#one pixel in the wrong place and the whole face looks off

[mumblesplash]

Re: art style my first instinct is to say the way you draw smiles specifically. I think if I saw your art reposted and that drawing was smiling I’d know it’s yours in a heartbeat.

From a more uh,, technical standpoint you’re very good and stacking lanky figures. That is to say you draw people very limber but unlike what usually happens where they then feel a little,. sparse and don’t fill a page/scene well, your drawings are very expansive and have a lot of depth to them. It probably has to do with your ability to draw very fluid poses and using that to your advantage but frankly it’s anyones guess

oh that’s cool! especially the second part bc that’s not really a thing i noticed myself. like i only recently started paying any attention to image composition at all, and i’m still in the stage where i’m kinda throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks. i’ve always cared a lot about things making sense in 3d (probably too much tbh) so maybe that’s where the sense of depth comes from?

[noobsoconfusing]

‘twin fantasy’_hamzahthefantastic

summary: just when hamzah thought he finally had a solid situation with you, the overwhelming feelings of being loved for the first time catch you, drown you.

angst, internet situationship au, hamzah being himself, kinda codependency, awkward, avoidant attachment issues.

>_<

if hamzah could describe the feeling of loneliness mixed with whatever the fuck being in love meant in only one word, it would reduce simply to: you.

it was the way your eyes glitched when you blinked in front of your low quality web cam, or maybe how you typed when you were in a hurry, always reminding yourself to maybe, just maybe, type something nicer so he didn’t feel like he was the problem.

so, as he stares directly at his phone screen, his eyes itchy and irritated from waiting to see you online, he decides to quickly type something to catch your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: the other night i cried while thinking of having sex with you

and so he waits. and waits, and waits.

the green dot next to your contact name appears and he cringes at himself for letting out an audible shriek of excitement.

y/n: hamzah!!!!

y/n: fr?

he smiles, shaking his head because yeah, it was for real, but also because he had gotten what he wanted. your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: lol. maybe. yeah. i dunno

hamzahthefantastic: wanna facetime?

y/n: hold on i’ll call you :)

>_<

silence. comforting moments between hazy stares and timid laughter. hamzah enjoyed this.

“your room is messy again, y/n” he mentions, peeking as much as he can from the position your webcam is in.

“yeah, i haven’t really got time to clean up… but yours is messy too!” you point, the camera glitches at your sudden loud voice.

“living alone kinda sucks, you know? at least i had my room clean when i lived with my parents, a warm plate of food too, and even allowance money!” he rolled his eyes, and you nodded.

hamzah and you had been friends ever since he lived with his parents, so you got to see the whole process of him moving to a different city, and you were there for him when he got his first place, and then his first job, and his first pets, and so on..

your heart wrenched when you realised you had lived a whole damn life by his side, however, behind a screen.

“wish i could live with you, hamzah..” you quietly say, hoping he doesn’t catch on, but he does, used to your quiet demeanour.

“me too, y/n.” a glitchy smile appears from his side of the screen, and you copy it.

and god, you love his smile. it’s so weird, so odd how the smile and physical happiness of someone that lives yet so far away from you can infect you with such joy. disgusting feelings arise from your stomach.

stupid fucking love and stupid fucking damned distance!

“for real? like, for ‘for real?” your voice shakes.

he nods with seriousness invading his face. “hell yeah, for real. i’d love to live with you, in fact, i do feel like i live with you even now, you know? we talk ever day, i see your face every- well, not every day, but enough to keep me going for the week!” he smiled, referring to those times you didn’t feel good enough to facetime, so he settled for texting, which made him equally happy.

“oh man…” you mutter. feelings enough, so damn enough. you don’t know what to do with your mind, and you don’t know why it’s racing so fast, imagining billions of scenarios.

he notices your manners. hamzah suddenly becomes self aware. scared he has said something wrong.

“are you-?”

“i love you.” you quickly cut him off, its not your intention though, just the lag delaying your confession.

confession that has already been confessed plenty of times.

“hey! i love you too!” as his soul finds its way back into his body, hamzah admits. joy suddenly running through his body like gasoline and fire consuming a wreck.

silence. you look up to stare at his pixelated frame. and he’s so beautiful. and you think this is all a damn dream.

“but do you like me?” the undertone of your sore voice makes its way throughout your sentence, betraying you.

he tilts his head like a confused puppy. you bite back a tiny smile.

“what do you mean? why are you asking that? do you not think i like you?” hey asks, confused and aching for a quick response.

you think a bit, not even knowing what you meant by that stupid question.

“nevermind, hah! it’s nonsense, really…” you try to sound convincing.

for your misfortune, hamzah knows you way better than you think.

“not nonsense, something is bugging you and i can tell.” he adjusts his headphones as he says that, trying to get a better listen at your reply.

“you.”

hamzah furrows his eyebrows at your quick answer.

“huh?”

“it bugs me that i am always thinking of you, that’s my issue, yeah?” you say, a bit more loose, “i always think about how amazing and how wonderful it wouldve been being your neighbour or your friend from school, but no, i am stuck here a thousand and a million more miles away from you and i can’t do anything to cut the distance short.” you sigh.

hamzah bites his lower lip, and he thinks, oh, how a thought you must have been saving for a long time also affects him in severe ways. he thinks the same.

“you know, y/n? i don’t think it was, you know, the amazing casualties of life that made us end up talking to each other until four in the fucking morning. you know what i think? that you were actually made for me.” he shrugs his shoulders and tries to put on a smile for you, even though he wishes he could just cry…or something.

“right.” you sigh. “hamzah, i just… i feel like my whole life revolves around you, is that weird? like, i wake up and see if you texted me while i was asleep. then i go about my day and still think about you, and then when you text me i just.. drop everything else to spend time with you.” you try to avoid the camera, or his gaze. “do you think that’s weird? am i weird?”

your face drops as he bursts out laughing.

“no! not weird at all, y/n! you see, i- okay, i do the same… you’re so pretty, inside and outside and you’re so thoughtful and so kind and beautiful and just… yourself, that i find myself thinking about you and your antics for hours, if not the whole day!” he lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction, shaking his head with a smile because letting all of his emotions out felt so fucking great.

“you’re so weird, so dumb…” you smile, even if you feel like your eyes are about to shed waterfalls of tears.

“we can be weird.” he adds. “it’s only cool if we’re both weird.” his voice is soft and low just like always. so genuine.

“right, yeah.” you smile too.

hamzah can’t help but secretly take a picture of your face, the dim lighting of your room accentuates your features perfectly and he finds himself more and more invested in you.

“yeah, right..”

>_<

hamzah’s voice fills your ears in a soothing manner.

while you carefully listen, you can’t help but dissociate from reality. your mind occupied in something you can’t really comprehend.

“…a video, like in a youtube channel, do you think that’s a good idea?” his voice slowly becomes more present, and you snap your head to his direction. “are you there…?”

“yeah, sorry, just mind fog, hah!” you reply forcing a smile.

“alright, are you okay? have you eaten today? do you wanna end the call so you can sleep?” hamzah asks and you feel a little bit dizzy from all the questions that come out of his mouth.

“yeah- no! i am fine, what were you saying about a video on youtube?” you quickly try to bring the focus to him again.

hamzah frowns so quickly that you think it’s a glitch. but he smiles right away.

“i was saying, i was thinking about posting something on youtube.” he repeats. “you think that’s a good idea?” you come to realise how hamzah always asks for your opinion, always seeking your approval.

you nod. “yeah, i think it’d be really cool, maybe you’ll get famous one day!”

his laugh fills your heart, and makes you flash a smile too.

“nah, i don’t think so, it’ll be just for fun, just to kill time, i kinda need a distraction from thinking ‘bout you all day, right?” he says.

and what he said, keeps playing in your mind for a while.

distraction. from you.

“yeah, cool!”

and you try your best to keep track of the conversation, but you’ve been so tired.

so tired.

not sleepy, somehow. just so, so fucking tired.

>_<

your surprised face comes up to the screen as this time he is wearing a grey hoodie, different from the black one he always uses.

“cute. you look like… well, something cute!” he says making the screen bigger so he can see you better.

“why?” you laugh, “something?”

“yeah, something. you know, you’re so unique i can’t even describe you or compare you to anything. i love you a lot, y/n…”

stop. please. stop.

you think. the feeling of need inside your chest hurts and burns after every word he says. after every sentence. everything reminds you that he’s so far away, that you are probably never going to touch him. never feel him.

and the screen is so cold and so hard and so lifeless, and you wonder, how can something inanimate hold your biggest desire inside? how can hamzah live inside your device? how can it hold so much meaning inside its metallic shell?

“i love you.” you bluntly say. “i love you so much it hurts and i wish you could make it stop hurting so fucking bad.” a desperate laugh erupts from your throat, one that screams for help.

“oh, baby, i wish i could hold you so close. never gonna let you go once i have you here with me, alright? im gonna glue your body to mine and we will just have to live like that…” an exaggerated version of his deep fantasy came out, but still, he was very much serious.

“sounds good.” you reply.

“fuck yeah it does” he sighs, but not defeated, just full of hope. one of you had to be hopeful, right?

“fuck yeah…” you repeated, mind fog attacking you once again.

>_<

his grey hoodie on again, and you start to think he hasn’t washed it in the full week that has passed.

it’s alright though, you love him that way.

“i keep having these… dreams about you” he says. “odd dreams, not nightmares though, just weird dreams”

“me too.” you say. the guilt of the neediness inside your tummy makes its way to your brain. eating you up.

“what about?” hamzah asks, more invested now that he knows you dream about him too.

“you first.” you deadpan.

“fantasies. really fucking good fantasies, though.”

“about?” you ask again.

“sex and… whatnot.” oh. he’s so serious and so direct and so honest.

you can’t hide your surprise, nor the blush that creeps up to your cheeks.

“oh, i guess… me too.” and your voice shakes because it’s so odd to say this out loud.

“i don’t know. im so used to you, i just imagine whats like to… well, be with you. and touch you and just feel your body against mine.”

“sometimes i feel like i crave a touch i’ve never felt before. how can i yearn for something i have never tasted?” you ask, and he opens his eyes, already wide.

“yeah, i feel the same.”

“need you, though. very badly.” a deep feeling of emptiness swallows you up. how can your bed be so empty yet you’re laying on it? how can hamzah be your twin fantasy yet he’s so far away?

“i wanna be inside you, just feel you and melt over your body and maybe then, i’ll feel complete.” hamzah has a hard time expressing his emotions with coherent thoughts, but this time you understand him completely.

>_<

it’s been minutes. and you are about to freaking win the contest. again. like the last four times.

hamzah’s eyes are red even over the bad quality camera he’s using. “y/n! please just let me win this time!” he begs, his eyes squinting. he struggles to keep them open.

and you’re perfectly fine, nonchalant even. but as you see his struggle, you give in.

“fine!”

you blink. tears fall down your cheeks from how dry your poor eyes were. you laugh.

“finally!” he celebrates. “oh god, thought i was going blind…”

“well, we’ve been on call for like five hours, the screen is gonna make us blind sooner than later” you laugh, and he does too.

“i just like talking to you.” he admits and you swear you can see a slight red tint adorning his face. he’s so adorable.

stupidly adorable. your heart aches.

“i like it too.”

you loved it, actually.

did you?

>_<

that damned grey hoodie again. and you think, it’s the third consecutive time that week.

you, however, just despised the way he looked absolutely fucking stunning in it. as if he knew it did things to you.

“what are we?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded you both.

you tended to do assignments together on call, sometimes he knew things you didn’t and he helped you, and viceversa.

“i am hamzah, you’re y/n and you’re my everything.” he replied, still focusing on his excel sheet.

“but what are we?” a situationship. that was it. hamzah would constantly call you pet names and tell you how much he loves you, and then drop the most horny messages about you.

“we are everything, i just said”

“that’s not an answer, hamzah, what are we? like, are we best friends, friends, lovers, or just people who talk to each other about their deepest secrets and feelings?” you closed your powerpoint and stared at the webcam.

“you’re everything to me, right? all of the above, every option, you are.” he said, still focusing on his work but at the same time on you.

silence again.

you nodded. a smile forming on your face.

“everything, then.”

>_<

your cheeks flushed at his words, you were a second away from turning your camera off from how embarrassed you were.

“you want- hamzah! you wanna what!?” you put a hand over your mouth in a surprised expression.

he laughs.

“i said i wanna fuck you, i just said!” he repeated himself, a smirk plastered on his face.

“why would you say that?” you laughed.

“because you were sad and i wanted to cheer you up!” he held his hands up in defence, his screen lagged at the sudden movement. “i’d rather have you happy than sad!”

“now im sad and flustered…” your hands went up to your cheeks, just to feel the warmth that spread across.

“hey, that’s better than sad alone.”

“you’re so dumb!”

>_<

handling your emotions was something you never knew about. and hamzah seemed to be so down to earth about what he wanted, about what he felt, that you couldn’t help but feel left behind in the emotional management area.

“gonna call it a night, im really tired, hamzah.” you said, a yawn escaping your mouth.

“oww, but- but it’s only been three hours..” his big puppy eyes stare at you, and you beat yourself up when you look at his sad face.

stop. stop!

“sorry…” you apologise. “we’ve been talking all week and i’ve been staying up till late the whole week too, we can chat during the day, though.”

he frowns but nods at the same time.

“fair, love you, have a good night!” he waves, waiting for you to say you love him back.

“good night, hamzah!” you smile, ready to end the call, but before you do so, he quickly yells;

“i said i love you…” his hopeful eyes dance across the screen, darting from your own to the smaller square with his face in it.

you pause for a moment. swallow and blink.

“oh, yeah, me too!” and there it was. your stupid feelings ruining everything.

his face drops, but somehow manages to keep a small smile. “alright, love you more, see you tomorrow?”

“yeah.”

and as if it was a race, you rush to press the ‘end call’ button.

your head spinning had you dizzy, so you throw the phone away and lay on your bed. hamzah is all you can think about.

it was like a self defence thing that was, at the same time, self destructive. you had to run away from him, you had to stop your heart from being broken. though, you didn’t think hamzah could hurt you. it was all so confusing! so dumb!

>_<

early hours of the morning, and you are not even fully awake when your phone starts buzzing from the other side of the room.

you rub your sore eyes and groan. every time you woke up it felt like an accomplishment. it was such a struggle, you just wanted your bed to swallow you.

hamzahthefantastic: good morning :D

hamzahthefantastic: kinda went to sleep with a tiny little concern last night…..

hamzahthefantastic: are you mad at me?

the last thing you wanted was to make him upset, however, there was a certain part of his whole attention and sort of devotion –to you– that made you upset.

y/n: gm!

y/n: im not mad at you

hamzahthefantastic: for real?

hamzahthefantastic: you seemed upset last night, kinda zoned out idk

y/n: just tired ngl

hamzahthefantastic: alr it’s fine dw

hamzahthefantastic: i love you a lot y/n

hamzahthefantastic: have a good day today yeah? get some rest, make sure to eat PROPER food, and also don’t forget that i love you :)

you stared at his texts for a little too long, then locked your phone. then unlocked it again. stared some more and then bit your lip, thinking of a reply.

hamzah. yeah. you loved him! how could you not? you had been fixated on him since you two met. why, then, the feelings of overwhelming love now creeped into your brain like flesh eating amoeba?

y/n: ily too!

you frowned. the text was so dry.

y/n: <3

better.

and the reason?, simple. hamzah’s love felt like it was tearing you apart. suffocating you. nobody had ever loved you, or showed remote interest in you like hamzah did.

was he too much? no. you shook your head, thinking then, maybe, you were not enough.

your phone buzzed, and you knew it was him. but you couldn’t get to check.

>_<

per usual, at the end of the day, your routine of facetiming had to be completed. hamzah took his phone and typed a message for you.

hamzahthefantastic: hey! wanna facetime?

hamzahthefantastic: could use to hear your voice :) been thinking ‘bout u all day

11 minutes passed. no response from you.

hamzahthefantastic: helloooooooo

hamzahthefantastic: :( are you there?

hamzahthefantastic: is it ok if i call you?

hamzahthefantastic: miss you y/n

hamzahthefantastic: did i do anything wrong? please call when u see this alr?

hamzah waited. and waited. and waited some more. almost how he waited for you to reply after sending a weird message. this time though, something inside his gut felt different.

it felt like he had fucked something up. ruined whatever the fuck he had going on with you. a something that meant so much, only so much to him.

he was confused.

>_<

waiting felt like skinning himself alive.

like trying to dissect his own heart while it was still beating. beating hard. beating for you.

he opened his chat with you, the only chat he had pinned. hamzah scrolled through all the unread messages he had sent to you, and they seemed uncountable.

no reply. it’s been days.

he sighed. twin fantasy feeling like a fantasy he was only living by himself all along. were you even real?

hamzah couldn’t get himself to doubt you.

>_<

hamzah’s heart clenched. he stared at his messy room, at how the plates piled up on his night table, at how he had your chat open on his laptop to see if you got online any time soon.

he felt like a loser.

>_<

days became weeks. and weeks became a month. and a month was something so long in hamzah-time.

and he still held on.

however, he decided to type out something for you again. just as he did daily.

hamzahthefantastic: hey y/n, hi. how’s everything going? you know, i miss you a lot. more than i can take. and i miss your voice and your face. and most importantly i miss your company. it’s okay, though. i am hoping one day we can reunite, i secretly know this is one of your plans to make me want you even more -_- …but baby, please just come back, yeah? i feel so weird and out of place if you’re not here. i wonder if you’re lonely and i wish i could touch you so i just touch my screen. does that make me a loser? i love you so much, i hope you know that. hurts when you don’t reply, and hurts more realising you probably never will again. please be okay. i love you a lot. and i am sort of tearing up right now, does that make me a loser too? ily

ps. thank you for being my best friend and my best everything (you’re literally my life though) i’ll wait as long as you need!

ps2. i’ll try tomorrow, maybe you’ll be online by then

ps3. i still fantasise about you!

silly, he thought. a loser, a hopeless romantic living so far away from his muse. just a twin flame dancing on his own, by now.

a twin fantasy lived through the eyes of one, only.

>_<

sorry i took so long and sorry this is proper shit. i wanted an excuse to write something other than fluff or smut. i hope you ppl like dis one! (my shitty take at angst) raise ur hand if this ever happened to u totally not based on a true story

[macabr3-barbi3]

loved this one WHEW 💕🥵

Tags: Daddy kink, that's it, that's the whole fic

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

The first time Vox calls himself ‘Daddy’ while you’re fucking him you freeze up so immediately that he thinks he’s done something wrong. “Fuck, baby, taking Daddy so well,” he had muttered in your ear, and the sharp, sudden swoop of arousal in your gut had caught you off guard, moan choking off into a high pitched whine as your body went still. He looks down at you, expression twisted in concern as he realizes what he had said and blushes, pixels going pink. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, and resumes railing you as normal, hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit. You bite your lip as you cum to hold back the title, head thrown back while Vox finds his own release and you wonder what to do with this new information.

You keep your distance for a few days, keeping occupied with busy work- you paint the living room of your shared floor in Vee Tower, offer to help Velvette with one of her shows, make sure that Valentino’s actors have a steady supply of food and drink in the studio. You don’t let Vox touch you for a week, despite your obvious need and his growing frustration. Finally on Sunday, when he lets Katie Killjoy take over the evening news, he comes home to the trap you’ve set. As soon as you hear the elevator door open with a ding you let out a loud moan from the bedroom, a siren call for Vox to come in and see you spread across the sheets of the bed you share, skin bared and your fingers working tirelessly between your legs. 

“H- hey baby,” he manages to get out, a glitch flashing across his screen as he approaches, fingers reaching for you before he’s even close enough to the bed to touch. “Fuck, look at you- soaked and ready for me, huh?” He slides a hand down the length of your thigh towards your core, swearing under his breath when you grab his hand and guide his fingers to the slick folds of your cunt.

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, and his fans let out a wheeze in place of an actual breath as he crouches over you, his screen dropping for a moment so you’re looking at the back of it instead of his face. 

When he looks back up to you his eyes are narrowed, mouth hanging open and his tongue out- he drags it up the length of your body from pelvis to tits, letting his sharp teeth scrape the sensitive nipple before he pulls off. He presses a finger into you, then a second when he finds that you’re already open and desperate. “Goddamn, doll, you didn’t have to blueball me all week for this,” he mutters. “You could’ve just asked- Daddy’s gonna give it to you either way.”

There’s the feeling again, that sharp shock of pleasure and arousal at the term, pussy clenching hard around his digits. “Please, I need it,” you whimper, and he pulls his fingers from your body and curls his tongue around them, using his other hand to line his cock up with your dripping slit and pushing in with a sharp thrust. “Oh fuck-”

“That’s right, sweetheart, Daddy’ll take care of you,” he growls, hooking his arms under your knees and dragging you further towards the edge of the bed. “So fucking perfect for me, taking my cock- you like that?” He slams his hips into you, fucking you with the conviction of a man possessed. Your fingers fly down to the bed, digging harsh lines into the sheets with the pressure from your claws.

“God, please,” you beg, already close on your own, the hard length of him spearing you hurtling you ever closer to that edge. “Daddy- Vox, please,”

He snarls, sharp teeth snapping as he leans in closer and folds you nearly in half. “Should’ve known- I thought you froze up ���cause you were didn’t like it, baby, didn’t realize you were embarrassed by how much you fuckin’ wanted it.” He angles your hips, drives himself into you harder, faster, the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room along with the groans and whimpers that he’s drawing from you.

“Fuck,” you whine, the words tearing from your mouth- you can almost feel the wave behind your eyes , waiting to crest, searching for that final shove to break the tension. “Fuck, gonna- please, Daddy, I need it-” Every time you say it his hips jerk, shoving more forcefully into your wet cunt, claws digging into the flesh of your hips.  

Vox’s left eye swirls, no power behind it, just showing how overwhelmed he is as well when he lets go of your leg on one side to rub forcefully at the bundle of nerves above your drenched pussy, where he’s got you stuffed full of him. “Go ahead, beautiful, cum on Daddy’s cock, show me how pretty-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, your keening cry as the pressure inside of you releases, drowning him out. Your soft walls clamp down on him, the rippling muscles pulling at the rigid length of his cock inside of you, coaxing him into his own orgasm right behind you. Your mind is fuzzy, but still aware enough that his grunts of “fuck baby, take Daddy’s cum, good girl” light up the pleasure center in your brain as he floods you in long pulses. His hips jerk and stutter against you until he finally collapses against you, screen pressed gently into your bare chest and leaving little kisses on your skin.

“Fuck me,” he says, and you can’t help but giggle, running your fingers over the little ports on the back of his head, relishing in his shiver at the touch. “Why didn’t you just tell me you liked it? You didn’t have to spring a trap.”

“God forbid a woman have hobbies.” He pulls out and flops onto the bed next to you, allowing you to roll and rest your head on his chest. “Besides, this was more fun.”

“You should greet Daddy like this after work more often then, doll-”

“Don’t fuckin’ push it,” you tell him, and his rumbling laughter where you’re pressed against him is relaxing, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, secure embrace.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

hi hi hi hi i saw this post and i wanna see your take on it (with peter ofc like hurt/comfort) (https://www.tumblr.com/moonstruckme/730170525023862784/okay-hey-me-again-was-hoping-to-send-a-request?source=share) something similar happened to me a couple of weeks ago too.

So a couple of weeks ago i was planning like this whole big get together and was texting everyone and planning food, decorations and everything and the day of most people either canceled or just literally didnt show up and i didnt even get a text or anything, and i literally spent hours planning, like i went to TJMaxx, Marshalls and stuff like that to find cute decorations and everything, like i spent all of my own money on this. Since no one came i literally sat in my house all dolled up eating everything and watch tv cuz i was upset. THEN around like 11 at night i was on instagram (and im guessing one of them forgot to take me off their close friends) and i saw a story of basically everyone i invited to my party go to another persons party or something i wasnt invited to ig and none of them told me. Like if im being honest, if they couldnt come cuz of some other event i would have moved the date even tho i picked it first. but like, its so shitty cuz they are like my main friend group and its hard for me to mingle with people in general. I have been texting like dry responses and the group chat has been empty since and i have no idea what to do. - 🎀

That’s What Peter’s For

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 0.8k

✮ warnings: one forehead kiss, hurt/comfort, mentions of food, angst.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist

✮ gif by @spidey-stark

The TV in front of you flickered from frame to frame, each pixel reflecting a bright and blinding light into your dark living room. It’s late as you sit alone on the couch, eating the food you prepared for your friends going to waste due to your overplanning. Or maybe because they didn’t bother to show up. 

As you mindlessly shovel food into your mouth, you think back on your trips to pick out decorations for this night. You went with Peter, and you spent too much, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friends to gawk at the effort you put in, you just wanted them to care. 

When you were picking out an outfit for tonight, you tried on each variation, but to no avail, you weren’t satisfied. The bedroom looked like a warzone. Shirts and pants scattered along the floor, leaving little to no walking room. You couldn’t help but look forward to seeing everyone, the thought making you anxious for everyone to arrive. 

Peter was out for the night doing his nightly activities, when the clock struck eight, signaling that your friends should be here at any moment. You were still perfecting some of the drinks when you checked the clock again, eight forty-five. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you walked over to your phone to double-check the time and also look for any ‘running late, sorry’ messages. And to your surprise, the time was correct, and no one had texted you. 

Taking a seat on the couch, you looked for the digital invite you’d sent everyone to double-check check you got the date right. Maybe I’m the wrong one? Once you found it, you took a deep breath. The date is right. 

You tried to find answers as you scrolled through social media. One of the people invited to your party posted a video of themselves dancing in a dimly lit club, the camera panned over to the rest of the group. You can feel your heart sink into your stomach as you realize that everyone you’ve invited was in that video posted five minutes ago. 

Now it’s almost midnight, and you haven’t moved besides turning on the TV and reaching for the snacks on your coffee table. Thick tears roll down your face, taking your makeup with you. You texted one of them a few hours ago, simply asking when they would arrive at your place. And of course, you didn’t receive a response. 

Too in your mind, you don’t even hear the front door open, revealing Peter quickly shoving his suit in his backpack. He was assuming that there would be other people filling in his apartment, causing him to change in the alley and rush up to meet you. A smile is on his face until he’s met with the sound of silence along with the muffled noise from whatever you are watching. 

Then his eyes land on you. Walking over he can’t see your tear-stained cheeks yet as he asks, “Where is everyone, bug?” You sniffle, before turning your head to look at him, instantly breaking down in tears. “Woah,” he instantly sits next to you on the couch, pulling you in for a hug, “tell me what happened.” His tone suddenly turns stern, as he worries.

You look up at him, your skin smudged with a thick smear of black from the mascara you delicately applied just hours before. “Th–They…never showed up,” you take a shaky breath, “everyone ditched me for something else, Pete. And n–no one told me.” 

Peter’s worry turned into anger. He was there for you through all of the planning, all of the grocery trips, and all of the outfit changes, and none of them cared to show. He knew that you needed him in this moment. You needed a warm embrace to pour your heart out. And that you did.

You sat and cried with Peter until you fell asleep, exhaustion taking over your body. When Peter felt your breathing even out beside him, he turned off the TV and carried you to your shared bedroom. Placing you down on the mattress, he walked back into the kitchen, quietly packing everything up, and cleaning the space. The last thing you needed to see tomorrow morning was the events of tonight. 

You didn’t stir until you felt a cold cloth on your face, softly wiping at your skin. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just taking your makeup off,” he hushes, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. You relax under him. The feeling of someone looking after you makes you melt further into the mattress. 

With Peter everything was alright, and you knew that he would be right at your side through all of it. That includes texting your friends a lengthy paragraph about the value of friendship. 

✮ author's note: oh 🎀 anon, im so sorry you had to deal with this. i've been through something like this a few years back, and it is such a shitty feeling. you don't deserve friends that will push you aside for something they think is better. friendships do not work like that. they should have communicated with you about not making it, but the fact that they just ghosted you completely and tried to cover it up??? shady as hell. i'm always here to listen!!

don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support this if you liked it!! my asks/inbox is open, so send in requests if you'd like. ok, ily bye<333

[oviraptoridae]

steel towers grow like corals at the edge of the end of the world

detailed process breakdown under the cut:

this is a location from silversea, the (inhales) work-in-progress troika-compatible post-apocalyptic science-fantasy TTRPG slash worldbuilding project i'm developing + running for a few of my friends. i've posted a drawing of this landscape before! someone asked for me to go into my process for digital collage in gimp, so i made sure to document the creation of this piece.

usually i start by gathering a bunch of images from wikimedia commons and by searching on duckduckgo images & filtering for creative commons licensed images. i wanted to start with a surreal landscape that looked more wrong the longer you inspected it, so this time i started by generating a background with commoncanvas (the stable diffusion model trained entirely on creative commons images, more on that here)

this was the final result. i didn't tweak it too much because i wanted the geometry to look unrealistic and warped. through the upscaling process it lost some of the early cgi look, which was sad, so i'll have to work more on trying to retain that.

interesting tangent: at 20% desert and 80% coral reef, a smooth cone briefly turns into a pyramid.

anyway, i decided i wanted it to look like you were on the edge of this environment, not in the middle, so i made some terrain in blender:

this was just a plane that i subdivided a bunch, pulled some vertices around with proportional editing to make dune shapes, and then decimated the faces to get back to a low poly look. i prefer that method to staying low poly the whole time, i feel as though i have more control over the shape.

the texture is a free tiling sand texture i found online, recolored and scaled down to make it pixelated, and then blended with vertex colors to add a little variation. it's very simple and took me maybe 30 minutes of actual work (the rest of the time spent trying to remember how to use material nodes).

this is the point where i took it into gimp and flipped & scaled the terrain until i liked the composition. i'm not bothered about the shadows not matching up, it just adds to how out of place the surreal terrain looks.

next is color correction, but i forgot to take a screenshot of that before adding the next part. gimp has a little fractal generator hidden in the filters tab, and i used that to make a swirling pattern that i overlaid over the sky, masking it selectively so it looked like it was getting thicker with distance. going for an "annihilation" look to the whole thing.

at this point i'm happy with the image and i go on to post processing. this is the part where tumblr's image compression is not doing me any favors, but oh well. when i make glitch art, there are a bunch of filters that are my favorite, but i don't usually use all of them on an image.

first off, i scale the image to 50%, add dithering (3-4 colors per channel looks nicest to me), then scale back up to the original resolution with no interpolation.

then i add "wind" (under the "distorts" option). it makes a cool pixel-sorted effect. at high levels it looks super cool...

but i keep it pretty subtle for this one.

the "video degradation" effect makes the image either too bright or too dark. i like the lcd screen look though. so i use a mask to turn it into a vignette.

i also added bloom at some point during the process, but i don't remember when. i also took the original image before all the glitch effects and overlaid it with the "chroma" blending mode to bring back some of the color that had been lost.

this was a pretty simple collage, but i didn't want to make the post too long. most of my collages involve a lot of moving things around, testing different compositions and images before i decide on a final product.

this image took like 8 hours to make, for example. most of it was spent perfecting the grainy filter.

other gimp effects i didn't use here but i like include deinterlace (which you can use on a non-interlaced image to add deinterlacing artifacts), sample colorize (lets you use another image as a color source to gradient map onto an image), alien map (can't explain. just use it. move the sliders very slowly if you are sensitive to strobing lights), and value propagation (like a very small radius blur that you can tweak in interesting ways to soften an image without losing graininess or pixelated-ness)

i hope this was helpful/informative!

[benayoung]

* ❁┆i’m no bad witch

@behyejin:​

{  `❁  } “this looks great to me honestly. i’m pretty content with the lines i got.” it’s the lines she asked for but talking about it amongst each other is best since they are a team for this round. she wonders what eunkyung thinks about it all.

@eunkyungxbe

center material.

it had taken everything in eunkyung to keep her face calm and level, so as not to offend the judges’ evaluation of her performance with her own display of shock and disbelief. in just a handful of days, she’d gone from submitting to a television on a whim, odds narrowed against her, who had never even considered being a performer herself, to being placed in the top five on an idol survival show out of countless auditioning hopefuls.

she has her own tags now, on all the socials she’d perused to get to know her fellow contestants. thank goodness she got that root touch up before the first episode.

of course, scrolling through her own mentions on social media, a notably risky hobby for anyone known to the public, she can’t avoid the instances that her name appears alongside nayoung’s. how quickly eunkyung’s feeds had gone from old nayoung-centered clips to trivial debates about which female contestant was in the wrong, which was prettier, which was more talented. initially, eunkyung had brushed it all off as petty internet drama, faceless strangers hiding behind pixels just to pit women against each other. nayoung had a point, one that had been reiterated by one of the show’s top professionals. perhaps, the way she’d gone about it had been a bit tactless and proud, but it wasn’t anything eunkyung had taken personally. not at the time.

but then eunkyung had watched the episode, felt something inside of her spasm at the sight nayoung, rattling off the flaws of faceless contestants in a harsh, unforgiving tone, one after the other. and if there had been enough content for that small montage of degradation, how much more was there on the cutting room floor? she didn’t care about her own critiques–she’d faced far worse than nayoung in her lifetime–but the way nayoung spoke to others, as if they were all beneath her, as if she had any authority to hurt people for the sake of, what, throwing her weight around? it was far too reminiscent of the girls from school, the ones who made a regular pastime of making their classmates feel small.

eunkyung tries to remain civil and polite when they first meet up as a team, for hyejin’s sake, and for the sake of their performance. but there is a lingering disdain there, just behind her eyes, whenever she glances at nayoung, and a glint of daring, as if challenging her to step out of line again.

then there’s the line distribution, which is a blatant indication of just how little nayoung thinks of her. normally, it wouldn’t bother eunkyung, who has yet to become too emotionally invested in this process or its outcome; yes, the stakes are a little higher for her, now that she’s been told she might have a shot at this, but it’s not enough for her to let a bully off scot-free. sorry hyejin.

she can’t help the drawn out, disappointed scoff that passes through her soft palette as she scans the page again, tilting her head to the side and squinting her eyes.

“this is…” she begins, trying to formulate her impassioned thoughts into words suitable for network television. another scoff, this one through an ironic, sardonic smile.

“nayoung-ssi…” she finally addresses the elephant in the room head on, looking up to look their self-designated leader in the eye, “do you really think so low of me?”

she’s smiling even more now, as if she finds the whole thing bitterly amusing, holding up her copy of the distribution in one hand, “most of my part would be censored like this. do you want me to disappear that badly?”

nayoung flashes hyejin a smile. “okay, great!” she replies, perhaps a little more chipper than typical of her true nature. sure, she’s playing up the enthusiasm, but she is genuinely excited to get a chance to rap properly for the show. granted, it was a rap performance that sent her out on her first survival show, but back then she was incredibly inexperienced. in her time training after that point, she made sure she was able to rap competently too, just in case the company called on her to do so. next gen isn’t her company, but she’s being called on to do it regardless, and she’s thankful she put the work in that she did.

that excitement ebbs a bit when eunkyung speaks up. nayoung honestly doesn’t expect eunkyung to fight her on this. the eunkyung she last encountered was lighthearted and, as she pinned her herself, not taking the competition seriously enough for nayoung’s liking.

to eunkyung’s credit, that seems to be different now. either that or she’s just being difficult to give nayoung a hard time. at first, it’s incredibly irritating. nayoung can’t help the brief moment her face betrays that feeling, before she evens it out, because honestly, this is good for her. eunkyung is testing her. she doesn’t know if that’s the other girl’s entire intention, or she’s genuinely more ambitious than nayoung gave her credit for, but this is a test she intends to pass, and really, she can use this moment in her favor. she had a feeling any test of teamwork wouldn’t go swimmingly for her, but what a perfect opportunity to make eunkyung look like the most unreasonable of the group.

surely, if eunkyung did look up her history on past survival shows, she should know of nayoung’s ability to save face. she hasn’t been trying it this time, opting to show her true colors in favor of spending that energy focusing on her skills instead of being someone she’s not, but she has faith in her ability to turn on politeness and a good nature, however fake it may be. it’s for the sake of the team, after all, and the judges asked her to play nice. she’s just implementing their feedback.

“i do think you have less experience than hyejin and i,” she admits honestly, albeit as level-headedly as she can. that much is true. the rest of the truth is that she doesn’t think eunkyung is very talented outside of her dancing. she doesn’t know what the judges see in her at all, but fine, if eunkyung isn’t satisfied, nayoung will cooperate. maybe how much the judges love eunkyung will help them if she has more lines, or maybe she’ll do a piss poor job, they’ll end up in the bottom group, and then eunkyung will get eliminated for her lack of talent and lack of cooperation. of course, nayoung never wants to lose, but that’s not a terrible outcome.

“but i don’t want you to disappear.” she sort of does, but in the case of their performance, that would be incredibly unprofessional, and that wasn’t even her intention in creating the distribution. “i thought the line distribution was fair, but if you have any suggestions,” nayoung looks down at the sheet of their lines again. she takes her pen and circles two parts–– one of hyejin’s parts, near the middle, including the line i don’t wanna be caught on fire. the other is near the end, with the lines even if it’s hard i’m always the unnie. then, she slides her own lyric sheet toward eunkyung. “the only parts that need to stay the same are these two. hyejin specifically wanted the part that’s circled, and i’m the oldest in the group, so i think it makes sense for me to have this part.” she points to her own part with her pen. “i’m open to changing any other parts. you too, hyejin?” she turns to the other member of the group, because it’s important they have her approval as well, if only for the cameras.

[willkimurashat]

Exactly 0 people asked, but here I am anyway with a rating of Love Island The Game: Ex in the Villa lol!

As you’ve probably noticed, I played each volume as it came out, did not read the spoilers. I always loved litg for giving me escapism from reality I so much craved because it was a fun, problem-free game, where I was the center of attention in a good way, and pixels loved me unconditionally. That is until s5 rolled up. I was really excited about it, even though still not over s4 because they released it so close to each other, but nonetheless wanted to give it a fair go. I was very open to the story and the characters, but about half way through, I just could not defend them anymore. It wasn’t a good time anymore, it was a “how will fusebox piss me off today” time. Anyways, maybe this whole collective trauma of s5 is still very fresh in my mind, and I won’t think it’s so bad as time goes on, but here’s my thoughts on it now.

Disclaimer: All of these are obviously just my subjective, humble opinion - feel free to agree or disagree or add your own:) and if you’d like to use these categories for your own ratings - please, by all means!

Also, potential spoilers ahead:)

So. Let’s break it down into some categories…

Character design: 7/10

This is just my personal taste I guess, but they really went off with Suresh and Gabi. Meera and Johnny made me swoon too. The rest look aight, but I think slight tweaks like aligning Finn’s jaw or Kat’s eyes or making her hair less high up, stuff like that - it would really help. Also, never forget the atrocious outfits (I mean, rubber duckies? Really? The stupid hat? The abominable sandals?? Ugh…)

Character personality: 7/10

I’m probably being too generous, but I do feel like everyone had a distinct personality and a “role” in the villa. Now, where they annoying most of the time? Yes. Were they mean to MC? Also yes, but that’s a completely different point. Did we really get to know anyone or was it mostly just conversations about how Suresh would feel if MC went for someone else and vice versa? I’ll let you answer that one… Disclaimer: MC not included here, she’s an outlier and would skew the score too much.

Character diversity: 4/10

We got some range of characters, but where they done well? Starting with not specifying ethnicities of every single mixed race islander on their applications, perpetuating stereotypes about characters of color and abuse, making them toxic, continuing to make woc villains of the story… LGBT characters being all over the place and, again, villains/unlikeable… Yeah, do better fusebox.

MC design: 6.5/10

My first impression when I saw mc was… not the greatest. My second impression when I played the game - better, but not great. I think my main issue is some expressions, which are just not.. it… I appreciate that they made a curvier body type option, but the face just looks a bit off anyway? Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s definitely potential and so many people were able to make them look hot, but my mc? Idk, can’t help but think that something’s off with her every time I look at her:/ (I figured out who my mc reminds me of btw!)

MC personality: 1/10

It really is a 0, but again, I’m being generous. 16 volumes, 42 episodes and we know absolutely nothing about them. What do they like? Who’s their type? What’s their passion in life? What makes them, well, them? Who is mc? A hologram. A cardboard cut out that only has three preprogrammed comments: yes/no/i don’t know.

MC customization: 5/10

I think overall, the customization was alright and I was pretty much able to make mc look like me, but that being said, I’m a white girl, so I’m privileged enough to not have to run into problems like having ethnic hair gem blocked… And again, I like the curvy body type option, (though it’s still kinda limited), but we still can’t have a choice of feminine/masculine presenting bodies, which I don’t think is too much to ask for (they do it on Lovelink for example). And the outfits… granny fashion and shattered glass bikini? Please just.. let’s just move on.

Challenges: 5/10

The idea for challenges was quite good. Who doesn’t love an obstacle challenge, a snog, marry, pie, a heart racing challenge, or kiss the islander with ___ secret? I know I do! No, we didn’t get the baby challenge or the mean tweets, but it was still a good selection of challenges. However, they were written so… dryly? (Is that a word? It feels like it’s not, but it is now lol.) Anyway, just like the rest of the season, it’s three lines of dry textbook text that just didn’t excite me in the slightest. I read textbooks for grad school every day, I want creative writing in a romance game pretty please! I didn’t feel like I was actually there, doing the challenge. I didn’t care if I won the challenge either because there were no prizes for them anyway and no one-on-one time with our li’s, so… Good idea, poor execution:/

Drama: 3/10

E X C E S S I V E and U N C A L L E D F O R. Of course, it made sense that in a season about Exes in the Villa the main drama will be about Exes in the Villa. I get it, trust me. But you would hope that the drama will get resolved, which in my opinion, it wasn’t. Or it didn’t feel like a satisfying resolution to me personally. It kept going in circles, “hear me out!” “I’m done apologizing!” “Maybe we are different people” “I’m gonna win you back” “How do you think Suresh would feel if…?” “How do you feel now that Suresh is with…?” And the ending was that he wanted to propose to you too, but because of miscommunication it didn’t happen, making this whole drama actually pointless. And that’s only Suresh drama, which if you’re not on his route is tiring, repetitive, and… boring?

Moving on, I wrote a lot of rants about Alfie drama, so I won’t go into it, you all know how I feel. Arlo was feisty with mc for no reason, especially if you constantly reject Suresh’s advances. Drastically changing Meera’s character to an insufferable bitch was unnecessary. Same with Johnny/Nicolas - there was no indication that they are terrible people during casa amor, and the evil master plans came out of nowhere, and only served to further hurt mc. Eddie as a villain was enough for me tbh, we didn’t need the whole villa ganging up on mc. Plus, we shouldn’t be the only ones with drama, I would like to have some fun time at least, thank you very much. Overall, I’m not saying this should be Friend Island - I’ve seen the show, I know how it goes and I know some drama can be absolutely ridiculous, but I just think it wasn’t balanced out at all. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t proportional. (Maybe I’m alone in thinking this, but I think s4 had a good balance of drama/friendships/romance, so it was still there, but it wasn’t overbearing.)

Relationships: 3.5/10

The only points here are for Lulu, honestly. And Gabi, but I might be biased lol. Okay, maybe also Alfie-Finn bromance, I’m a sucker for those. Friendship-wise, the whole season I felt alone and felt like I couldn’t trust anyone. Kat was going back and forth between being my friend and being my rival. Arlo had issues with me… why exactly? I’m honestly not sure… Dana was… just there? Her friendship entailed pulling me for a chat any time I wanted to have a conversation with my li and gossiping or asking for reassurance. Meera was nothing, but an insecure bitch to me. Eddie wanted nothing to do with me, until the very end we’re apparently all buddy-buddy and he’s spilling secrets to me. Don’t forget the blackmailing too. Finn was nice only in one (1) occasion, and that is during Snog, Marry, Pie. Alfie may have been a good friend, but I didn’t do that route with him. Lulu was the only one consistently kind and on mc’s side. Gabi was an interesting addition, it’s a shame we didn’t get to know her at all basically.

Romance-wise, again, felt like I couldn’t trust anyone. It was the first season where I just wasn’t interested in anyone romantically because I didn’t get to know anyone really, and most were horrible to me. When the first character designs dropped, I liked Suresh, then was let down. I liked Alfie, then was let down. I liked Johnny, then was let down. I liked Finn, then was let down. I liked Lulu, but the choice to pick Gabi was just too tempting, and guess what? Lulu didn’t let me down, even as just a friend. (I’m glad I picked Gabi in the end, but I still know nothing about her…) Nobody really wanted mc and mc couldn’t really have anyone either. I think there was a lot of wasted potential with li’s. Like, hear me out: Suresh - enemies to lovers, Alfie/Dana - loyal routes, Finn - slow burn, Kat - friends to lovers, Johnny/Nicolas - partners in crime, Lulu - last-minute-sweep-me-off-my-feet, Gabi - messy, peak drama choice (I mean, come on, two girls wronged by the same ex get together? It’s my favorite part of this whole season - literally why I picked her, and she’s actually a sweetheart:))

Recouplings: 2/10

I remember in s4, I felt like there were too many recouplings, so in s5 they went ahead and gave us the least recouplings possible. Only once (1) can you actually pick someone you want to be with throughout the whole time in the villa, throughout all 42 episodes, all 16 volumes - right at the very end (!!!), unless you also willingly chose to twist switch to someone after casa amor. My main issue is that the whole season can be considered pointless because you can basically never couple up with who you want, casa boys wrong you and leave you anyway, bringing us back to square one with 3 og guys that you might’ve tried to escape the whole time. Or, if you’re on a Suresh route, the whole pining angst, or even, the whole idea of going to love island was useless and pointless because even though neither of them really grow or change as people (sorry my Suresh lovelies, it’s just how i see it), they finally talk it out and make up anyway, so none of these 42 episodes really mattered. Yeah, it angers me.

Finale: 4/10

As contradicting as it may sound, I do believe the team took feedback regarding s4 finale into consideration. We got final dates, prom prep, prom, declarations of love, winner announcements, love vs. money, and even a special vip guest - all components needed for a successful finale, the climactic resolution of the season, right? Wrong. I can live with the sacrifice of afterparty (not that I would want to see anyone from this season ever again anyway), but it seems natural progression of the finale was also sacrificed for the sake of jam-packing everything into the last volume. The events felt like they were happening with a speed of light: recoupling-hideaway (ugh)-date-picking a dress-prom-declaration-winners-money/love. I may be sleep deprived, but this made me even more dizzy. And not even that, but the progression of the relationship felt anything, but natural - it was more of a fever dream, really. I like you, Gabi, I do, and you’re sweet and give me full attention, but other than the fact that you like tattooing and fear squirrels, I know absolutely nothing about you (besides the obvious, of course). So all the plastic rings flying around, “being exclusive” and ahem, a PROPOSAL felt, uh… rushed. This is not Vegas, we are not eloping, and I basically don’t know you, so why, oh why would that even be an option?

Moving on, the resolution of the season overall was quite lackluster. Finn never confronted Kat, continuing on with a perfect illusion of romance for her. Well done, Finn. Suresh leaves (if you’re not with him), and decides to let loose and go to Barbados, clearly indicating that he will resort back to his old ways. Nice. Alfie claims to have become a changed man, even appears regretful about things, but who’s to say if he really did change? A half-assed “we’re friends” speech from Kat really did nothing to me neither physically nor emotionally. Sooo… 16 volumes, 42 episodes later nobody learned anything, nobody admitted they were wrong, nobody really genuinely apologized, and nobody grew as a person. Yet again - the whole season was pointless. Add in the driest, most uninteresting writing and it was enough to leave me disappointed still.

We will not talk about Bobby. I refuse to talk about Bobby. That was not Bobby, he was not canon, it did not happen, and I will not accept any criticism.

Structure: 3/10

The only points here are for casa amor, and even that wasn’t done well (i have a post about it here somewhere). Starting with only 3 couples? Only what, like, 3 recouplings ever? Not a single beach hut moment? Not a single hideaway moment??? (No no, they cannot get away with a lackluster last minute “whatever, you can have your stupid hideaway” scene in the very end of the season) We’ve only been there for what feels like a week?? Are you kidding me? It seems we keep straying further and further away from the format of the actual show it’s meant to be based on and I don’t really like that tbh.

Storyline: 5/10

Tell you what, I was actually really intrigued when they first announced the theme of the season as “Ex in the Villa”. I remember people theorizing how they’re gonna handle it, who they’re bringing in, etc. But, a few episodes in I realized just how limiting it was to constrain the whole plotline to… just Suresh. All the conversations and all the drama got very-very redundant very-very quickly. The only redeeming quality was being able to pick Gabi. Check and mate. Oh, and Lulu. Lulu is my queen:) Here’s alternative ways they could’ve improved it: let players choose who their ex is from given characters; let our ex despise mc and mc despises them back in the beginning (enemies to lovers/enemies to besties); let all islanders be exes of other islanders (it won’t be love island the show anymore, but they weren’t really sticking to the format anyway, so); let mc have multiple exes in the villa (and then those two (or three?) exes fight for them); let players choose the reason why they’re exes.

Writing: 2/10

I’m kinda conflicted because I feel like it did get better, but it also got worse? Like, I appreciate using more of love island jargon and the conversations felt pretty natural, like real people would speak, you know? (But still, I can’t really speak to that, since I don’t live in the UK, my only exposure to different accents is through tv and videos.) But at the same time all conversations (75% of which are about Suresh and MC lol) felt so repetitive and so boring and it dragged on and on and on… and then you look back at the episode and realize that nothing’s happened and you didn’t learn anything about anyone. Character development was minimal, if there at all. Very little character depth, very limited background information. I’m not even going to mention mc… Spicy scenes were basically nonexistent and a massive downgrade from s4 (don’t even talk to me). And even in general, every scene was written so dry, so robotic, and so anticlimactic that it was just constant disappointment. The constant bullying from girls to wear expensive outfits was super annoying and unnecessary as well.

Update: I initially had a higher rating for writing, but after playing the finale, I had to cut it in half for the mere reason that I have reached my limit. The utter disrespect I felt when my eyeballs glanced over the screen and read “NSFW kiss” during a prom scene with Gabi was beyond something I could accept with understanding. Perhaps in some circumstances it could be an acceptable form of writing and communicating, but personally I considered the phrasing as a placeholder, instead of a legitimate description of such kiss. I believe if the company had at least the slightest respect for their players, they would and should do the bare minimum of proofreading the text before releasing it for satisfactory gaming experience. Unfortunately, I had to remove points for personal vindication and emotional damage, which is reflective of how I have been treated as a player.

Replayability: 2/10

Hmmm idk. Idk if I’ll ever replay this one. I never got too attached to characters or the storyline, maybe because they released it so soon after s4 and I wasn’t over that yet. And when I did feel a teeny tiny spark with a character, they went on and did something stupid/annoying/hurtful, so even if I did want to go back and do their routes, I feel like they hurt me and I don’t like them much anymore. The only way I mightttt replay it at some point is to just be a bitch to everyone from the beginning because they all deserve that, honestly…

Overall score: 4/10

Well, and that about wraps it up. I never had this many… negative emotions about a season - me, the person who always tells people to not compare seasons, give it a fair go, and not take it close to heart because it’s a game. I usually love burying my face in a pillow, giggling at my screen, and kicking my feet as pixels swoon over me, professing their undying love, but I was robbed of that this season, unfortunately. I’m definitely gonna miss the memes and the rants here every Wednesday, and being the sentimental ass that I am, I will actually feel kinda sad that it’s over. At the same time, this was the first season that I spent here, as an official member of the litg fandom lol, and I’m thankful to have made friends here, bonding over this season:) Thank you for reading my rants, agreeing with me, and offering your own insights and perspectives! I hope I was able to make you laugh a little bit too:) This season prompted me to write two fics (and maybe more to come) that I’m quite proud of, and it made me want to replay other seasons, so I guess there is some good that came out of it, right? ;) and since we didn’t get a traditional ending this season, in true litg fashion I’ll say it…

…Stay hydrated, islanders xoxo

[yaatrickyassification]

Hiii ! This is probably my first request but can you write a oneshot about Zack Lee x Male reader where Zack realized he liked Male reader than Mira, like he realized that he was just trying to convince himself that he likes Mira but all along he likes Male reader and then he decides to confess ? Thank you so muchhhhh love lots 💗💗

Thank you for your request! 

[ Zack Lee x M! Reader ] - Realizing he likes M! Reader instead of Mira

I.

Zack stared at the walls of his room quietly, it was quite unusual for the usually loud high schooler Zack was. He looks at his phone before letting out a big sigh. His phone was clutched in his hand and his black eyes gaze at the device, should he do it?

He asks himself, he lets out a breath and decides to harden his nerves, "I should go say sorry to Mira first." He opens his phone and clicks on Mira's contact, he flinches when he sees Mira's nickname on his mobile, and he gushes at the name with a heart after.

His thumb was above the erase button but he hesitated, his hands turned into a fist as he readied himself, he erased the nickname and replaced it with Mira instead, his thumb hovering above the call button as he finally clicked it.

"Zack? Is something wrong?"

"Mira, let's talk for a bit."

II.

Zack goggles at the snowflakes falling from the sky as the streetlamps lighten the neighborhood with their glow, he looks around his surroundings trying to find any presence of Mira, and his eyes brighten up as he sees Mira's approaching figure. Let's do it, Zack. 

"What's up with you calling me this late?" Mira looks at Zack's grim expression as she tries to steady her breathing due to her running across the block just to meet this dumbhead late at night and during winter at that, Zack looks at Mira with an apologetic gaze as he brought out his heater pack he's been holding on for quite a while.

"Here, have this Mira." Mira glanced at the heater and she nodded thankfully after, "What do you wanna talk about?" She asks but after one look in Zack's eyes, Mira finally figured it out, she let out a sigh as she stared at the sea that was in front of them.

"I- Mira." He stuttered out as he accidentally bit his tongue due to nervousness, his body lightly shivered to the cold as he clutched onto his brown coat as if it were his life support at this time. "I'm sorry, my feelings for you must have been misleading you all this time, and for that, I'm such a jerk I know. I-" Zack was cut off as Mira took his hand gently.

"I know." Zack's eyes widen as his eyes gaze upon Mira's face, Mira suddenly pinch Zack's ears, Zack lets out painful groans and he looks at Mira's playful expression, "You're such a jerk, I know you like [y/n]! It was so painfully obvious the whole school already knew, but you were holding back just because of me. You don't want to hurt me don't you?" Zack stopped with his groans and he nodded his head at Mira's words.

"Now go and confess to [y/n]!" Zack's eyes widen from Mira's statement, his hand rubbing his painfully red ear due to Mira's pinching, "I don't know how."

Mira huffs, "Listen here Zack, you need to be fast and genuine when confessing, a lot of girls are already all over [y/n], you don't want to lose him right?"

Zack vigorously nodded at Mira, "Then confess already, I already called [y/n] to go here."

"What?!" Mira laughs at Zack's panicked tone, her eyes looking over to the distance as she makes out your blurry pixelated figure in the dark, "Now go." She pushed Zack in your direction, her eyes turning into crescent shapes as she watched Zack fumble around trying to fix his appearance, "Do I look great?"

She nods, Zack hurriedly went towards you, and Mira was left behind in the snow, she can't help but look at the place where Zack was standing with solemn eyes, "You're such a jerk."

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Eighteen. The Package.

warnings: swearing word count: 4.3k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

a/n: me: *it’ll be a much shorter update* also me: *makes it 4.3k words* okay 🧍‍♀️ basically um.... strap in :D

**********

As expected, Y/n’s appearance on Quackity’s stream had caused a panic on Twitter, half of their fans screaming about how cute Bugity was, the other half defending Dreamsy with their lives. It was all very amusing to Y/n, knowing nothing could ever happen between her and Quackity and that neither of them actually had feelings for each other. 

It seemed certain people thought otherwise. 

Dream, the confident and bold man that he usually was, had once again gone quiet towards her. Though it had only been a couple of days, they hardly talked after the stream and had little contact since then, which was very unusual for the two, who normally FaceTimed at least once a day since he showed her his face. 

The weirdest part was he hadn’t Tweeted any jokes about Quackity being too short for her or how Dream was her self-proclaimed Minecraft husband. Maybe he was just busy or tired, but she had a suspicion that it was because she and Quackity had succeeded in making Dream jealous, and she didn’t like it. 

Unlike last time, Y/n knew to confront him about it and work it out before whatever was going on became a bigger issue. She couldn’t deal with him being weird around her again and she had a feeling that he couldn’t either. Even if he was just busy, she wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.

After sending a text to Dream to see if he was busy, Y/n was startled by her front door opening.

“Y/n!” Karl shouted as he ran in, hands full of as many white, plastic bags as possible without dropping or tearing any, though there were a few bags on his right arm that looked like they were about to give. “My beloved!” 

“Karl!” she said back in a slight panic, not expecting him to burst into her house so abruptly. Naomi followed behind him with a few bags in her hands, kicking off her shoes by the entrance and dumping her keys next to them. The two friends set their new purchases on the kitchen counters and Y/n made her way to them to sit at the counter. “Enjoy your trip?”

“Oh for sure,” Naomi nodded sarcastically, unbagging a few items. “Grocery shopping with this one is always sooo fun.” 

Y/n laughed as Karl perked up like he remembered something and dug through a few of the bags Naomi was sorting through. “LOOK WHAT WE BOUGHT!” 

“Uh… cereal?” she guessed, eyeing the brown box her best friend held up proudly.

“Dude, it’s Cocoa Krispies!” he clarified. “I forgot these exist! I’m so excited, it’ll be like eating childhood.” 

Naomi rolled her eyes fondly at his antics before turning to Y/n. “Any word from Dream?” 

She shook her head. “But I only just texted him.” 

“What about Dream?” Karl asked softly, worry in his eyes as he looked between the two girls. “Did something happen? Besides, you know, you showing him your face.” 

Y/n groaned. “I’m never going to hear the end of this. I’m sorry you found out from a stream and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first. It just happened so fast.” 

“As long as I’m the first person you tell when you inevitably start dating.”

“Oh, like you tell me anything, Mr. I’m-Obviously-Texting-Someone-Cute-Because-I-Never-Stop-Giggling-At-My-Phone-But-Haven’t-Mentioned-Anything-To-My-Best-Friend,” Y/n accused, lifting her hands to put air quotes around the last two words. Karl turned bright red and Y/n raised her eyebrows as his phone buzzed on the counter, his eyes darting to it before looking at Y/n with a bashful smile, face still glowing. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Karl sputtered out some attempt of an excuse as he grabbed the ends of his green hoodie in his hands before giving up and huffing. “Okay, and? I only keep things from you because you keep things from me!” he said with a laugh.

“Lie,” Naomi cut in. “We know you've been texting someone for a while. We just respect your privacy about relationships, but we’ve definitely noticed.” 

“I'm private about relationships?” Karl laughed. “Says you!” 

“I'll tell you anything you want to know as long as you don't share it with fans,” Naomi challenged, crossing her arms and looking at Karl pointedly, as if asking him to test her.

Karl dropped his hands and paused before genuinely asking, “Are you guys dating dating?”

“We’re waiting until we meet to see how it goes,” she answered. “Your turn! Is it the camera girl at work that you mentioned a few months ago?” 

“Anyways!!” Karl dragged out the word loudly, pretending to not hear Naomi's question or either of the girl’s laughter. “What about Dream?” he tried redirecting the conversation and luckily for him, Y/n didn’t mind. 

“Well, I kinda....” she took a deep breath as she started helping Naomi put groceries away. “I really want to... I think, well, I know—”

“She decided to tell him she likes him,” Naomi answered for her, receiving a glare from the taller girl. “What? You were taking too long.” 

Karl’s mouth opened. “Wait, really!? When? Today??” He fired off questions and Naomi chuckled. 

Y/n took a shaky, but excited breath. “I don’t know when. But I’m going to tell him,” she said with determination clear in her voice. 

“What made you decide to?” Karl asked with a wide grin, reaching over to Naomi to help her place a box on a higher shelf than she could reach. “Why all of a sudden?” 

Y/n shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly with excitement. “Well, I started to think he likes me too and I really want to know if something could happen or if I should try to just move on. I’ll never know unless I ask, right?” she said, and Karl and Naomi both smiled at her. “I'm sick of not knowing for sure.” 

“I’m so excited for you!” Karl giggled. “I’m—Y/n, this is gonna be good. I know it.”

She smiled widely, scrunching her nose lightly. “I think so too.”

“So do George and I,” Naomi commented as she took a handful of Cocoa Krispies from the box, earning a look of betrayal from Karl, who snatched the box from her to have a snack too. 

“Does everyone talk about him and I?”

Karl nodded slowly while Naomi took a more blunt approach. “Yup.”

“What are the odds that he’s the only one who doesn’t think we like each other?” 

Karl giggled. “1 in 7.5 trilli— OW! You just hit me!” 

“Overused joke,” Naomi explained, retracting her hand from the back of his head with a sweet smile. 

Y/n pulled her phone out of her pocket as it vibrated and gasped lightly before looking up at her friends. “Okay Karl, I need to know details about this secret person you’re keeping from us, especially if it's camera girl because she sounded adorable.” 

“No,” he protested pointedly. “Not until something actually happens.” 

“Is.. is that a confirmation that it's camera girl?” Naomi snapped her head to look at him.  

Karl paused, turning pink. “N-no?” 

“Karl!” Y/n pouted and he winked dramatically at her. 

“Go talk to your boy. I know it was him that just texted you.” 

“Make him your boyfriend,” Naomi demanded jokingly, though the glint in her eyes told Y/n that she meant it. 

“Not happening right now,” Y/n assured, getting up from her seat. “But I am going to go talk to him. So love you both, bye.”

“Hi,” Y/n greeted happily as she propped her phone up on her desk and tucked her knees to her chest.

“Hello,” Dream said with a weak smile, less enthusiastic than he seemed over text, though he was trying his best to make that not noticeable. He pulled his hood over his hair but kept his face in view and Y/n could clearly see him being vaguely distant, not looking directly at his phone.

Focus on the mission: make sure he's doing okay and if not, find out why, she reminded herself as her thoughts started to focus on how adorable he looked all tired and pouty. Don't tell him you like him if he's mad at you for something.

“Are you doing okay?” He nodded distractedly at her question and she frowned softly. “What’s wrong, Clay?”

The man stuck with his story, adding a slight smile and a breathy laugh in an attempt to make his obvious lie more believable. “Nothing. I’m fine, Bug.”

Y/n took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing it suddenly. “At the risk of sounding… narcissistic,” she paused, “are you by chance upset at all by the... stream from the other day?”

Hesitation was written all over Dream’s face as he chewed on his lower lip and hummed.

“Or something completely different? I just wanna make sure I didn't do anything to upset you..”

“I'm not upset at you,” he clarified quickly before hesitantly adding, “but... maybe it has a little bit to do with that.”

Y/n nodded, hoping she was understanding correctly and wasn’t about to make a fool of herself. “In a... jealous way?”

Dream huffed, clearly frustrated. “Yeah, I get it, the whole point was that Alex wanted to make me jealous because he knows how much I care about you and… and whatever. Well, it worked,” he admitted the last part softly like he was embarrassed.

“Dream,” Y/n sighed, “I’ve said it before, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m aware that I’m not allowed to be jealous, Y/n,” he said harshly, though she knew the slight anger wasn’t directed at her specifically, despite the use of her real name, which he hardly ever used.

She frowned. “That’s not—no, that’s not what I’m saying. I mean that there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Dream looked at the camera skeptically. “I mean… there kinda is, to be fair. Two of my best friend’s reading—”

“Dream,” Y/n deadpanned, looking softly but sternly at him through the pixels that made their distance seem closer. “I’m serious.”

The blond boy shrugged slowly, seeming to realize how dumb it was to think there was a possibility of him losing Y/n’s attention in any way. “I know it’s stupid to be jealous anyway. You can, you know, have whatever friends you want. I just…” he trailed off like he wanted to say something important but shook his head.

Y/n took a deep breath, so tempted to just blurt out the words at the back of her throat. Just tell him you like him, she scolded herself, do it. It’s the perfect chance. She didn’t know if she was being dumb and was just reading into things or if she was right, but she felt like he liked her. Even before he saw her.

“Sorry I made you mad,” she whispered and he frowned.

“You didn't—Bug, I'm not mad at you. Or Quackity. I’m mad at myself if anything but… not mad.”

“So… you don't hate me?”

He rolled his head back and smiled, scoffing lightly. “I could never be mad at you. Like, actually.”

She rolled her lips between her teeth, feeling the words bubble at the back of her throat again. But before she could open her mouth to let them fly, the boy on the other side of the phone spoke up.

“Hey, did you get my package yet?” Dream asked suddenly. Y/n couldn’t tell if he was changing the subject on purpose or if he just remembered and didn’t want to forget, but it made her want to hit her head on her desk. She needed to figure out a way to subtly bring the conversation back around eventually so she could make herself tell him she liked him.

Y/n let out her breath shakily and her shoulders dropped. “Oh, uh, I don’t think so. The mail hasn’t come today though.”

Dream groaned. “I wish it would show up already,” he pouted. “It’s supposed to get there sometime in the next couple days. I don’t know exactly when because UPS is being vague.”

Y/n laughed. “What did you send?”

“The hoodie!”

“Oh yeah!” she gasped, forgetting about her self-appointed task from moments ago. “I’m very excited. Thank you again, by the way. It’s very sweet of you to send me your merch for free.”

“Of course,” he said with a soft smile. “Anything for you.”

“I’ll just have to pay you back by giving you the very first Bugsy merch.”

“Ohh!!” he gasped excitedly. “Are you working on some?”

She shrugged vaguely to tease him. “I may or may not have a few ideas.”

“Please, can I know? I really wanna know.”

“Why are you so excited?” she asked with a laugh. “You can find out when I announce stuff.”

He pouted. “I don’t get any sort of privilege?”

“Pretty privilege will only get you so far in life, bud,” she teased and he shook his head. She wondered if she would have butterflies in her stomach still if she called him pretty under different circumstances, like if they were dating. Would he react in a different way or still just give her that smile.

“I just can’t wait,” he interrupted her train of thought. “I love having every crumb of BugsyGames content I can get.”

“You already get more than anyone except Karl and Naomi. So greedy.”

He hummed and smiled at her fondly.

“Hey, you said you wanted to talk about something?”

“Huh? Oh… that… uh, well.” He stopped abruptly and his brows furrowed in deep thought, like he was deciding how to say something important again.

She decided to give him a way out by offering, “Was it just about wondering if I got the hoodie yet?”

Dream’s face lit up and she didn’t mistake the grateful look for anything else. “Yeah, that. Just let me know when you do get it. Or I’ll text you if they ever let me know where it is.”

A few days later, Y/n got a notification on Twitter from Dream’s alt account. She rolled her eyes fondly at his theatrics, knowing he didn’t text her like he made Twitter think. 

Y/n lifted the large, brown box from her doorstep and shook her head as she brought it into her apartment. She dropped it on her bed with a huff, hoping that Dream didn’t send her more than one of his merch hoodies. She read the label on the front and immediately knew he did; the white sticker had her nickname written in a small, neat but childlike script instead of a label printed off from a factory. He made her believe he had ordered one from his website and had it delivered to her house, but this clearly showed it had been at his house, giving her the impression there was more than one. She breathed out and grabbed her phone, hoping Dream would pick up her FaceTime call.

After only two rings, Dream answered. “Helloooo,” he greeted slowly but happily. He was slouched sideways on his couch so his cheek pressed against the back and he smiled sleepily.

“Clay.”

“Clay?” he laughed. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“What did you send me?”

“Hoodies? Did you get them?”

“Plural?” Y/n emphasized and he smiled.

“Plural,” he confirmed, making Y/n groan.

“I feel so bad! I didn’t even want one free—”

“Come onnn, it’s fine. Bug, I’ve gifted you, like, 700 subs in one stream before but you don’t want more than one of my hoodies?”

She paused. Did he mean ‘his’ hoodies as in his hoodies? Or as in his brand?

“Just open it!” Dream prompted as he sat up a little. “I’m excited!”

“Which ones did you send me?” Y/n asked as she grabbed scissors from her desk and started opening the box, propping her phone up on her pillows so he could see. “Also, nice handwriting.”

Dream laughed. “Yeah? Sapnap says it looks like shit.”

“I doubt his is any better. I like the little… thing you drew? What is that?” she asked as she paused and leaned closer to the package to get a better look at the artwork.

“It’s a bug!” Dream laughed. “It’s not that bad. Okay, it is pretty bad but you could have figured out what it was from context clues.”

“It's just a scribble.”

“Okay, Miss Artist,” he mocked. “Just open the package!”

Y/n finished opening the box and was hit with an unfamiliar scent. It was nice, making the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She grabbed the material on top, a classic lime green hoodie with Dream’s smile printed on the front, and held it up with a wide smile.

“IT’S SO CUTE!!” she complimented, stepping back from the camera and holding it up to her body. “And also the perfect size! Thank you so much, Dream, seriously.”

“Put it on!” he said with a giggle and she complied, wanting to feel how soft it was while wearing it. She pulled the hoodie on, noting how the scent from the box lingered on the green fabric, but wasn’t strong enough to be the source.

She stepped back and lifted her arms, showing how it fit just how she liked her hoodies to. “It’s perfect!” she assured.

“It looks good on you,” he complimented. “There’s still another one.”

“I know, because you just can’t help but to break rules and go against our agreement,” she joked as she took off the new hoodie and poked her head in the box to see what else he had sent her.

Her eyes locked onto a maroon-colored hoodie with an unfamiliar logo on the front, definitely not more merch like she expected.

“It’s mine,” Dream explained softly from her phone. She looked at him to see him doing his best to hide behind his hand without making his embarrassment obvious.

“No, it’s not,” she challenged in disbelief. No way he sent her his actual hoodie.

Dream nodded and she grabbed it from the box, noticing how much larger it was than the last one. She held it up to her body again and almost fainted at the size difference.

“It’s from, like, forever ago when my family went to the Florida Keys on vacation,” he explained. “Thought you might want a reminder that warm places exist while it gets colder there.”

Y/n smiled widely, not even trying to hide her happiness, which made Dream crack and flash his own grin. “Wanna try it on?”

She didn’t need to be asked twice, slipping it over her head like the last one. It smelled amazing. This was definitely the source of the cologne and she just knew it was his. If this is what he smelled like, she was going to have a hard time not cuddling with him 24/7 when they went on vacation.

“Y/n, you look so cu—”

“It smells so good,” she voiced abruptly and distractedly, making Dream cut himself off and turn a pink that even his phone camera could pick up on.

“Glad you think so.”

She lifted the material over her nose and was even more overwhelmed by the scent that surrounded her. If her stomach butterflies were fluttering before, they were raging lunatics at this point.

“You look so cute, Bug,” Dream complimented fondly and she smiled at him, flipping the hood up to cover her face. “I was right, you do look much better in my clothes than in Karl’s.”

She hummed happily and fiddled with the hoodie strings as she walked back to her phone and took a breath.

She needed to just say it. It was obvious now; there was no way he didn’t like her, sending her his hoodie practically drenched in his cologne and saying she looked cute in his clothes while he blushed. She had nothing to lose in telling him she liked him.

“Thank you, Dream. It really means a lot to me,” she said genuinely and he smiled at her.

“One more thing,” he said and she could detect nervousness in his voice, worrying her only slightly.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know how to say this because I’ve never done this like… this… but you know there’s a first for everything I guess, and, uh—”

“Dream,” Y/n got his attention with a small laugh. “Just say whatever you need to say.”

“I lied about what I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he admitted, tightening his hoodie strings before loosening them and huffing loudly. “I mean, I did want to see if the package was there, but I also wanted to… I have a better explanation for kinda ignoring you after Quackity’s stream and stuff um…” he paused and took a deep breath. “I know I can get kinda, I don't know, possessive about people,” he stated, his voice raising at the end like it was a question. “And it's something I'm definitely working on because it’s not a really good trait to have, but I do it especially when I like someone a lot so I’m sorry for being jealous of Quackity and Karl and even Naomi but, uh, I really like you a lot so if I’ve ever come across as overly jealous, that's why. But, again, I'm working on that.”

Y/n didn't know how to contain her smile even if she wanted to. Her heart raced as she looked at Dream’s embarrassed and red face.

“This is also not how I wanted to do this but, I’m pretty sure if I went another day without telling you that I like you, especially after seeing you in my hoodie, I was going to actually explode.”

“You asshole,” she mumbled, a huge grin contradicting her words.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry for rambling. I understand if you wanna send me the hoodie back or even just burn it if you want. Go ahead and burn it. I didn't mean it to come across as creepy if it did. I can see how it would be because I told you I like you after telling you to wear it and… oh god. And I'll stop texting you so much and not go on streams you'll be on and—”

“No, no! Dream, I don't want any of that!” She laughed. “I called you an asshole because you beat me to it.”

“Beat you to what?” he asked, the shakiness in his voice telling her how anxious he was.

Put him out of his misery, Y/n. “I was going to tell you I like you,” she explained before softly adding, “You beat me to it.”

Dream looked at her like she hung the moon just for him. “You do?”

“Yes, dummy. I really do.” Her face was on fire and she lifted the collar of her (his) hoodie over her nose like she always did when she was flustered. This time, the action only worsened her state since she was reintroduced to the scent of Dream’s cologne.

Y/n’s screen showed Dream’s ceiling as he set his phone down abruptly and put his head in his hands, which she could kinda see by his mess of blond waves shoved into the camera lens as he leaned over his desk.

“Dream!” She laughed. “Come back!”

He grabbed his phone and held it close to his face, absolutely beaming. “You have no idea how happy— Bug, I like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Dream,” she repeated and his smile only grew.

“Holy shit. You have a crush on me!”

“Shut up,” she joked. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I'm going to take you on a fucking date when you get here, that's what I'll do about it. Sound good?”

She bit her lips and nodded. “I can check my schedule.”

“Oh, come on,” he whined lightly. “Really?”

“Yes, I’ll go on a freaking date with you, Clay. What kind of question is that?”

“Consent is key!!” he declared. “I'm not gonna force you to go out with me—”

“You'd have to force me not to,” she laughed. “But just to be very clear, do you see now that I meant it when I said you had nothing to be jealous of?”

He frowned seriously. “I'm really sorry. I know it's unattractive and unhealthy and I'm working on it, I really am.”

“Honestly, you've done pretty good, I think. I mean, I didn't even know you were jealous of Naomi until you told me. And you didn't blow up at Quackity… at least not during stream or in front of me, which shows you have some self control.”

Dream laughed through his nose. “I actually didn't yell at him for that at all. Just… pouted to George and Karl.”

“W-wait to KARL? Karl knows you like me? AND George? That means both of us told them how we felt and neither of them let us know!”

“They hate us,” Dream joked.

“Just for that, I'm not telling either of them about the date. Purely out of spite.”

“I made them swear they wouldn't tell you anything though. So I understand why they didn't say anything.”

Y/n hummed. “I guess I did the same… okay fine they're super loyal, perfect friends. Still annoying.”

Dream smiled at her attitude and her frown melted away.

“By the way, I never said you being jealous wasn't hot.”

Dream’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Unreasonable jealousy isn't but you sending me a hoodie just because you don't want to see me wear Karl’s is kinda…” she suddenly got shy at her words but still raised an eyebrow at him. “It's definitely attractive.”

Dream shook his head fondly. “You're going to kill me.”

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[shah-writes]

an artificially intelligent curse

so i read this article about a man who uses AI to speak with his dead fiancee and i simply cannot stop thinking about it. there’s no MCD in this! but you can find my thoughts at the bottom.

tldr; think AI + Inception + Drarry

“Draco’s dying.”

Ron is Harry’s best friend in the whole world but sometimes he can be a bit daft. 

“No, he’s not,” Harry replies serenely. He’s not. Draco is in the kitchen, wearing the light blue sweater Harry gave him last Christmas and a rosy flush Harry gave him two minutes ago. 

“They think you can help him.” Ron is staring at a point above Harry’s shoulder. Harry shifts slightly to follow Ron’s gaze and finds Draco standing there, levitating three steaming mugs of tea onto the table. 

Except. Except, Draco doesn’t drink tea. He drinks cheap, Instant coffee, a consequence of his time spent working in America. Harry teases him about it all the time. 

There’s a slight thud as two mugs hit the table, the third has vanished. 

Draco settles into a chair. “No tea for me,” he says playfully. There’s a small Statue of Liberty trinket on the bookshelf behind Ron. Harry relaxes. 

“Ron was just telling me a story,” Harry shares.

Draco smiles and leans forward expectantly on the table. It’s a set they thrifted last weekend: one Walnut table and four Cherry chairs— one ingredient away from a meal, Draco had joked. 

“It’s a curse, Harry. ‘Mione figured it out. It’s preying on your memories.”

Harry gives Ron a conciliatory nod and reaches out to brush a dark curl away from Draco’s forehead. Draco has platinum hair, he remembers, as an afterthought. 

The strands shift to a blinding white immediately. Or were they always white? They must have been, Draco would never dye his hair. 

“It’s you, Harry. You’re teaching it how to trap you.”

Harry reluctantly turns back toward Ron. 

“What makes us human?” Ron asks. “Harry, I know you can hear me, you just have to listen. What makes us human?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. 

“Instinct, Harry. Emotion and instinct.”

Ron is sitting on a cushioned armchair and Harry wonders absently where he got it. All Harry has are four Cherry chairs. He nearly expects to see Ron’s chair transform into dark wood. It doesn’t.

“You can’t teach humanity,” Ron continues. “You can teach a Thing how to learn, how to adapt. You can force it to consume everything around it until it knows right from wrong. Until it becomes as intelligent as any of us, but you can never teach it instinct. Look around, Harry, use your instinct.”

There’s a portrait on the wall. Four people. Harry and Draco. An older woman with almond-shaped green eyes and freckles over her nose; an older man with dark skin and Harry’s own unruly hair. 

“Hermione’s calling it an AI-Curse. Artificial Intelligence. It sweeps through your mind quickly and puts together a scenario where you feel comfortable. It’ll get things wrong, of course. It doesn’t know which memories are relevant, which are wrong, which are just daydreams. That’s where you come in. You tell It when it’s wrong and you reward It when it’s right.”

Draco’s sitting still at the table. Harry beckons him over. 

“I love that picture of us,” Draco says happily, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“What is this?”

“Us and your parents, silly.”

“Draco, my parents are dead. They’ve been dead for 27 years.”

Draco blinks. “I know. Do you miss them?”

Harry snaps back to the portrait. His parents have disintegrated out of the frame. 

Ron’s still sitting at the table in his armchair. “Malfoy’s condition is deteriorating. He’s succumbing to the curse. Once he’s given up all of his memories, he’ll die trapped in a fake world of his own design.”

“Stop,” Harry says; and then, “STOP,” louder, facing Ron. Ron doesn’t hear him. Because… because Ron’s not here. Ron and his stubborn, incongruous armchair aren’t here. Harry can hear the humming of Mungo’s Stasis charms echoing somewhere in his mind, the quiet bustle of the hallway, the frantic whispering.  

The only person here is Draco. Draco, who barely ever comes over to Harry’s flat. Draco, who flirts with him over lunches but flinches away when Harry reaches out to sweep his blonde hair off his forehead.

There’s a rosy flush on Draco’s cheeks except Harry’s not the one that gave it to him. Harry’s never kissed Draco; they’re partners and friends and maybe something that transcends description, but not this. Not yet.

“Draco, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s smiling at him, eyes soft. It’s a daydream. Harry swallows down the grief of the realization. 

“We’re not dating, we’re not anything, why are you in my flat?”

Draco freezes. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” Harry’s grasping at him desperately but there’s nothing there. Just pixels floating away from each other, dissolving into the air. 

“NO!” Harry’s kneeling, face hidden in his hands. “No, I can’t do this alone, I can’t, come back… please come back.” He knows it’s impossible; you can’t teach humanity, Ron had said. AI doesn’t understand emotions, won’t bring him back now that it knows he doesn’t belong. 

“They want to Obliviate you,” Ron continues, speaking at Harry’s bedside at Mungo’s, imitated in Harry’s subconscious. 

“What?” Harry turns and scrambles toward Ron.    

“Hermione had a near conniption,” he chuckles. “But it’s the logical solution. The curse absorbs everything you show it and gives it back to you, better and smarter. If there’s no data for it to learn from, then you’re free.”

Harry collapses into the chair beside Ron, mind whirling. The room twists around them. They’re in the Gryffindor Common Room now, Ginny and Hermione near the fireplace, no more Walnut table and Cherry chairs. Except, Molly Weasley’s washing dishes in the corner. No. 

Obediently, Molly Weasley pops away. And then, the room is shifting again. 

“Without memories, the curse will implode into the simplest version of itself: a basic mind trap. Straightforward, simple. The kind that Aurors learn in training.” 

“JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO, RON,” Harry bellows. 

The Burrow. Except, there are two Georges. No. The room glitches and restarts. 

“They won’t try Obliviation with Malfoy. Healers think it’s too late, that he’s too weak even to break out of the simplest version.”

The office and Draco… he’s back. He’s back and alive and leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, inspecting a takeout box. Yes. 

The room fills in further, encouraged. Case files pile up on Harry’s desk; Draco’s Statue of Liberty trinket is back, in the right place this time; an evidence board on the wall, newspaper clippings, Draco’s neat, white notes, Harry’s scrawl. 

“It’s unethical to deprive him of his memories now.” Ron says. 

Harry inspects the board closely. 7 people dead over 2 months. Inconsistencies in their deaths, but clearly perpetrated by the same actor. A pale blue envelope mailed to each victim. It explodes within minutes of delivery, enveloping its target into a coma.  

Seemingly random victims. A middle-aged mother, an elderly school teacher, a teenager days away from his 15th birthday. Muggles, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and a Squib. Varying races, different financials. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Draco’s staring at him. “Almost as if they chose the most diverse targets on purpose.”

Harry turns to him slowly, “Why?”

Draco tosses him an egg roll and shrugs, “Make sure we can’t trace them?” Draco joins him at the board, looks over the victim list.

The first had taken one month to die, slowly incapacitated. The second had taken only half that time, he had perished within two weeks. Faster and faster after that. The latest victim, a five-year old girl, was gone in three days. 

It was the first time, in five years of working together, that Harry saw Draco break down. Crouched outside her Mungo’s room, shivering, quiet; Harry had pulled him up and deposited him home. He came back to work two days later, his clenched jaw and fierce determination lodging itself into Harry’s heart.

Draco’s written a note under her picture: The curse is learning. 

“What is this?”

“You didn’t see the Mungo’s report? They think it’s targeting memories. With each iteration, it’s getting faster and killing quicker. Hermione was telling me about this thing…”

“Artificial Intelligence.”

“Exactly,” Draco smiles, surprised, “it absorbs huge amounts of data until it learns how to adapt to every condition.”

“The diverse victims— someone is teaching it how to learn, adapt to every condition,” Harry repeats. Draco’s standing near his desk again, illuminated by the soft light of his lamp. Soft blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks over a case file. Harry wonders if this version will flinch away if he reaches out. Wonders if the curse has learned this detail yet. He hopes it hasn’t.

“They’re going to let him die in his own fake world. A peaceful death, they called it.” Ron is still sitting in the corner of the office, in a cushioned armchair.

Harry shakes his head, silently, frantically. There’s a pale blue envelope on Draco’s desk. 

“Draco, what is that?”

Draco looks at the envelope and back at Harry, nonchalant. Then, his face morphs into fear, mirroring Harry’s own expression. It’s the curse, it’s learning. Harry’s teaching it.

“The curse was targeting Malfoy. You were hit since you were in such close proximity, but it's a much weaker variant. You can make it out, Harry. You can help Malfoy navigate out.” Ron says from his corner.

“Harry,” Draco whispers. “What do I do?”

Harry strides forward, takes Draco’s shoulders in his hands. This is real now; Harry remembers this morning. “I’ll come for you, okay? We know what it is now, we’ll figure out how to stop it. Draco, you’ll be fine.”

Draco’s falling now. His eyes are shut, he’s laying on the floor, head tilted toward Harry.

Draco’s dying.

“RON, WHAT DO I DO? TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Ron’s not in his corner anymore. He’s gone, and so is his armchair, and it’s just Harry alone, in his office, with Draco’s body. 

The room is still filling up around him. Draco’s coffee mug, steaming on his desk. Blank walls slowly plastered over with Auror-standard tan wallpaper. Except. Except, Severus Snape is standing over Draco.

Harry steps closer cautiously, willful not to let the curse know that Snape doesn’t belong. 

“The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions,” Snape says, looking up at Harry with dark, hooded eyes. 

A memory, then. Out of place, but relevant. Harry remembers Ron’s words: The curse doesn’t know which memories are relevant. It’s guessing, responding to Harry’s needs. It’s helping. 

“Right. You’re right.” Harry says, loud. Snape solidifies, robes saturating darker. 

“Rid your mind of all emotion,” Snape continues. “Empty it, make it blank and calm.”

“Empty it,” Harry whispers. He takes a last look at Draco and closes his eyes. 

He opens them to a plain white room. Nothing on the walls, the floor. Nothing, except a door. A simple mind trap. Harry opens the door.

i just love the idea that the curse helps him get out. since AI is always developed in service to others, i like the idea that even weaponized as a curse, it would still adapt to the needs of its target and help them in any way possible. idk pals!!!! i just have a lot of thoughts about AI, come scream with me about it!!!!!!!

also, if you haven’t already, i would highly recommend reading the article this is based off-- it is fascinating.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[onebizarrekai]

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 4

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers

A/N: The song featured in the kitchen scene is Fantasy by Mariah Carey.

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

You were puzzling. Alone in your bedroom, laying within the comfort of your own bed, you were positively puzzling.

After sorting out just who Ben was and fixing the damage Baekhyun had done to your reputation by explaining that your idiot roommate had just gotten a hold of your phone, you reintroduced yourself and apologized for the confusion.

This ‘Ben’ actually seemed to laugh off the odd behavior he’d gotten as a first impression of you, mentioning that your roommate seemed funny, if not weirdly protective of you.

You could see what he meant when you read through the rapid fire questions Baekhyun had asked him from his age, to his preferred operating system, whether or not Ben had Facebook so “you” and him could be friends, his profession, and his parents line of work, his current place of work, how long he’s worked there and whether or not he moves around a lot, his hometown, his hobbies and even whether or not Ben has now or has ever had any pets; it seemed that Baekhyun had actually done a whole lot of legwork to give you a pretty good idea of what Ben might be like.

But the moment Baekhyun’s conversation topic changed to innocently ask Ben for his astrological sign, something struck you as off to see Baekhyun proclaim you to also be the same sign and after the two compared birthdays you began to find the whole exchange quite odd.

You realized that Baekhyun had simply lied about your birthday. Baekhyun knew your birthday. Why had he given a fake date to Ben? Unless there was something else happening that you didn’t understand. Then again, Baekhyun had always been rather stingy about giving out personal information; both yours and his. He was probably just being cautious about revealing too much to a stranger.

And actually, Ben seemed rather …. nice. You always hesitated to give them this adjective right off the bat as most of the guys you met who seemed nice right away turned out to be very good at faking nice and stringing along at least three or four girls at once for the shot at fucking at least one of them, and the hopes of fucking all of them.

You’d been called the wrong name late at night, whispered through a sleepy voice over the phone. You’d been sweet-talked and then abruptly called a bitch for refusing to send nudes to a guy you’d been talking to for only a week. Apparently a week was his limit and all his other girls gave him what he wanted within a couple of days. You’d been ghosted by nice guys who felt victimized and led on when you said goodnight politely with a smile and a wave instead of inviting them inside for ramen.

You did want a nice guy. But you wanted a real one.

What you wouldn’t give for one of them, for just one of them to be honest with you and really show you their true self.

Perhaps you had been going about it all wrong.

Your conversation with Ben quietly fizzled and you put your phone away to charge and now, now you were simply puzzling.

It panged at your heart to think of it, but the upset with Baekhyun hours earlier kept replaying in your mind. You propped your feet up on your wall and let your head hang off the edge of your bed, enjoying the way the gravity pulled at the blood in your brain and you tapped your fingers on the bed absentmindedly to the soft beat of music you heard playing from his room.

And you puzzled.

Don’t use your beauty as a weapon against me.

You hadn’t been this bothered by something since you’d watched that Mission Impossible movie the first time and spent an hour and a half trying to wrap your head around the complicated plot.

A Weapon.

Your beauty … a weapon … against me.

Why did it bother you so much? Why had he been so upset that you were playing with him, that you were messing with him. He messed with you all the time. You messed with him just as much. He never got this upset. No, he never got upset in this way. In such a way as to call you out on using something you had, against him. Something that you hadn’t even known had any power at all to attack the man. Your beauty. Did you have such a thing?

You thought about the other times you fought with him.

Not really fought, the two of you never did that, but that fake sort of fighting like when he’d woken you up at 2am for the third night in a row with his loud working music and you found him out in the kitchen disassembling your favorite toaster, the one with the wide slots for bagels that also toasts four slices of bread at once and even has special buttons for frozen items. The stainless steel one that you won in a work raffle and proudly marched through the office carrying with a huge smile on your face. It was a deluxe model. Supreme even. The master of it’s craft. Said so right on the box. Your toaster in a million pieces on your kitchen counter; all because he needed some components or resistors or whatever the fuck it was and he decided the best move was to take your toaster apart rather than to just order what he needed online and wait two business days for them to arrive.

Sure, he put it back together a few days later but not without enduring the laser eyes you shot him over breakfast when you had to toast a piece of bread in a frying pan on the stove like a loser who did not own a four slice Deluxe Toastmaster Supreme.

You’d planned your revenge then. It was something tiny and it involved his TV remote. His precious TV was enormous, took up almost the whole wall, OLED or SUPER-NANO or ULTRA-NANO some similar nonsense words and had 8-Ks of pixels or so he claimed and had so many smart functions you could hardly get comfortable using it for anything that didn’t involve the Netflix button. And no, no, you didn’t do anything to the actual TV. Relax, this was just the remote. This was harmless. Absolutely harmless. Easy to solve really if he had half a brain in his head.

You just carefully cut out the smallest tiniest piece of IR blocking tape that fit exactly over the infrared sensor on the remote control and fit so well it was undetectable to the human eye. Unless you knew it was there and knew exactly where to stick your fingernail in under the plastic bezel to peel it back. You simply applied the tape and left the remote right on the coffee table before you left for work.

You’d come home that night to a pile of assorted battery packs all strewn about the coffee table, and the remote completely taken apart down to the tiny circuit board and Baekhyun was quietly touching the tip of some tiny tool to the different spots on the scary looking green part from inside of the remote with all the metal bits stuck to it and when you slowly walked by he looked up at you through the magnifying eye glasses he wore. His eyes looked comically enormous and you swallowed away your laughter and considered how long you’d let him suffer.

“Something wrong with your remote, Peanut Butter?”

“It was working fine yesterday. I just don’t understand it.”

“Maybe it’s the batteries,” you offered innocently and he just ignored your helpful suggestion as he began screwing tiny screws into place with a precision screwdriver.

He was reassembling it all now and you sat down beside him on the sofa about as amused as you had ever been to sit and watch him suffer.

He grabbed two new batteries from an unopened pack on the table and aimed the remote, pressing the buttons again and again. Nothing happened.

He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing and judging by the various shopping bags and different brands of batteries you saw, he seemed to have been working on this all afternoon. Probably for hours now.

“I’m going to have to take the TV apart.”

He was already standing up and walking across the room toward the wall mounted monstrosity when you leaned forward for the remote. He glanced back at you as you did it and he looked at you just in time to see you shake the remote back and forth and then hit it twice lightly against your left hand. Just a little knock-knock should do it. You were careful to keep the expression on your face calm and well controlled.

When you pressed the power button, the big TV came to life and you pressed the button for Netflix and scrolled through your recommended titles. You had a new episode to watch. You’d have to make time tonight for that. After he was done with his little project here.

Baekhyun instantly pulled his hands away from the TV and hopped back and away from the screen, peering up at it with his mouth hanging wide open. His eyes shot back to where you sat on the sofa holding the remote control. You did not allow your smile to form. Nothing in your whole life had ever been so difficult. You felt as if you could pop right here. You casually flipped through the menu on the screen and the man looked back up at the TV and back down at you again.

You could see him coming in then. He was moving fast with several large steps toward you and with the quickest movement you could manage you used the tip of your finger to slide the IR tape back over the remote sensor. You could not be as precise as you had been before with him coming right at you so quickly, but hopefully it wouldn’t be visible.

He reached for the remote. “What did you do, how did you fix it?” He held it up and pointed it toward the TV. Again, the remote did not work. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek.

He was pressing buttons again and nothing happened with each new button he smashed down. You could see the madness growing in his eyes the more he tried.

He made the smallest whining sound from the back of his throat and it took every ounce of self control to keep from laughing as he lightly tapped the remote twice against his hand just as he had seen you do. Nothing.

You tried to hold it. You tried so hard. A tiny sound escaped, the smallest sniffle with a laugh broke free from your throat and you coughed lightly to hide it.

His face turned on you and those crazed eyes were back only instead of directing them at the remote, he was looking at you now.

“How did you fix it? Do it again.” He looked insane and desperate and a tiny smile betrayed you as you grabbed the remote from his hand. You played the smile off as part of the help you were willing to offer him but you also had to inhale a deep breath and carefully and slowly exhale it through your mouth to keep from breaking completely.

You held it up in your right hand and gave it a little shake. As quickly as you had done it before you turned the remote on its side as you gave those two little knocks and his head flipped toward the TV when you aimed. With his eyes averted you were able to slip the tape off just before pressing the button.

The Netflix logo greeted you and Baekhyun threw his head back and let out a loud frustrated yell into the ceiling above him.

You’d been holding your laugh for too long. It was becoming too difficult now and he was back, reaching for the remote when the first suffocating giggles took your composure and you laughed out loud.

Your laughter brought all of his attention right to you and only you. The entirety of his focus shifted and that brought those crazed eyes of his bearing down on you, wide and demanding.

It was, by far, the most successful and meanest prank you had ever played on him to date and you were gasping for air and laughing as he reached for you. He grasped both of your shoulders and he shook you as you laughed and laughed at the absolute madness in his eyes. Oh he was crazy. It was just so damn funny.

The remote was still in your hands and you flipped through the different inputs on the TV as you cackled and tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

“How did you do it? You devil! Tell me how you did it?”

He balanced with his knees on the couch and his hands were on you, roaming over the fabric of the sweater you wore, lifting your arms to look under them, maybe for spare remotes or for hidden batteries or secret formulas, who knows what he thought he might find.

You’d stashed the tiny circle of tape by sticking it to the skin inside your elbow and he was currently examining the fingers on all of your hands up close as if they concealed all of the secrets he was looking for.

It wasn’t until he searched higher, pulling your hand forward toward his chest and his thumb grazed against the shiny plastic of the tape circle you had on your inner arm when he did a double take, pulled your arm harder and lifted an accusing finger to point at the tape.

“What is that?!” He clearly thought himself to be the world’s greatest detective.  

You allowed yourself to be manhandled by him a little bit more as you got every bit of humor about your recent victory out of your chest and you lifted your other hand, the one he did not have held hostage right now to wipe at the tears that had fallen from your eyes.  

“Stop laughing and answer me, woman! What is it?”

“It’s my birth control patch,” you said through a laugh and his eyes widened as he pulled his hand back. It was a tiny movement but you were so close to his accusing eyes that it felt monumental and the dramatic reaction to your teasing lie made a fresh wave of laughter bubble up in your chest. You knew he would react this way. Any mention of your contraceptives always made him clam up.

“It’s IR tape, Baekhyun. Infrared blocking tape. I put it on the sensor this morning after breakfast. After I made toast in a pan instead of in my toaster.”

The truth pulled his whole head back and he fell down on his butt on the sofa briefly before he slipped and fell right off the couch onto the floor and he sat there with a blank lifeless look on his face; staring ahead without any focus in his eyes.

“Do you know how sad pan toast is, Baekhyun? Tell me, how am I supposed to be satisfied with pan toast when I should have been having Deluxe Toastmaster Supreme toast?”

He was shaking his head back and forth as you spoke and when he did move it was to lay down flat on his back on the floor of the living room. His hands were up and he rubbed roughly over his face.

“Oh my god. Oh my god—it’s so good. I would have never checked for tape over the sensor. Fucking tape. A piece of goddamn tape. I was so focused on the batteries.I went to three different stores today. The circuits to the sensor were all intact, I checked it, it was good — I never even considered this. Are you an evil genius? My sweet innocent Bug ... is actually an evil supervillain.”

You left him on the floor and made your way into the kitchen to make dinner. It was your night to cook and thanks to the man stewing on the floor of the living room you had to do it around the scattered carcass of your third favorite kitchen appliance.

You remembered the way he reacted then. He pouted and moaned on the floor for a few moments until he smelled the stew you were cooking on the stove. It was comfort food. Something with meat and potatoes and warmth and spices. It would lift anyone’s mood and his had been lifted almost immediately. There were no apologies or any tears. Just a promise to put the toaster back together tomorrow after he went to the store for the parts he needed and that was the end of it.

He didn't storm away. He didn't raise his voice or say you were mean or unfair or too beautiful for him to withstand. He didn't get angry about closeness being used the wrong way, in a way that was unfair to him. In a way that could hurt him, like a weapon.

If he said you had the kind of beauty that could be used against him, didn't that mean he found you beautiful? Wouldn't that mean that Baekhyun found you attractive?

The words protested inside your mind. You shook your head.

That was impossible. Definitely. You’ve been so close to him for so long without even a hint of that sort of a feeling from him. Sure you were close to each other. Sure you cared for each other. It was a familiar sort of affection you shared. But attraction? Because he found you beautiful in a way that was unfair?

The puzzling was giving you a headache. There were some things that just did not exist in the same space in your mind and that was the existence of your roommate, Byun Baekhyun, and the possibility that he was attracted to you in any way.

You’d been inside your bedroom for hours now and you were no closer to answers than when you first came in here.

Baekhyun would be done with his episode. He would have watched it with Mia and discussed themes or scenes or dramatic moments with her. Did he talk to her on the phone or maybe though a headset as they streamed the episode together.

Did he like her voice and did she like his jokes?

Did he make her laugh? Of course he did. He made everyone laugh. Baekhyun was charming and hilarious. But could she make him laugh? Could she make him giggle and shake like he laughed with you?

It was late. That didn't really mean all that much to Baekhyun, as the man didn't really have any set bedtime and usually just fell asleep when the sun began to come up. It was a weekend night and you didn't have work in the morning and frankly your curiosity had grown too much for you to just stay in here and fall asleep without at least checking on how the streaming date went.

You knocked lightly on his door. You could hear music playing inside. Nothing too loud or crazy. The man seemed to be having a somewhat low key evening.

“Yeah,” his voice called lowly and you opened the door and peeked your head inside.

“How is our girlfriend doing?” Baekhyun was sitting on his butt on the floor in front of his bed with his head laid over his arms and his phone abandoned in the middle of the floor out of arm’s reach.

He let out a long low groan but did not lift his head up when you stepped inside.

“I don't even know. I don't know.” He sounded defeated already and this had only just started.

“Peanut, what happened?” You picked up the phone and unlocked the screen, searching through his apps to find the dating app so you could see if they had said anything to each other that might give you some clues about what went wrong.

“Nothing happened. I was too quiet. I couldn’t talk at all. I didn't say anything during the entire episode. Why is this so scary. Uggghhh...I feel unsafe. It’s gross.”

You stepped over him and climbed onto his bed, sitting up against the head of the bed as you scrolled through the chat logs.

It looked normal. Not unfriendly. A little terse and abrupt on his part. The man didn't know how to loosen up when he talked to girls and you wondered if maybe you needed more one on one lessons with him before he was really ready for this stuff.

When you leaned back against the headboard you felt the bed dip and he climbed onto the bed beside you and angled his body toward where you sat up against the pillows.

When you got to the end of the chat you could see that she was the last one to speak and she remarked that he felt a bit different from when they spoke at the beginning of the day. He didn't say anything in response to that.

Baekhyun moaned with his eyes closed and he turned his head into your waist. He was obviously reliving some perceived embarrassment he must have felt during the interaction with Mia and when he moved his arm around your waist you looked down to find yourself trapped under his arm that constricted as he pulled tightly, hiding the entirety of his face somewhere in the shirt you wore. He was warm. The weight of his arm around you felt nice.

“I felt so unsafe,” he repeated his complaint from earlier and his voice was obscured and muffled as he hid himself. He switched the tense though and you wondered if he no longer felt unsafe now that you had come in.

You typed out a quick response to Mia. You didn't think it was right to just leave her hanging without an explanation for his strange silence during and after the show.

“I’m going to tell her that you were so quiet because you were nervous. I’ll also thank her for watching the episode tonight.”

You heard and felt a hum and the tightness of his arm around your waist relaxed a little as his arm went slack. He did not move though. He still hugged you. He was still warm and it took only a moment for your nose to pick up the pleasant smell of his clean bed sheets fresh from the dryer. You both had a schedule for washing things like towels and bed sheets. Yours had been cleaned today as well, but something about the smell of his bed felt better than yours had. Perhaps it had been all that difficult puzzling that had tainted yours.

Mia responded right away to your message. She was flattered by his nervousness. You could tell with the way she reassured that he really didn't have to be nervous around her. That she was an easy going kinda girl. Low maintenance she said. You scoffed at the thought of a computer geek being low maintenance. As if you didn't know how difficult to obtain fancy GPUs were and how expensive high powered CPUs, high capacity SATA drives, and their required cooling systems were. You looked around Baekhyun’s set up and figured it had to run somewhere in the multiples of tens of thousands of dollars; just in this room alone.

Low maintenance. Please, she was just as high maintenance as any other regular girl just with a different catalogue of parts.

You switched to the emoji keyboard and keyed off some random happy faces and closed her chat window with more force than was necessary; suddenly and unexpectedly irked when she responded with similar emojis and the notification popped up on the screen. You swiped it away quickly to be rid of it.

“She sounded nice though, even if I couldn’t talk. She sounded nice. Do you think she will even want to talk to me again? I think she likes you more than me.”

“She will like you. If she doesn’t she’s an idiot. A girl would have to be an imbecile, Peanut, to not fall for you.”

He lifted his face then, just enough for the corners of his eye to peek out and you looked down at the side of his face as he looked at you for a moment, absorbing the encouraging words you spoke to him. His leg began to shake somewhere on the end of the bed. You could feel the rhythmic motions. He often did this when he was tired.

You had been scrolling through matches on his phone, building on an idea that popped into your head.

The man needed some practice to build up his confidence. Maybe, just maybe you could find another girl. Someone who he could talk to, chat with, be friendly with, that maybe wasn’t just so wonderfully perfect for him. Someone just to break the ice with.

You stopped on a girl. Her dress was short and the neckline was low. She really left very little up to the imagination with this outfit. Outside of the revealing clothes, it was clear that she was a beautiful woman. She was sexy and very confident in herself despite the glaringly obvious grammatical typo in her bio.

You spun the phone around to show him.

“She looks nice,” you said. Baekhyun blinked at the phone and pulled his face back a little to see the image clearly.

“—-follow you’re dreams — you are — Never too old to follow you are dreams.” Baekhyun read out the sentence with the typo out loud and you laughed.

“Come on, she’s pretty,” you said softly, “right?” You probed gently and he chuckled once to himself and closed his eyes up with a sigh.

“Yeah, she’s pretty,” he said after a while and you felt yourself stiffen just a little bit with his admission. Of course she was. Anyone could see it. He’d be lying if he didn't admit it.

“Okay but like, just pretty or do you also think she’s beautiful?”

He hummed some non response and you focused your attention back on the phone in your hands. After scrolling through a few more profiles you found another woman whose beauty shone brightly right through the screen at you.

“And her? Is she pretty or is she beautiful?”

Baekhyun’s eyes opened again but just barely. He looked half asleep and you wondered if the reason his arm was still around you was because he was so sleepy he didn't realize he was still hugging you like this on his bed.

“Pretty,” he mumbled and pushed his face into your waist again. This time the shaking in his leg began to settle and you could hear a slow steadiness in his breathing.

“Should I message her? Maybe we can practice talking to her so you’re not so nervous talking to girls?”

“Sure Bug,” he said quietly, “you can do anything you want.”

He was falling asleep now. You could feel the change. It didn't matter. You’d let him rest a bit while you opened up a chat window and began talking to Candy.

She responded quickly and had a completely different feeling from Mia. Maybe this was good. Candy was easy to talk to but she had nearly nothing in common with Baekhyun. She casually asked what a computer programmer did and when you went into specifics you had trouble finding synonyms for words that didn’t just make it all more complicated. You finally settled on a simple explanation of what kinds of computer software Baekhyun had developed and left it at that.

After a while Baekhyun shifted in his sleep and uncovered his face. His lips were parted and from the upside down angle you could see the dark splash of his pretty eyelashes that landed over his soft cheeks. He looked lovely and peaceful. All the worries and fears of the day were gone and he was sleeping so calmly. You watched his sleeping face for a while, growing warm inside with the strange contentedness you felt.

You could see some light movement behind his eyes and you wondered if he was dreaming about anything.

Candy had asked for a picture. She was asking something superficial like what sort of car Baekhyun drove and you slipped into his picture gallery for the folder with the shots you took for him when he first bought his car. You found a nice one with him smiling behind the driver’s seat, bright red seatbelt across his chest and the logo of his fancy ride on the steering wheel.

‘Wooo, baby boy an Audi? you must be loaded. When are you gonna come pick me up in that?’

You laughed at her obvious reaction. Candy was exactly as you expected her to be. Baekhyun would be able to laugh and chat with her easily without too much pressure of impressing a complicated woman like Mia was. Candy was an open book. The stakes were lower with Candy.

Your giggle made him stir and you looked down to see his eyes open a tiny bit before he closed them again.

“It’s going well with Candy,” you whispered and he inhaled a breath and nodded his head as he closed his eyes again.

“Mmm, the pretty one?” he asked in a sleepy voice and you hummed your confirmation. Something buzzed inside of you; just a bit of nerve. Call it gumption.

“Baek,” you called quietly and his lips parted with his breathing but his eyes stayed closed this time. He did not respond. He didn't give any indication at all that he heard you call him.

“Baek, what about me?” Your voice was tiny when you asked it. You felt more warmth in this bed suddenly. You felt it in your chest and it seeped up to warm up your face too.

He hadn’t responded at all to your question. It had been pretty unclear though. He might not have heard it, or might not have understood it. Or his sleep may have just been too deep to register your words.

“Am I pretty or am I beautiful?” You said it so quietly there was little chance of him actually hearing it. He was asleep and you were just here, trapped in his embrace on his bed as he slept and you puzzled over the words he had told you during an upset. The words that you had pried from him when he was vulnerable and emotional. The words that you shouldn’t be over analyzing like this. Those words felt too risky to be giving this much thought to.

Here you were again, using your sneaking methods to try and trick him into something when you knew it wouldn't work, when you knew there was nothing really there and you were reading too far into things.

His steady breathing continued. His eyes remained closed and his arm still gripped around your tightly, holding you still, holding you close to him as he slept.

So you gave up. You’d moved back to the phone to respond to Candy; something silly and lighthearted, something easy just like she was, when you heard him speak.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said so far under his breath the statement sounded more like air than actual vocalization of any kind and your fingers stopped their rapid typing in the middle of your sentence.

Your eyes looked down. Your entire body was frozen. Half of you expected to find his eyes open and a wide teasing smile on his lips, begging for you to take the bait and believe his words just for the chance of laughing at your shocked face and making fun of you for being stupid enough to believe them.

He was asleep. His eyelids did not pull open when you looked down at him and his breathing remained as steady as ever.

Baekhyun was asleep.

That damn puzzling — your jaw was sore from clenching your teeth down and your lips were dry and chapped from biting them.  

You had dropped the phone and it disappeared somewhere amid the bedcovers.

Baekhyun’s sleep was deeper now. He must have been very tired to be falling asleep so recklessly like this. You shifted downward and made some attempt to find the phone without waking him up and your small movement made him inhale a deep breath through his nose and he was moving now. You felt him shifting, moving his sleepy body up higher in search for some comfort; for something to lay on that was a bit more comfortable than flat on the middle of the bed like that.

You used the movement to reach for the blanket and pull it over his body so he could be warm at least and when he finally settled he shared the same pillow as you. His forehead rested against your shoulder and he was once again, fast asleep.

His arm though— you found yourself still very much trapped in nearly the same embrace as before, just shifted. A forearm landed over your chest and you felt a new heaviness of his bent leg land over your thigh.

You could wake him.

You could push him off and let him roll the other way so you could make an escape back to the peace of your own bedroom.

You would. You would do that soon.

Your current state of thoughts was simply too overloaded to follow through on any game plan. If you could only have a few more minutes of his warm steady breathing, you would move away from this. You would do it.

It wasn’t that you had never considered it. It was that you had gone through many lengths to come to this place. You were safe and secure here.

It was that you had nowhere else to go when it was over.

This place was your home.

Peanut was part of that home.

Things were nice right now; the way they were at home.

But…

As they sometimes do, and against your own will, your thoughts wandered.

You wondered as they wandered — wondered about him.

From the deepest parts of your mind; down where you’d shoved them roughly many times before, those wondering thoughts danced and swayed lightly to the soft music playing in this room.

Those secret thoughts about the sweetness in his eyes. Secrets about the fondness you felt for the little tips of him; the tip of his nose, the tips of his fingers, the pink tips of his ears. Thoughts you refused to encourage.

Baekhyun was asleep and you were thinking.

With the thinking came the shame and your skin was hot to the touch. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your home. With the thinking came the denial. You could not encourage anything. You could not afford to become complacent. You did not need these thoughts to become so brazen. You did not need them taking root. The last thing you needed was them making an appearance again.

The sounds he made while dreaming pulled your closed eyelids back open. You turned your face toward the sound. It was soft, the small groan from the back of his throat. But his face changed then; eyebrows screwed together and his lungs constricted as he let out a softer sound, like a whine. It was a complaint. His face showed signs of pain. The dream must have been unpleasant.

You lifted a hand then, shifted within his embrace you raised your palm and laid it carefully over the side of his face.

The shift happened with the warm contact and his features evened out and that pained look was gone.  

You smiled then. So sleepy but satisfied that you could help when he needed it.

You would move after he got a little more sleep. After he’d had a little more comfort from you, you would move.

You weren’t the first to move. And it seemed by the change in light that shone through the windows that your visit had lasted much longer than you had intended.

It was the untangle that woke you up. A conscious and deliberate lifting of limbs; the careful grip of a hand lifting your arm by the wrist and setting it gently down on a flat mattress.

You opened your eyes when he pulled his own leg out from between your thighs. The temperature change was most jarring. You had felt so warm before.

Baekhyun was sitting up in his bed. His hair was standing up in places all over his head and he was moving slowly and carefully, in an attempt to disengage himself from the tangle of this woman he had just woken up with.

The sleep was still very thick in your head. It hadn’t been a full night’s sleep had it? You felt like you had just closed your eyes a minute ago and yet the sunshine was so bright outside already.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun whispered when he realized you were now awake and looking at him, “guess I got too comfortable...must have fallen asleep.”

His voice was thick with sleep and with embarrassment too, you could hear it everywhere, with the quick words he spoke to you and the pink that covered the back of his neck and flooded his cheeks too.

This situation...this was an embarrassment. Of course it was.

This was something that should not have happened. Not with two adults of similar age who shared so many liberties with each other; spending time in each other’s arms at night, well…

You felt awkward all over. What if—what if you’d done something in your sleep? What if you said something?

And he already wasn’t meeting your eyes as he climbed out of the bed and awkwardly made his way into his bathroom.

You could hear the sound of the running water faucet and the door closed with the smallest click like he went out of his way to close it as softly and quietly as possible to avoid disturbing you any further.

You could feel the heat burning on the skin of your cheeks and you used his absence to get up and get out of his bedroom before he came out and found you still, still tangled in his bed sheets like you’d been tangled in his legs and in his arms all night.

You had to ignore this. You had to forget it ever happened, and anyway, you were best friends with the guy...right? Wasn't this thing bound to happen in the course of a friendship? What if you went on a holiday with him and the hotel only had one bed? These things really did happen, you read about it on twitter once. Would you be that asshole best friend who let him sleep on the floor just because he was a man? No! You could build a little pillow wall between your bodies and sleep as still and motionless as possible, like a corpse.

This feeling would go away. The red hot embarrassment would wash down the drain of your shower. The sticky warmth left behind by his skin would go with it.

You’d made it as far as to undress and turn on the hot water when an awful memory dawned on you.

Baekhyun still had your shampoo.

You didn't have any other shampoo in this bathroom that you could use. You pulled open cupboards and drawers, searching for anything; tiny hotel sized travel bottles, a nearly empty bottle under the sink for a rainy day, even maybe something in the trash can that still had a few drops. Nothing.

You eyed the hand soap on your sink and pictured stepping out of the shower a frizzy, tangled mess.

A soft knock vibrated against your bathroom door.

“Bug, your shampoo.” Baekhyun’s voice called out, muffled by the sounds of the running water and the door itself, “it’s almost empty, but there’s a little left. Sorry, I’ll run to the store and get more.”

Your ear was pressed against the door so you could make out everything he said; so you could listen carefully to the tone and delivery of his words to see if he was still embarrassed about last night or if he’d brush it off easily like he did most things that seemed to bother him.

There were another two soft knocks, “B-Bug?”

“Yeah, Peanut, thank you. Can you just...put it by the door. I’m already undressed. I’ll grab it in a bit.”

He did not respond right away and you stayed with your ear against the door waiting for some sound. Some indication that he had left. The click of your door, anything.

“I left it by the door,” you heard his far away voice shout and then the click of your door.

When your shower was done and you were dressed in your favorite weekend outfit, the high waisted comfy shorts with pockets and a cute top that made you feel somewhat pretty even on a casual day and you emerged from your bedroom feeling ready to face whatever weird moods or wacky situations accosted you today.

You found him singing a song to himself in the kitchen as he made something that smelled delicious for breakfast. The radio was on a pop station that played hits from all the past decades and the upbeat rhythm of the song that played was a definite favorite that had him dancing at the stove.

It was a groovy little love song, quite old now that you thought about it and you felt the beat hit hard in your chest with each pop of his shoulders and hips. The joy you could feel in this song hit you just like that beat hit; heavy and prominent, and you smiled wide to welcome this morning mood it brought with it.

When you stepped into the kitchen to grab a mug to make yourself some coffee you couldn’t help but sing along to the song, you loved the song as much as he did and when he noticed you enter the room you could hear him singing the main parts; expertly, even though the singer was a woman, his voice could always reach the high notes as well as the low ones. She was the kind of epic singer with one of a kind of talent that was world dominating. Baekhyun was singing along, doing the same kinds of ad-libs and vocal runs that she did and he did it while holding the spatula up to his face like a microphone.

As you walked by he dipped his head and looked into your face and his eyes caught ahold of yours. You knew what was coming. You could hear it coming in the song, the chorus. The part you had to sing. These were the rules. He leaned hard and brought the spatula up to your lips just in time for your part to come on. You did not disappoint. You gave it your all closing your eyes up tight and throwing your head back, singing from the very center of you, this part you always sang during this song. The part that was made for you; he knew it and you knew it.

His smile was genuine and breathtaking and he grabbed your hand with his spatula-less hand and pulled you into him, the beat taking over whatever bit of nervousness he might have had before. This was different. This was dancing. This was singing to simply the best song for a Saturday morning and it was moving and laughing with your best friend and you let him spin you in a small circle, careful to keep your coffee mug lifted so it didn’t hit anything during the spin.

His sense of rhythm was perfect. His hips moved as if they were made for this. You had no choice but to follow. An occasional hand on your hip told you where to go. The song was reaching its peak and you knew it was a short one. The best ones always were. It was going to begin winding down now. It was always such a sweet and short lived moment of happiness that you always appreciated immensely.

As a final move, he gave you a little spin and released you to go on your way toward the coffee maker you so desperately wanted to get to when you first entered this kitchen.

He finished the eggs with the last notes of the song.

As you both sat down to eat, his eyes met yours and yours met his and you dug into the eggs and bacon he’d prepared. You offered him a perfectly buttered toast slice and he took it, nodding his head as he bit into the crisp corner.

“So Bug,” he spoke up between bites of eggs, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully, “about this...Candy.”

You swallowed the hot coffee in your mouth and clasped your hands together, suddenly remembering how asleep he had been when you had hit it off with Candy, his practice girl.

He listened to your explanation. Your theory that the stakes were simply too high with Mia and he needed someone to talk to that was a bit more of a relaxed task for him. You called it easy mode so he might get the game reference. He ate and listened to you talk and occasionally his eyebrows would lift or screw together with whatever sorts of thoughts he was thinking inside his head. You could tell by his body language that he didn't exactly want to start something with Candy and you had to emphasize that it was really just for practice, talking to her. It was to help build his confidence.

“She’s already in, Peanut. She thinks you’re super cool, she thinks you’re rich and thinks you have a very good job and plus, you make lots of money and she seems super into that.”

He was not speaking yet, despite how much you had talked and you were beginning to get worried that he didn’t see the benefit of practicing his conversation skills a little bit.

“It’s not even real, Baek, you just have to make some things up with her. Just to get over that anxiety about talking to women. Just until you are more comfortable.”

When he finally did speak, it was as you feared.

“It just feels kinda gross, Bug. She’s a real person too, even if she is obviously a gold digger. It just seems wrong. I’ve been...thinking lately. What if this is...wrong of us?”

“What if I just have to tough it out with Mia and get the fuck over it and just,” he thrust his hands forward over the food on the table for emphasis, “just — blehhhh — talk, just fucking talk to her.”

You lifted a fork with eggs toward your lips but your stomach protested. You suddenly didn't want any more food. The coffee you were drinking had suddenly gone too cold for your liking and you pushed the plate and mug away from you with your fingertips.

You were bothered.

Why did he choose right now to suddenly grow a conscience about this? Did he forget that Mia was chatting with both of you and not just him?

“I...I just — I want to try with Mia. I know I can get over it and talk to her. And I don't want to talk to Candy. The person Candy thinks I am, well...that’s just false. I can’t be the person she’s expecting me to be.”

He had obviously read through the entire conversation with Candy last night and found the tales you told simply too stretched out for him to try and live up to.

“But that’s what people do when they start dating. They stretch the truth, make themselves sound just a little bit better, make themselves taller, or make themselves look richer. They all do this.” You simply could not understand why he didn’t get this. Why he didn’t just play by the rules that everyone followed to get through the door so he could stand a chance here.

“Well I don't. I don't want someone to fall for a fake version of me. I want someone to like me now. This me. Byun Baekhyun. The Peanut with anxiety who lives with Bug who almost killed him over a cheese stick, but who makes really great toast.”

He was smiling now, joking about the funny memories. You pulled your lips into a forced smile and lifted the coffee for another drink so you didn't have to smile any more.

He was watching your face. You were sure he sensed it. Something had bothered you to the point of giving up on your breakfast and every pass your eyes made over his face led to the same thing. He was watching you.

“Why are you upset?”

You shook your head lightly. Willing the obvious signs to leave your face. You didn't even know why. You didn't have a name for this. So you just shrugged in response to him.

“Because I don't want to practice on Candy? Did you actually like her for me?”

You really made your best attempt. You inhaled deep and closed your eyes and you shook your head.

Candy did not matter and you knew it. There was something ugly inside of you maybe. Something that did not want Baekhyun to get along with perfect Mia. Something that was fighting against the idea of him being happy and healthy and free of this unhealthy attachment you had to him. Free and happy away from you.

“Then why?”

Enough. You were being unfair to him. You had promised him that you would help him. You had gotten him this far and you’d be the worst kind of asshole if you didn't see him through to the end; if you didn't follow through with your promise to find him someone who would love him like he deserved to be loved, exactly as he was now. The amazingly wonderful Byun Baekhyun.

“It’s nothing like that,” you smiled softly. It felt like a sad smile, but at least it was genuine. “I just worry when you get so anxious. You know you fell right asleep last night. As soon as I came in, you passed right out.”

Your words skillfully slipped out of your lips and you successfully changed the subject. You felt like a coward, but you simply did not have words for what was happening to you.

“I didn’t...say anything did I? Before I fell asleep?”

This question was quiet. His fingertips grazed over his lips as he asked it, nearly muffling the words he shyly asked you at the breakfast table, the morning after.

You are so fucking beautiful.

You are so fucking beautiful.

You lifted your coffee cup to drink the tepid liquid inside and dropped your eyes from his shaking ones. The answer to his question sat on the back of your tongue even after you swallowed away the liquid.

You swallowed again and it refused to budge and yet you sat in silence, unable to utter a single word in reply to his quiet question.

Your silence went on for too long and he looked up into your face. An instant smile lifted at the corner of your lips and you forced it up into your eyes.

“You just slept, Peanut. We—” you had to exhale the breath that you had been holding for too long in your lungs, “we just slept.”

 Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven

[writemyaceattorneys]

GOD 🦆anon You are Talented!!

Legit gave me chills-

DONT MIND IF I ADD ON ;D - 🌌anon

They sould only sputter as wild theories became reality before the small grey screen, the only point of interest being their avatar for the game.

He was sentient. They all were.

No wonder the story would completely derail off the few times they used a walkthrough, how all the start of chapter cutscenes seemed to be so censored. No wonder there were more chapters than what they were told in game - they were told there was 5 maximum per game, not 10. No wonder character dialogue would be so... off, out of character almost, eerie and almost directed towards them.

...rationality decided to pop its head back into their mind, bordering a state of panic from confusion, commenting that maybe they were just seeing things.

It was late at night after all. Trial 10 was taking its sweet time with the pre trial segment with miles and maya seeming to always vy for phoenix's(...? They couldn't decide. Was it for him or them?) Attention.

...right, they'd get through this and save.

It was just another part of the game. The supernatural didnt exist - otherwise it'd just be natural.

"Alright... talk... there's no dialogue options though." They glanced down to where the bottom screen emulator would be.

"Oh no, just use your mic, S/O."

The abrupt text change made them jump. The supposedly "unique" sprite to phoenix's avatar in their game portrayed a gentle look to the side (coincedentlsly staring directly at heir Point of view)

...were they being hacked?

Through an emulator of all things? Using phoenix wright: ace attorney sprites?

No, no...

"You Look worried. Are you alright?"

The air went cold as S/O's hand retreated back from theur pondering, a slow burning whithin not pleasant with the icy air felt as if their emotions were a fever "...You can see through my camera?"

"Of course. Your dressing gown really suits you."

They scrambled to the drawer in their desk with tape in it and tore a piece of paper, quickly sticking it over their laptop's camera.

"What do you want?!" They nearly screamed, but it was hoarse, a whisper.

"Whoa, hey, its alright. I'm no hacker! I wouldn't ever do anything like what you're thinking!"

The sprite took on the iconic shocked expression, as if he had any justification to feel that way.

"Then..." their throat was burning. "What are you, if not a hacker?" Because what or who else could do this? It didn't make sense.

Again, eliminate the impossible whatever remains is only the truth, the very last "normal" case in their playthrough had said.

"Oh, S/O..."

He was looking again. It felt like a reassurance initially when it first came up in 1-3, like things were only going to get better from there, but that sprite seemed to have the opposite effect on that late night.

"You've played enough of the game. You should know."

"The theories in my head are more than impossible right now. You- You're not real. You're just a character."

"Ouch... what about edgeworth and maya?"

"Also characters! What the fuck, just-just explain this already!" They leaned into the computer, slamming their palms down as they took of the paper guard. phoenix -or whatever (...whoever?) That was, shook his head.

"Well, since you've done that... i might aswell state the obvious."

S/O leaned back with a hitched breath and frozen fingertips, awaiting anything but the truth.

"We're all living beings beyond your screen, S/O. Not hackers, nor ghosts. We're alive. And theres a whole world in here."

He was smiling again. S/O was not. Frozen in place, any heat drained from their body led them only to feel the radiation off their laptop.

"I'll keep in touch, hell if I don't-I won't, S/O. I won't."

S/O stayed silent, just taking it all in.

"And hey, maybe one day we could even meet face to face - no more pixels..."

How would that be possible? Something felt wrong just begond the light as the side glancing smile seemed to grow more earnest, but even more so creepy.

"how would that sound? Again, I'll keep in touch. Talk to you later. It's late after all. You really ought to take care of yourself..."

"but I don't mind. I can do it for you if need be."

(Whoops i didnt mean to write this much but uh... heck. I guess i have brainrot. Sorry mod miles /lh i took some of the ideas this au has slowly gathered and just slammed it together.)

I-

🌌Anon this is amazing!!! The way you've taken some of the ideas we've all shared and run on your own to make this is marvellous. I can really feel S/O's fear right here, plus the horror vibe this is giving is beautiful yandere content.

I uh-

Phoenix can take care of me if he wants to 😂😂😂😂😂 also I would be happy for Edgeworth to vie for my attention at any and all times of the day.

Honestly, everything that you anons have sent me is so brilliant and now this has been made from all of the amazing ideas and this is amazing and every single one of you guys are just so amazing.

Am I crying because of the community spirit on this blog? Yes!!!

Do not apologise to me ever for sending in such beautiful writing, I would genuinely pay good money to read this.

[aerynwrites]

Can I get ❛❛ Everything hurts. Being with you is the only good thing in the world anymore. ❜❜ with Javi or Din please 🥺

A/N: Haven’t written for Javier in a hot minute...Hope I still got it. xD

Word Count: 785

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, nudity (non-sexual), mentions of injury and death, fluff.

Javier had come home to your shared apartment, more despondent and banged up than usual. Usually he would let you tend to him, allow you to heal his wounds and his heart any time he walked through the door. Today however, was different. 

He had stumbled through the door, wincing with every step he took and hiss as he slid his jacket from his arms. And instead of accepting your help when you rushed over to him, he brushed you off, muttering an excuse before all but limping away to lock himself in the bathroom - a distant look in his eyes the whole way. 

You had opted to leave him be at first. You know that the things he does everyday takes a toll on him, and that sometimes he just needs to be alone. But it felt different this time. You couldn’t shrug the feeling of heartache away when he brushed off your offers of help. Couldn’t shake off the flat and faraway look in his eyes, as if he had seen the world crumble around him. 

And maybe he did. 

This is what finally spurred you to stand from your seat on the couch and to the bathroom. You heard the familiar sounds of water running from behind the door, and knew he had gotten into the shower. Quietly, you open the door and shed your clothes, calling out his name softly as you pull the curtain back and step in behind him. 

“Javi…” you say softly, reaching out to run your hands up his back and stilling instantly when he lets out a pained gasp.

“Javi, what’s wrong? Let me help you, please,” you plead, hating to see the man you love suffering alone, “Tell me what hurts and maybe I can help you.”

Javier shakes his head, running a hand through his soaked hair, “Everything hurts,” he finally says, voice so low you can barely hear it over the running water. 

You feel a slight panic rises in your chest at his words, worried that his injuries are worse than they appear to be. But when Javier turns to face you and you see the unshed tears in his eyes, you know the hurt he’s talking about doesn’t stem from his injuries. 

“They’re dead,” he says blankly, water dripping from his lashes as he closes his eyes tight, trying in vain to get the images out of his head. 

You take this moment to step closer to him, the warm water of the shower finally hitting you as you do so. He places his hands on your hips, and you rest yours on his sides waiting for him to continue at his own pace. 

He takes in another shaky breath, hands squeezing your hips as he speaks, “They’re dead,” he repeats, “And I couldn’t save them.”

There it was. The real reason he was feeling this hurt then ran deep into the crevices of his heart. A hurt that stemmed from what he saw as a failure to protect the ones he felt responsible for. You feel your heart clench in your chest at the complete anguish on his features. You open your mouth so speak, but before you can utter a word, Javier is pulling you into a crushing hug. Ignoring the physical pain that flares up at his actions, he holds you to him. Arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into the crook of your neck as he lets your presence ground him. 

You return the action, arms wrapping under his own and hands resting on his shoulder blades while you rest your cheek against his chest. Nothing is said for a while as you both stand beneath the warm water, as if it will wash away the sins Javier feels so burdened with. There’s so much you want to say, but you know it won’t quell the inner turmoil raging in the man holding you. So you opt for the one truth you know he’ll believe. 

“I love you, Javier. I’m so sorry,” you tell him, fingers tracing soothing patterns into the water slick skin of his back. 

You feel him press a gentle kiss to your neck before he speaks, his lips brushing against the skin there with every word, “Being with you is the only good thing in the world anymore,” he mumbles, “Te quiero mucho, dulzura.”

Javier knows he’s not a good man. He knows the shit he’s done and the people he’s gotten killed along the way may haunt him forever. But standing here, in the familiarity of your arms as the now cooling water runs over you both...he knows everything will be okay as long as you're by his side.

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[zemodaddy]

Shades of Him

Chapter 6

I just wanna say I’m sorry.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff

Word count:

Chapter 6

You follow the girl into a building which supposed to house Karli. She points to a doorway signalling that she’s just up ahead. “You got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way” Walker pushes Zemo against a wall and handcuffs him to some kind of machinery. “Aggressive, but I get it” You try your best to ignore the urge to send Walker flying out of a window. “Go ahead Sam, we’ll stay here” you say.

You all wait in silence. Bucky and you blocking the doorway that Sam went through, Zemo restrained opposite you, Leemar was sat on a ledge and Walker kept on walking up and down. He was restless, he hated not being in control. A woman having dominance over him must irk him to the core. You smile to yourself. You look at Zemo to find him looking at you already. He tilted his head lightly, glanced at Walker, and grinned in amusement as if to say ‘what’s wrong with this guy’. You shake your head widening your smile.

Walker now walks up to Bucky and you, looking over your shoulders as if he could see through walls and see Sam. “No no no this is a bad idea” he states, walking away again. “Sit tight john it hasn’t been ten minutes yet” Bucky says calmly. “Don’t do that, don’t patronise me” what is with this dude. “He knows what he’s doing” you say. After a second Walker goes “I’m goin in”. You both stop him, yet he’s persistent. “Your partner needs back up in there, do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Bucky really?” He had let Walker and his friend pass. Luckily you had snipped the keys to Zemos handcuffs from his pocket before he left. After discreetly tossing them to Zemo you follow Bucky after Walker. A commotion was already happening between him, Sam and Karli. Fuck. Karli looked betrayed by Sam and quickly started running for the nearest door. Bucky pushes past everyone and follows her.

“See what you did Johnny” you shout. He flings the shield at you to which you duck. He is really testing your patience. Before you could find the best way to take him out he had already disappeared after Karli. “That little git”. You run after him.

Arriving just in time, you find Zemo smashing some blue vials on the ground. Walker was taking a few swift steps towards him before lifting his shield to Zemos head. Correction, Steve’s shield. Before you could stop him he launches it. “What the hell, Walker” you rush over to Zemo who now lay on the floor. However, while examining his face for any serious damage you don’t notice Walker bending down and picking the one vial that wasn’t destroyed.

Luckily, Zemo wasn’t hurt, just knocked out. You move to Walker and as he turns around you punch him in the face. “You’re going to regret that” he says. You laugh “am I?” you summon flames into your hands, daring him to make his move. At the sight of your hands he seemed to back down a little. The others rush in. “What did we miss?”

“Somethings not right about Walker” Bucky walks into the main kitchen/lounge area. “Yeah he’s batshit crazy.” You say, earning a chuckle from Sam. Zemo was lying on one of the couches, with a wet flannel you had given him upon your return to his house on his face. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield” Bucky aims this statement at Sam. “I didn’t give him the shield.” “Well Steve definitely didn’t.” You were walking over to Zemo to check on his face when the front doors fly open. “Fucking hell”

“Alright that’s it let’s go, I’m ordering you to had him over.” Walker struts into your space. “That’s not going to happen”you say. Zemo gets up behind you and begins to walk to the outer edge of the room. “Shield or no shield the only think your running in here is your mouth” sam says. You follow Zemo and whisper “this can’t be good”. Seconds after you say this a loud thud noise sounds. A long spear had wedged itself before Walker into the wall. The Dora Milaje enter. “Release him to us now” Zemo seems to be in high demand today. “Hi, John Walker, captain America” the leader doesn’t say a word. “Well, uh let’s put down the pointy sticks” “you might want to fight Bucky before fighting the Dora milaje Johnny boo” you say. “Yeah well the Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here”. Now the woman speaks “the Dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever they find themselves to be”

A fight was to be expected. Walker gave them too little credit. “We should do something” Sam voices. “Looking strong John” Bucky shouts over the chaos. You pour yourself a drink while watching everyone fight. It didn’t seem fitting to I interrupt them just yet. Bucky and Sam had now got themselves involved meaning that they’d probably need back up soon. However you hadn’t notice Zemo slip into a bathroom and lock the doors behind him, you were too focused on wondering who to help.

You decide to aid Sam in his struggle against one of the Dora Milaje. She overpowered him way to easily. After some struggling both parties stopped fighting as the leader found that Zemo had left. Somehow Bucky’s arm had been removed and was lying on the floor. They soon left leaving you all of bit dishevelled. Walker looked as if he’d dropped his favourite toy in the toilet.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El chapo” the three of you were gazing at the uncovered hole in the bathroom which Zemo had escaped through. “I can” Bucky says. “Ill follow him, you guys focus on Karli” “no” they both say at the same time. “I can track him and make sure he is secured while you guys finish the mission” there was no other way and they both knew it. “Fine, but be careful.”

You waste no time in finding Zemo. However, instead of going underground, you follow the tracker Bucky had placed on him when he first escaped from prison. He had travelled far already. By the looks of the screen in front of you he was heading for Sokovia. He knew he was being tracked, yet used his one opportunity of freedom to visit his old home. You guess it was time to ask another favour from your old friend.

“Hey Sharon its me again.” You speak into your phone “Y/n? Is something wrong” “Zemo snuck out and I’m finding him now but he’s in the air” “Do you happen to have a plane I could borrow?” You hear Sharon sigh over the phone. “Head to your nearest airstrip, ill get one ready” “Thank you so much I owe you one Sharon” “The things I do for you three” you could hear the eye roll in her voice.

As promised, you find yourself on a jet plane, heading for Sokovia. You receive an alert on your phone. It read ‘Captain America brutally murders civilian’. “What” you knew he was insane but you certainly didn’t expect this. You quickly dial for Sam. “What happened?” You couldn’t get the words out quick enough. “We went to talk to Karli but Walker followed. Leemar got killed in action and he went mad” “Shit are you guys okay?” “Yeah, Karli got away though. Have you found Zemo?” “I’m nearly at his location” “Okay, we’ll meet you there” and he hung up.

The Dora Milaje must be searching for Zemo too, so you had to get to him first. Finally, the plane lands. You knew exactly where he would be, it was obvious, you didn’t have to check the tracker. The whole of the flight you thought over some options on how to get Zemo away from the Dora. Each time you came to the same conclusion. They would never stop searching for him, not until he breathes his last breath.

You find Zemo standing in front of the memorial that was built for the grieving friends and families after Ultron. You walk next to him. “I thought you’d be here sooner” he says. You ignore him and wrap your arms around his torso. Theres no other options you remind yourself. He places his arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe you slipped away unnoticed like that” “That house has many secret escape systems, I just used that situation to my advantage” he certainly did. You part from him a little, creating enough space for you to lean into a kiss. “Sam and Bucky are on their way here, and so are the Dora” you press your forehead against his, both your hands leant against his chest. He looks down. You don’t have the strength to look into his eyes.

“We can leave, together, right now.” You stroke the back of his head. “I know”. “Will you come with me?” You sigh parting from him a little further. “Do you trust me, Helmut?” Tears begin to fill your eyes. It felt like a million knives were stabbing into your heart. You knew what you had to do but every inch of your body told you not do it. You hug him one last time and whisper “Close your eyes”. “Why are you cry-“ “Helmut please” you cut him off. The fight against yourself was hard enough already.

He does as you say. You press a kiss between his eyebrows and slowly move way from him. You walk 3 or 4 meters before turning to face Zemo. Reaching behind your back you pull out the cold, black weapon from your strap. You hesitate before pointing the barrel of the gun towards the man you had come to trust despite his past. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you place a finger on the trigger. A single tear slips down your cheek as you stand there, your arm raised. Time seems to slow, it didn’t feel real anymore.

Never had you imagined it would come to this but he left you no other choice. An aircraft flies over head; Sam and Bucky must have arrived. “Y/n what are you-“ Zemo was looking at you now. You have waited too long. His eyes widen when he realises what you wanted to do.

“I’m sorry” you pull the trigger.

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