five stars at best and not so much handsome or hot as he is 'okay in a pinch' - grins up at her with the smarmiest of smiles, "if you'd just have taken me up on dinner, I would've spent all our time talking about you. We’d figure out how to enjoy ourselves."

"Likely story."

This fuckwad has the absolute goddamn gall to look wounded when his arm starts circling its way around the space where her dress is suffocating her at the waist, and Ryujin starts to shimmy her way out of hot water - again. God, she thinks, god save me-

"I think," she manages with a stilted grin, "I'm going to make myself useful- drinks, no?"

When he leans forward to grab her hand, it's only so she doesn't leave.

"You're not going to ask for my order?" he presses. The only reason Ryujin hasn't knocked out a couple of his front teeth is because Lia would be the one hearing Yeji whine about cleaning up the fucking mess.

"Just scotch. Neat."

Ryujin's a natural when it comes to smiling fake; it's part of her goddamned job. "Of course," she says, like she's not absolutely loathing him.

"Try the oakier, single-barrel variety, alright," he explains, because what's hotter than a man who's an expert in alcohol and being an insufferable tool? Nothing of course. She hopes he knocks back a few too many and his liver explodes - the painless way out. If god would ever fucking allow it.

She barely manages a half-strangled laugh over the blare of the music before he finally releases her wrist. 

The absolute fucking prick.

-

Here's something Ryujin never thought she'd come to appreciate:

Being alone.

It's just her and the breeze through the open doors of the rooftop garden, which is something every bit as refreshing as it is teeth-chatteringly cold. The wind picks up in gusts and billows, until it starts nipping up the fabric around her knees, like it's any one of the drunk, stumbling guests milling about and looking for a noncommittal lay.

Her left foot slips a step outwards, the uncomfortably tall heel bouncing on the edge of her toe and tapping a tune against the brick. Ryujin slouches on the railing that encapsulates the entire terrace, arms pressed over it, hands folded one-over the other - letting the night sky caress her bare shoulders with its wind-brushed kisses. This, is okay. It's better.

Maybe not ideal, but better.

And all it really took was a few fucking moments where she isn't smiling with pursed, stressed lips; where the pressure in her jaw finally settles out enough for the knot in the back of her teeth to fall loose and for her mouth to actually feel, y'know - good.

Not forced, is what. Not fake, or not real, or whatever-

Ryujin almost fishes her phone from her clutch. Almost. Almost texts to tell you that: this fucking night, like all the others in the past month or two or year, has left her feeling particularly done for, and yeah, no, it isn't helping that she'd take whatever would be the alternative if it meant a face like yours came in handy to lean against, or your shoulder or thigh to use. Like some pillow - that's all.

And you are, like. An option. But not, she sighs out, exactly the right one.

An errant chill shudders through her and down her spine.

"Shin Ryujin."

She'd recognize the tilt of that voice anywhere; even if her ears were pounding and her head filled with static and noise, she'd be able to place Yeji at the end of the world. The truth is easy to see, if only Yeji knew where to look: the corners of Ryujin's eyes screw up tight for a second, an immeasurably long time, in order to not do what they wanted. What it would mean.

She does anyway. "I'd hug you," Ryujin throws behind her with an airy sigh, "but I know where you've been."

Yeji's jaw has set at this point; a twist is still in her lip and she lets out this dry, half-laugh, half-not sound - which is the thing that drives Ryujin a little crazy. Yeji turns her attention from the concrete ground, to Ryujin's profile, her body leaning forward, toes tipping in: "sometimes I wonder if my partner in crime can breathe without saying something incendiary."

"Nope." Ryujin offers no further response or follow-up. Instead, the quiet gush of air makes itself the center of attention and a victim of silence.

"Sorry about-"

"Don't be. Don't give it a second thought." Ryujin stretches, leaning a little over the railing. Her fingers arch before her. Her words sounding the slightest bit cold, "can't win 'em all, right?"

Yeji's eyebrows pull together. "That's not how this was supposed-"

"God, Yeji." Ryujin smiles. Yeji hates that she never knows what that means. "I'm trying, really, I am, but you know - I really, I have tried my best, so can we just lay it to rest?"

Yeji leans over the railing - the fucking moon reflecting in these lustrous pools where her eyes go darker than night - and doesn't say anything for the longest moment. Ryujin chews her tongue, and tries to look as interested in the void of stars and night clouds as possible.

"Fuck's going on with you, lately?"

Ryujin just laughs back.

"Really," and the last word dips in a groan. It's almost childishly tragic how petulantly she insists, "talk to me."

But Ryujin has nothing else to say - no witty, scathing remarks. No deadpan observations or funny asides, not even a morose comment to throw back. There are times and moments and fucking periods of her day where she'd happily chew glass if it meant that Yeji would sit there a second longer, be beside her for a while and smile, just smile at only her, once - for once.

Her only response is the worst kind of lie, this soft: "really nothing."

The moment where it slips and hangs between them, when it lingers the longest -

She could reach out, a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, if she could only reach. And Yeji, she'd listen to her, for once. She'd really, genuinely hear what Ryujin says; like she can see it, plain as day, everything there's in Ryujin's eyes, the thoughts inside her head, written on her goddamn face and across the open night air in neon:

I love you. I'm in love with you, you're too close to me.

The seconds pass. They tick, they stretch and grow thin. Yeji looks at Ryujin expectantly, and Ryujin knows. It is something like being put on the spot and called in. Something like a long, pained whimper caught somewhere in her throat.

She is very much still, unmoving, and feeling nothing at all.

Maybe she can blame the alcohol, the dark, the series of events that saw her hiding away behind a bunch of decorative trees and fighting for breath where the wind blows a little cooler. She can pretend like the stars aren't absent above her, and it doesn't hurt a goddamn bit.

“Yeji, I-” She licks at her lip, ready, willing-

Ryujin grabs at her waist with a hand. Her knuckles white around the black of the railing. And with no further fanfare, she spits it out like venom, with no small measure of shame or guilt or worry for how Yeji will take it - or worse: how she herself would react in the wake of admitting it aloud -

“I love you,” Ryujin says, and it pops out of her mouth as neatly as it had the first thousand times practicing alone in her car.

A blink, and another. The look on Yeji's face is hard and blank, as if she'd understood every syllable, but didn't hear it at all - maybe. Her gaze drops, it trails a path along the long line of Ryujin's pale neck. Of the two ways it could ever go in her head, stuck on loop for as long as she can remember, Ryujin had never considered that Yeji might turn this still and vacant. A sudden feeling, a pull or a grip, starts in the lowest part of Ryujin's guts.

"And not-," she hears her own voice falter, "like-"

Then - it's on the back of Ryujin's head and in her hair, a hand curled at the base of her skull and pulling her head a little downward and her, until their foreheads meet. And before she has a chance to walk it back - to stuff it down where it came from and seal the bottle tight - before she can clench her eyes, shake her head, and spit out anything else like the fact that there was not much that had to change, between them -

Yeji just says plainly: "Yeah, hun. Love you too."

And it's shockingly, the most painful thing - that she just squeezes her hand and pats her back like it's all they could ever be. Without even the wherewithal to reject her properly; to tell her something like "don't ever say that again, god," or "oh shit- Ryujin. Sorry. So, no," or at least to spit back with a scathing laugh: "welcome to the fucking party," like what she always does.

"Yeah." Yeji clears her throat quietly and starts retreating back from the brink - with no apparent aim but to pull away as she draws herself away from the warmth of Ryujin's space, "uh, don't forget to say hello to some of the staffers before they go home, okay?"

Ryujin is left with nothing but the air that follows Yeji's outline; left with her heart sinking into the depths of the night; left trying to make sense of the bitter sting ripping her chest in two.

Left with her own hopelessness - the pining - when Yeji walks away.

To be lonely, to be alone; neither are the same. 

And she hates knowing she is so incredibly both.

-

The worst part is she knows how it looks.

Her pace just on the verge of unsteady, the way her feet come up from the ground: Left foot, the right. The other. Back and back and forth again, faster and then slower and- fuck.

A damsel, severely distressed.

She sits down on the curb. She wants to cry, but even just the way she looks, carrying her heels and struggling with this fucking dress she wishes she'd never bothered with at all - oh, the tabloids would be sure every detail gets pinned under all the wrong lights. A breakdown would only serve to confirm all the right things; it would paint a story for anyone who cares enough to glean from her crestfallen posture and red cheeks that she is yes, a little broken, and that everyone wants to be loved and she's no different - and -

She sucks a breath. This time, when her tears fall, it's a quick, perfunctory action, no show in it.

Her palms rub her face - and she wipes, and wipes, and wipes - smearing at the foundation under her eyes before she takes a long drag of night air. Deep from her core, filling up her lungs until she can't hold anymore. Until it hurts and stings the backs of her ribs - it's enough for a single, fleeting moment. The street is mostly empty; an occasional car will speed by every now and then and it's those few and far between intervals that hurt most, that nearly shatter her: if she can barely do this, alone, how can she possibly be enough for anyone?

Ryujin’s smiling only to hold back her tears, and it fucking stings. She flicks hurriedly past the lock screen of her phone and swipes through the message stream with blurry eyes - there’s a whole host of people that want to know where the fuck she went, if she's safe, why she up and vanished the moment Yeji couldn't keep an eye on her. And well. The girl sighs.

Finds your name in her contacts and puts her thumb right beside it.

It rings exactly three times, and she hates the number. She hates how many things can be associated with that number in those seconds alone.

Four, the pause where you must have had the opportunity, but didn't decide to pick up - just leave it be. Then five - Ryujin is definitely no longer looking forward to any of this.

Six: it stops.

There's this crackle, and through the night -

"Just what brings you here, stranger?"

For an indistinct amount of time, Ryujin drifts in the whirlpool current of that question; it sinks her deeper, into the currents of your voice and the tone and what it's suggesting and demanding from her. All the things your voice is giving her permission to ask of and with and-

Until finally she answers back: "do you ever just, like, wish," a shallow pause for the hitch in her breath, "something, someone was a little more for you- or to- with you-"

The swell of a smile through the receiver; and you can't help your laugh, soft.

"Sometimes," is what you say, "that's just human, don't you think?"

She doesn't understand how something like love or life or desire should be a universal trait.

"Uh, maybe," she shrugs out, and thinks.

"It's pretty normal," you tell her.

Quiet, as if you were right in front of her.

"Look," you start, and you can hear how she sniffs her nose and swipes the pad of her hand right along the side of it, to catch anything stupid and stupid sounding leaking down to her upper lip. "You don't have to. Let's just hang out. Tell me anything."

And for once, she does.

She talks.

-

(The whole story.

From the first time Ryujin realizes the world is never going to be fair - that she shouldn't have to look at herself like she's unlovable because she's seen her friends be held as though they are - or at Yeji like she's completely unattainable or somehow, unlovable, and that someone as amazing as Yeji should have been loved from the moment she was born.

The rest comes through as fragments: the truth of her career. Yeji.

The balcony, the breeze, the bitter-fucking-disappointment.

And what came of that -

When Ryujin isn't a million and one words per minute, it feels, almost, it feels - she'd swear there was less noise in her own head: this thrumming in her brain has settled out; the walls around her and the echo coming off of them - the booming and pulsing - it's, gone.

Because even though there was an indistinct shape for where she had landed, in the aftermath, and nothing much had changed - all that did. You listen, and that alone makes it so you're both exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if this, tonight - you are unsure, if it will actually fix anything - if anything needs fixing at all.)

[dsybouquet]

ceo! ellie - 4

“see the stars, they’re shining bright. everything is alright tonight”

read part 3 here !

ellie woke up by the sound of glasses moving. tiredly, she rolled around, noticing your absence. the light was already beaming in from your bedroom window. how late was it? regardless, ellie got up and made her way down the hallway to meet you in the kitchen.

„morning!“

you smiled, noticeably already running on a cup of coffee. ellie rubber her eyes, groaning a small ‚morning‘ back with her raspy morning voice.

perhaps you had a little heartattack because of how how she manages to sound and look that good while you‘re fumbling around with cups and plates.

„want a coffee?“ you ask while already pouring some in a cup and handing it to her.

ellie, in the meantime, sat down at your kitchen table, watching you clean up your kitchen. she had to admit, you looked adorable while doing so. still in pyjamas, no make up, hair a little messy.. she could get used to that view.

“what time is it?“ she asked after the first few sips of coffee.

you looked at the time on your microwave. „9.45 am“

quickly, ellie pulled out her phone to see if there was anything to be missed. in fact, she had 4 missed calls from dina, 5 from jesse and 1 from an unknown number. she didn’t dare to take a look into her messages app.

„fuck.“, she groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

“what‘s wrong?“ you asked her, sitting down on the other side of the table.

„work. still have to plan an event.“ her hands still supported her head. truth is, ellie didn’t want to. she hated planing and holding speeches on events. she hated the people acting all nice around her when truth was they despised her for taking over joels work.

you nodded, almost forgetting that ellie wasn’t just a girl, she was a business woman.

“i suppose you need to go soon then?”

“yeah.”

ellie looked up to you, her eyes covered in almost a sad glace. the time she spends with you makes her feel so free, like there isn’t a company to run or an event to plan or an problem to solve. its pure sweet freedom, the one she has been seeking for ages.

“if you need fresh clothes, check my closet. this way you don’t need to drive home first.” you said with the softest smile on your lips. maybe you also just liked the thought of her wearing your stuff although it may not fit her perfectly.

“i would just keep that hoodie on, if you don’t mind, dear?”

“of course not!”

the way the petnames rolled off her lips made you weak in the knees.

no matter how stressed ellie felt, she took her time drinking her coffee, keeping up a conversation with you while doing so. she kindly declined breakfast as she wasn’t the person to eat right after getting up.

slowly, you two got ready for the day. brushing teeth and hair, getting changed. ellie enjoyed the slow morning with you - although she knew dina and jesse would fuck her up for this.

together you walked to the beautiful white bentley outside. in your eyes, ellie looked so adorable. the tailored suit pants paired with your oversized university hoodie. she looked so casual, so suit, no black turtleneck - just a pretty girl that spend the night at someone’s place.

“i’ll text you later, okay? maybe we can grab some food?” she asked as gentle as always, smirking slightly.

“i’d love that.”

ellie knew you’d spend your day with your laptop and books, studying for the upcoming exams. maybe a little dinner date would make you feel better after.

she pulled you in a tight hug, stroking your hair lightly.

“see you later, pretty girl.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

“what the fuck took you so long?”

dina was pissed, and maybe she was right about it. after all, miller enterprises almost got sued over some stupid agent.

“sorry.” ellie groaned in return, letting herself drop onto her leather office chair.

rolling her eyes to the back of her head dina called jesse and a few more members of the team to meet in ellies office.

“everything is set. while you were gone enjoying youself, we organised an event hall and a catering service.” jesse explained, putting some contacts and sheets of paper on ellies desk.

“invitations have been sent, celebrities and influencers as well as important business people have been invited. the charity event, as per wish of the andersons, will be dedicated to the saint mary hospital. helping finding a cure for terminal child illnesses.” dina continued, catching ellies attention.

“this is a lovely topic. helping research for kids that need it.. very well done, team.” she admitted, signing the checks that were in between the paper stack jesse put infront of her.

everybody stood around her desk, watching her silently, waiting for an objection or something to change. to their surprise, ellie was calm. soft tempered, reading through every detail.

“next friday?” she then asked, looking up at everybody.

“yessir.”

“fine. we can get everything done by then.”

they kept on discussing business manner some of the lower tier agents for organisations didn’t understand. after all some were too stunned by the fact that they were standing in their ceos office.

“everyone aware of what to do? are we all aligned?”

everybody nooded. some ‘aye sir’ and ‘yes ma’am’ coming from different corners. ellie took that as a clear yes.

“i expect a perfect event. i shall keep my eyes on your hands while doing so. if you need anything, be it budget or approval, send it to your team leader or to jesse to let me sign it, all clear?”

again, nodding and silent approvals.

ellie grinned, sometimes she loved the power.

“you’re all dismissed then.”

everybody, except for dina and jesse, left her office. ellie wished her friends left too. she wasn’t ready for tales about how she was irresponsible by being inactive and not checking her phone.

“didn’t know you went to university?” dina joked, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. “another girl to play and show off with? is it that bartender girl?”

this woman knew how to piss ellie off. she rolled her eyes and got out of her comfortable leather seat.

“first of all, thats none of your business, dina. i didn’t say a word about you and jesse as well.”

“well you just di-“

“jesse, not know!”

jesse laughed demonically, knowing his jokes can be quite a bit.

“and second of all, i am always on top of everything. once i sleep in you act like my fucking mother!”

“didn’t you wish for one?”

if dina wasn’t her best friend, ellie would’ve grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall. it was a button you shouldn’t be pushing when talking to ellie. she was quite reserved about her past, about everything before joel.

„dina that’s enough!“ jesse threw in, getting in between the women.

„i‘ll send you approved contracts to sign.“ dina added before leaving the office.

ellie felt defeated and just looked at jesse.

„can you like leave too? i got work to do.“

„if you need anything let me know.“

„i won‘t but thanks, jesse.“

and so he left her in her huge office by herself. a huge groan left her throat before she activated her coffee machine for another cup. ellie light a cigarette and sat down at her desk. dina always had to pull the family card, opening old wounds that haven’t properly healed inside of ellie yet. there was no time to heal when you had a company to run.

she did her paperwork, read the contacts dina mailed her and approved or declined them. she took boring business calls and attended meetings with the top tier managers.

finally she called it a day and called you on her way to her car.

„hey ellie!“ you sweet voice light up her moof immediately.

“hey dear, can i come pick you up?”

oh, how you hoped she wouldn’t hear your smile in your voice.

“of course ! didnt finish studying yet but it can wait.”

ellie made her way to the garage of the office building, still having you on the phone.

“alright, i will be there in 20!”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

and she was. perhaps your were already waiting outside, wearing your favourite skirt paired with a hoodie and leather jacket, heeled boots underneath.

“hey.” again, she pulled you in a soft hug after getting out of her bentley before opening the door for you to get in.

“so, where are we going?”

“my apartment. im not feeling many people in a restaurant right now.”

you nodded, understanding the burden of work and after studying for what felt like ages, you were happy to not have dinner in a restaurant.

ellie drove off your street, 80s rock playing again. the sun was already down due to the winter nights. still, her car and her aura was so warm.

she stopped in front of an huge building that looked way to expensive to be an apartment building. pressing a little button on a remote control in her car, the doors to an underground garage opened. being an student that’s hardly living on budget, you were stunned.

and before you could notice, you stood in an elevator driving to the top floor of the apartment. the doors opened, and in front of you was probably the most gorgeous apartment you’ve ever seen. plants, led lights and lamp, nerdy posters and figures.

“welcome to my place.”

you were a hooked by the view from the enormous windows all around you. the skyline of the town was beautiful.

she helped you take off your jacket and put it on the hanger - as gentle as always. “thank you.” you smiled.

she showed you around. showing you her kitchen which was an dream, her two bathrooms that were so huge and beautiful, her living room, her bedroom and office. this apartment was an absolute dream. all black and white furniture, color coming from plants and posters.

“ellie this is an insane place.”

“took me a good while to get it like this, thank you.”

she smiled before getting wine glasses and a bottle of way too expensive looking wine.

“i was thinking about ordering pizza, im not a good cook unfortunately.”

“i would love that.”

and so you ordered pizza and drank way too expensive wine, talking, smoking cigarettes and maybe a little bit of weed too. you never felt so full filed in your life - neither did ellie.

“______?”

“hm?” you replied, looking up and taking a sip of the wine. ellie adored the way you look, slightly drunk, eyes full of life. how she wanted to have you for herself, but you hardly have entered the talking stage, did you?

by staring at your pretty eyes, she forgot what to say.

“ellie?” you laughed, putting her back to reality.

“uh yeah ! i wanted to ask uhm.. my company is having a charity event next friday and aah if you’re free, i’d love to have you coming alongsides me.”

you smiled, moving slightly closer to her.

“so like your date?”

ellie started blushing, but hid it well.

“if you wanna call it that.” she smiled in return, ignoring the fact that she was starting to get shy by your energy. the tension was think enough to be cut with a knife. god, you wanted to kiss her right in that spot.

“i’d love to.” you said, close enough for her to grab your face and kiss you. but she didn’t, not yet.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

and with that, merry christmas my loves ! sorry for taking ages. this is not proof read so if anything doesnt make sense, mind i wrote this in the middle of my christmas stress and cooking etc. anyways, one more part is yet to come. <3

love, daisy xx

taglist: @harrysslutsstuff @vwonnie @mikaaj @elliewilliamsgf69 @weridcattty @feelsoseencantdream @honeymoonbbie @katymae12344 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @nakimushiohime @p4ison1vy @keilyskei @angelicagellyka @kerst666 @littlegingerperson

[yyawnjun]

KEEHO AS MAKE UP ARTIST

from my serie: P1HARMONY STUDIO

First a date with a guy (he dumped you), then a date alone (maybe), and all of this for ending up double date (what?). And that's the story of how it happened.

a.n.: tagging my girl for this collab @sobun1est @gfnextdoor, she proofreading this and credits to her for this beautiful banner! ; 1.9k wc for keeho !! ; first time writing for him, hope I get his character !!; fluff ; no warnings ; the first connection between the stories appears, I def recommend you to read the Theos part as well 💋

event taglist : @tkooooop @astro-doll-the-star @kflixnet (send an ask to be added)

Your friend - now Theo's girlfriend - had told you that if you mentioned her name, a certain Keeho would recognize you and surely give you a discount for a makeup appointment. You had accepted the idea and hadn't asked too many questions. You took advantage of the opportunity to have your makeup done by a professional because you were going on your first date with a boy you found on a dating app that same evening. The boy on the date seemed handsome, and your conversations had thrilled you quite a bit... or maybe you were just looking for company and were fooling yourself into thinking you were falling for each other.

One morning, you headed to the salon "P1HARMONY", where you trusted that a certain Keeho would do your makeup. You promised yourself that you would go as soon as the place opened and that, if I found a free spot, you would return in the late afternoon to do your makeup.

You went in and immediately approached the receptionist to ask for information. While the secretary was busy on the phone, you sat down in the waiting room.

Not too long after, you notice two guys went out. One of them was Theo! The tall guy with the dark black hair and the clothing that showed off some tattoos on his back, the man that your friend had been seeing for a week, the one about whom she had told you so much, and he went along with a tall man with platinum blonde hair. All that was visible about his strong physique was a white tank top that flaunted his arm muscles. He had a bright smile and a nicely defined jawline. He had sunglasses on his head and was dressed in loose pants.

Those two guys had gone out and shortly after came back with some coffee. They gave one to the secretary who now was free and ready to talk with you. Her eyes and smile were so calm, that you almost didn't notice Keeho's eyes on you and his little smirk as he looked you over.

You started explaining the situation to her, how you would need full make-up for the same evening, Keeho immediately intervened in the discussion and introduced himself as "the best makeup artist" in the shop.

While he was talking to you and boasting about his skills, you had some time to observe his face better and notice the light make-up he had on and that made his eyes and smile stand out so much. He had a very light pink eyeshadow that recalled the blush and a touch of mascara, and his lips were done with nude makeup.

As soon as he had finished speaking, you had taken the opportunity to ask him if he was available that evening.

“Yeah, sure. See you later" he replied while he gave you a quick wink before going to his room.

You suddenly blushed and said thank you before leaving.

You were now far from the store, but what was that heartbeat? What was that knot in your throat when he spoke to you? What was that smile that you couldn't take away?

You thought about it all morning while you were going to work. You had managed to balance your studies with a part-time job, and even though you were on vacation you had promised a friend of yours that you would replace her for that shift. You were supposed to stay there for a few hours, then run to get changed, and finally show up in front of Keeho at 6:30 to get your makeup done. You were supposed to meet the Tinder guy at 8:00. Everything was under control.

..or so you thought. The work shift turned out to be harder than usual, so you rushed to get to your apartment, but at that moment none of the clothes you had on seemed to fit you. You had begun to feel sad and had been overcome with bad thoughts. As if that wasn't enough, the Tinder guy had texted you that he would no longer be able to go out, leaving you on that difficult evening alone and without an explanation. You called your friend, and you stayed on the call for a while. Unfortunately, she was away and couldn't go out with you that evening. But she recommended you go on a date with yourself.

You knew it would be difficult, maybe a little uncomfortable, but necessary. After getting back up, you were prepared for your solo date.

You started choosing what you would wear and opted for a simple and comfortable dress, one that was able to enhance your body.

You packed your bag with the essentials, added a book to keep you company, and went out to do your makeup.  Well, you were on a date alone, but you wanted to shine - and a little help with your makeup wouldn't have hurt.

You arrived early at the salon and sat down in the waiting room. You took your time admiring the location and noticed a girl in a corner. She must be a customer too, you thought.

She was smiling at her phone, and shortly after, she looked up, feeling your eyes on her. You immediately shifted your attention and concentrated on the room to not scare the girl.

“Hey..uhm can I ask you for some advice?” the girl asked you shyly.

You immediately nodded and smiled at her, so she quickly came to sit next to you and showed you some ideas of henna tattoos that she wanted to get.

She asked you for advice on which one to get, and you immediately started to recommend the prettiest ones, even though you immediately admitted that all the ones she had found were gorgeous! As you two got to talking, the girl's shyness became visible in her flushed cheeks and her stuttering as she revealed that the major reason she wanted to get henna there was to get to know that boy— Intak, the henna artist.

You reassured her and encouraged her until the last moment when Intak came to tell her that the room was ready.

She smiled kindly at you and wished you good luck for your solo date.

While waiting, you took the time to appreciate that knowledge and smile at the kindness of that girl.Shortly after, the receptionist called your name and gave you the room number.

As soon as you entered, you noticed the huge amount of mirrors. They were along all the walls of the circular room, and many lights allowed for complete illumination.

“Hey, you are Yn right?” Keeho, who was standing in the middle of the room, next to a whole cart of makeup, said to you.

“Yes, it’s me,” you answered.

After he gestured for you to sit down, you took a little more time to admire the beauty of the guy in front of you. His white hair contrasted with his tanned face, he had a big smile and high cheekbones. His arms were athletic, and his eyes were bright as they looked at you.

“So, you like what you see?” he asked you.

Since he didn’t add a direct object, that rhetorical question could have referred to anything. The room? The makeup cart? The photos of his makeup hanging on the walls? Him?

“Yeah” you answered, trying to remain vague, but at the same time not lying. Everything in that room was amazing.

After you sat down on the chair, he sat next to you, leaning on the windowsill with his arms crossed. That position in particular highlighted his firm arms and, at the same time, his height compared to you.

“Did you have any ideas for today’s makeup?”

“Nothing specific, I thought I would trust you”

“Great choice! here’s what I thought I would do” and immediately he started showing you ideas and explaining complicated things about the techniques he would use. Even though he had only seen you the morning before, you noticed how he had already understood your strong points, which he complimented at every step he explained.

You were very confused, and slowly you were getting lost in his words and expressions. You tried to nod and ask where you could, but in the end, you gave up.

“So, for what occasion are we doing this makeup?” he asked you as he started to take out all the necessary makeup.

“Tonight I am going out on a date,”

“Lucky him”

“Actually-”

“Or her”

“I’ll go alone”

And his expression in his eyes softened, his smile brightened and he whispered “That’s great”.

He then started with the various products to put on your makeup, first a good skin care, then the primer, a very light foundation, concealer...

In the beginning, he explained each step, but then slowly, his voice faded so he could concentrate. You forced yourself to close your eyes when he was too close. He had never gotten too close, but the slightest contact made you shiver.

“Oh, I can already see that you’re blushing. Maybe we’ll skip the blush step” he told you smiling.

“It’s because I am hot…”

“Sure sure” he replied and moved to finish the makeup.

You were beginning to feel a little melancholy during those moments when he was adjusting the final steps, drawing a pencil outline around his lips, and carefully applying a light gloss to them. It was nice. He was nice. You would have liked to know that boy better, you thought.

He was about to announce that he was finished when you heard a knock on the door. The girl from before—the one with the appointment for a henna tattoo—appears shortly after the door is opened.

“Hey, sorry, we’re still finishing here,” Keeho said, annoyed.

“I am sorry, can I talk to the girl?” she asked you.

You immediately stood up, after Keeho had given you a sign of approval.

You went out into the hallway for a second, and she immediately apologized for interrupting you. She then explained to you that she had asked Intak out that evening for a drink after dinner and that he had said yes. And from there, your eyes lit up. You were so happy for her.

“Would you like to join us…with Keeho..double date?” she added at the end of her speech.

"Oh wait, why? I am sure Intak would love to spend some time alone with you. And you'd like it too." you replied.

"Sure, but uhm Intak told me that Keeho, or do you- uhm so... I am so bad at lying."

"Are you trying to set us up?"

"WHAT??.. how did you know?"

"I didn't-"

"Ok! Let's go back five seconds, where you don't suspect anything. Can I trust you with the double date?"

"Well"

"I see you blushing for him"

"Okay let's do it."

“Perfect, Intak will text Keeho soon that we’re going out together.”

And after a sweet smile, you both went back to your rooms. You took a few minutes to recover and try to hide your blush. As soon as you entered, you saw him typing on his phone. He immediately looked up, and his smile returned.

“So double date, huh?” he said to you.

You blushed again. It was going to be a long night.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #27

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 2 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

Cosmo talking about the Big Wand going down: Better check with I.T. Hazel: Just I.T.? No fancy fairy name?

why is this so funny to me

Y'know... I've have a post in my drafts for ages that mocks Anti-Cosmo's castle entrance for not being wheelchair-friendly (because the road is covered in spikes). If he took over and then put spikes on this new road, I'm gonna lose it.

OH, I NAILED my "After thinking about it, this is my final answer" prediction. Dev is in the house! oh, good gravy.

This is the second time he's tried to be a king, and I think it's funny he hasn't tried to be a company president or anything. Not fantasy enough for him.

It's stupid funny to me that Dev just turned 10 and he's got impressive muscles when he flexes. what is this child doing- bench pressing solid gold??

We've been robbed of Dev wishing himself into one of the puzzle games he likes and getting buried under, like... Tetris blocks and having to claw his way out.

That might make a good 'fic; I feel like "wishing to be inside an app" is very correct for him.

??? whaaat does he have? He's got portable wishes of some kind? Is it a shooting star? oh, goodness. Let me think, let me think...

!! Crocker has these in the finale of Jimmy Timmy Power Hour 1. He throws them at the ground near fairy guards to poof them into animals. They're grenades. lmao, Dev got into the Fairy Armory.

Canonically, the Fairy Armory is the only place in Fairy World that still has power during outages, so... epic magic fight with weapons?? Ooooh, I hope so!

Irep is back, I knew it!! Part of me suspected he wouldn't be here because he's not really known for being a team player, but I'm glad he is :) Let's go Anti-Fairies!!

I'm delighted Anti-Cosmo isn't taking lead. Also, for some reason it's hilarious to me that Irep is focused on Hazel and not interested in addressing Cosmo or Wanda. He used to greet them as Auntie and Uncle, and now he's like "I don't need their approval or love."

Uh-oh... Has he sorted out his needy issues? If he's too old for naps and we can't bribe him with hugs, how will we defeat him??

I wanted to see if he uses their honoraries in "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" (since he does it when he's being polite and I knew he was offering food). He doesn't, but I like how Wanda straight-up fed her nephew an apple that puts him to sleep until his true love kisses him, then looks dead at the viewer and says "And then we all lived happily ever after." Is the implication that no one will ever love him, so he's unconscious forever?? omg. Wanda's very black and white view of things is so incredibly funny to me, especially since she grew up in a mob family.

I'm excited to see Dev and the Anti-Fairies. Who would win: the species that invented papercuts, or a little boy who longs for lemonade?

Are you telling me Cosmo and Anti-Cosmo are BOTH intimidated by Irep now? Either this is about to be super funny, or they've switched.

Did Anti-Cosmo finally step up his parenting? Not out of the question; in Season 10, Foop was in time-out for putting spiders in his spaghetti.

(How ironic, considering Foop liked eating spiders).

I rewound and Cosmo jumps when the magic hits, before he sees Irep, so he's not necessarily afraid of him. Also, keeping my fingers crossed for anti-family interactions. I'm really looking forward to a face-off between Irep and Peri; their banter is my favorite and we didn't get much in "Best of Luck."

I'm so glad that despite changing his name, Irep presents himself with the same flair he always did. He is the same person...

omg, his little cufflinks. He's adorable.

For some reason, I've called him "posh British boy" in two previous posts, but... idk why, because he's literally never been posh and I know that. I'm glad he looks like his aesthetic is "bad boy with the tiniest detail of fancy."

I hope he's still friends with Sammy Sweetsparkle :) Maybe they're in a gang. I know there's 0 chance of Sammy being in this episode, but can you just imagine if Foop took out his wallet and there's a picture of Sammy in it.

Actually... if he's got a little metal circle there, I think that implies his jacket is closer to denim than leather. Lemme check......

OH, interesting... Yeah, he and Sammy don't match.

I don't say it enough, but it's really freakin' funny to me that Foop spends a distressing amount of "Certifiable Super Sitter" following Sammy or spying on Sammy and/or reacting to everything Sammy says. He's just Like That... Like, I enjoy the implication that of all the places Foop could go when his parents canonically left him unsupervised for the week, he likely chose to hit up the Turner place in spite of his hatred for Poof because Sammy is there. Silly.

Anyway...

Dev: Yeah, yeah, yeah... and Irep. Joint conquerors of Fairy World.

OMFG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Was I RIGHT that Anti-Cosmo isn't even at the takeover!? Local introvert hates leaving his house and never wanted Fairy World anyway; more at 11. I'll be there!!

Plot twist, Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda don't actually show up in this episode because they're busy flirting while Irep's away.

I clocked the design aesthetic of the taken-over Fairy World as "This is Irep and Dev as partners; Anti-Cosmo wouldn't do this" so hard. crying. how did I do that. it's not getting better than this.

"Let's get DEV-ious!!"

dlkfgm, once again losing it at Dev using his first name rather than the "Dimm" part of his surname when he makes puns. He's a Dimmadome, but... he's kind of his own twig on the tree.

It is unreasonably funny to me that Irep's wand is so heavy considering he had massive muscles as a child after his Abracatraz imprisonment ("Spellementary School" & "Timmy's Secret Wish").

Also, I am FASCINATED by the decision to give Irep one little zipper tab that hangs off his jacket. Impeccable.

I love this team already. These are two people who are both known for:

- Coming from upper class families - Having parent-related abandonment issues - Not showing a lot of restraint - Only showing restraint when they've REALLY gone too far

Hmm... Oh boy, let me think. We know Dev's [previous] line was that he didn't like his dad shocking people's brains for money, with Dev having strained feelings even when he was trying to convince himself the shocks could be good ("You can help kids!") And he did feel bad about fighting with Hazel, though he's definitely Going Through the Wringer right now.

And Irep's line in the OG series is that he was totally down for:

- Tormenting his parents - Annihilating Crocker for not inviting him to his house party (whom he hilariously calls Denzel when he's mad at him) - Pointing his school's playground slide into the void - Sending Cosmo and Wanda on a dinner date to a black hole - Poof dying (despite the fact their lives were tied together)

- but he wouldn't allow anyone to harm Chloe, who finally introduced him to hugs.

He made it very clear he wasn't willing to face Vicky to save his own life, even on the verge of death, but he'd do it for her or for chicken cordon bleu. And she's not here, and we're all out of chicken cordon bleu. Uh-oh…

- Would Irep rate Hazel hugs 10/10? Inquiring minds need to know. - Is Dev bribing Irep with hugs? Or is Irep just here for the chaos and assurances that Dev's having more fun with him than Peri? - Is Irep bribing Dev with hugs? Are they pumping each other up with positive affirmations?? Go king; continue the healing cycle!

If Irep's parents show up, I hope he's on good terms with his mom, who used to pack chicken nuggets and anti-venom in his lunch box :)

Dev's faith in his ability to not fall off his O-pairs makes me nervous every time he's ever been onscreen.

His dad might let him down, but the O-pairs never have.

[ cnt'd - #Long post ]

All I've been thinking about for ages is an AU where Dev and Mikey Munroe (Bunsen Is a Beast) switch drones for a day, so Mikey's parents freak out that they can't monitor their son 24/7 and meanwhile, Dev just... can't get his dad's attention despite the two-way microphone and camera screen. Also, Mikey spends most of his time making noises into the O-pairs' fans. It's always been my headcanon that Mikey's parents installed the Buxaplenty's and Leadly's security systems (hence the buttons releasing different dogs & the lethal lightning bolts) since I think "ooh, rich people want us" helps justify why his parents are gone for months or years at a time when we know their job is designing home security, so basically... all the cool rich people use them. I actually have a WIP of Mikey and Remy playing near the Buxaplenty train tracks when they were little, but I never found a plot point strong enough to carry it to the end. Anyway, I've been waiting to see what the Dimmadomes have in terms of security, but it's... nothing yet. Plot twist, Dale has trust issues even with the people installing security?? ... I think he'd be friends with Mikey's parents. Maybe. Actually, I might need a 'fic about Dale having a meltdown when he goes home for the first time in 7 years and doesn't trust that Vicky won't sneak in to get him. He needs the world's best security team. It's two terrible parents afraid of literally everything. Yes, they ditched their kid for this. Don't worry about it. y'know... It's really messed up that Mikey's parents are terrified of everything, but they leave their 12-year-old home alone with the pets for months or years at a time, "but it's fine because they're spying on him 24/7 and sometimes give him gifts (like medicated wipes)." His dad is implied to have a fear of germs and I've always wondered if that plays into them not being anywhere near Mikey... Plot twist- We pull a "My Gym Partner's a Monkey" (where the reason we don't see Adam Lyon's parents is because they're severely allergic to animal hair and Adam has to thoroughly wash when he's home and they can't go to school events), but it's Mikey's parents fleeing Muckledunk because they're either allergic or afraid of Beasts. They left their son... Okay, I just checked my notes and I have a line here that says "Mikey's obsession with soft things like animals, beards, and blankets is probably because his parents never touch him." help??

Anyway, I think an AU where Dale hovers over Dev 24/7 and is still a terrible dad would be funny. Instead of neglect, it's obsession... Especially at this age since Dev's as old as Dale was when his trauma started.

... Is Dale putting distance between himself and Dev on purpose because Dev looks exactly like him and is now the age when Dale's life came crashing down? idk if Dale had access to mirrors back then, but that's gotta be weird.

crying at Irep waiting for his cue to pull Dev's flashbacks down from the top of the screen. They rehearsed this. Painfully in-character (In "Secret Wish," Foop claims he waited 10 minutes outside so he could burst in at a dramatic moment).

The way Irep twists his legs gives me Anti-Cosmo vibes.

Rare "Winn without cap" spotted in the wild.

Dev has the room oriented the wrong direction and in doing so, he forgot to include the door. Emotionally, he's stuck in this room. lmao.

Maybe it's a class that's not Guzman's since we know from "Multiverse of Jenkins" that these kids do attend other classes. But... Dev, what's goin' on, buddy?

INCREDIBLY funny to me that Bev sits directly in front of Dev? I gotta go back and fact-check that sometime. Has he been harboring his crush on her because she's right there? That's great!

??? If she DOESN'T sit there then I have to assume Dev is just so Bev-centric that he WANTS her to be there, and that's very funny. Go chase your sporty crush, rich boy. I support you.

Okay, I went back, and it seems his canon seat is between Bev and Kev (with Kev behind Hazel), but Kev vaporizes when we need to center Hazel and Dev onscreen at the same time (such as Dev faking sick and Hazel glaring at him). Oh my glob, he's another witch... Dev, embrace your ancestral witch-hunting for me, plz and ty. It would be funny... /checks my witch notes as a joke and screeches to a halt. Oh my goodness, I could finally get a Soil Tribe child in my roster... I have their magic down as "causes host to fade unnoticed into the background," and it would be very funny to do something magical with the child model. ??? On my first watch of "28 Puddings Later," I don't think I saw that scene of Dev falling over and losing his shades when the pudding throne collapses. Must've missed it while taking notes. That's cute.

I like how Dev's memories are 2D like the photos we've seen throughout the series. Also, Hazel's so dang cute.

I'm glad Dale's pants look the same in both the New Wish and old 2D style despite no FOP character ever wearing anything with that many dots.

I like that Dev's hair is much shinier than his dad's, implying Dale still has the dullness that comes with being soft instead of slick.

- I'm assuming this means either Dev's hair is gelled or he gets that from the maternal side of his family? - idk man, this is very in line with my "Dev's mom is a Leadly" headcanon... At this point, I can't NOT torment him with two very rich and extremely messed-up sides of his family... They both have extreme branding and weird fixations and funky buildings and run big businesses that have brought in incredible amounts of money and they like tech and call people the wrong names... do you see what I see...

I'm DELIGHTED Dale's hair curls up in the back. I've been so sad that he lost his tuft when he grew up. This is clever.

!!! oh yeah, Dale has his dad's stripe! Technically he and Dev both have the stripe, but I love the subtle differences in their hair. While collecting screenshots for an earlier post, I noticed the hair above their ears is combed in different directions, like this:

- with Dale showing the stripe much more clearly than Dev does. I like the implication that Dev's stripe is gold. That's really cute.

I checked, and the gold streak does seem to be in the place he has the Dimmadome family stripes in his 2D form (Eyebrow level). Neat!!

Aw, Irep's a big boy! And his hair grew out blue!! Parents' genes came out kickin'. I did wonder. I think it's funny his mustache and goatee are still black.

Despite losing the black hair, he's not yet immune from "Irep, are you sure one of your parents wasn't actually pixie?" allegations. This is stupid funny to me... In my Cloudlands AU, the Anti-Fairies are always dunking on him for having black hair like Anti-Cosmo's ex-wife, but no one can say anything because unlike Anti-Cosmo's first heir (Talon), Foop was born with the iris virus (colored eyes), so he's "been accepted by the nature spirits" and is heir apparent.

... Seeing this many colored eyes is giving me incredible amounts of anxiety, but it would not be appropriate to clarify why out of context. I like the guy with hair over his eyes and a big hat.

Is Irep leading the charge these days? Do the Anti-Fairies take orders from him?

Did Anti-Cosmo step down!? Because considering how much he hates conflict, I wouldn't be slightly surprised, omg...

I think it's funny that if Dev uncovers any official documents or watches memory clips that flashback to Irep's past crimes, he'd probably be like "Why is there no paper trail for this Irep guy? who tf is Foop?"

WAS that his experience of browsing the anti-web? I have to assume it was- I can't imagine Anti-Fairy World would cross his path without Foop's name coming up.

?? Considering that in my previous post, I said I couldn't think of any reason for Anti-Cosmo to desire taking over Fairy World unless he managed to score the earth and/or godkids out of it...

I'm so glad Dev just dropped "They have to take over Fairy World so they can rule Earth." slkdfj?? okay...

Irep: Now we can rule BOTH! Anti-Cosmo: That just sounds like scoring godkids with extra work.

THEM!! I am once again so intrigued by the lore that A.J. went into parascience and is following in Crocker's footsteps?? You've no idea how much I need to know what the A.J.-Crocker relationship is.

crying at Irep making a peace sign when he gets in front of the camera with Dev. Doesn't he do that in his profile pic on Dark Laser's phone? He's literally the same person he's always been. I missed him so much.

PLEASE do not tell me Dev's full name is Development "Devin" Dimmadome. The quote marks Dale puts around "Devin" are making me lose it.

Dale's partner: Honey, can you stop thinking about business for 5 minutes so we can pick a name for our son? Dale, who comes from a family that usually just slaps their name on things: I got this.

?? I'd LOVE to know what's going on with Dev's mom. Did she die in childbirth and had no say in naming her son, and Dale took over from there? Is she alive, but divorced from and/or passive around him?

Like... I have to assume she had the most exquisite prenatal care through a rich family like this, especially if we assume she also came from a wealthy family cough- Leadlys.

Holy flipping plot twist, does Dev not have a mom at all? He looks exactly like his extraordinarily wealthy dad. Was he just cloned so Dale could pass the business on someday? Did Dale just kinda buy him and wait for the surrogate to hand him over, and he never formed any attachment to him as a baby because he had the O-Pairs / au pairs raise him? lmao!!!

Traumatized beyond belief for 7 years by a girl his age so he trusts absolutely no one and never learned what a healthy relationship was like even with a partner, let alone his son. smh.

Actually, it's very funny to think of him and Vicky splitting up. Like, it was extremely toxic and not romantic in the slightest, but she straight-up identified him when she saw his face in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" even though logically, that would have been 70 years since she was last close to him. She probably knew him pretty well, especially since his hair has changed.

Timmy can't have frozen the timestream any earlier than Channel Chasers in Season 4 when he learns he'll lose Cosmo, Wanda, and his memories when he grows up, which is the reason he cites for freezing time in "Timmy's Secret Wish," and that was 50+ years. It's been 20 more on top of that for Dale to grow up and his son to turn 10. We know Vicky and Doug Dimmadome very, very occasionally crossed paths in later seasons (Vicky tries to sell him the Stryker Z in Season 3's "Engine Blocked").

If anyone cares, this (Season 3) is presumably where Dale grew up unless Doug took him to Dimmadelphia.

Like?? Something about the fact that Vicky and Dale are the same age is funny as heck to me. New Wish canon heavily implies Vicky's been taking advantage of Dale since they were 9, and they might've been friends once upon a time (despite the fact that in both New Wish and the OG series, she can never remember who the Dimmadomes are, lol).

There's no way Doug did a good job of looking for him, or Vicky would've turned him in for reward money. I wonder if Dale had a history of sneaking off to play with Vicky and just never came home one day.

Do you think that after her bossing him around for 7 years, Dale was really messed up and didn't know how to make choices for himself?

Oh, that's awful!! Who would write a 'fic about him running away to look for Vicky and beg her to take him back because he doesn't know how to be a person anymore and needs schedules and instruction? Who would do that?? I'm fascinated by their dark, twisted, and incredibly under-explained vibe. Haha, I'm in danger...

oh no, and Dev even told us his father relies on algorithms over his own thoughts, and we KNOW Dale was upset his publicity team said he should talk to people face to face instead of sending the O-Pairs or hiding behind holograms... A snarky Dev told us he thinks "talking to people isn't [Dale's] thing..." I'm connecting the dots...

hey wtf. does Dale have issues with scraping by in the dirt and dark with limited food and water and nothing to his name for 7 years and that's why he freaks out when he loses money? He can't handle the thought of not having a house??

Holy flip, I wish he'd communicate his trauma to his son, but I'm yelling that we keep seeing hints that he's withholding things from Dev. Like ?? Dale explains his thoughts all the time (in monologue fashion), but he's clearly keeping some things under wraps since Dev didn't have any concept for who Vicky was or why she knew his dad.

I genuinely think Dale doesn't want Dev to know the details. Dev didn't even seem to have a good grasp of why he isn't allowed lemonade, or at least that was my read considering how grumpy he was about it.

omg, this is horrible. who would write a 'fic about Dale taking his son camping and then slipping off to have a total meltdown where Dev won't see. who would do that.

Like, I think at this point they're so rich, you'd have to assume they're not at risk of losing everything if Dale took time off work, but we KNOW he's stuck on that schedule Vicky raised him with (working on Saturdays, which we see him do multiple times), and we KNOW he's always trying to claw his way up despite having the money to buy literally anything he could ever want.

And we KNOW Dale's big thing is that he loses his entire flippin' mind when the money slows down ("You still making sales?" / "Yes, but they're dropping, Dev!") and he's willing to stalk and hurt people to keep it coming in.

Y'know, this is continuing my theory that Doug Dimmadome is probably dead. I legit think Dale lost his support system (possibly around Dev's birthday considering how clingy he is about boots and says they came into his life on that day, plus the golden boots with the "In honor" plaque he has in his house). Daddy's not bailing him out of this one...

Lovely that Dale's first words to Dev after finding out he's taken over Fairy World are "My son." Oh, NOW he wants to talk...

I also find out my son is working with the fey and immediately drop his full legal name.

Why is Dale both the worst person alive and the only dad ever? I need to flatten him with a cruise liner (carnally).

Happy boy... (Dev, don't trust him.)

omfg, Irep's not buying this for a second.

?? I feel like it makes things WORSE that Dale seems at least a little aware of how upset Dev is about the boots? "I'm so proud of my son; it almost makes me want to throw away my boots." - There's no way he doesn't know he's been screwing with Dev's head for the last 5 months. omg.

- Hey, does Dale treat Dev this way because Doug made Dale feel like he was playing second fiddle to his giant hats?? I can't help but notice this whole city has a hat theme, yet Dale doesn't seem to care for hats at all... which is interesting, because we know Dimmadelphia existed way before Doug got here. Doug in my theory: /died 10 years ago Dale: If I touch Dad's hats or add boot statues around the city, he'll totally kill me. - ?? I guess the alt theory is that Dale put all the hat stuff up as memorials to his dad, which doesn't sound far-fetched since again... he keeps THIS in his house:

... Huh. I guess it could be a trophy for Dale instead of a memorial. That's another relevant time to use "In honor." What does it say about me that "omg his dad is dead and he bronzed his boots as a keepsake" was my first thought when I saw this in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" and not "Dale is successful of his own merit"? Obsessed with the implication that Dev's brand image is his sunglasses... Three Dimmadomes go down in history: The Hat, The Boots, and The Shades.

I still think Dale should have a gun. Not to be helpful; just to keep things spicy...

Please go to the Fairy Armory: the one place in Fairy World that canonically keeps power during blackouts. I am begging. I feel like his Southern daddy would want this for him. Doug had a flamethrower.

Is Dev still holding those magic grenades, and what would happen if someone tackled him in a hug?

SDLJKFSDKLFJSDF I'm on the floor. Did I call it? No way... But is Anti-Cosmo only going to show up now that Dev's giving godkids to Anti-Fairies??

Irep: Yo, I'm going to take over Fairy World; anyone want anything? Anti-Cosmo: The same thing I always want: a new child. Irep: wtf

Oh, all that time I spent speculating instead of actually watching the episode the night I started was so worth it. I was really nervous people would grump at me for how I see Anti-Cosmo, but now I feel like I was set up for a slam dunk.

Also, I like how Dev's taken over Jorgen's office. I didn't notice at first, but that's clever.

Dale is so proud despite the fact Dev taped his mouth shut and tossed him aside. That's so funny...

omg, this pit looks dark.

Will Dev torment his dad with lemonade? Is Dale going into the dark torture pit that swings open from the top like a trapdoor, which parallels his underground trauma to a T, or is that going too far?? Is Dev going to dump on his dad about Vicky? Will Dale freak out when he realizes he accidentally hired his abuser of 7 years to babysit his son? Will Dale be joining Club Redheads Who Didn't Get Mindwiped? (I hope not, because Vicky's in it). Will Dev bully his father while he has all this power and then wipe his mind?? So many questions. Find out next time...

[nipuni]

Time for an old school blog post, Hello!

Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊

Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.

Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.

This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!

Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!

On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.

Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!

We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.

Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂

OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!

Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!

Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!

[novella-november]

So uh, how are you planning to enforce the "no AI" rule? What do you plan to do if a participant is accused of using unacceptable software?

There's no submissions and no enforcement.

If someone is posting the in #Novella November & #NovellaNovember tags:

clearly-AI generated content (such as AI-generated book covers)

bragging about using AI

Talking about how they used x AI program to make X part of the book

etc

Then I can guarantee you they're going to simply be blocked by a few thousand writers en masse.

Probably they will get at least a few people trying to talk to them about the harm that AI does, and better alternatives that don't mass-steal from a few million unconsenting people--

alternatives like:

finding someone to partner with to discuss your ideas for brainstorming instead of asking an AI chatbot

.

Joining a "secret gift" group where everyone digitally "pulls a name out of a hat" or is randomly selected to make a cover for someone else's book idea

.

commissioning an actual artist for a cover

.

youtube tutorials on how to use GIMP as a free Photoshop alternative to make your own cover, with links to sites such as Pexels that have free stockphotos for anyone to use

.

Choosing a lower, more manageable daily word count goal if 1k or 500 is too out of line with your work schedule/ability to write on your own instead of resorting to AI generation to try to make up the difference out of anxiety

.

finding alternative medias to 'write' with, such as using an app on your phone or the in-built accessibility features on Windows that let you use your voice to type, so if you can't physically type or write with your hands or other limbs, you can instead dictate your novel outloud, which would also work if you are often away from home or can't actively use your phone but *can* record your voice passively as you work with your hands on another task :)

so...... yeah.

Literally the only things that would happen if someone tries to use AI in the #Novella November and #NovellaNovember tags would be the writing community collectively:

attempting some outreach; education is key to realizing the harm being done, after all! Maybe the person just doesn't know any better, and felt like that was their only option to reach their goal.

blocking the person, and if they're actively malicious in their AI use (such as fully knowing how much it harms writers/artists, how much of it is based on plagarism, or actively going out of their way to steal other people's work) people will probably start warning others about them as well so they can be blocked in advance, the same as other people who are harmful to communities.

This is a community initiative, spearheaded by this blog purely because I came up with the idea first and want to make sure that, at least to start out and as long as I can manage it, the community is the key part of being supporting and caring of each other, because billion dollar tech companies and those who are swayed by their money sure as heck aren't going to stand with us.

If someone is ""accused of using unacceptable software"" ..... they're just gonna get blocked if they're posting AI generated content, like everyone else who posts AI generated content get blocked by the community at large as they're encountered.

I'll repeat again: this is a community initiative, not an organization. There's no submissions people are sending anywhere to "confirm" word counts; --

Only:

people posting their celebrations and woes in the tag,

posting their frustrations and questions,

receiving answers and advice from the community,

sharing art and snippets, making covers, making decorative goal cards,

No AI is allowed in Novella November -- if people are posting or bragging about using AI generated content, they're simply going to be announcing themselves to thousands of writers (plus everyone who follows those writers) that they're a good person to block and never interact with 🤷

[pebblemae]

there is something to be said for candle run burnout for sure, like it now takes so many candles to get things that you want, as well as the pricing for paid items of course. The entire thing just makes me wonder if sky: cotl should follow in the footsteps of animal crossing: pocket camp and just make a paid game with no in-app purchases. I think the team are trying to tackle the CR burnout tho with different mechanics such as revamping daily quests (personally i don't like the revamp as it is now, but it's clearly in its early stages!). There's just...a lot going on and it would be better in my opinion if there was no IAP at all, especially because I've seen players be weird in the past about it, like trying to justify paid items by talking about veteran status (idk how veteran status correlates with being able to pay for IAP). Overall I think there needs to be a revamp of sky as a whole.

Again, this got long. I have thoughts.

Yeah, IAP is a really tricky topic. On one hand, it's kinda how free games make money, so I personally get not cutting it out completely. On the other, it really seems like ALL the good cosmetics are IAP.

I mean, in Days of Sunlight, there are 7 IGC items (50 Tickets, 384C, and 30 H). and 11 IAP items ($200+ USD). What's worse is most people can't even afford all the IGC items so you end up getting 3-5 items out of the total 18. For a game that's a lot about cosmetic collection, that sucks for the average player!

I'm not personally bothered but the 20+ ticket values. If you're more or less collecting, you can get them fairly easily. You can miss almost half the days and still get the two items. (84 tickets over 14 days. 50 tickets for the two cosmetics. you can miss 5, almost 6 days and still have enough) I have more to say on Ticket Cosmetics, but I'll save that for later.

I wouldn't be as bothered by this insane IAP to IGC item split if they were affordable and if IGC items as a whole stood up to the design and demand of the IAP. Apparently, the earrings were GOING to be IGC but were last minute switched with the floaty. There are SO few earrings, so making them IAP really sucks. It feels like the umbrella problem now. (of the 7 umbrellas, only 2 are IGC as TS)

I would love to see the IAP disappear altogether too, but that's just not realistic. From a financial standpoint for the company, as well as just in general. People hate them, but people still buy them. If anything I could maybe see a price reduction in IAP but with that comes the fact that now those who paid the higher price were "scammed" and that could create legal problems.

I have no idea what TGC could do, but for starters, I'd ask to lower IGC item prices and make fewer IAP items. Whether that will happen or not, I'm not optimistic, unfortunately.

[presidentkamala]

New Year's resolutions blogging

POSITIVE GOALS: Trying to make these more measured & achievable in a chill way. Like my marker for "achievement" in the new year is below the earth's surface lmao. Im trying not to be too ambitious with most goals but still feel like im making progress, and im specifically trying for goals that will get me offline and that are abt improving my focus and spending time doing deep work

practice and improve my cursive by the end of 2025: create a writing sample on jan 1st, target regular practice for at least 30 minutes 4 times a week, and then recreate the writing sample quarterly

Journal weekly. Goal is 52 entries minimum by the end of the year

Learn to draw a bird (lol). Either take a (free!!) class or check out an audobon to practice. Pick a bird and draw it in the start of the year, and quarterly. Be able to draw one from a few different angles. Bonus points for color

Exercise: this ones tricky because i either go super hard or do nothing and now im too OLD to treat my joints this way. I guess the idea is to get SOME form of physical activity every day for 30 minutes that ISNT walking bc i already average abt 4 miles a day all told and i could just walk forever once i get started. At first I was like. Ok maybe i should commit to the bar method or lifting or doing a c25k program, but honestly thee minute i lock in for more than a week i start getting frustrated & bored lmao. Classpass?? But that means WAY too much active management & planning on my end. Maybe 75 soft???? Except i would definitely tweak it if i do it.

Complete a single, long term volunteering project. More to come on this im thinking less of organizing and more of like a more engaged involvement with a local initiative or something. Either Immigration or Reproductive Health (por que no los dos but im trying to goal set REALISTICALLY lmaoo)

NEGATIVE GOALS: so I have 5 goals i want to dedicate my time to which means that time is going to have to come from somewhere. These are things i have GOTT to stop doing:

SCREENTIME SCREENTIME SCREENTIME.....its embarrassing. Its atrocious. My daily screentime is nearly all the time im awake, bc i keep putting on youtube vids to keep me company or using youtube to listen to music or im at work or im watching tv. Im not even really on any other socials im literally just.....trying to stay distracted so i dont have to be with my own thoughts for any amt of time bc (tmi incoming) if i spend more than 5 minutes in silence i burst into tears lol. Anyway the goal here is to give myself a 3 hr limit for youtube and tv per weekday (i know i know but i have a 2 hr round trip commute to work and a lunch hr thrown in there). This doesnt include audiobooks, workout vids, or music/podcasts

NO MORE APPS. I have moved past the need for apps. NO more doordash, no more Uber. Im going to just freaking call ahead to the taxi company if i need to get to the airport. When i travel for work im good w a rented car and when i travel for fun i am RARELY doing anything that isnt available via public transit/walking. This just for moral and financial reasons has to be cold turkey. Im doordashing like an insane person recently and even though i always tip generously i just need to refocus on my intake.

NEWS: this ones tricky bc i keep going back and forth w myself. Do I risk being less informed if Im not keeping tabs on what are sure to be pretty horrific and impactful headlines? But then its like, unless im actively involved with a group or org that's gearing to take a certain policy on, do i NEED to hear about every unhinged tweet or intention from trump??? Could I be better served paying more attention to how my state & local gov are impacted, or on the nature of the actual legislation that passes??? If Trump DOES gut the civil service, do EYE, an 8 year federal worker with a pretty good understanding about the various agencies and departments, need to hear exactly about how bad things will be? Like i guess its like. Is looking away a capitulation? Is forcing myself to take in this stuff and re-open the wounds of horribleness count as bearing witness in a meaningful way. Im reading abt the german resistance and even without top of the minute instantaneous posts abt every fresh demonic as hell genocidal thing hitler was doing they were able to organize and plan a response different place and time but like????? I just need a plan for how to interact w media moving forward.

SODA. Goodbye, forever. Its such a bad habit but i AM. A beverage drinker if nothing else but im getting OFF this year on GOD. except for olipop/poppi which eye knowwww isnt that much better but they DO have fiber at least so theres that. No soda but yes to occasional juices coconut water herbal teas and ofc flavored carbonated water.

HERMITIZING. i caNNOT keep not seeing any friends or ppl not blood related to me for days and days. No spending 7 days straight or more without seeing or hanging out irl with a friend or friends. No matter what. Its making me too WEIRD and FRAGILE.

[teacup-crafter]

Okay I'm sad to have to do this but :(

This is my original song, My Special Company. (a Sherlock & Co. fansong)

I don't know what the quality sounds like it was wonky to upload

But I can definitely tell you I'm not happy with the results.

Unfortunately I have to give up this project, just... Leave it be for now

Because I'm not in a position where I can use any other instruments than what's available to me on walkband, I can't work on this stuff too loudly. and because my horrible awful "MoDeRn" phone doesn't have a headphone jack- I can only use bluetooth headsets with my phone. AND THE BLUETOOTH HAS LIKE A 1 SECOND DELAY. HORRIBLE AWFUL NO GOOD.

I'm not able to play around on instruments the way I want, and I get way too anxious working on this that I'm just. Not making progress.

So I'm leaving My Special Company here, and maybe someday I'll make a better version. I don't even remember what exactly it sounds like, I just remember that I definitely should have re-recorded the piano part haha, I had a little "twinkle" thing planned idk if it's in there

One last thing- you may notice a few references from adventures up to and including Blue Carbuncle, you might wonder why I didn't include other references- that's bc I started on this song around cardboard box pt 1. Yeah 😭

Lyrics under the cut. Arguably the best part of this. In fact just ignore the MP3 file and just read the lyrics /j

221A, 221B

That is where I keep my special company

221A, 221B

Sherlock, Mariana and my little Archie

EX-PLO-SION

The thunder comes!

A thousand feet marching

To the sound of BIG DRUMS

The clouds part

and the sky bleeds,

as I meet you

Get me involved with ming pottery

And soon I realize I don't wanna be free

From this life, and your mind

As we go and we do it all, ooh-oh

Adrenaline and tension,

Brilliant comprehension

The thrill of the seek

And their shocking redemptions

Tell the listeners about this lovely place-

221A, 221B

That is where I keep my special company

221A, 221B

Sherlock, Mariana and my little Archie

221A, 221B

The listeners hear all that we seek

221A, 221B

Stay tuned until next week

Faked deaths, faked murders

We keep it short

No matter where he goes

He's got my support

Suicide, still alive,

Though our shoes didn't make the fall

I can't deny that twinkle in your eyes

Is what I think you'd call "sensory delight"

To go out with the boys?

Or stay? Well, I choose you, ooh-oh

Adrenaline and tension,

Brilliant comprehension

The thrill of the seek

And their shocking redemptions

Tell the listeners about this lovely place-

221A, 221B

That is where I keep my special company

221A, 221B

Sherlock, Mariana and my little Archie

221A, 221B

The listeners hear all that we seek

221A, 221B

Stay tuned until next week

221A, 221B

That is where I keep my special company

221A, 221B

Sherlock, Mariana and my little Archie

221A, 221B

The listeners hear all that we seek

221A, 221B

We're keeping their attention, stay tuned until next week

221A, 221B

That is where I keep my special company

221A is where I wanna 221B

It's where I'll always be

Hope it was enjoyable. Fun fact: for so long whenever I started a new paragraph on my notes app the 1st word suggestion would be "EX-PLO-SION"

[saninthebuilding]

"it's your golden hour"

❤️‍🩹 pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❤️‍🩹 summary: being in a relationship with an idol can be a bit busy, especially when it's one of the members of bts. however, despite all taehyung's idol activities, you're there to show him- both to his face and behind his back -just how much you love him, even when he doubts his worth.

❤️‍🩹 word count: 2.8k (edited!)

❤️‍🩹 genre: idol!taehyung au, art major!reader au, university student!reader au, fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort

❤️‍🩹 trope: pre-established relationship

❤️‍🩹 warnings: self-doubt, crying, mentions of sleep, taehyung is unsure of reader's love for him, reader is completely in love with taehyung, they're really soft, fluffy-haired taehyung (because i consider this a warning, he's so fine-)

❤️‍🩹 a/n: changing up my theme! to be honest i like this a lot more, it's so organized and clear, but anyways. i really liked how this turned out, even though i had a completely different idea when i started this, but i've been so in love with taehyung's hair in his recent lives and i just had to write something for him because he's been bias-wrecking me really hard lately. i hope you enjoy!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

leaning back into the couch, i stretch my arms high above my head, basking in the evening sun currently streaming through the large french windows in the living room.

taehyung lay sprawled out beside me, head in my lap and feet hanging off the side of the sofa as he taps away at his phone, playing some game he'd downloaded recently.

he cheers, pumping his fist into the air as a celebratory tune rings out from his phone, and i shake my head, smiling down at him as i brush his hair out of his eyes. he looks up at me, excited, before turning back to his screen.

it was a lazy sunday for taehyung and i, the two of us having cleared up our weekend to make time for each other. although he was currently on break from his idol activities to work on his solo career, he was still busy. having secured several deals, he was bomboarded with photoshoots and modelling by major companies like celine and elle korea- just to name a few.

however, my schedule wasn't any better. as a current art major in my fourth year of university, culminating week was just around the corner as my last semester rounded to a close. it was a stressful time, but i was lucky enough to have submitted my portfolio assignment early, so i had the rest of the week free before my final evaluation.

sighing, i look down, staring at taehyung playing his game. he seemed so focused, the reflection of the colourful lights from his screen painting his determined expression in hues of reds and blues.

looking at the time, i see the clock on the opposing wall reads 6:13 pm.

i pouted, glaring at his phone that had held his undivided attention for the past hour. i had thought he would put it away after a while, but it seemed like he had been waiting all week to try the app out, so i'd taken the opportunity to just enjoy his company.

still, i did miss actually interacting with him.

we'd barely gotten free time until now, and until his final photoshoots finished and my semester ended it was unlikely we'd get to spend some proper time together like this again.

not gonna lie, i feel like i'm third-wheeling here.

"taehyung, why won't you hang out with me?" i whined, taking him by surprise as i drum my hands on his chest. he lets out a startled yelp, quickly pressing something on his phone before looking up at me.

"yah, i almost lost!" he protests, looking at me in absolute horror- "you can't scare me like that!"

"yea, well maybe you should lose" i say, cheeks puffing up as i spoke. "all you've been doing is playing that game for the past hour. it's like i freed the weekend up just to watch you-"

realizing this wasn't what i had intended to say, i backtracked, waving my hands around frantically in panic, "which i love, don't get me wrong! uh- watching you, i mean. but, i just..."

i trail off, hands coming up to cover my face in embarrassment, before i peek down through my fingers. taehyung is gazing up at me, a soft look on his face, phone forgotten on his stomach.

i sigh, taking his silence as an encouragement to keep going.

"i've just missed you so much" i mumble, turning away from him to look out the window. the sun was setting lower now, rays turning golden as they hit the glass and splintered in the air.

it was magical.

"this is the only weekend we both have off until all our work is finished, and that isn't for another week or so. and i've barely seen at all except for when i'm leaving early morning for a class and you're there to drive me, or when you come drained after a day of work and slip into bed next to me, so it's a little..."

i pause, confused as i see taehyung's mouth falls open in shock. but before i can ask him what's wrong, he quickly sits up, shifting the two of us on the couch so we're facing each other.

"shit, do i wake you up every night?" he asks as his hands glide up and down my sides in what seems to be apology, "i swear i try to be quiet-"

i laugh, realizing he thinks he disturbs my sleep, before shaking my head, "no, no, don't worry. you don't wake me up." i let my hands rest on his knees, tracing small patterns with my fingers to calm him down.

"but then how do you-" he stops talking, confused, "it's always really late when i get home. and you're always asleep when i lie down..."

"well, no, not really. i just..." i feel heat start to creep into my ears, and i look down, focusing on the soft white material of his t-shirt.

"i wait for you. i know how tired you are when you get home, you barely even wash up or change before coming to bed. so i just, you know..."

i don't see it, but taehyung's eyes go wide, as if something clicked in his head. "that's why my clothes are always changed, and why my face and hair aren't full of all the products the staff use when i wake up."

suddenly taehyung tilts his head down, and as he looks at me, i see his expression has turned gentle, loving, adoring, as though i were the most precious thing in the world. his hands have stopped on my waist, and when he speaks his voice is heavy with emotion.

"no wonder on some nights i'd feel you moving around. and others i'd wake up with memories of hands cupping my face, guiding a glass of water to my lips, brushing the hair out of my eyes. you take care of me every night after i fall asleep, don't you?"

i bite my bottom lip, feeling a little embarrassed, but i nod anyway.

it was true. each night i'd wait for taehyung to get home, and after he had knocked himself out among the sheets, i would get up and start with his clothes. sometimes he'd wake up halfway, helping me swap his dress pants for a pair of soft pajama bottoms. other times i'd gently peel off his leather jacket or button-up while he slept, leaving him more comfortable in a t-shirt.

next i'd wet a towel with warm water and wipe the beauty products off his face (even though he doesn't need any). but it was never too much since the stylists try their best to use as little as possible when shooting, so it was always the easiest thing to do.

then i'd get another wet towel and start on his hair, working out the gel and hair spray that was occasionally still there on days where taehyung didn't have the energy to wash it out before coming home.

and if i was lucky, he would sometimes wake up just as i was getting back into bed, drunk on sleep and exhaustion, and i'd use the opportunity to coax a glass of water into his hands, encouraging him to finish it.

it was nights like these i cherished most, the stolen moments i was sometimes blessed with when i helped him drink some water and he would mumble how his day had been, eyes bleary and hands reaching for my warmth. the days where he trusted me enough to let me take care of him, even in his most vulnerable state, before pulling me into his chest and falling back to sleep with me in his arms.

and as i felt his fingers under my chin, guiding my head to meet his gaze, i stared into his soft, brown eyes, taking in the way the sun hit his tan skin just right, bathing him in a golden glow so breathtaking that he looked unreal, seeing the way his eyes shined and his face was so full of love, for me, all for me, and i realize that, no, those moments were not what i cherished most.

it was him that i cherished most.

"y/n?" taehyung breathes, and as i saw his eyes begin to turn wet, i understood that he felt the same way.

even though we barely got any time together, even though we barely saw each other, even though our lives were so busy, at the end of the day these things would never change the way we felt for each other.

because i loved him, and he loved me, and regardless of all our photoshoots and assignments and mismatched schedules, that love was never going anywhere.

it would never waver, because the bond the two of us had created over the years was deeper than scenic dates and bouqets of flowers and fancy gifts.

it was trust and comfort and support and understanding- but above all else, it was unconditional love.

and that is the kind that lasts forever.

"yes?" i whisper, and my voice comes out breathless, dazed, as i am completely transfixed by the man before me.

"don't i burden you? don't you think i rely on you this much, even unknowingly? doesn't it bother you that i'm barely around, showing up late at night only to fall straight asleep and wake up early only to leave you again?"

my lips part as a gasp comes out of my mouth, his unexpectedly serious words spearing my chest- "of course not taehyung, how could you say that?"

he shakes his head, teeth nipping at the corner of his mouth. "i mean, i know i'm an idol, and that this relationship is probably already something that puts strain on your shoulders due to the possibility of fans finding you and harming you. but i'm also your boyfriend. and boyfriends are supposed to be here, supposed to be present, supposed to show you how much you mean to them."

taehyung leans closer, tentative, wary, almost scared as he reaches out to me, only to pull his hand away. he swallows hard, before looking up to meet my gaze, eyes glistening.

"don't you get tired of being with me?"

my heart drops at his words, at how ashamed and anxious he sounds. he clenches his jaw, a nervous habit of his, and i let my eyes linger on the movement, watching how the veins in his neck make a quick appearance. i see the muscles in his arms flex as he lifts his hand to my face again, seeming unsure. i admire the ethereal glow the sun casts upon his skin as he raises my head to his. the mole on his lower lip, on his nose, on his cheek. the way he pulls the skin of his bottom lip between his teeth, sinking them into the soft flesh before letting go. the way the salt water in his eyes threatens to spill over his lashline.

i lift my hands up to his cheeks just as he rests his own on mine, gently brushing my thumbs over his eyes, preventing the tears from finding their way down his face.

he opens his mouth to continue, but i'm faster, the words tumbling out of me before i can stop myself.

"i love you so much taehyung" i breathe, voice catching in my throat as i feel my own eyes starting to sting. "so, so, so much- more than you can ever know. but you have to know. you need to know. i need you to know."

taehyung lets out a shaky breath, something halfway between a hiccup and a sob, and i move closer, climbing into his lap.

"we're both busy, and that's unavoidable. you have your life and i have mine, and even though we are so closely part of each others' lives, there are some things i cannot be included in, just as there are some things you cannot be included in."

his hands have come to rest on my hips, and letting one hand rest on his cheek, i maintain eye contact as i carefully run the other under his eye. over his cheekbone. his cheek. along his jawline. down his neck. he swallows under my touch, and i feel his adam's apple bob beneath my fingers. his eyes stay on mine, and when my hand reaches his chest, i flatten my palm directly over his heart, feeling his heartbeat thumping against my skin.

"but even though i may not be everywhere with you physically, i will always be in here."

i gaze at him, feeling my own heart beginning to speed up as i feel his fingers creep under my shirt, tracing circles with his thumbs on the skin of my waist.

"it doesn't matter how much time we spend together, it doesn't matter how much time we don't spend together. i need you to know that my love for you is not going anywhere."

my voice cracks a bit, a tear escaping down my cheek, and this causes taehyung to sniffle, eyes watering again.

"it doesn't matter how late you come home, it doesn't matter how early you have to leave. i will be there" i say, pressing my hand into his chest, "both in here..." i take my hand away from his face and gently grip his wrist, before placing his hand on my cheek, "and out here."

he bites his lip, visibly struggling to keep his tears at bay as he lets out a shuddering breath. he's clutching my sides now, as though trying to ground himself, to control the sobs threatening to take over.

"i will always be there to wipe your face down when you're too tired, to make sure you eat or drink something after a long day, to tuck you into bed so you can get a good night's sleep- to do whatever it is you want me to do for you."

i let go of his hand, reaching over to cup his face again, before pressing my lips to his forehead. and it is this action that seems to be too much for him, that breaks the dam he was so desperately trying to maintain, and he lets out a sob, arms wrapping around my body as he pulls me close, burying his face into my shoulder.

"because i love you, taehyung" i choke out, my own tears spilling down my cheeks upon hearing him break in my arms, "and i will always love you. so don't you ever doubt that."

he's crying in earnest now, his hands fisting the cloth of my shirt as his body shakes from the force of his tears. he inhales shakily, before forcing himself to say something.

"y/n" taehyung sputters, and i'm instantly hugging him closer as my own tears fall, rubbing his back and planting soft kisses into his fluffy hair.

"i'm right here, taehyung. i'm not going anywhere, i promise," i whisper into his ear, gently rocking us side to side. "it's okay, you're okay. we're okay."

i let him cry for a while longer, holding him up even as his body gives out under the weight of his tears. i feel him pulling away, and as i wipe my tears away to glance at him, his hands are suddenly cupping my cheeks, looking me straight in the eyes before he presses his lips to mine.

the tears streaming down his face mix with my own on our lips, the salt water a stark contrast to the sweetness of the kiss. he goes slow, as though trying to engrain the moment into his heart, into his mind, convincing himself that i did actually, truly love him despite the burden he considered himself to be.

i tangle my fingers into his hair, and as i marvel at the softeness of his brown locks under my hands, i pull him closer, wanting him to feel all the affection and adoration and sheer love i had for him.

taehyung leans back after a bit, panting softly, his glossy eyes blown wide as he studies my face. he lifts a hand to caress my cheek, absentmindedly brushing at the wetness on my skin before pressing his forehead to mine.

"i love you" he whispers, "i love you so much, y/n, and i can't tell you how grateful and lucky i feel just to be able to call you mine."

he pulls away, grabbing my hand and slips his fingers between my own, before lifting our intertwined hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time.

despite my current drowsiness due to all the tears i just cried, i let out a surprised giggle. taehyung's gaze is gentle as he watches me, wiping the tears from my face, and i lean into his touch before throwing myself into his arms. he catches me easily, arms supporting my weight as i kiss his cheek, smiling softly.

"i love you taehyung."

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❤️‍🩹 i hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading!

[cookinguptales]

Something I always think about a lot during disability/chronic illness/rare illness pride months is like... It is wild how often people will come up to me and want me to listen to some guilty secret they have re: disability and expect me to tell them it's okay.

Like... once I was waiting for my dad to bring the car up at the airport, and this guy approaches me and starts telling me why he'd never want to date a disabled woman. (I'm gay and completely uninterested in men, which made this whole interaction even more awkward.) And after talking about all the reasons why people like me would not make a good partner he turns those sad eyes on me like, "But that doesn't make me a bad person, does it? I'm not doing anything wrong. Like, you get it, don't you?"

You get it, don't you?

I hear that one a lot.

Like when the grad student teaching one of my classes at my university was chatting to me after class and told me that once she and her friends went to Disney World and pretended to be disabled to get onto the rides faster. I recognized the nervous laughter, the entreating look. The you get it, don't you?

I understand what these people are asking me for. They want absolution. They want this disabled person, maybe the first real disabled person they've ever talked to, to listen to their guilty secret and tell them they're okay. They're not a bad person. I don't mind. I don't judge them. I get it.

But frankly... I don't get it. These people often tell me that they've done things that make disabled people's lives actively worse. Disney has changed their policies re: disability because so many able-bodied people were abusing them. Companies and organizations walk back accommodation policies all the time because they're being abused. That grad student who pretended to be disabled actively made disabled people's lives harder.

And I don't really give a shit if one asshole dude doesn't want to date disabled women (probably better for those women, tbh) but I know how bad it feels to be ghosted on a dating app when you talk about accessibility, even when your profile is explicit about your disability. I know that I felt like I was not worth loving in spite of my disability for years because I knew that people like that guy would only see all the ways I'd slow them down.

Guys like that actively make us hate ourselves.

But like... it's wild how these people don't see how the only thing crueler than harboring these feelings and doing these things is making some random disabled person listen to their stories. My day was going great before some guy practically gave me a powerpoint about why I should never expect to have a relationship. I really enjoyed that class before I found out that my teacher had participated in the exact kind of ableist theft of accommodations that was currently making it difficult for me to get accommodations at that school.

They took this weight they were holding on their shoulders and then forced it onto mine -- and then expected me to comfort them. To tell them it was okay. To throw my fellow disabled folks under the bus.

And -- both of these times in particular, I was in situations where I was not really free to speak my mind. Alone with a big guy in a parking garage? Alone with the woman who would ultimately decide my grade for the class? The power differential there was huge. And whether they were consciously doing it or not, they were leveraging that power differential to try and force me to give them absolution.

I made noncommittal noises. Really, what else was I supposed to do? And even then, I could see the spark of disappointment and anger in their eyes. I was supposed to tell them it was okay that they'd hurt me and people like me. I was supposed to tell them they were still good.

But I didn't want to offer them absolution, and I was angry that they'd asked for it in the first place. I can't offer you forgiveness for something you know is wrong -- and that you've done nothing to fix. Moreover, I won't. You should feel bad that you hurt us. You should feel guilty. It's a shitty thing to do.

If you want to feel better about yourself, stop doing shitty things!

And I knew these people were still doing shitty things because dumping all this on me when I was just minding my own business was in and of itself a shitty thing. Trying to transfer their burden to me. Reminding me about the discrimination I have to face every day just so they could feel better. Expecting me to do emotional labor on command for strangers because it doesn't matter if I hurt so long as they feel good.

That's shitty! Don't do it! I already have to use physical crutches, don't try to turn me into an emotional one!

[romanovthinkver]

Do you have a Twitter/X account?

I'm asking because I'm that anon that agreed with you about wanting scarlett to speak up about palestine, the main reason being that there have been viral tweets saying she's a zionist/supports isnotreal because of the whole sodastream situation, I saw a tweet yesterday where someone LIED and said she didn't want to work with a company because they asked her to boycott isnotreal and she refused, and multiple scarlett stans have said that it isn't true.

Idk I just feel like all of this misinformation could be avoided if she said something. it's really starting to irritate me, I know she's busy but a simple "free palestine" statement would be nice.

hello sweet thank you for this ask. yes i have twitter. to be honest i didn’t know about these things you mentioned, but i went on the app and looked up.

as far as i can see from simply their bios, they’re bot pages and mostly israel supporters so they’re probably trying to catch some likes, bring other people to their side using a powerhouse like scarlett to attract them. and it works, you can see it from the comments. this is why speak up matters, right? no false speculations and no more people supporting a genocide.

it’s fake. it has been confirmed by journalists, some of her big fan-pages and scarlett doesn’t even talk like that so, as you mentioned, it’s a spread of misinformation. i personally tagged one of her fan page and she confirmed herself. however the posts doesn’t have any community notes despite all the posts going viral since days. i can’t explain this to you, but i have a thought.

the acc used a real happened fact, talking about something that happened 10yrs ago. it’s the oxfam (palestine) and sodastream (israel) dispute that involved scarlett personally.

i kindly recommend you to go and read it to have a better opinion on it maybe with some deep digging. i’m gonna link up some resources a friend of mine (that i personally thank) helped me find so you know i’m not lying or distorting the reality. (i know for sure i’m gonna have asks flooded with anons accusing me of being a liar and i don’t have patience for that).

misinformation sometimes is a good thing in these situations, for celebrities. it’s strategic. unload people of their responsibilities because it leads people to defend you, forget the main reason because you’ve been dragged into something you didn’t said.

after you learn about the story maybe you’ll have a clear answer that explains a lot on the silence she’s being holding, on why colin hosted the white house correspondent dinner this year.

what can in say tho it’s that she has become a influent figure in the US politics, with the president, and has been invited to speak there for convincing everyone to vote for the AI law. she has donated for causes, spoke up, i can make a big list on the enormous work she put out there to help people.

you guys have been telling me she isn’t political, she can’t expose herself nor she can’t talk about political issues then explain to me what’s the difference on talking about a genocide and being invited at the US parliament to address a speech. the matter? you say, well both are important matter that requires attention.

as i said in previous answer asks she isn’t gonna lose her job because she’s her own boss. have you seen artists big as her lose their jobs? they gained more.

i have been restless. i contacted all of her big and small fan-pages (both twitter and instagram) to ask them to at least speak up about the genocide if they didn’t want to call her out. nobody answered me. i’ve contacted her publicist, marcel pariseau, who always answers her fans. no answer. i’ve contacted kate foster, the outset team. nothing. everyone has been silent. why?

it’s hard to ask if that’s a few of us against millions of people who think she can’t act. that’s pointless despite trying and take all the people shit that hides behind anonymous.

this isn’t religious or political nor about losing jobs neither being busy. it’s human and if you are silent in front of beheaded babies, burned unborn babies, (taking this floor for calling out all the anti abortion shits) decomposed bodies and starved people; well that goes behind every moral of this world.

as this being said my hopes are always here. what i can say is that speculation and hate aren’t the answers only peace is. so be kind and continue to spread your voice, let's fight for the end of the genocide and liberation of palestine. history will make it course, as always have been, and we'll be proud to tell we have been on the right side.

disclaimer: it’s a 10 years ago thing so we don’t know if the situation or her opinione are changed . maybe it is, maybe it’s not.

the guardian.

csmonitor.

il post. (for my italians followers).

time.

bbc news.

buzzfeed news.

nbclosangeles.

[captainnameless]

Any cute moments with Maxy and Leo? Any moments that stand out? Maybe when Maxy first gets Leo? I just need to cute Maxy moments to make me fell better (my work didn't tell me that I didn't need to come into work far an advent until 30 after I was to be picked up)

Max is fresh out of a nap, soft and flushed, pressed into Daniel’s side.

He’s playing with one of Daniel’s hand, tugging gently at the fingers before wrapping both his hands around Daniel’s and holding it close.

There’s a content buzz that vibrates through Daniel, ready to spend eternity right here in this moment when it dawns on him that Max doesn’t have anything to soothe with when he’s not here.

“Muffin,” Daniel hums, using his free hand to brush Max’s hair off his forehead. “would you like it if we got you something to cuddle when Daddy isn’t here?”

The suggestion of Daniel not being here sours Max’s face just a tad, his lip jutting out in a pout. “Stay.”

Daniel pokes it, a soft smile on his face. “Right now, I’m not going anywhere. But,” He moves slightly, sitting Max up too, still keeping his hand available. “For when I’m not? I could get you something to keep you company, huh? Or do you want to pick something out yourself?”

“You.” Max says, trying to focus on what Daniel is saying, still kind of groggy. “You pick.”

“Okay,” Daniel breathes. Okay.

He gets it wrong the first time, it’s some sort of baby toy that’s soft, yes, but it’s tiny and Max isn’t sure what to do with it so it lays abandoned to the side and get tossed out of bed during nap time.

They’re streaming YouTube onto the TV when the add pops up. Max is too engulfed in the football match that’s being streamed to notice but Daniel has got the app open and orders it right then and there.

They don’t see each other for a week after that, and Daniel’s sort of nervous to get it to Max, hoping he’ll like it.

Daniel wishes he recorded Max opening the box, just so he could make sure to never forget the look on his face but it feels to private.

“Leeuw.” Max breathes, eyes twinkling, both of his hands twisting into the soft fur.

“Leo?” Daniel asks, mishearing, but a soft amused smile on his face, figuring Max naming the plush must mean he likes it.

“No, leeuw.” Max says, then shakes his head. “Uh, lion. Dutch.” He looks up, a soft flush spreading over his cheeks, fingers gently kneading into the plush.

“Oh,” Daniel nods, works on keeping the soft smile up, trying to look encouraging. “Yes, a lion. Made me think of you.”

Max looks from Daniel back down to the plush, before looking back at Daniel with wet eyes, sucking in a breath.

Oh no.

“Hey, Max- muffin.” Daniel rushes forward, sitting down next to Max to wrap an arm around him. “It’s okay, it’s- Don’t worry about it, we can return it and try again. I’m sorry-”

“No.” Max rushes out, crying now, bringing the plush up to his chest before turning to bury his face into Daniel’s chest. “No, I like it.”

Daniel’s confused now, but that’s not a priority. He wraps both his arms around Max and pulls him onto his lap so he can properly hold him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head as he lets him cry. “What’s wrong, bub?”

“It’s making me feel funny.” Max cries, burying closer. “I don’t know.”

“A good funny?” Daniel asks, rubbing a hand down Max’s back and feeling him nod.

“A bit overwhelming, maybe?”

Max nods again, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oh buddy,” Daniel soothes, holding Max a bit tighter, pressing another kiss to Max’s head. It’s taken them a while to get to this point, this point of understanding. This level of trust, of love and care.

“I’m happy.” Max cries, he emerges from Daniel’s chest to catch his eyes, a chuckle escaping him through the tears. “I am.”

Daniel smiles back at him, thumbs at the tears. “I believe you.”

“It’s just,” Max takes a deep breath, wipes at his own face. “It means so much.”

Daniel has to blink a bit himself, pulls Max close again. “It means a lot to me too.”

-

It’s 48 hours later, 2 naps and 2 nights with their new addition and Daniel makes sure he sprays his cologne on the little lion before he leaves.

He gets a text when he’s boarding.

Leo smells like you.

Daniel smiles. Leo?

I liked that when you suggested it.

Daniel’s about to respond when

Even if it was just you and your old man ears mishearing me.

Daniel snorts. Old man ears? Watch your mouth.

Max types for a while, then stops, then types again.

Thank you.

Daniel smiles. For what?

For being you. Max types back. And getting me Leo.

Max sends a picture then, of him and Leo, a goofy smile and wide eyes.

I love you. Daniel types back, chest warm and fuzzy.

Love you!

And then.

🦁 💓 👴🏻

[neolxzr]

you do see my point though, I was saying that yes a piece of media can have a character imply they are queer, but it’s frustrating when they won’t explicitly confirm such, because of (in the case of… checks app store purchase statistics…. A multi million dollar game franchise!) the need to market to as many people as possible. Shumika will never be “canon” because some people just don’t like shumika and won’t spend money on the game if shu and mika are in a relationship, whether or not that’s because they like the ship or the characters or are genuinely homophobic or whatnot. If the writing team cared about telling a love story, they would tell a love story, not go “well maybe they’re in love, it’s up to viewer interpretation!” like this works, sometimes it adds to the meaning of the work, but enstars really doesn’t have an excuse for their constant “this character might have feelings for this other character, but we’ll never have them say it out loud!” except the fact it makes them a lot of money, since they can market to people who like a character being the way they want that character to be, whether that’s with that character being in love with another in game character or self-shipping or whatever else. Outside of shipping, this is why some characters like Shinobu haven’t changed despite wanting to change (he continuously talks about how he wants to be more mature and taken seriously but his cards continue to make him look small and cute because his fans like that about him and god forbid we change anything!) I just think enstars should not be your first thought when someone asks you about a good piece of queer media because they’re doing just about the same job as large cast games with characters of the same gender (minus Arashi) who continue to have characters go “we’ll do all these things to imply we could be in love, but we’ll never have our characters actually date! teehee!”

i can understand being frustrated about your ships not being "confirmed", but the obsession with what is "canon" and "not canon" is just straight up not a very interesting discussion to have. what happyele's or the writers' agenda is is not of particular importance to me. one of the first things they teach you in classes about media analysis is that once a work is out there, the intentions of the creator no longer matter. the only thing that matters in your analysis is your own thoughts and the way you interpret a text.

if we were having a conversation about how much the creator of something sucks, then sure, talk about that all you want, but i am specifically referring to discussions about the piece of media and these characters and their relationships and their growth and the themes of the work etc. those things are removed from whether or not the company writes the way they do because of profit motives or whatever. companies make money, that's just what to expect. if you want art that is free of profit motives, read something by an independent creator.

even so, it feels strange to place enstars into the bucket of "stuff that should be gayer but the bad company that makes it wont let it be" because the characters ARE so very openly queer. there are so many instances in it where characters pour their heart out to each other or offer themselves to another character in beautiful and poetic ways, and i think it's wrong to claim it doesn't count because they didn't confirm their relationship status at the end of it. if you ask me, there is absolutely no way to interpret enstars in a way completely free of queerness. there is so much explicitly queer text that ignoring it is just plain incorrect. but, if homophobic people like this game and choose to look the other way at all of the gay shit, again, that is not my problem.

why is canonization the only thing that matters? is a shitty BL with awful writing better and more worthwhile than enstars as a queer narrative because the characters had explicit gay sex on screen? are poorly written gay characters in the background of other media with nothing going on more worth talking about than shumika or wataei or rinniki or whoever else just because they say the words 'i'm gay' out loud?

queerness is so much more than all of that. it is so much more than labels and it is so much more than relationships that are easy to understand. it is so much more than the extremely narrow view of it that the internet has concocted about it over the last few years, where you’re only allowed to talk about queerness if you yourself are openly queer and out of the closet, and even then you’re only allowed to make art that makes for “good representation.” that is just so incredibly limiting. i would rather tons of companies who are trying to profit off fujoshis make vaguely gay media with unconfirmed romances and relationships that aren't easily defined by labels than have less queer art in the world.

more queer art means more queer people who will find something to really connect to. more queer art means telling more queer stories. why should who is allowed to write lgbtq media be limited? why should the kind of media people are allowed to make be limited?

its fine to criticize happyelements if youre unsatisfied with the way they do things, im not always 100% in love with everything they do either. i wouldn't even consider enstars to be the worlds' best example of a queer piece of media. but no one is forcing you to like or engage with it or give the company money if you're unhappy with how they write and market their game. they don't owe anyone explicit confirmation that any of their characters are dating, and it doesn't even matter if they do provide that confirmation or not.

regardless of who made it or for what reason, queer stories are worth talking about, "canon" or not.

[sterekchub]

I’ve got an idea! I’m a sucker for soft bby Derek 🥺 him trying to get his life together after the fire but because he barely finished high school the only place that will hire him is the local fast food joint, where the floors are greasy but the food is greasier 😆 but he doesn’t care he just wants to do something on his own for once.

Head manager Stiles just wants to eat him up when he shuffles in for the interview, all shy and lean (too lean). He hires him immediately, devoting lots of time and attention to making sure Derek is comfortable and adjusting nicely. This may or may not include encouraging Derek to take advantage of the free food perk.

As Derek’s frame grows he is slow to notice because Stiles keeps “upgrading” the uniform when he outgrows his.

Also I for sure know Derek would have such a feminine gain 😩

Yesss I also adore soft Derek who deserves nice things. Who has the family fortune to support him but doesn’t feel like he deserves to use it. Too many rumors around him killing his sister, no degree or work experience to mention…he applies everywhere and gets more and more dejected with every day that passes without a job offer.

And Stiles has heard the rumors. Sees Derek’s gruff and ‘I could care less’ attitude….and doesn’t buy it. He’s the kid of a cop- he sees what most people miss. The way Derek’s belt has extra holes poked in it because he’s lost so much muscle mass and weight. The way his jacket hangs loosely off him. How he uncomfortably shifts his weight and looks out of place and ready to bolt immediately.

Stiles immediately offers him the job. Probably working as a manger while he finishes his degree and it reminds Derek he should be a college grad by now, if he ever bothered to go, if his parents were alive to help him with college apps and moving into a dorm…. But Stiles doesn’t make him feel bad about it. Even offers to help Derek look into online classes, even if he starts small with one class at a time at a local community college.

And in the meantime- tells Derek eat what he wants. Better than throwing out leftovers. Sends him home with bags of burgers or nuggets for dinner even if it’s way more than Derek can eat and he protests he can’t take the food.

But- it takes awhile but Derek eventually opens up and feels comfortable being his snarky, rough around the edges- pre fire self. And accepts he should stop arguing with Stiles and take the food.

At first, Derek only notices his 30+lb gain because he’s back to a healthy weight. Doesn’t need the belt to hold up his jeans, his shirts fit snug but not stretched tight. How he used to be.

Which- absolutely when Stiles doubles down. Tells Derek stay hydrated! Get a soda! (And orders those deluxe pick any flavor digital soda machines). Totally keeps a mental note of how often Derek refills his soda- and Derek is solidly chugging at least a small bag of sugar a day with the amount he drinks

Mostly because all the fries Stiles gives him “happen” to be over salted… oops.

Or has Derek try possible new menu items. Triple burger? Triple cheese? What about if they add more bacon? If they add ranch? What about nuggets on a burger?

Derek tries it all and ignores the button of his pants digging into his now rounded middle.

He gets *soft* and blubbery for sure. Because he has nothing else to do- so he picks up all the shifts he can. Maybe keeps Stiles company even when he isn’t on the clock. Comes into the restaurant when he has online classes so Stiles can help him.

He’s on the round the clock greasy fast food diet and as a result he just expands. Ass getting wide and heavy, thighs that are rubbing against each other and the friction leaves holes in his khakis. Belly that protrudes out and hangs low over his waistband- when it isn’t stuffed with burgers and soda and an inflated orb, taut to the touch. The start of a double chin. Pecs that soften and drop. Upper arms that have a solid amount of fat that hang down. Love handles that are always stretching out his shirt and Stiles keeps having to resist the urge to SQUEEZE everytime he walks by.

Derek with his belly resting on the counter, no customers in sight, burger in one hand and large soda in the other…

Sorry I got from “awww angsty and sweet” to “kink” real fast.