#re: chip spam

[thepikachusorcerer]

i adore all "annoying" companions more than anything in the world .

[blood-smiles]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫

You munched on your chips, sitting in front of your laptop with a bored expression. 

A ping distracted your from your staring competition with the screen of your laptop, a bright message waking you up from your restlessness.

You had just entered your portfolio for a job as a video editor for shits and giggles, knowing that your editing skills wouldn’t score you anything. But to actually get a reply back? Wow.

JUN0 “Hey, your work is.. decent at most. You’re hired.”

The chip in your mouth crumpled on the floor, your jaw slack from the sudden message.

There was no way, there was no fucking way!

Juno, THE Juno had just hired you as his editor! You held your head in your hands, maniacally laughing to yourself as realization settled in.

..Just like that, you had gotten the best worst job in the whole entire world! Your idol had hired you as their editor, you shed tears of joy, holding your mouse in your sweaty palm tightly as you re read the message.

It had been good 6 months working for Juno. Strangely enough, your once cold and sarcastic employer had begun to soften, mellowing his usually sharp responses towards you, sometimes complimenting you work too!

Now, you really weren’t expecting him to send you a “thank you” video if you could even call it that. In summary he had sent you various pictures and a 20 minute long video that you still hadn’t opened.

You sighed shakily, bracing yourself for what the mystery video was going to show.

It was Juno, sitting in front of his camera on a soft carpet, although that wasn’t what caught your attention, it was more what he was.. wearing.

You had gifted him a maid costume on April fools, his birthday, as a joke.

But he was wearing it, you swear he had thrown it out, as he had even taken the freedom to take a picture of it in the trash.. But he kept it?

He stayed quiet, lightly glaring at camera all while huffing, as if he knew what was going through your head.

“I considered making something for you, being a.. urgh— Competent editor for such a long time..” Juno spat out his words, as if it cost him to utter praise.

“..You have been a hard worker, I suppose I should give you a little reward for all your diligent work, hm?” He tilted his head, gazing up at you through thick red eyelashes, his dark eyes consuming you.

When you least expected it, he discarded his skirt, leaving him in revealing undergarments, in that moment you immediately grabbed your laptop and threw it on your bed.

You clutched your head in your hands, no way. No fucking way had Juno just sent you one of his only admirers videos.

You looked at your roof, eyes wide and dumb founded as you reflected on your actions.

Then it hit you, moans and cries of your name came from your laptop, SHIT! you had forgotten to turn it off.

Sinful sounds and squelching bounced off the walls of your room, your speakers making sure that you had heard the audio.

You screeched in surprise, springing up from your chair you dashed to turn off your laptop, spamming the power off button as the moans became even more intense.

You sighed as you finally managed to turn off the damned thing. Putting your hands on your stomach as you heaved, your face flushed and eyes wide.

Your phone buzzed. You answered.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N). Why did you close the video I sent you?”

You have to be fucking kidding me.

mc staring at the wall like

[jedisupernova]

life with choi subong (thanos)

notes minors dni contains life before games, fem and aged up reader (same age as subong), always written with plus size reader in mind but truly anyone can read, a lot of made up lore to fill in gaps & build dynamic between subong and reader, smut (no distinct section. it is imbedded throughout; sexting, dirty talk, oral f and m receiving, vignettes of sub!subong, handjob, p in v, non-protective sex (don't be stupid,) public sex, foreplay, squirting), angst (lying, deception, miscommunication, arguing and gaslighting: cursing, pushing each other, one body shaming remark, a lot of name calling, insults, mentions of death, just being mean; this does not having a happy ending), toxic dynamic, mentions of drinking, drug use, problematic reader if you squint, i don't know how crypto works so don't yell at me, blatantly problematic subong, reader deserves better, a lot of dumbassery and some typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this is also my very first post, and i want to show what i can do! this is really long. like, really long. this is my interpretation of the character, i hope you like it and please be nice!

he was the nail that chipped the day after you painted them; the incessant promotional email that never filtered to the spam folder; the fly you repeatedly missed when swatting; the shoelaces that always came undone; the built up phlegm after a particularly nasty cough; the shirt that shrunk when you left it in the dryer too long. but what could you say? the dick was too fucking bomb ...

you met on the night of your friend's birthday. some time past eleven thirty pm on a saturday night at some dimly-lit nightclub in itaewon, you nursed a margarita, chatting with your friends and paying no mind to the re-arranging happening on the small stage some feet away from your table—a couple of speakers and a mic stand—nor did you look when the club manager made a half-assed announcement, followed by his exit and an old school hip hop instrumental filling the acoustics of the club.

subong was performing that night after begging the manager for weeks on end. it was a particularly difficult feat, considering the rap battle night he and seven other underground artists were part of two months prior ended in a fist fight after a set of insensitive bars about subong's opponent's family lineage spewed from his mouth without remorse. oh, can't forget the time he stole three bottles of cuervo tequila, or when he got so high he squirted someone in the eye with lime because they looked at him funny, or when he left such a monstrous shit in the toilet that he ended up flooding the bathroom when trying to flush.

alas, alas ... the melon streaming numbers spoke for itself (over 95k streams in total for his most recent mixtape), he just reached 10k followers on instagram, and all attention is good attention if you know how to work it ... and subong did, considering bookings went up when he announced he'd be performing this weekend prior to getting approval, cornering the club manager into a checkmate.

you noticed the slight commotion reverberating through the crowd when the music blared, but not enough to divert your attention wholly. when his set finished, he snuck into the crowd, snagging a rogue bloody mary from the bar and downing it without hesitation, turning his head sharply when someone from your party shouted his name.

your friend's boyfriend went to high school with him and hadn't seen him in years. with the way subong reacted, you would've thought they saw each other last week and were the best of friends, slinging his arm around his shoulders and capturing the attention of your table in a flurry. he was overtly charismatic, slowly coming around to your side of the table, eyeing you up and down without an iota of shame. he liked what he saw—his tongue running over his bottom lip.

he looked a bit try hard-y, in his loose fitting clothing, singular golden chain, and his black hair in an awkward stage of a grown out buzz cut—but admittedly he was fine. then you saw the layer of sweat shining on his tan skin ... oh ... he's fine.

"you like what you saw?" he shouted over the music, placing his hand on the table, inching towards you. he gestured to the now empty stage with a subtle flick of his head, leaning in to hear you. "that was you?" you said back. "i'm sorry, i wasn't watching!"

subong smirked, thinking you were joking, but his ego inflated nonetheless. "i—i rap!" he shouted, laying his palm against his chest. "i don't!" you quipped back with a grand smile, shaking your head. he had no idea his dick could get hard that quickly. "i work at a firm!" you say.

it could have been the sight of your glossed lips .. or his big brown eyes .. or your curvy hips .. full thighs .. his tattooed hands .. or the way his lips brushed against your earlobe for you to hear him .. or how your fingers brushed his hair back so he could hear you .. but next thing you know, his lips caught yours, and the next thing after that, his knees were on the porcelain tiles of the bathroom stall, head caught between your plush thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved.

subong's arms held your waist in place, not stopping your back from arching or your hands grasping onto either the wall or his hair, your breathy moans making his jeans feel as if he was wearing tight spandex. when you came—and you came hard—he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into your hand, "number. now."

"fucking christ, i just came." you said, breathing labored. "hold on." when he stood up, you reached down, pulling your underwear up. you eyed the time on his phone whilst adding your number to his contacts, sending yourself a text. you caught sight of his bulge when you gave his phone back. "you'll have to take care of that yourself. i have to go." you say, running your hands through your hair in an effort to not look too disheveled, even if your friends were smart enough to put two and two together.

you noticed subong take a prolonged look at you. he read your mind: "taking a mental photo for later." he explained, inhaling sharply through his nose. a smirk tugged at your lips. "oh yeah? i'll make it 4d." you palmed his bulge. he nearly lost balance, his gasp sounding more vulnerable than he would've liked—"f-fuck—ngh!" he bit his bottom lip, planting his forehead against yours. your touch was slow and calculated but firm, applying enough pressure to make his vision go fuzzy. "you're f-fucking crazy," his voice shook pathetically, eyebrows contorted in deep pleasure. "y-you f-fucking—ngh!—crazy bitch!"

you stopped abruptly, grabbing subong through his pants harshly. he mewled pathetically in pain. "call me that shit one more time and see what happens." "i'm s-sorry! f-fuck, i'm sorry! i'm sorry! please!" his breath hitched. "oh my fuck—please, baby, i'm so sorry!"

you gradually began palming him again, feeling his deep breath brush against your skin as his forehead returned to yours. his lips eventually latched onto yours, and you couldn't help your thighs rubbing together from how long and slender he felt in your hand.

your phone started to ring in your purse, which hung off the hook at the top of the bathroom stall door, undoubtedly a friend looking for you. you broke the kiss and ceased your touch, stepping around him and fishing your phone out before slinging your purse over your shoulder. "you better fucking call me." you say, kissing his lips again. "i will, will."

you eye his tent. it looks like it hurts and the zipper could break off. you didn't even realise you were biting your bottom lip until your phone rang again. "best dick i'll ever have." subong heard you mutter as you walked away, his cocky smirk stretching across his face in no time. he bit his lip when he saw the wet spot on his jeans. unbeknownst to either of you, this night would become the defining vignette of your relationship.

he called you the very next day. when you didn't answer—because your phone was charging on your nightstand whilst you showered—he sent a dick pic with the bottom half of his face visible in the upper left corner with the accompanying text: Like what u see? he chuckled reading your response: should have kept it a surprise

from that point on he spent his spare money (he didn't have much to begin with) on e-cigarette refills, pills, eyebrow threading appointments (he swore you to secrecy), and, perhaps his most beloved purchase, condoms. he always kissed the wrapper before putting one on.

subong tries to give the impression of someone who fucks but the reality is .... well .... he wonders how he got so lucky whenever he's stood at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it after he's knocked. it's been a lot longer than he'd ever admit under sworn oath, but his erratic thrusts gave it away so quickly it was concerning.

don't get it twisted, it felt ... fine. maybe okay on a good day. he filled you up at the very least! but if only it could last longer ... and didn't feel so ... jabby ... and if only you didn't have to keep in your laughter when his forehead fell to your shoulder ... after he came so hard his vein bulged out of his temple and his breathing was deep enough to power a fucking windmill .. only for you to glance at the time on your phone when a notif popped up and think to yourself ... has it really only been four minutes?

so when he's thrusting into you from behind one night, panting like someone's choking him and drilling into you feverishly, you take his temporary halt to catch his breath as your moment. "subong..." your voice ruminates with lust, aided by the intoxicating feeling of his cock resting inside you. you look over your shoulder at his glistening body, illuminated even in your dimly lit bedroom. "you feel so good, baby." you half-lie, internally cringing. either way, he can't tell, he's too fucked out.

"but how about we ... go a little slower? so we can last longer? hm?" you say. his breath hitches when you roll your hips slowly, his palms laying against either globes of your ass lifelessly. you were struggling to keep it together, eyebrows contorted and mouth agape, stretching yourself out on him.

"like this, yeah?—mmf!" you bite your lip. this is the feeling you've been wanting ... you've been aching for. "it'll feel so much better, subong ..." "yeah, yeah ..." he was breathy. his palms slid to either side of your hips, pulling himself in slow and deep. you gasp, "yes! like that! start slow, then go faster ..."

the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips ran every single porno he's ever seen into the ground. he pounded into you when you told him to, feeling the gumminess of your tight walls hug his cock so divinely that he felt for a split second that maybe, just maybe, the cross he always wore served a different purpose than carrying his stash of pills. subong, unsurprisingly, did not last long, but for the first time, you didn't either. "b-baby! f-fuck—i'm gonna, i'm gonna!—" you clenched around him, and he saw white. subong thought he had transcended ... what better way to go out ... death by the best pussy ... he came so hard and so much that he felt himself drip down his thigh.

you first started calling him over on sundays. then he started to come on fridays ... then staying the weekend ... then he came by on wednesdays for a mid-week fuck .. and slowly, but surely, he essentially lived rent free in your apartment. it was a major plus for him. he'd just been floating from one friend's couch to another. your studio apartment was small as is, barely enough for someone a few years into the workforce and even less on affordability—you barely scraped by on groceries. you'd have to make a wish on a shooting star if you ever needed repairs or healthcare. subong, on the other hand? he finally got to sleep in a bed again, and he gets to not only bum it out on another couch, but also eat pussy, get his dick sucked, and fuck on it. 10/10 no notes from him

and christ did you fuck ... one ankle on the coffee table whilst the other rests atop the couch, him pounding into you deep and deliberately, his eyes boring into your face as yours rolled back, mouth agape. once he found his rhythm and knew your body more, it was over. by the grace of the universe, his stamina heightened, too. he thought about reading war and peace and the meticulous process of the seasonal fermentation of various vegetables to thwart his orgasm from coming too quickly, but fell into a mumble of incoherent whimpers and profanities when he heard your beautiful voice tell him to "h-harder, s-subong, harder," or the cacophony of stuttered grunts leaving both of your chests; sexual pleasure in its rawest form.

one friday evening he was sat at the top of your now shared bed with his back against the wall, legs spread and looking up at you with his mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed in inexplicable pleasure, watching you bounce up and down in fucked out bliss. you had a bullshit ass day at work—something about being denied a raise or being unfairly told off at a meeting—he didn't remember or really care, all he knew was he suggested you use him to relieve frustration, and you obliged. "that's it b-baby. give it all to me, u-use this dick." he bit his bottom lip, squeezing the side of your thigh as you slammed down onto him. "give all your stress to—ngh!—me. your subongie will help you relax." his hands trailed up your waist and kneaded your breasts, making you gasp. you rolled your hips to catch your breath, biting your lip.

you put your hands on his chest for support. "such good dick." you said breathily. "all mine." "that's right." he affirmed. one hand stationed beside your knee, the other reached to the nightside table for his e-cig, bringing it to his lips. you opened your eyes when the cloud of smoke brushed against your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the faint scent of strawberry.

"fuck you and your fuckass puff bar." you said, trying to take it, but he raised it in the air with a shit-eating grin. "what? are you jealous? hm? is my baby jealous?" he jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, chuckling when you swat the e-cig out of his hand. "the fuck would i be jealous about you destroying your lungs for?" you retort. he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "you think you're too good to be fucked by me that you needed to take the edge off." you say, throwing the e-cig onto the floor and ignoring his protests, only for them turn into sharp sucked-in breaths when you rolled your hips again. "th-that was my—shit!—my b-best fucking one," subong shuddered. "you want your best puff or pussy? hm?" you said sharply. with a whimper, he said "my best p-pussy." "i thought so. now say you're sorry until i believe you." you said, hearing him let out a wall-shattering moan when you began riding his long cock again. he would never admit to this in a million years, but this was his favorite way to fuck.

you were in denial for a long time that things had become more romantic and vulnerable. since it was unspoken between you two when he inconspicuously moved in (as irresponsible it is) ... to when he started calling you "my baby" two months in and him "your subongie" a couple weeks later ... to when steamy makeouts before bed remained just that, even through the hushed whimpers and dry humping ... to when he'd smoke a cigarette on the balcony after you routinely complained about the smell, him having you sit on his lap because "the cigarette doesn't hit the same," only to end up sucking the life out of his cock or him rutting into you from behind ... to when you'd wake up with his arm slung lazily across your waist and his head tucked into your neck ... he'd run verses by you and you'd unironically compliment them ... he unironically started going on grocery runs with you, and picking out your jewelry ... and to when sunday mornings became a lot more quieter than they used to be, you two sat on the small couch together, clad in nothing but your underwear, drinking stale black coffee as one of four channels you have play on your dinky tv. it might be due to the limited space, or something more, but his hand lay on your knee whilst yours mindlessly traced the tattoos on the back of his neck, or toyed with his cartilage piercing.

you couldn't kick the question out your mind anymore. "subong?" "hm?" he responded, eyes glued to the tv. "what are we?" he didn't budge. you nudged his shoulder, earning his attention but with a flutter of irritation. "huh? what'd you ask?" "i said what are we?" his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrows, losing patience. "you know exactly what i mean."

he takes a moment to rack his brain, and then gets it. "you're my girl. my señorita." his face fell when you scoffed and pushed him away. "talk to me when you want to be serious." "i am being serious!" he says defensively. "look, you're my girlfriend. we're together." he sets his coffee down, pulling you in for a kiss. he kept kissing you until you cracked a grin, which took all of two tries. he wields his big brown eyes like katanas looking into yours, raising a finger heart and pressing it against his lips. "i like you." he says, unable to hold back his smile when you moved his hand away.

subong leaned in closer, the tip of his nose feeling the warmth of your cheek. "do you like me, too? hm? you can tell me. i promise i'll keep it a secret. i won't tell anyone." he knew your answer, but teased nonetheless, shaking his head in affirmation. you shushed him gently, actively trying to thwart how flustered you've become. he only pushed more, pressing a purposely deep and obnoxious kiss onto your skin. "i'll be the best and sexiest boyfriend ever."

it felt so wrong that your heart beat a little faster. "i'm only saying okay so that you shut up." you muttered. a knowing grin stretched across subong's face. he placed a kiss on your neck and above the valley between your breasts, laying his temple on your chest, slinging his arms around you. he smirked when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder some minutes later, his eyes fluttering closed when your lips found the top of his head.

you made him start coughing up his earnings from gigs to go towards rent. considering he wasn't being paid much, bookings weren't predictable, and he'd sometimes try to hide his earnings from you (which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, and if he did it again, you threatened he'd be out on the balcony without a blanket) his contribution wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. you shut down any chance of retaliation from him with a look he's since named "period projection" or, depending on his mood, "viagra."

when a lot of time passed between gigs, subong was woken up by a notebook and pen thrown onto his chest. "if you don't have five songs written by the time i get back from work, you're pussyless for a week." you said, slinging your purse over your shoulder. he grunted, barely opening his eyes but sitting up, the notebook and pen falling onto the bed. you grabbed his face, pecking his cheek before heading out the door.

subong talked himself up if you were being particularly hard on him, or really, just not as delusional about his success. "baby, one day you won't have to worry about shit. i'll have us partying in mykonos by next valentine's and in switzerland to see the first snow." he said one morning, standing stupidly in the middle of the apartment with nothing but his briefs and a graphic tee that had stains you didn't want to know about. "book the flights when you stop eating week old beef and using my moisturizer." you mutter, shoving the vacuum cleaner in his hands, gesturing for him to hand over the shirt before heading to the basement of the building to do laundry.

if work permitted, you went to see him perform at whatever nightclub in the city. subong found you in the crowd after his set, giving you a sloppy kiss and wrapping his sweaty arms around you no matter if you came straight from work, still clad in business wear, or in something that made you look like the rapper girlfriend of his dreams. an air of added cockiness ruminated off him when you two tag-teamed hounding the club manager whenever they tried to lowball his pay. more often than not, they caved in and gave what was agreed to and then some after you shouted said your piece. either way, you end up on the dance floor wrestling with your tongues or him pounding into you from behind in a bathroom stall. everybody wins!

when you're at work and subong's at home, he films tiktoks and posts on his instagram to get his name out there. he also tries to start beef on various naver cafés, especially when he's bored. or texting you: Did u eat the last tico?; Hi baby I have a threading appt at 5 i will meet u at your work before we go to dinner; Highh as sht88df thikning about ❤️You girl❤️❤️❤️❤️; [insert photo of him flexing in the bathroom mirror] Come home for lunch

speaking of photos on his phone, he has quite the array—advertisements at the train and bus stations he finds funny; various hair colors from the department store he wants to try; mirror selfies of him either flexing or trying on shoes; a photo of his hand squishing your cheeks when you two were waiting in line for cheap street food for lunch; another photo of you looking rather disheveled in the kitchen when you two were unfairly woken up at 6 am one saturday morning by nearby construction, an adorably annoyed look on your face because he was standing in the way of the fridge; one selfie of him in bed hitting his e-cig; the next taken six minutes later with your tit in his mouth, his eyes looking at himself. if you didn't keep tabs on him, he would've made the latter the cover of his next mixtape.

some of your friends thought you were crazy for still being with him, someone who was barely scraping by and, from an outsider's pov, was a moocher. you'd shake your head, "you guys don't get it. i know what i'm doing. you don't need to worry." and you certainly did, considering whenever you came home to subong's big brown eyes, towering height, and his smooth, low voice asking "how was your day, baby?," or when his fingers traced a fresh hickey on your neck, or when he announced his presence by placing his hand teasingly low on your waist ... oh, you were just about ready to make him a father .... even if it would lower the nation's life expectancy rate.

you've caught yourself staring at him at night when you couldn't sleep, watching the way his lips parted every time he exhaled, or how his arms were sprawled out before him after he fell asleep with them crossed. you fought the fluttering of your heavy eyelids to just .... look at him. sometimes you succumb to slumber, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek before drifting off. but one night you were simply plagued by him, looking at subong as if he was a riddle to solve, until you realized with wide eyes that you were projecting: oh fuck no. i love him.

it terrified you, that strong feeling. but not enough to sit idly by if someone became a little too flirty with him at the club, or to slow your speed walk to the bathroom after a work conference to send him a picture after he sent one that morning—lowering your volume and pressing your phone to your ear, listening to the audio message he sent in response, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together: "god, you're so fucking hot baby. how did i get so lucky .... what am i supposed to do, hm? you made my dick so fucking hard .... and it's not even eleven am yet ... is this what you wanted, hm? to get me riled up first thing in the morning?" his voice was low, sleep still fresh in his tone, followed by wet strokes. "it's sad that you're at work for so long. leaving me here—f-fuck, yeah, just like th-that—all alone ... and so needy ..."

you fucked good and hard when subong got a spot in the rap battleground competition, landing him in a position to not only put his name out there, but possibly win some money that would make a difference. you were elated enough to go condom-less. "wanna make you feel good, baby," you murmured breathily, ass pushing against the kitchen countertop, subong standing between your warm thighs. "i'm just so—mmf!" you sucked in a breath when his lips and tongue found your neck. "s-so proud of you, subongie." oh. subong just knew something was up. but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, not when he knows he's about to enter the gates of heaven. "gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw?" he muttered in that low voice of his, continuing his slow, wet kisses on your neck to avoid melting into a puddle of his libido. his voice quivered when you didn't answer, hidden well by your moan: "hm? gonna let me ruin this pussy—" "yes!" you whimpered.

in a moment of weakness, he bit his bottom lip. he grabbed your face with one hand, making you look him in the eye. even in his attempt at dominance, you saw the flickers of awe in his eyes. nothing filled the kitchen besides the sounds of your shaky breaths, his face studying yours. could this ... could he have just realized that ... he loves you, too? subong leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing with yours. you try to lean in, but his hold on your face stops you. you don't know what to make of his feelings with his next words, but with how his other hand comes up and combs your hair out of your face, and his forehead touches yours, its perhaps the most intimate moment of your relationship thus far: "you're finally gonna let me fuck what's mine?" he whispers. you nod silently.

subong bottomed out that night, cumming all over your stomach and back. your back arched like never before when he was pounding into you from behind, taking him deep into your gummy, warm walls. your fingernails clawed at your pillowcases and bed sheets, jaw hung open and eyes rolled back whilst his heavy balls hit the bottom of your stomach. your cunt suffocated his dick every time his palm smacked either globe of your ass—"take that fucking dick. take that fucking dick, just like that, yeah," he panted, palm rubbing over your hot skin before smacking it again. his voice cracked, "f-fuck! o-oh my god! fuck!" he squeezed your hips so hard you sucked a breath in through your teeth. his thrusts momentarily slowed, blinking hard when his vision began to blur at the sight of the creamy ring at the end of his cock. the noise was obnoxious, wet, and loud. you're everything he could ever hope for. in missionary, he tried so hard not to be a babbling mess, through his purposeful strokes. his hands held your head in place, his thumbs pressing into your temples, but his gaze failed to leave his cock fucking you. "give me that fucking puffy pussy." he murmured. he held his bottom lip between his teeth, groaning. "give me that puffy fucking—o-oh! ngh! f-fuck, you always know how to make me feel so f-fucking good, baby!"

you showered afterward together, momentarily forgetting about the water bill when your arms wrapped around subong's neck, your lips molding together. the kiss was soft and sensual. his hands massaged the same globes his palms set fire to whilst the remnants of his lust washed off your body and down the drain. he slept the best he had in weeks that night. a couple weeks later, you helped him dye his hair a deep purple a few days before the competition, just in time for him to adopt his new stage persona after becoming insufferable since watching "endgame," thanos.

the competition came and went, and he placed as a runner-up. he actually listened when you said you didn't want to head to the club since you had work early the next day, settling for a nice dinner and a bottle or two of soju instead. a group of fans of the show came up to him in the checkout line, and not only did you watch with an admiring grin, but your eyes widened surprise when he introduced you as his girlfriend after you were handed their phones to take a photo, harmlessly mistaken as a bystander. not only were you then asked to join the photo, but subong laughed heartily on the walk home upon hearing one of the girls' face dropped hearing the news that he's taken.

the bottles emptied on your coffee table, you ended the night rolling your hips atop his, holding onto his shoulders as his hands held onto either globes of your ass, looking up at you whilst you rode his cock. your dress pants for work were discarded on the floor, panties pushed to the side for his condom-less dick, biting your bottom lip when his palm massaged your breast through your blouse. nothing was in the room besides your breathy gasps, his low groans, the squeak of sweaty skin against the cheap faux leather of the couch, and his whispers . . . "you look so beautiful, baby. so fucking sexy." subong's eyebrows furrowed deeply, glancing at your swiveling hips before looking back up at you, despite your head being thrown back. "taking this cock so good...f-fuck ... know how to make me feel good, yeah? always know just how to squeeze me, how to make this big, fat cock cum, yeah? tell me, baby."

all you could muster was a whimper and your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, but that was more than okay with him. his hand trailed up the side of your neck, bringing your head forward. "come here, come here my beautiful baby. my beautiful fucking woman." his lips kissed yours, molding them together repeatedly. his tongue toyed with yours, picking up the speed of your hips, making him grunt into your mouth every time your inner thighs clapped against his lower stomach. you held onto each other tighter, the kiss becoming feverish, only to be broken when his thumb found your clit. you came in what felt like seconds, and before you knew it, the words slipped out: "i love you!" you whimpered, riding out the high of your intense orgasm, subong having pulled out and spilling onto his thigh. "i love you, i love you!" you repeated breathily. through the pounding of his temples, he heard. through your laborious breathing, you didn't register that he said nothing back.

subong loved you too. he's known for a while now. but that was precisely the problem—he knew, and he wasn't going to say shit. what was the reason? perhaps it was a fucked up way of protecting you by stonewalling that part of him, perhaps it was selfishness, perhaps it was the inferiority complex making him feel like he didn't deserve someone as patient, as transformative, and as loving as you, and he questioned every day why he hadn't been kicked to the fucking curb yet, even after a year and a half together. or maybe ... it was that fucking mg coin ...

he started watching that fuckass man a couple months before the rap battleground competition after a friend tipped him off about crypto. you peered over his shoulder after settling into bed, hearing parts of a youtube video through his phone speaker. "i stopped trying to understand that shit when they told me a picture of an ape is somehow currency." you muttered, making him laugh. "yeah. you're right, hm?" he let out a yawn, clicking his phone off before taking you in his arms, falling asleep with your head on his chest.

but then, it was like a flip switched. subong saw something you didn't (delusion), and seemed to be watching myung gi's videos at what felt like any chance he had. he watched him in the morning, sat at the small dining table in the kitchen as he ate leftover kimbap from dinner the night previous, already annoying you at barely 10 AM whilst pouring yourself cereal, sitting across from him on this rare saturday off. you eyed his phone, "i thought you dropped that shit." you said between chewing. his eyes stayed glued to his screen, putting another slice into his mouth. "i don't know, baby. i think he has a point. people are getting rich quick off this crypto shit. i might have to play my hand, y'know?" before you could respond, he reached over, wiping a rogue drop of milk that slipped from the corner of your mouth, sucking it off his thumb before pressing 'skip ad'. you reached over, clicking his phone off and turning it face down. "hey!—" "you talk like you routinely pay for this wifi." you said, looking into his eyes. "you talk about 'playing your hand' when you don't have the decency to spend 5,000 won on wired headphones so i don't have to hear this shit all day?"

his lip twitched in annoyance, eyes widening. "don't get smart with me!" he exclaimed. you scoffed and waved your hand dismissively, eating another scoop of your cereal. "i'll go get some headphones after i eat if that's what you really want, damn!" "if you invest in something invisible, you do it with your own money so you reap the punishment." you say. "i will." subong rolled his eyes, eating his last slice of kimbap, but irritably. "he knows his shit. says the coin'll blow up." he mumbled, glancing at you when you got up. you held his face, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "that's what they all say, subong." you collected his and your dishes, bringing them to the sink and beginning to wash.

he funneled money into that coin behind your back no problem. every time a check came in, the slice that went to investing got larger and larger. he kept it hidden by putting aside just enough to not cause suspicion. and turning off notifs at specific times. he said he'd transfer a few months worth of the rent when the money hit his account after rap battleground and a couple of scheduled gigs he won as well, but it was a half-baked lie. he told you the money hit way after it actually did, giving you what he promised but keeping a large sum for himself, because he surprisingly got a return on his investment.

he kept going and going, the high of it all rivaling his pills. he bought limited edition shoes, a pair of earrings you'd been eyeing for a while for your anniversary, and got a couple new tattoos. all of it was hidden well behind his coincidentally coinciding success of his music in the wake of the competition ... damn ... he could get used to the universe dickriding him this hard ...

until it all came crashing down that night on the couch. the same night you confessed, he got a notif from one of his crypto apps that he had lost 30 million won. he bolted out of bed, leaving your sleeping, clueless form behind to smoke a cigarette outside, pacing back and forth in the street, trying to calm himself down at 2:30 in the morning. he stared at those numbers like they were going to change, ultimately convincing himself that it was a mere fluke and that money would come again in no time, stomping his cigarette into the asphalt and heading back upstairs.

it was like a routine: watch myung gi, take notes, invest. watch myung gi, take notes, invest. subong took it to heart when he said viewers would be foolish not to bet. he resented being made to feel stupid. even when the returns were slimmer with each swipe up to refresh, he kept going. he looked you straight in the eyes with an admiring grin on his face, lying through his teeth saying everything was okay. what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? right. but it ate away at him. subconsciously, then viscerally.

your confession hung at the back of subong's head for weeks. he tried to avoid it, even attempted to put that frustration into his music, but nothing was satisfactory. his inner turmoil flooded to the surface—avoiding your kiss in the morning before you headed to work, landing your lips on the corner of his mouth before he pecked yours without much thought. you didn't say those three words again, but he saw them on display in the softness of your eyes gazing up at him. he couldn't bare it. it was so easy for him to lie to your face about his whereabouts, how much of a fucking coward was he to not say three words back? especially when he felt them, too?

you noticed the change as well. he'd be gone for longer hours, only texting you back in the later evening. his hand stayed to hisself on sunday mornings. kisses were quick and choppy, not sensual and slow. sex was more rough and rushed. it made you feel so deeply embarrassed, like a teenaged girl made to feel silly and begging for her boyfriend's attention. you hated the feeling, but hated the fact that you let that confession slip more. you always felt he wasn't one to open up like that, but a girl can dream, can't she?

then it descended into utter madness. you came home from work later than usual, having to finish last minute assignments for someone who didn't show up. you nearly exploded at the haze of smoke filling your apartment, dropping your purse on the floor. there were bottles of soju and half-eaten food littering the kitchen counters and floor, the fridge left wide open, sure to have spoiled the rest of your leftovers. your eyes then found subong and his friend, a stranger to you, so fucking high that drool leaked out of the corner of their mouths.

"out!" you yelled, enraged. "get the fuck out!" neither of them moved until the piercing sound of the soju bottle you threw at the wall, shattering into pieces, jolted their senses awake. you grabbed the friend by his tank top, yanking him out of his seat like a fucking rag doll, and shoved him out the door. "the fuck! get ... get your—tell your bitch to fucking chill, bro!" the man's words slurred, only for him to nearly stumble down the stairs when you hurled another bottle at him. "don't ever fucking come back here!" you yelled.

"jesus fucking christ, you're so fucking loud." subong muttered, now standing and rubbing his fingers against his temples. "what the fuck is wrong with you! you've never done shit like this before!" you yelled, paying no mind to his wincing. "the fuck are you talking about? i get high, you know this—" "yeah, i do! but never like this. in our fucking house, subong!"

it was then that you saw the syringe and tinfoil on the coffee table. even in your blistering anger, you took his wrists in your hands, looking over his arms. "since when did you do hard shit? huh?" you muttered. his eyebrows furrowed, looking over to the table with hooded eyes. "what? i...i don't." his words slurred, a low burp gurgling out from his lips, shaking his head. "my friend fucks around with that. not me. i stick to pills and vape, baby. i swear."

you let go of his wrists, running a hand through your hair and pacing. the smoke had cleared. you turned around, seeing him laying his temple against the fridge, mouth hung open and eyes closed. you slowly walked up to him, not sure where to begin, your hands reaching up and holding his face. "baby." you said, him grunting in response. "i don't ... i don't know what's going been going on with you lately. you've been so distant and ... and cold. and then coming home to this ... subong, you're—you're scaring me a little."

he groaned weakly, chin sinking downward before you caught him, holding his face up whilst looking into his hooded eyes. your heart felt punctured. "is it ... is it because i said i love you? is it because of that?" his eyes opened, making way for his frustrated grimace. he shook his head, lip curling in what you mistook as disgust, when in reality he was outwardly sickened by himself. "you don't know fucking shit about anything, bitch."

your face fell, eyes watering. you let go of him, his cheek flattened against the fridge, barely stabilizing himself against it. you took a step back. a million thoughts ran through your mind, but one prevailed amongst all of them: what i've been avoiding has shown itself to be true. a tear escaped your waterline, but your voice was stable. "get out." you sniffled, wiping your cheek. "get out, subong."

"huh?" he mumbled, gradually opening his eyes. "i said get the fuck out of my house, subong." "what? i'm not going—" he burped again. "i'm not going fucking anywhere." he wagged a finger in your face. you swatted his arm away, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and yanked him with all of your might, pushing his back, shoving him out the door even after he tripped over your purse. you slammed the door and locked it before he got to his feet again. "hey!" he yelled. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "open the damn door, you fucking bitch!" he pounded on the door with his palm. "come back when you stop acting like a fucking child!" you yelled, hitting the door back repeatedly. "and not turn my place into a fucking trap house, you piece of shit!"

"what about all that money i gave you, huh!? for rent? and your fucking groceries? give me those fucking earrings you have on, you never fucking deserved them anyway—" "fuck no!" you shouted over him. "this is the least i fucking deserve after your fucking pennies, you cheap piece of shit! if you're so loaded, then fuck off!" subong pressed his mouth to edge of the door, seething. "throwing your boyfriend out like this? when i'm making it big, huh? you'll come to regret this—" you bursted out laughing almost maniacally, a very strange mixture of anger, frustration, and hilarity brewing in your chest. he could be so fucking ridiculous. "m-making it big?" you repeated, laughing so hard you clutched your stomach and wiped tears from your face. it was cathartic. "i-if you're 'making it big,' subong, then—then i'm a lost member of the royal fucking family!" you exclaimed. "how's the fund for greece, huh? still plan on taking me for valentine's? or are you going to continue to clog my toilet because you're still too cheap to buy fresh meat?" "shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming his palm against the door and wiggling the doorknob.

a neighbor opened their door, avoiding eye contact and stepping around the broken glass to take out their trash, visibly not wanting to be caught in the firestorm taking place in the hall. subong grew embarrassed, turning back to the closed door with a new plea to avoid the atomically sinking feeling. "open the door. please, baby. let's talk this out." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level, wiping his nose with the side of his thumb. when you didn't answer, he kept going. "i'm sorry for all the trouble, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah? just open the door, and we can talk this out. c'mon, baby, the neighbors'll hear—" "let them fucking hear!" you yelled, making him flinh. you leaned closer to the edge of the door, directly parallel to him. "what's that bullshit you always say, huh? any attention is good attention, if you know what to do with it? well, eat your fucking words then, subong! be a man for once in your stupid life!" his eyes widened, vein popping out of his temple. "fuck you, you fucking whore!" he slammed the door repeatedly, the two of you creating a cacophony when you started hitting it, too. "fuck you too, dumbass!"

it was eerily silent that evening in your apartment. you, alone, cleaning up the mess he left behind. carefully sweeping up shattered glass, plastic bags, food wrappers, washing the dishes, cleaning out the fridge, etc. subong was universe knows where. you didn't have the energy to think about him, not even bothering to look around on your walk to the convenience mart to buy ramen for dinner. the emotional turmoil sank into your chest when you sat at the same kitchen table where chaos unfolded at mere hours ago to eat. you barely swallowed the first mouthful before you sank into tears, shoulders shaking, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to console yourself. how could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

you and subong didn't speak for three months. he called and texted those first couple weeks, but that fizzled out, and you didn't answer at all. you didn't owe him anything, especially after the shit he put you through. the wound was still felt too fresh, sensitive enough to do anything but wallow in the silence, heading back out to bars with your friends on the weekends.

none of your friends dared to say much. you were offered apologetic words, but a fool wouldn't notice the air of i told you so in their tone. even with you ceasing caring to cover the healing hickies, being much more subdued on nights out, or your eye bags deepening in the wake of the break up, you were mainly left to wallow in your own grief. you felt it was half deserved and half fucking rude.

but as more time went on, you felt hurt by the fact that subong didn't show back up. not once. not even a mean note on your door, or sign of attempted entry. did he really not fucking care that much? he was just a man, after all ... but then again, not every man is reduced to grateful tears after eating pussy. or looks at you like a renaissance painting come to life when you're retouching his fucking hair dye. when you got home one night, a little tipsy from the cocktails you had, you clicked on those unread text messages— ranging from Baby i'm sorry please talk to me; Stop being so fucking stubborn; ileft my keytthere I dont wantt it back u fknng cnutt; to I don't deserve you i fucked up please baby—and listening to those voicemails.

one resonated with you, even in your inebriated state: "hi ... um, it's been, like, four days since we ... and i, uh—i feel weird. and i don't like it at all. i know you're at work right now but i can't bring myself to show my face and i fucking hate it. i don't like being a coward. but you ... you're ... you're just ... you need to stop. you can't keep doing this to me. you make me feel things i've never felt and it fucking scares me. and you cut me off before i could even say my bit. how is that fair? you can't just come into my life like that and walk away before i get a say. you can't change my life and me and then just throw me away. i know ... i know i'm not the best guy. but even i don't deserve to be thrown out like—" he was cut off and did not call back. "oh my god. what a fucking idiot." you murmured, rubbing your temple with your fingers.

but the universe loves to throw curveballs, because you saw him two weeks later at a bar a few blocks down from the club you first met at. subong saw you long before you saw him that night. he'd spent so much of the last four months feeling a spectrum of emotions, coping with his frustration by daydreaming about what he'd say the next time he saw you—all of the insults to suffice for his anger, all of the things he'd say to make you feel bad for how you treated him—all cogs in his self-deflection apparatus. but when he actually saw you, sat alone at the bar with no friend group in sight, drinking what looked to be martini, he was at a loss for words. even his emotionally daft ass was aware enough to sense something was different about you. more muted, more subdued. that's what she fucking gets. his inner monologue was unforgiving, only for him to peer over a tall strangers shoulder to keep his softened eyes on you. but she ... she can't be alone. not here.

subong was really good at blending into the crowd, until he got too close, and by chance you glanced up and saw him. he was close enough to hear you suck in a breath through your teeth, and see your eyes widen in panic the same time his did. without thinking, you got up from your seat, grabbing your purse hanging on the back of your chair, forgetting you hadn't even taken a second sip of your overpriced drink. subong stepped out of the crowd, "don't go." he said gentler than anticipated, before remembering he was supposed to be livid. his expression hardened, lips tightened, hand grabbing for your arm. "we need to talk."

"i don't have anything to fucking say to you." you say sharply, not looking at him, keeping your voice low to not cause commotion. "yes the fuck you do." he bit back. you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, failing. "let me go or i'll throw my drink in your face." "really?" he smirked. "i didn't take you to be so careless with your money." you look up, eyebrows raised, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. "oh, that's funny. do you still think you're up and coming? or have you come to terms with the fact that you're an illiterate fuck who steals IP just to still write shit fucking bars?"

subong closed much of the remaining gap between you. "shut your fucking mouth, you bitch." he seethed through gritted teeth. you look him dead in the eyes, "see what i mean? you still can't come up with anything new, and you've had all this time." you pulled at his grip again, but he was strong. "let me go." "you didn't listen to me before, so you're going to listen now." "like the fuck i am!" you looked at him like he was crazy. you pulled again, finally freeing your arm. you grabbed your drink, purse in your other hand. "now leave me alone." you say. "or i'll throw this drink right in your fucking eyes."

you turned and walked deeper into the dimly lit bar; just anywhere that was not where he was. you found an empty booth, sitting down with a huff, taking a hefty swig of your martini. you shot up when you saw him walk over, putting your arm in position, only for subong to put his hands up, one hovering over your drink. "don't throw it! don't!" "do you not know how to fucking listen!?" "you don't know how, either!" he shot back. "why did you never respond to my texts or calls?" "don't ask me that with that stupid look on your face like it's as bad as you bringing a fucking stranger and hard drugs into my home!" you exclaimed. "which, by the way, in all of your rambling voicemails and texts, you've never once apologized for." "so you did read them?" "that's not the fucking point, subong!" "yes, it is! to me!" "and what? you don't think it matters to me that you never said 'i love you' back? that i felt like a fucking teenage girl, waiting at her boyfriend's beck and call to care about her?"

people were starting to stare, but your sense of decorum was long gone. he got up in your face, and you took him up at that challenge. "i care! i fucking cared!" he stared into your eyes in frustration, pushing his fingers into his chest in a desperate gesture. "well, you didn't do a good job of showing it. because at some point, i felt my loneliest even when you were beside me, snoring like fucking pug and dutch ovening the blanket."

subong, at a loss for words, too choked up on his anger and long-suppressed complicated feelings boiling to the surface, turned to what he knew best: low hanging fruit. after a moment, he collects himself. a smug smirk stretches across his face, taking a step back and glancing at the dated wall art behind you. he shook his head, looking down at the floor with a chuckle. "and here i was, thinking you were secretly pregnant with my kid or something." he said. your eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. this was stupid, even for him. "what?" you shook your head. "what the fuck are you talking about—" "—it makes sense that you wouldn't want to tell me. too much for you too handle. but then i saw you tonight, and you looked more bloated than usual, so i thought i was right. but then you were drinking—" he yelped when the cold gin splashed in his face, flinching at the glass bouncing off his chest, shattering next to his foot. gasps erupted throughout the room. subong hastily wiped his eyes, feeling them burn. "fucking bitch!" "your children would be lucky to never know their deadbeat of a fucking father."

you stormed off, heading into the nearby women's bathroom. heartbeat in your throat, you turned on a sink, rinsing the alcohol off your hands. you didn't look up when the door hit the wall, or when subong yelled "fuck off!" to the other three women in the room, causing a brief scurry of heels out the door. he pushed you out of the way, rinsing his eyes. "i should go and file a fucking police report on you." he mumbled. he looked up at you, expression angry, even with his squinting eyes. "i should've written 'sex slave' on my tax forms, too, with how you treated me!"

you pushed him right back, collecting a handful of water from the running sink with your palm, and throwing it at his face. "when was the last time you paid your taxes? hm!?" you exclaimed. "do you even know where your bank is? did you ever buy a new toothbrush after the one you had became a clump of bristles and i had to get one for you like a fucking mother!?" you yelled, using both palms and throwing more water; some hitting the floor, some splashing on yourself, but most wetting his face and clothing. "hey!" his voice boomed. he took a step forward, slipping, but caught himself on the edge of the sink. he turned the water off, landing your hand atop his in a failed effort to stop him. "you don't get to speak to me like that!" he yelled. "i can speak however i want to!" you yelled louder, making him wince, cursing under his breath. "you lost your chance when you made me feel crazy for loving you. i don't know how i could've even liked you!"

"hey!" subong's voice echoed off the walls. "your voice is so fucking shrill! you're giving me a fucking headache!" he pushed his fingers into his temple. he pointed at you, unwavering when you smacked it away. "don't act like you're fucking innocent, either—let me fucking finish!" you closed your mouth, crossing your arms over your chest. "see, this is what your problem is. you don't let anyone speak, or want to do anything i like. all those times you laughed in my face, didn't take me seriously, or tossed my career away like it was garbage, like some fucking fly you couldn't swat away." he waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the gesture. "well, i'm sorry i put a roof over your head when you were piss poor broke." your voice was eerily leveled, staring so hard into his eyes you could've burned holes into his retinas. "and didn't act like you were nominated for grammys in fucking return."

"'laughed?' 'didn't take seriously?'" you repeated his words, eyebrows furrowing. "who dyed your stupid fucking purple hair? who reminded you to write songs? who pushed you to call clubs? who yelled at pervert managers to get you fair pay!?" your voice escalated. subong's eyes drifted to the tiled floor, head hanging lower than before. you took a breath. "subong, i—" he met your eyes at the mention of his name. "i invented you."

his expression soured, hating that you were right and faced with his own cowardice once again. but he would rather give himself up to his loan shark than show it. "invented is the right word." subong spoke lowly, nodding. his hand came up to his head, making a screwing gesture. "false ideas—you have false ideas of who i am. you played with me like a toy." you were in disbelief. "p-played you? like ... like a toy?" you began to stutter through this newfound upheaval of anger, something that made your face feel hot and stomach churn, increasingly irritated with each second you couldn't get the words out. "you!—you!" you hit your palm on the edge of the sink, sending your purse to the floor. "you came so hard that i thought i had to go to urgent care to get you an oxygen mask!" every word sounded more strained than before. you inhaled deeply, running against a ticking timer in your head to when he'd open his mouth next. you gestured at a bathroom stall door, but in your head, it was a memory. "you held onto me so tightly after your performances or at home or—or eating dinner to the point where i had to eat with one hand!" you closed the gap, your pointer finger brushing against the tip of his nose. "at some point, you couldn't fall asleep unless you felt my fucking heartbeat, motherfucker!"

"and you did all of that," you gestured around you. "just to fuck me over, and make me realize i've wasted my time loving someone who doesn't give half a fucking shit whether i live or die!" "i care!" his voice boomed. "how many times do i have to say that!?" "until your last goddamn breath." you retort without hesitation. "and with how you live, that should be right around the corner." "are you saying i should die?" "what? no, subong. of course not." you shook your head. "that's not what i—that's not what i meant." "so what did you mean?" "what i mean was—no, stop distracting. you know exactly what i meant." with your next look at him, you saw them: his manicured hands, equipped with different colors on all fingernails. oh, you hated how quickly your mind shifted gears, how quickly the worries of the imaginary teenage girl clouded your logic and best judgment, but none more than this being what your eyes began watering over. "who ... who did that?" you asked, your suddenly quieted voice catching subong off guard.

"what?" he asked, confused. his eyes followed your gaze, landing at his hands, eyebrows raising at the realization that this was his chance at getting the upper hand: "someone i saw." he lied. it wasn't wholly untrue, but dubiously framed; the nail tech was a woman, so he did see her, just not in the way he just purposefully vaguely implied. he needed something to jab at you, to knock you down a peg like it was a schoolyard fight, but even he couldn't smirk at the hurt on your face. in fact, he regretted those words the moment he said them. "who is she?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. subong had never seen you look so devastated like this before. it made him feel an instinct that straightened his posture, unaware of what to do next, standing awkwardly. he attempted to say these next words with venom, but he couldn't even believe them himself, almost sounding as subdued as you: "it's none of your fucking business."

your heart drops. you feel nauseous. if subong had blinked, he would've missed your curt nod. you didn't bother wiping the tear trailing your cheek, his eyes watching as you pick up your purse from the floor, ears perking at your sniffle. "okay." you whispered, but you were so quiet that your voice nearly blended with the air vent. you started walking, fully intending to never turn back around, until his hand on your wrist stopped you. "wait—" "stop!" you said sharply, yanking out of his grip before he could close his fingers entirely. you held your hands in the air before circling around, your eyes landing on his. his face fell. you looked perishable, drained of an essence he couldn't fathom you without. oh, he'd really done it this time.

you lunged forward, nail of your pointer finger scratching against his nose. "you don't get to do this to me, s-subong!" you exclaimed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tears stifle the effort. you couldn't contain the sob. he was mortified at the sight. "it's ... it's not fair." you whispered meekly. your hands trailed to his chest, balling into fists as you cried. he stood there, frozen, mouth agape like a fool. subong raised his hand, petting your hair with a light, unsure touch. "it's fi—" he sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth when you started swatting his chest, pushing and shoving at him in a pitiful tantrum. subong took it silently, putting his hands up, face contorting uncomfortably at the sound of your cries. his bottom lip started to quiver as time went on. he couldn't tell what he hated more: the fact he lost the fight, or the fact he cared about that to begin with.

"that's enough. hey—" subong inhaled sharply through his nose. he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place. "that's enough." he hoped to whatever higher power you didn't hear the quiver. he swallowed, resting his forehead against yours. your hands went limp. he let go, feelings your palms trail up to his face. "you're mine." you spoke weakly. his mouth fell open, staring at your lips whilst you begged for his eyes; earning you such when your hand on his cheek guided him to your gaze. "do you hear me?" you whispered. "you're mine, subong. no one elses." you shook your forehead against his, your tragic desperation ailing him. "mhm." his hands trailed your waist. "i'm yours, baby. all yours."

with a shaky hand, your fingers ran through his hair, thumb so close to his lips he pressed a skeleton of a kiss onto it. "i'm sorry i threw my drink at you." you cry, voice stuck at a whisper. "i'm so sorry, subong—" "stop." his low voice shushes you, nose nestling beside yours, slowly trailing to your neck. he inhaled your scent, eyes rolling back when your fingers brushed past his cartilage piercing. "i had it coming." his nose found its way back to your cheek, pressing kisses onto the warm, wet skin. "why didn't you come home, subong? i .. i've been waiting for so long." his bottom lip quivered again, but his voice was utmost steady: "you never asked."

"i—i shouldn't have to!" you swatted at his chest. "you idiot!" "i know, i know. i've been really fucking stupid." his voice cracks. subong leans in, but you turn away. "i can't. it's not good for me." "can't you see we're dying without each other?" he pleads, his hands turning your head to look at him. "look at me, look at you! just one, baby. please." his breath brushed against your cheeks, his hands holding either side of your face. "i can't ... i can't go on without you."

with a shaky breath and fresh tears falling down your cheeks, you closed the gap. a guttural moan rumbled through your chest, subong whimpering desperately. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, your hands holding his face for dear life—the kiss slow and purposeful, making up for lost time, a conversation no words could say. subong's palms made way to your ass, acting on pure muscle memory. he angled his head, introducing his tongue into the equation, having to quickly bend his knees to catch your fidgety form. "i'm not going anywhere." he unintentionally stifled the most heavenly moan he's ever heard from you. you broke the kiss for air. subong wasted no time, returning to his favorite spot on your neck, holding you in place firmly. your head fell back, letting him do whatever he so pleased—your hand on the back of his head wielding the power of casting a centuries-long trance.

he sucked and licked with precision, like a day hadn't gone by. he even hummed in concentration, mouth popping off of your soft skin until the bruise was to his liking. "s-subong." you whined, needing his lips back, your fingers messily carding through his hair. "i'm almost done." he was gentle, even if he was ignoring the concrete fucking lump in his pants and starting to sweat over your warmth against his. he latched off, fingers tracing the bluish-red spot with satisfaction. "come here, pretty girl." his slightly swollen lips made your eyebrows furrow pathetically, the kiss felt sticky, your lips sown with his. "i need you." you murmured. "i need you." "stall. the bathroom stall."

you grabbed his hand, rushing to the closest one, pulling him inside. neither of you think to close the door, letting it bang against the wall after swinging it open. subong's lips returned to yours, but his hands pat his pockets, feeling his phone and wallet, unsure: "i don't—i don't have a condom." "it's okay, it's okay." you assure truthfully, hurriedly kissing him as if he'd disappear if you let go. "it'll be just like how we used to, hm?" "turn around for me."

you do, placing your hands on the bathroom stall wall to hold yourself up. subong pulls your pants down to your ankles, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to grind his hardened cock against your ass, leaving nothing to the imagination, even with the barrier of his briefs and your underwear. "s-subong!" you gasped, back arching, pushing your ass farther onto him, feeling his cock closer to your aching pussy but not quite there yet. "how could you take this away from me?" he whispered into your ear, breath hitching vulnerably as he tried to keep himself composed, the plush of your round ass making his mind mush. "from us?" subong's hands snuck past the hem, grabbing at the powdery softness of either globes of your ass. his bottom lip suffered between his teeth, watching his hands work underneath the fabric, squeezing firmly. your nails clawed at the wall, eyes fluttering closed whenever his cool rings cinched around your hot skin. "stop teasing." your cheek collided with his nose, not realizing how close his face was to yours.

subong kissed your supple skin like instinct. "you'll take this dick like a good fucking girl, right?" he was so close to your ear the tip of his nose smushed against the stall wall. "y-yes!" you helplessly paw at the wall. his hand pulled down your underwear, rutting himself against your bare ass. his fingers maneuvered between your legs, middle finger sinking between your folds and encircling, keeping you steady between him and the wall. when he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, he feels faint, cursing under his breath as your guttural grunt that bounced off the walls. "s-subong—" your voice sounded dry from the earlier arguing and succumbing to your illustrious libido. "i know, baby, i know." his fingers were unrelenting. christ, you were so fucking wet. "just wait for a little longer, and i'll fuck this pussy like the good boy you know i fucking am."

his fingers came to a gradual halt. whilst your chest heaved, he sucked on the tip of his middle finger, licking it clean. "i'm getting on my knees. don't move." he pulled your underwear down, peering up at the puffy lips he has to thank for opening his third eye. you cover your mouth, his warm tongue delving between your folds, scared of what you might sound like if you let go. for the next minute, all that fills the bathroom are the lewd sounds of his tongue nursing your sweet pussy and your muffled whimpers. a crude smack on your left globe followed by a harsh squeeze was the unspoken: let me fucking hear you. "o-oh!" you cried out. "o-oh my fucking god!"

you pushed your ass onto his face, your eyes crossing over the vibrations of his satisfied moan against your clit, squeezing them shut. he lapped your hole repeatedly, swallowing, taking a breath before adjusting his knees on the floor. subong's thumbs spread your lips apart, latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking. the curvature of your back deepened, head thrown back, a cry of pure lust brewing out of your diaphragm, heartbeat stuttering when his tongue lapped the bundle without mercy. "r-right there! just, just—ngh! hngh!—just l-like that!" "where? here?" he asked knowingly, tongue replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit mercilessly. his other hand fished his cock out from his briefs, beginning to stroke himself.

it was a cacophony of wet slick, choked moans, and squelching heat. nothing could deter it, not even the pair of friends that walked in the bathroom, chatting away and completely unaware, only to quickly back out of the room widened eyes and whispers of "oh my god, did you see them?" and "on a tuesday?" it was a sight to behold: your ass in his face; a mixture of his saliva and your slick trailing down his chin, quickly wiped by the back of his hand when he took a breath, but smearing nonetheless; his precum leaking onto the floor; your moans so delicate and raw any erotic film director would beg on their knees to cast you; and subong's affirming mhms and thats rights as he sucks and laps your clit.

subong knew you were close when your thighs began to shake. "give it to me." his hand ceased pumping his dick, both thumbs separating your puffy lips farther than before, running his tongue over your clit. "give it to me, mama," your moan made his dick twitch, eyebrows deeply furrowed, fucked-out gloss coating his eyes. "give it to me, baby, come on—" "ngh!" your body squirmed, nails scraping against the wall, one hand reaching for the top, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm took over your body. subong was stubborn—his palms pressing your back down further, tongue unrelenting through your high, swallowing whatever you gave him. he slowed when your breathing leveled, suckling one last time before rising to his feet.

he pushed your shirt up, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder. "hey," he said gently, hearing your shaky breaths. "still with me?" "mhm." you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, trying your best to remain standing. his lips kissed your temple, "everything okay?" "mhm," was all you were able to muster. "f-felt really good. needed it." "me too. i dreamt about you, baby." he whined, lips pressed to your skin. "i dreamt about you so much." his breathing became ragged, tip of his cock red and angry. "tugged at my dick so much and i never came as good as when i was with you. now you made me cum just from eating your pussy. do you see what you've done to me? do you see what you've done to your precious subongie?"

you feel dizzy, lifting your head for air. "put it in." you whisper. you push your ass into him, moaning at the feeling of his cock rutting against you. "put it in, subongie." he slowly pushed his tip in, eventually enveloped by your gummy walls. his face contorted—"how're you so much tighter than before!?" his voice was notably higher, barely moving his hips, slowly inching out of you. "h-haven't had anyone else," you sucked in a tight breath. "b-been waiting for you—hngh!" oh, you were so back ... you couldn't help the satisfied smile that stretched across your face, ears filled with his needy whines and blubbering incoherently about how much he missed you, and his girthy cock stretching you out in the way you deserve. "fuck me, subongie," you said breathlessly. "fuck me the way you dream about." "i won't last, you're so fucking tight!—" "—be the good boy you said you'd be!"

with that, he got to work. his pelvis hit your ass, not rapidly, but with reverberating force, moaning and whining like it was the last thing he'd ever do. your mouth fell open, body shaking with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut. you gasped when his hand reached into your bra, holding your left breast, biting your lip as your nipple hardened against his palm. you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of your jiggling globes every time he thrusted. "faster," you said. "faster and harder, s-subong. i—fuck!—i n-need you so b-badly!" he grabbed either side of your hips, pounding into you through his intensifying blurry haze, balls slapping against you so unapologetically that, if someone got close enough, it could've been heard from outside the door. subong wasn't showing off; he wasn't outdoing himself, to him, this was making love. here he was, fucking the woman of his dreams (he got her back!!,) hearing those moans he was so afraid would escape his memories, and fortunate to be feeling and fucking her divine pussy. talk about a jackpot.

"a-agh! f-fuck!" he cried out, hips stuttering as you began fucking him back. he looked down at the sight, watching his creamy cock disappear and reappear at your volition, his indescribable pleasure displayed on his face, envied by empty canvases wishing to capture such raw human emotion. "n-no, no!" he gasped, feeling your pussy clench around him, that knot forming in his abdomen. "y-you're killing me, baby," he panted. "b-baby—ngh!—s-stop, need to f-fuck you. m'gonna cum s'quick if you—if you, f-fuck!" you stopped abruptly, slamming against his pelvis with a shaky breath. "i'm almost there, too." you said. you sunk a little lower, pushing your ass against him. "k-keep going, my love. you're doing so good. always know how to fuck this pussy so good, hm? yeah? best dick i've ever fucking had." you whine, feeling his cock pulsate in your cunt. you look over your shoulder, feeling his hand squeeze your left asscheek, "wanna cum in me?" wanna cum in me so much that i make you a daddy? yeah?" a wall-rattling gasp shattered out of your lungs when he thrust into you hard, once. then twice. "you're going to be the fucking death of me."

subong pounded into your tight pussy mercilessly, brushing against that spongy spot deep in your cunt with little effort at the angle you were in now. "right there, right t-there! o-oh my god, f-fuck—fuck! s-subong—subong! keep going! you feel so f-f-fucking good!" your whorish mewls were no match for his. he was a goner; bottomed out; becoming lightheaded. he kept going, kept hitting that spongy haven, but it wasn't a knot in your abdomen that fleshed goosebumps across your skin, embarking on its unravel—it was deeper, more carnal than that—but before you could register it, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your leg felt wet. "o-oh—oh my g-god—" you were a mumbling mess through this indescribable orgasm, wholly aware of your body but lost in your lustful haze. subong knew exactly what was going on. it brought him over the edge. "f-fuck! fuck! fuck!" warmth coated your walls, chock-full of his cum, trailing down your thigh with your squirt. he slowed his thrusts, moving so delicately it was as if his cock was made of glass.

he stopped moving, cock resting inside your warm cunt. you were in your own world, weakly holding onto the wall, ears ringing, temples pounding. your senses cleared albeit minutely with his hands holding your shoulders, helping you stand up better. you raised your arm, planting it before you and resting your forehead against it, taking deep breaths. subong pulled out, tutting softly hearing your quiet gasp, palm tracing your lower back as a silent i know, i know. his chest heaving, subong's hand reached over, trying to tuck your hair behind your ear to talk to you, but stops when he sees your earrings—the ones he gave you all those months ago; the ones he said you didn't deserve during that explosive argument. unexpectedly to him, his eyes started to water, quickly pressing a kiss onto the back of your shoulder, mouth muffled against the fabric of your top. in the midst of your labored breathing, you don't overhear: "i love you," he whispered. he pressed another kiss. "i love you."

after a few moments, you stood up steadily, making subong lift his head. your hand aimlessly reached behind you for him."you made me ... you made me—" "—i know, i know." he spoke gently. your senses found him when his arm wrapped around your waist, lips pressing a kiss to your temple and staying there. your hand reached up, coaxing your fingers through his hair. "have we ... have we ever done that before?" "i don't think we did." "yeah ... i figured." your eyes were still closed, slowly opening when his lips peppered kisses on your jaw. "i don't—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "i don't know if i can walk straight." both of you couldn't help but laugh, his forehead resting against your temple. "you know," he cleared his throat. "i think someone came in when i was eating you out." "oh god." you murmured. "did they say anything?" "i was kinda busy to notice if they did." he chuckled lowly. "right, right."

the heat of your apartment woke you up in the middle of the night, lazily tugging the duvet of your sweaty body. subong's light snores became background noise after a press of a button, the air conditioning kicking in. in your sleepy state, you squinted at the time on the oven: 4:27 AM. shuffling to the bathroom, you emerged a few minutes later, filling a glass of water from the kitchen tap. after taking a sip, you walked to the ac unit, eyes closed whilst you cooled down, wind flowing modestly through your hair.

feeling refreshed enough, you headed back to bed. you carefully slid your glass onto the nightside table, hoping there was a enough space on the already small and cluttered surface—equipped with yours and subong's charging phones, hair ties, ibuprofen, whatever else you were too lazy to properly put away, and not lit since there was no room for a lamp—but guessed wrong, accidentally sliding both phones off. a loud clatter rang throughout the apartment, "shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly eyeing subong. he didn't flinch, snoring peacefully. you picked the phones up, plugged his back in, and set them onto the table securely. a notif came up on his screen. by chance, your eyes glanced over. what was a mere peek became a full on stare.

it was from a crypto app. you didn't have to be a genius to know; the word was in the name of the fucking app. you read the notif before his screen went dark: You have an update on your investment. Tap to view. you have got to be fucking kidding me. you thought to yourself. without thinking, you unplugged his phone, tapping his screen to see it again. but the notif was now hidden, requiring his face id or passcode to view. is his passcode still the same as before? you wondered, thinking of those times he'd let you use his phone to connect him to the wifi, or send yourself photos from dates he'd always forget to. you look over your shoulder at his sleeping form, clueless. forget ethics, forget respecting privacy, forget trusting your partner; your brain was in overdrive. this better fucking work. you swipe up, typing 6969—it works. you tap the notif, the app loads quickly. your eyes run over an interface filled with lingo you don't know or care for and usernames that should be put on a watchlist, but then you find it: his profile. you click the icon on the bottom right corner, seeing the Investments tab with an encircled 1 next to it, clicking it, waiting for the screen to load. it only took a couple of seconds, but it was long enough to make you nervously gnaw at your bottom lip and tap your foot. then it loaded.

-850 MILLION KRW — in unmissable red at the top of the screen, above a graph you could only guess illustrated the fluctuation of his money, and other bullshit you couldn't comprehend in the moment. you stared. in silence, numb. before you knew it, the number changed: -1.19 BILLION KRW. your thumb acted before your brain could, scrolling, finding the extensive histories of his investments. he was betting hourly during the day with money he certainly did not have, losing thousands. you scrolled even deeper, finding investments from before you broke up. 50,000 krw here, 5 million there, 30 million another day .... he'd been lying that entire time. selfishly keeping more for himself, all the while consoling your crying state from not being able to make rent in time, even with what you suspected to be all he had ("i'm so sorry, baby. you don't deserve this. we don't deserve this. i'll fight your landlord for you, don't worry.") what utter bullshit.

it was all lies. it was all deception. and now he was back in your bed, peacefully asleep like everything was okay. you let him back into your life, thinking everything was going to be fucking okay. you squeeze his phone in your hand, arm shaking. your other hand sinks your fingers into your knee, as if to prevent from screaming; trying to find another outlet for the anger—fuck it! irate, you grab your glass of water and rush to his side of the bed, throwing it onto his face. he shot up immediately. you paced back and forth, eyes rolling at his coughing fit. "wha—what?" his voice was gravely, wiping his eyes. "was that—was that water?" he asked stupidly. "yes it was fucking water!" you spoke loudly, irritated at the sight of his barely opened eyes."what're you yelling for?" his voice was lower than usual, clouded by looming sleep. "it's, like, four in the morning, baby."

"don't you fucking 'baby' me." you muttered, marching up to him. you showed him his screen. "the fuck is this? hm?" "what?" he asked, wiping water off his forehead. you threw his phone onto his lap. "check your fucking investments." he picked up his phone and scrolled. he didn't say a word. you continued to pace like a madwoman, back and forth, nothing filling the air but the skid of the heels of your feet against the floor. you mentally cursed and screamed, thoughts so scrambled that if you opened your mouth all that would come out would be jibberish, so you paced. and paced. and paced. it could've been anywhere between five or ten minutes when you stopped. "well?" you asked sharply, arms crossed over your chest. "how much money did you fucking make?"

"why'd you look at my phone?" asked subong. he was trying so hard to avoid openly showing his shame; his pride prevailing. "that's—" you stuttered. "that's seriously what you're asking right now?" "yes, that's what i'm fucking asking right the fuck now." he looked up at you, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. "you just threw water in my face. i get to ask questions." "you're a billion in debt!" you whisper-yelled, afraid your eyes would water if you were any louder. you trudged to his side of the bed, eyes wide and finger to his chest. he stared at you blankly, a twitch of his eyebrow outed his mounting frustration at his stifled shame. "you're a billion in debt, subong. where did you ... where did you even get all that money?" you swallowed, taking a step back, eyes looking everywhere but him to thwart the mounting glossiness. "why did you lie to me? all those times, all those times where i felt like it was the end. where i felt like i was at a dead end." you gestured to the couch with your hand, staring at him. "and you ... you lied. you were selfish, and didn't want to help. i ... i saw everything, subong. i know you kept on lying about your earnings when we were together."

another beat of silence. "subong, why did you put so much money into—" "—why'd you look at my phone? hm?" he interrupted, eyes wide. "why couldn't you just mind your fucking business?" "you're a billion in debt—" "i didn't owe you anything!" subong suddenly yelled, catching you off guard. he ripped the duvet off, marching up to you, finger in your face. "i didn't owe you fucking anything." he repeated, breathing hard through his nostrils. "what was it you said to me? hm? that it's my money, my punishment to have? so let me fucking have it." "you owed me everything!" you yelled, smacking his hand away. "you owed me the fucking truth!" he turned around, walking to the window leading to the balcony, hands roughly rubbing his face and hair. "why didn't you just tell me? why did you hide—" "—i did it all for you."

your eyes widened and jaw fell, appalled. "oh my god." you muttered to yourself, but he overheard. "i'm going fucking crazy. i'm going fucking crazy." you ran your hands through your hair, pacing. "i know you did not just ... i know you did not just say that." you shook your head. "how could you be so fucking stupid. how could i be so fucking stupid?" subong whipped his head around. "hey! don't call me stupid!" he walked up to you, growing angrier with your ignoring him. "hey!" he exclaimed. "don't call me stupid! i'm not stupid for taking initiative, or, or doing shit because i care about you!" his arms flailed.

"oh..." you shook your head, facing him. he felt like a first grader being told off by his teacher, frustratingly shifting his weight between his feet, unsure of where to put this uncomfortable energy. "oh no, subong. this isn't caring. this is being a complete and utter dumbass." you said, eyes porous in realization. tears were no longer in the realm of possibility. now, it was just pity. "there's no coming back from this." you made sure he knew. "you're fucked." "i know that!" he yelled, vein tight in his temple. "you don't think i fucking know that!?" subong's eyebrows furrowed. it was his turn to avoid crying. he looked away hastily, cursing repeatedly under his breath as if it'd ward off his blurring vision. he blinked hard—"i ... i tried everything." he muttered, bottom lip quivering. "i ... made deals with dangerous p-people." he cleared his throat. "i slept on benches. my own mother wouldn't pick up my calls. i've disappointed her too many times. and you ... you," he cleared his throat again. "you weren't an option." he shook his head, a tear landing on his arm. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "but ... but i have this one last chance—"

"—you're hopeless." you cut him off. "you're the worst person i've ever fucking met." subong looked at you, silently pleading to take those words back. "no." he sounded wounded. "you don't ... you don't mean that." "i do. i mean every word." you nodded. "i must have done something really horrible in a past life to be cursed with loving someone as hurtful as you." "no ..." he shook his head, his palms flattening his hair. "you don't mean what you're saying." "i do!" you yelled, voice cracking, heartbeat in your throat. a shaky breath left his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling and blinking fast, waterline feeling heavy. "no ... no, no." he muttered to himself. he took your face in his hands, eyes darting around your features, making them out even in the meek lighting of the slowly emerging sunrise. you stared blankly at the floor, emotionless between his palms.

"you don't mean those words. i know you don't." he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself. "you don't mean them." his fingers combed your hair out of your face. "i've been trying so hard. i'm so fucking scared, baby." subong shook his head quickly, but it didn't halt his falling tears. "i f-fucked up so bad." he whispered, lips quivering. he pressed kisses to your supple skin, attempting to fill the eerie silence. "but i promise—" his lips peppering your face. "i promise i'm going to fix all of this. i have a plan." subong tasted something salty, seeing a tear having fallen down your cheek. "no, no." he tutted gently, kissing it away. "don't cry. you're too beautiful to cry over a loser like me, baby." he kissed that same spot. "no, no. don't cry. here, let me hold you. come here." his lips trailed to the back of your jaw, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. even in his desperation, he was unsure. his eyes glanced at the glimmer of your dainty diamond drop earrings. "the earrings look good on you. you've always had good taste." he muttered against your shoulder. you didn't move. nor say a word. the silence was killing him. "i've been scared for so long." he whispered. your shoulder felt wet. "please ... please hold me."

he said no apology. no "i'm sorry," no "i regret this." it was a tale as old as time: redirected sympathy; a murky, multi-layered distraction, him avoiding taking full responsibility. you sympathized with his pain, you felt his hurt and the monstrous circumstance, but at some fucking point, there is only so much you could do. there is so much strength one could muster; so much mercy a heart could offer. this wasn't your problem, and you weren't going to go out of your way to make it yours. it was time to draw the line. right here, right now. you didn't recognize the man before you. he was a stranger: "subong?" "yes?" he responded quickly, a hint of hope in his tone. "when were you going to tell me about your debt?"

subong was silent, but you spoke for him. "when i get a promotion? when i get laid off? when there's an eviction notice on my door? after we elope at the courthouse, or when i tell you you're the father of my baby? hm? when were you going to tell me?" your voice was unexpectedly gentle. his shoulders started to shake, quietly sobbing. "when, subong? when?" "forgive me." he pleaded. "forgive me. please, baby—" "—get off of me." you pushed him away, slipping out of his embrace. he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "you're—you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." "you're the worst!" you exclaimed. "it's exhausting loving you! it's torture! i'm decaying from the inside!"

you took a breath, looking at this pathetic form. "i've forgiven you too much." you shook your head. "you've made me a stranger to myself. you take, and you take, and you take. i share my home, i let you fuck me, i let myself think you respect me—" "—i d-do, baby, i do! i lo—" "—i let you into the deepest, darkest pits of who i am, and you let me cry over your fucking nail polish while you were throwing away millions into something that isn't even fucking real. and you have the audacity to say it was for me?" you gesture to yourself. "as much as i tried to fix you, stupidity is in incurable disease. you're the dumbest person i've ever fucking met. you're not even smart enough to say 'i'm sorry.'"

"i never want to see you again." you turn around, your back facing him. "you don't know me. i don't know you. get out." this was it. you didn't move your eyes from the kitchen floor tiles as you heard him collect his things—the clinking of his belt; his shallow breaths; his heavy, stuttered footsteps; the clean swoosh of his pants as he put them on; over-pronounced inhales; his shoving of his feet into his sneakers—punctuated by the slam of the door. you slowly turned around. the oven read 4:53 AM. you sat on the couch, the silence heavy, only moderately cut through by the sporadic chirping of the birds outside. you sunk into the cheap cushions, hands coming up to your face, chest convulsing.

subong didn't know how long he'd been walking for. he was numb; eyes wet, cheeks swollen, snot dried, sneakers carelessly dragging against the sidewalk. the sun had risen. he could hear the taxis driving by, or catch in his peripheral vision the sight of people hurriedly leaving their apartment buildings as the morning commute commenced, but his gaze never shifted from aimless. he was wandering; nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. his chest heaved and his heart pounded in his temples, feelings buried in an overly complicated web that made his ears ring. subong's tongue was dry from breathing through his mouth, but he was so out of it he didn't bother to close his jaw.

it was the ring of a pedestrian's bike bell that temporarily took him out of this trance, stumbling a few steps to the right, letting them pass. "i'm sorry." he muttered weakly. it was only then that he looked at his surroundings, realizing he was walking along a bridge. seeing the water flow below him without issue made him feel so inconsequentially small, almost as if the car driving by or the subtle whispers of the leaves rattling in the wind told him that no matter what he did, or what he went through, or what he said, nature will be there before and after. "excuse me, sir." a voice said. subong's head felt heavy, but he turned it nonetheless. it was the man in the suit from a week ago. "i forgot to give you this after our game last week." he handed subong what looked to be a business card. "my sincerest apologies. i kindly ask that you forgive me, sir." with that, he walked away.

you woke up on the couch in the late morning, having slept through your phone alarm. you had the day off, so that wasn't exactly a concern, only to jolt awake from seering pain on side of your neck and lower back from falling asleep in such a cramped, awkward position. it was hot in the apartment again. you gradually stood on your feet, carefully stretching. "fuck." you mutter under your breath. you moved to the bathroom. you peeled your clothes off, throwing them mindlessly into the hamper. before you stepped into the shower, the glimmer of your earrings caught your sight. you tucked your hair back, staring hard into the mirror. memories of the night previous came rushing back. your quivering lip made you mad all over again, quickly taking the earrings off, throwing them into the trash bin without second thought.

you did errands. you went to work the next day. you quit your job three months later, having landed a better paying one on the opposite side of the city. a year later, you were longed moved out of your small studio and into your one bedroom abode, equipped with an in house dryer and washer. you had new friends. you had a new life. in the end, you really did get your wish of never seeing subong again.

[pupsmailbox]

TECHNOLOGY ID PACK

NAMES︰ admin. ajax. alexa. am. atari. audio. auto. bailey. binary. blank. blu. blue. bluesse. browser. browsette. bug. byte. cache. calware. chip. circe. click. clicker. clickie. clicky. cloud. coda. code. codette. codie. cody. computette. crypt. cursor. cy. cyber. cybernet. cybernetica. cyberweb. cypher. cypherre. data. dell. digi. digitalia. digitelle. digitesse. disc. dot. electronica. electronique. emoticon. emoticonnie. fax. file. gig. gizmo. glitch. glitche. glitchesse. glitchette. graphique. hacker. hal. halware. hijack. index. informationne. intelligette. internette. interweb. java. javascript. juno. key. link. linuxe. lotus. lovebytes. mac. mal. malakai. malware. malwaria. memorette. memorie. meta. mic. micah. mickey. morphe. mouse. mousette. myspace. nano. neo. net. netette. nett. netty. paige. pascal. payton. peyton. pixel. programatha. programette. programme. pulse. reboot. rom. router. ruby. sam. sammy. screene. screenette. sean. shock. solitaire. spy. static. stutter. talia. tap. tecca. tech. techette. tessa. tetris. trojan. troubleshoot. ts. user. vir. virus. virusse. volt. vyrus. webbe. wheatley. whirr. widget. will. wirehead. wiresse. zap. zett. zetta. zip.

PRONOUNS︰ ai/ai. alt/alt. anti/antivirus. arc/archive. audio/audio. bat/battery. beep/beep. beep/boop. bit/bit. bit/byte. blue/blue. board/board. bright/bright. brow/browser. browser/browser. brr/brr. bu/bug. bug/bug. buzz/buzz. byt/byte. byte/byte. c/cpu. charge/charger. cir/circuit. cli/click. click/clack. click/click. click/scroll. co/code. code/code. color/color. com/com. com/computer. comp/computer. compute/computer. computer/computer. cor/corrupt. corrupt/corrupt. CPU/CPU. crash/crash. cre/creeper. crtl/crtl. cy/cyber. cyb/cyber. cyber/cyber. da/data. data/data. delete/delete. di/disk. dig/digital. digi/digi. digi/digital. digital/digital. dra/drag. e/exe. electronic/electronic. enter/enter. er/error. err/error. error/error. exe/exe. fi/file. file/file. gi/gif. gli/glitch. glit/glitch. glitch/glitch. graphic/graphic. hac/hacker. hack/hack. hard/hardware. head/phone. hij/hijacker. ho/home. info/info. information/information. int/internet. intelligent/intelligence. intelligent/intelligent. inter/net. internet/internet. it/it. jpg/jpg. key/board. key/cap. key/key. key/keyboard. key/keylogger. lag/lag. lap/laptop. ligh/light. linux/linux. load/load. log/login. main/mainframe. mal/malware. me/media. memory/memorie. mon/monitor. mou/mouse. nano/nano. net/net. net/network. org/org. over/overwrite. page/page. pix/pix. pix/pixel. pixel/pixel. plu/plug. png/png. pop/popup. port/port. pow/power. pro/program. program/program. ram/ram. ran/ransom. reboot/reboot. reload/reload. res/restore. ret/retro. route/router. sca/scan. scr/scroll. scre/screen. scre/screencap. scree/screen. screen/screen. scri/script. script/script. sentient/sentience. shift/shift. site/site. skip/skip. soft/software. spa/spam. space/space. spy/spyware. stop/stop. te/tech. tech/nology. tech/tech. technology/technology. tou/touchpad. txt/txt. typ/type. upload/upload. user/user. vi/viru. vi/virus. vir/virtual. web/page. web/web. whir/whir. wi/wire. win/dow. win/window. wire/wire. wire/wired. zip/zip . ⌨ . ☣ . ⚙ . ⚠ . 🎞 . 🎨 . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🎵 . 👀 . 👁 . 💔 . 💡 . 💢 . 💣 . 💳 . 💵 . 💻 . 💽 . 💾 . 💿 . 📀 . 📱 . 🔇 . 🔈 . 🔉 . 🔊 . 🔋 . 🔌 . 🔎 . 🖥 . 🖱 . 🗡 . 🗯 . 🛠 . 🧿 .

[thedvilsinthedetails]

Rosekiller band au microfic!!!

hey guys, I wrote the first microfic in the lil series I’m doing, you can find the original idea for it here

ik I’d said I’d wait but I’m impatient hahaha

(some of the ppl that asked to be tagged if i ever wrote it: @always-reading @blu3stars @chaoticgaywitch @1284646imjusthere @depressedtheatrekiddo @idk-what-to-put-here-123)

anyway just wrote this pretty quickly so it might have some mistakes n stuff sorry abt that I don’t do grammar or punctuation anyway here you go, enjoy:

(EDIT: link to part 2)

••• Pink lipstick stains, cigarette butts

I lie in bed, I hate my guts

A day in the dark 

A muddled afternoon, yeah

Barty pressed his cheek close to Evan as they sang into the same microphone. He could feel the buzz of the music through the vibration of the stage below him. 

Oh baby darling how I long 

To become your suicide blonde

He ran a hand through Evan’s platinum curls as he sung the line. Evan leaned into it, eyes meeting Barty’s, grinning as he sung. 

To lie beside my Romeo

Oh what a wicked way to go

Evan’s fingers moved deftly on the guitar, he lifted a hand, twirled the pick in his hand before resuming immediately, he didn’t take his eyes off Barty the entire song. 

•••

“Ah fucking hell look at the comments Bee.”

Evan was sat at the base of the sofa, scrolling through the comments on a video of their performance last night. He held the phone up to Barty on the sofa, who squinted before taking it and reading it out to the room.

“Skittlefiend57 says ‘omg Blarty and Evan! I’m so gone 4 them u guys’”

“Blarty?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been getting my name wrong all these years guys. Wow that’s a crazy thing to discover at 23.”

“Bad spelling aside, there’s way more. And it’s not all good stuff.”

Evan said and Barty looked back down at the comments. 

“Barty and Evan are queerbaiting, they act so gay but they’re not dating. It’s all clearly faked to get attention. Fucking pathetic. Why thank you peenisonapizza. Glad to see you know us personally and can therefore speak on our behalf.”

“Don’t know why they’re obsessed with accusing a band with two trans guys of queer baiting.”

Evan pinched his furrowed brow and shook his head in disbelief.

“They don’t even care about the fucking music, just us and whether we’re dating or not.”

Barty laid down on the sofa, dropping one arm around Evan and resting his chin on Evan���s shoulder.

“Hey cheer up Rosie. They care about the music. There’s a few assholes but that’s a given. If they weren’t talking about us acting gay they’d be talking about whether my tattoos are real or fake.”

“Or some conspiracy theory that Reggie’s not actually lactose intolerant.” 

Pandora chipped in.

“I’m not lactose intolerant!”

Regulus replied indignantly.

“Is that you talking or your obsession with chocolate?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes as she spoke. Regulus avoided her gaze as he mumbled out a half hearted response.

“Remus got me hooked on Tony’s chocolonely.”

While the rest of the group squabbled Evan leaned his head back against Barty’s shoulder, he pulled out his phone.

***

Evan.Rosier✔️

Hey everyone, I’ve noticed there’s a lot of speculation about me and @Barty.Grouch.JR and I wanted to say that it’s none of your business, you can think what you like but please don’t ask us or spam comment sections with theories. As always thank u so much for listening to our music, the skittles luv u x

***

Evan breathed in and passed the phone to Barty.

“You think this is good?”

Barty read it over and nodded.

“You’ve been really nice about it too.”

Evan huffed out a laugh.

“I was normal about, not my fault you would have said something like-“

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you are a cunt and I hate you @peenisonapizza.”

Barty took a small bow, flourishing his hand dramatically. Evan turned around and flicked him in the leg, which only succeeded in making him laugh. 

 “Ok I’ve posted it.”

Evan clicked post and watched as the ‘likes’ number quickly began to climb.

“Now I’m just not gonna read the comments on that post.”

Evan huffed out a laugh and Barty patted his shoulder.

“Good on you Rosie. Now who wants to watch a movie?”

Evan clambered onto the sofa next to Barty who leaned against him immediately, head resting on his shoulder.

“Rosie.”

Barty whispered.

“Yeah Bee?”

“Give me your phone. Look we both know it will bother you all evening not reading those comments if you have your phone on you. Just- out of sight out of mind, I’ll give it back to you once the movie is over but you deserve to have an evening off.”

Barty’s eyes were wide, expression genuine as he spoke. Evan hesitated then reached in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t spam it with photos alright?”

A smirk spread on Barty’s face quickly, eyes sparkling.

“I make no promises Ev.”

Evan rolled his eyes but handed the phone over. 

The movie was something Pandora had picked, something from the late 80s, a strange mix of fantasy, reality and meta theatre that Evan actually didn’t hate.

Still he drifted to sleep at some point watching it, the stress of the day had clearly gotten to him and something about the way the top of Barty’s head made for a great pillow probably didn’t help.

Either way he woke up to the feeling of Barty shaking him.

“Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you to a real bed. Here’s your phone back.”

Evan rubbed his eyes and got up, stumbling to his room as thanked Barty in a half asleep murmur.

He got to his room and turned on his phone, wincing at the glaring brightness, turning it down quickly. He opened his photos app, just as he’d suspected his camera roll was filled with new photos.

He began to scroll through them. There was one of his friends, all waving at the camera. A zoomed in shot of Inigo Montoya‘s face on the TV screen from a funny angle. Himself, looking dumb, sleeping with his mouth slightly open. He scrolled to the next picture and stopped. Barty with that cheeky grin of his, curled up against Evan, flipping off the camera. Eyes twinkling in that way that always made Evan feel a little warmer, a little brighter. He fell asleep again dreaming of a body pressed against his in a hug, the hum of a movie no longer playing, soft hair tickling his face and mischief painted in big brown eyes. 

For info about the position they’re sat in (it’s clear in my mind but I’m not sure how clear it is in the description), the song that they are playing and the movie they watch, look below the read more:

Position they are in before Evan gets on the sofa, red is Evan, green is Barty - yes Barty is uncomfortable, yes he would sit like that anyway bc Barty will do fucking contortion to be able to hug Evan argue with a wall

Don’t question the drawing skills, I can’t draw and did it in a moving vehicle

the song is EVOL by MARINA

the movie is the princess bride suggested by the lovely @lulublack90 who u shld defo check out bc she’s rlly amazing at writing

(Oh also Evan and Reggie are both trans in this)

[placeofwonder]

new year, let's go! not resolutions so much as lists.

general:

walk up all 7 of my town's hills

make progress on my big cross stitch of a lighthouse

write a few stories without trying to make them good

pasta quest (13)

books:

finish Howards End

Orlando

The Hidden Life of Trees

re-read the Inkworld trilogy and then read the new sequel (started)

start the Rivers of London series over from the beginning

at least one David Almond novel

at least one Discworld novel

cooking:

asparagus and chilli linguine (from Cook As You Are)

soba noodles with lime, cardamom and avocado (from my recipe binder)

sweet potatoes with caramelised onions (from Small Victories)

dill-pickled cherry tomatoes (from Cook As You Are)

spam musubi (from this recipe maybe?)

halloumi and pomegranate salad (from Comfort & Spice)

watercress with smoked almond goat cheese scoops & grapes in red wine syrup (from Home Made Winter)

goat's cheese puffs with salsa (from Midnight Chicken)

chickpea soup with sweet potato and feta crackers (from Home Made Winter)

okonomiyaki (from my recipe binder)

bánh xèo (from this recipe maybe?)

beef burrito with harissa (from Cookery Course)

chicken rice (from The Year of Miracles)

grilled shrimp with feta and tomatoes (from Small Victories)

maple soy glazed salmon (from Flavour)

grilled chicken (from Small Victories)

miso chicken milanese with soba noodles (from Comfort)

ginger beer chicken (from Midnight Chicken)

chicken and leeks (from Small Victories)

roast chicken (from Midnight Chicken)

chicken stew with dumplings (from Heroes' Feast)

salami and fig pizza (from Cookery Course)

spicy pepperoni quiche (from How Baking Works)

caramelised onion pissaladière (from GBBO Everyday)

raspberry ginger cream pancakes (from Real Food Real Fast)

crêpes with roasted cherries (from Gatherings)

baking & drinks:

chocolate chip cookies (from Midnight Chicken)

marzipan, sour cherries and chocolate chip cookies (from The Year of Miracles)

rye and orange cookies (from Scandinavian Baking)

zimtsterne (from Heimwehküche Backen)

black sesame and matcha sandwich biscuits (from Flavour)

scones (from Comfort)

lemon & poppy seed muffins (from How Baking Works)

ginger & lemon muffins (from my recipe binder)

gingerbread muffins (from How Baking Works)

"black moss" cupcakes (from Exquisite Exandria)

coconut drizzle cake (from Studentenküche)

olive oil and orange cake (from Small Victories)

blackberry and marzipan apple pie (from Flavour)

maple apple puffs (GBBO Everyday)

franzbrötchen (from Heimwehküche Backen)

start working my way through Brilliant Bread (2 down, see here – next up: wholemeal bread)

poppy seed bread rolls (from Heimwehküche Backen)

crunchy bacon soda bread (from GBBO Everyday)

focaccia (from The Year of Miracles)

basil lemonade (from my recipe binder)

spiced hot chocolate (from Gatherings and/or Flavour)

white chocolate coffee (from Home Made Winter)

[woundedearth]

feeling really nostalgic about alaska lately, so here’s my post to return to re: incredible meals from my time in college in juneau c. 2017 🥺

1. spam chip waffle and boba at a cozy but sadly now-closed vietnamese waffle spot that i’m prob going to be missing for the rest of my days

2. the buttery, hot sauce-y, curry powder-sprinkled pelmeni from a perfectly scuzzy little hole-in-the-wall, cash-only pelmeni place that stayed open until like 2am. will also never stop craving for the rest of my life most likely xoxo

3. ugly but i have to include — the first time i (and friends and my gf) made a holiday meal on our own ;~; potatoes and kale joining moose steaks and salmon dip (Alaskan Kid Things)

[seven-circlllxs]

Tag Game!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): I like teals and greens and blues; cooler colors are usually what I lean into if I'm wearing color-

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Yes. I'm a big fan of food, lol, so any flavor is good as long as it's tasty!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: My music taste is all over the place, but I lean more into rock music!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): Hereditary, Re-Animator, Oliver and Company, Lion King [1 and 2], Saw [entire franchise], Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (sorry for the tonal whiplash reading this list)

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, AHS, Chopped, Monster High (technically movies but whatever-), My Little Pony, there are others but currently my brain is mush!

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Party Til I Die by Kim Petras (last playlist I was listening to was Glam's!)

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Morimoto's Sushi Master (RokuTV)

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Scream (1996) [Next movies on deck are Trolls 1 and 2 because I need to drag my partner through them /aff]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: Nothing ATM!

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: YouTube mostly-, but my partner and I have been chipping through all of American Horror Story (shameless self promo of my AHS spam blog @antichrists-invisalign :3)

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Moodboards and the rest of the Winter Countdown Prompts!

Tagged By: @e-m-p-error

Tagging: @kugel-bitch, @adeerandhisshadow, @arachnoheaux, @hisslord, and anyone else who wants to!

[magmaticmachine]

i'm sorry for bugging you for a third time in a row but i can't exactly give you ideas in your DMs [i tried but it says you gotta watch me]

anyways, for the sake of exploration, instead of booting the dreamer back into the dream gate, they should reappear inside the dream world they're currently in, and they would have to make their way to the next objective site with or without nights [though they would also be able to fly freely around the dreamworld, since there isn't a cage to limit dualization's range and time]

and after getting that dream world's ideya, all alarm egg/awakener spawning would be permanently disabled for that dream world [unless one replays certain missions]

the sole exceptions being twin seeds and bellbridge due to them being special cases

There is absolutely no need to be sorry!!! You are not bothering me at all, I'm absolutely delighted that fellow fans are reaching out!!! Unfortunately I keep my DMs set to private because otherwise I get spammed by bots and...sometimes there are images attached. 😔

But yeah, please feel free to keep sending me asks! I like hearing your ideas and I like that you engage with me on mine as well, especially since we don't always agree hehehe. It's good fun to mull things over again and see them in another light!

Being able to unlock a proper, timerless free fly/run mode would RULE. I could see it as its own "mission" on the menu, albeit a mission with no goals. Even as it is, like, NiD's nightopia have all sorts of hidden blue chips you can only get on foot, there are some that fall from trees or are hidden in igloos or directly in Soft Museum's terrain, and JoD's nightopia have surprisingly large areas to roam with hidden chests or these cute, specific scenes set up for dream drops, like the ring of fish in Aqua Garden or that massive staircase with the tree at the top in Lost Park. There's so much detail put into these worlds, it's really nice to slow down and appreciate them once in a while!

Also, I was thinking earlier, RE: the bosses; I actually really like the mission structure JoD has, I think it's pretty flexible, although I think having an Easy and a Hard version of the same boss feels a little strange. In a hypothetical NiGHTS 3, I think I'd want the second-levels we meet to really have more of their own personalities in their intro cutscenes too, with proper lines of their own. Instead of just fighting the boss twice the jailbreak missions could end in some sort of escape segment – perhaps the player has to outrun the second-level or successfully find some way to hide (I don't know how well stealth would work with the flying gameplay, but...the drill dash IS pretty noisy!) – and THEN have the proper Boss Fight Mission be the fifth as usual. I think it could be a good way of introducing the boss, giving them a chance to shine a little brighter, and I think it would be thematic as well – it can take time to build up the courage to face your fears, y'know?

[darkprincess5]

My Yandere bestie guy friend

It's been 2 weeks since my best friend Zach texted me. Last time we texted it end in a fight. He said some mean words and I said mean words back. Last message he said was can I have $25 dollars because I need to smoke weed and I'm in alot of people. Okay whatever I texted him back. After that he didn't text me back anymore. I was sadden but I just went to go take a shower. Over and over I thought about the words that he said. Was I truly a negative person am I narcissist? Am I a bad person? I keep asking my self these questions trying to convince myself I'm not a bad person. But looking back at all the times I said I promise to change and didn't do it made me realize, maybe I am a narcissist. So I disabled my Instagram on 5/9/2024 and for the past 2 days I woke up at 5 am so I can start doing yoga and working out. I haven't eaten sugar for two days. God I want sugar I keep telling myself as I logged back in to Instagram re-enabling my account in 5/11/2024. Nope he didn't text me I sign and I lost control and spiralled. Fuck why won't he text me I cried and started to spam him my emotions. But still no text. Why would I even do that and let myself loose control of my emotions. A month later I was fully flexible. I became the soft quiet feminine girl I wanted to become. I spoke softly . I listen to yandere subriminals then forgot about my best friend. I told myself he will come back. Which he did come back. Then on 5 /26/2024 I woke up to 50 messages from him. Don't ingore me

Wake up wake up over and over the message read. I'm sorry for leaving you and I won't do it again. Fuck answer me promise you breaker. He even tried calling me and to my surprise he left me voices mails. When I finally answered he said he was sorry he was going through something and you with negative engery all the time wasn't helping. I understood and I apologize as well. From their on everything was normal. Then came our birthday we both turned 23 and that's when he started to become more possive. His birthday is May 30 and my birthday may 31. (We are long distance) Finally the subriminals was working how I wanted them to. Whenever I go out he ask me to show him what I was wearing. Where I was going, somtimes asking who I was talking to on the phone. We actually talked a lot of the time on the phone, but we both agree texting was better. Finally I got to meet up with him in person he was handsome. Blond curly hair white boy. With a strong Baltimore accent. We met up in Pennsylvania. When I got off the plane and to meet up with him. I hugged him because I was so excited to see him. But by looking at his face he wasn't happy. What the fuck are you wearing he says angerly. Huh do you want other guys attention, huh do you. I was wearing a pleated skirt with black thigh socks with a cute top. No I said shyly and quietly ,Then why the fuck are you wearing it. The only person who can see you wearing that stuff is me . He grabs my arm and whispers, got that slut? Yes I whimper good he said letting me go and grabbing my bags to put in his car. The drive to back to his house was exciting. But I didn't say much because I was a little shy. 45 minutes later we got his house. I waited by his front door until. Why are you just standing their he asked curiously. You can go sit down he said. Well okay I took off my shoes and made my way to the sofa. He was in the kitchen grabbing something. He handed me a bag of chips and and some juice. Here he said without looking out me eat it. Tonight I'm taking you out. So go take a shower and get dressed. Now he said pointing where the bathroom is. Okay I said as I grabbed my hygiene stuff out my bag. I took a long steamy show boy it felt amazing when the water hit my skin. The date was June ,10,2024. The more I spent with him, the more possive he got which is hot. When he went the work he would check up on me every hour. And would get annoyed if I didn't answer the phone. It was everything I manfested and I was truly happy 💕

[cornelius-sfm]

I finally beat honor mode on baldurs gate 3! It took around 7 tries, with the first 6 dying in Act 1, but once I got past that slaughterfest, it was smooth sailing from there.

The main threats throughout the game were surprisingly not any of the big boss fights. (spoilers ahead) The hardest fights (where I got the closest to tpk'ing) were the death shepards in the Mountain Pass in act 1, mainly due to them just constantly reviving. The spider matriarch fight under the Blighted Village was also super difficult. Both of those fights ended up with me chugging an invisibilty potion with one character and running back to camp to revive and re-jump the enemies. After that, the other hardest fight was all the way in act 3 with the Gith in the Emperor's old hideout. Everyone died except my Shadowheart, who I had run back to camp and revive everyone.

The hardest boss fights were Raphael, Gortash, and Ansur. Both Gortash and Ansur were hard due to just a bunch of damage killing someone near the end, but only one person died each (both times were Gale.) Raphael was hard due to simply almost running out of resources, but luckily by the end of it I was just able to chip him away.

The team comprised of my Drow Swords Bard (with a level in wizard and fighter), Shadowheart who was a Life Cleric (even tho I had her become a Dark Justiciar, I still needed the support), an Evocation Wizard Gale who spammed Magic Missiles, Lae'zel who was a Battlemaster (and was only around for act 1), and finally a Oath of Vengeance Minthara who replaced Lae'zel as my GWM damage dealer.

The squad:

Funnily enough, the two water elementals didn't make it to the final fight because I forgot you lose all your buffs before it.

[utilitycaster]

Already so tired about the OGL 1.1 discourse re: CR tonight and we're still hours away from the damn stream. People saying, with no irony, that 'CR's input will make or break this whole situation' or 'this silence is damning' is so tiring. There's so many levels of bad media literacy here! The show is pre-recorded! I am battening down the hatches and prepping for so many bad faith and poorly thought out takes tonight and over the weekend.

You know I was not going to weigh in and was going to just like, chill out and eat corn chips and watch everyone enjoy the Fjord comic, but since you've asked, I will say this, and no more:

TLOVM - remember how we're all excited for TLOVM? is on Amazon Prime. Last episode had an ad for Capitol One. We all remember the Wendy's one-shot. I mean, shit, I think we're all aware of the multitude of problems within the video game industry, and I invite you to look at which companies have sponsored CR One-shots.

In terms of "companies that Critical Role has dealt with" the idea that Wizards of the Coast is uniquely evil rather than Regular Lack Of Ethical Consumption Under Capitalism is just like, truly, goldfish levels of memory and amoeba levels of understanding. It's very shitty of WoTC! I completely understand if people want to disconnect from WoTC, and if a boycott is right for you, have at it! But like, recognize where you have drawn your lines, and if they are perhaps based less on your personal thought process and more on whatever who's yelling loudest on the internet is saying.

Creators need money too (literally, isn't that what the OGL uproar is all about actually), and unless they are already independently wealthy, there's three ways to do that: subscriptions/purchases that are paywalled, free with ads, or hoping your audience will actually join the Patreon instead of making anticapitalist Tumblr posts about how pure and unproblematic your show is while you starve.

I've tried to avoid saying this for the obvious whataboutism reasons but: I would love to think that everyone in the US who is arguing that selling content based on the D&D is a fundamental human right for free has also at some point spent an equal or greater amount of time taking material steps to pass legislation granting, say, necessary medical treatments for free as a fundamental human right, but I know there's no way that's even close to true.

Anyway I feel your pain, and here's what I'm doing: reporting people talking about the OGL and not specifically in relation to CR in the CR tag as spam, because it is. Blocking people with dumb takes that are not technically spam. Calling my reps. And, of course, eating corn chips.

[reynie-muldoons]

"A Gold Bar in Fort Knox" Liveblog!

Good morninggg. It's early here, but not very bright 😂 there's been a lot of fog the past few days.

Today's a fun day because season 4 of The Dragon Prince came out today too!! I can't wait to consume all of it and spam reblog things from the tag LMAO.

Anywaaay, I have some hot tea and brekkie, so it's new episode time. Spoilers under the cut :)

1:08 oh shit here we go, water polo raid

1:20 I bet they're above, like clinging to the wall or something

1:38 LMAO THEYRE DANGLING????

1:40 theme music my beloved

2:37 are they in like the boiler room?? That's kinda sick

2:50 OHHH are they plants?? Did Curtain's goons put them on the boat???

2:56 ayy same brain Reynie

3:12 Constance says "have faith in yourself". You go bbg 😂

3:36 they're just going to stay in the boiler room?? Do they realize how dangerous that could be, or how easy it would be for them to be spotted if a crew member came down for maintenance???

3:47 Constance has seen things

3:54 AYYYY blorbo

4:00 number two baby I love you but why are you going through the trash

4:08 both. both are correct. It's a scientific breakthrough that relies on manipulation

4:26 he's like "why, just why" 😂😂

4:34 LMAO why doesnt he want to tunnel? Do I detect some claustrophobia, hmm? 🧐

4:39 mold? Okay RE Village

4:49 HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE TO GROW MOLD IN EVERY BUILDING LMFAOOO

4:59 "I didn't sign anything 🤨" LMAO TRUE ENOUGH BABE

5:01 okay but "troubling, but clever" describes SO MUCH of this show hahahaha

5:11 bestie..... I hate to break it to you........ but he is simply not interested in things that arent control

5:35 "to show how much of a genius he was" early signs of narcissism maybe? Cause that's the vibes I'm picking up

5:46 I think I see where this is going. Mr B desperately wants to get through to Curtain, Curtain ends up getting him in a vulnerable place, ends converting him to the fake happiness shtick. Please let me be wrong

5:55 "well that was on his turf." "SO IS THIS." she has a point there dude 😂

6:03 CO👏🏻RRECT👏🏻

6:08 "and I would love to find a phone" number two wants to scroll on that dash 😂

6:10 "Rhonda and Milligan must be sick with worry" I know that's what she meant but it made me laugh all the same

6:21 ohhhh nooooo. NOOOO. "At least Rhonda and Milligan are at home, away from danger." NOOOOOO

6:26 HARD cut to the blimp in a storm 😂

6:39 Milligan my love your original arrival was set to be 25 hours ahead of the kids, I think you'll be okay with a slight delay

6:49 Miss Perumal, as always, you are lovely and composed despite being full of worry

7:03 RHONDA MY BELOVED 😂😂😂 You truly know someone's character from the way they treat service workers!!!

7:08 I love her so much ahshdjjd

7:11 every shot of this ship is just fucking gorgeous

7:17 okay if the sugar was so all-important WHY LEAVE IT OUTSIDE DUDE LMAO

7:43 the speed check comes back to bite them!!

7:49 he looks genuinely scared to deliver this news 😬

8:03 low blood sugar, a faltering marriage, and liens on his big shit. Poor guy. btw I looked up "lien", it's basically legal rights to keep something, like a mortgage

8:17 awwwww. they're adorable. protect them at all costs

8:56 oh dang, they stumbled upon the crew's party space!

9:05 "Constance wants a taste" LMAO KID

9:18 "the inflation rate in Portugal is alarming" lmao kid the inflation rate *here* is alarming too

9:18 what money are they even going to gamble though?? Surely they're starting with pocket change

9:39 oh my gosh the chips 😂

10:23 the crew with those sly looks. These kids are about to wreck house LMAO

10:29 DEATH OR GLORY

11:11 not gonna lie I know almost nothing about gambling so this is a little over my head

11:34 sunglasses? Wow, he saw the cards from the reflection on his eyes, that's impressive

11:57 I had two reactions to reading "Enzo's pies & pastries":

1. Stranger Things date night with Hopper and Joyce 🥺

2. MOOCHO?????

12:09 okay it's kinda sick that number two blends in with the lemons so well

12:20 another interview? And was that SQ on stage???

12:27 it was not SQ 🙃

12:33 "we've been expecting you" well that's concerning

12:47 their wardrobe choices are just. Strange

13:07 I think I just gagged

13:24 two things:

1. Every time we cut to Milligan I think about how good he looks in general. Well kept in that cute suit. He just looks nice.

2. WORRIED DAD IS WORRIED

13:36 awwww Rhondaaaa

13:48 "I am not scared" you fooled me 😂

13:57 "is a gold bar scared in Fort Knox?" ROLL CREDITS! Kind of!

14:09 and the dam breaks 🥺 the pain and mutual understanding from both of them makes this a perfect opportunity to open up

14:20 "but I'm learning that worrying is not a form of preparation" I need that tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, maybe then I wouldnt worry so much

14:31 awwwww 🥺🥺

14:49 damn 😂 the captain is becoming his own character at this rate

15:14 ....are they about to maintenance the ship?

15:27 LMAO STICKY

15:49 Sticky out here playing 5D chess

16:08 he's totally right, keeping track of the cards isnt cheating. It's just smart 😂

16:25 LMAO KATE WTFFF

16:52 you know, as much as they're talking about winning money, all they have is the chips. They need to cash out

17:08 Reynie, my love, I know you're trying to make a moral choice but in the long run that's pretty stupid. Also Sticky didnt cheat lol

17:25 they're innocent victims and so are Mr B and Number Two. The kids dont know this, but so are most of the acolytes

17:43 okay fair

17:56 yeahhhh idk how they thought the crew would take this

18:25 LMAO KATE

18:34 what the fuck was that Reynie 😂😂

18:48 yeaaaaahh that's kinda what I expected

19:15 wooow. Okay, not what I expected

19:29 why do I feel like the other boot is going to drop

19:40 wait huh? Did the guy just give them cash?

19:50 LMAO at least they have actual money instead of just chips

19:57 "you're an insult to real water polo players everywhere" KATE HAHAHA I bet she's been waiting to say that

20:23 "everything has an end, only a sausage has two" is that an actual German saying, can anyone confirm

20:33 ayooo this is the actual perfect time for Cannonball to find them

20:42 poor guy 😂😂

21:02 and there it is

21:27 STOP MR B'S FACE IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

21:52 HIS FACE LMAOOO. Apparently they clap at everything

22:20 "you have no idea who my parents are, do you?" He doesnt and neither does anyone else, so I'm all ears

22:40 I cant tell what's true and what's bullshit with her 😂😂

23:13 "the raw, terrifying beauty of nature's power" NOT HELPFUL CAP

23:19 oh shit. They're not making it to Lisbon, are they?

23:33 whooooa. So not only are they making an emergency landing, they're tossing everyone's stuff. RIP

23:53 the kids have officially met Captain Noland!! I've been waiting for this

23:59 "like rats." I dont like how he said that 😬

24:40 damn, are they about to bargain their maintenance services to dodge maritime court?

25:06 hey, play your cards. Cant hurt to try

25:22 "get us to Lisbon on time, and you go free" daaaaamn. Captain Noland is putting a lot of faith in them, considering this job means so much to him

25:35 the fruit 😂😂

25:50 what happened to "I moved on" hmmm? Hmmmmmm? 🧐 bitch

25:57 whoooa I did NOT like the shifting of his eyes over to Mr B. Super subtle but incredibly effective

26:16 fucking weirdo. Bye

26:36 LMAO IS SHE BUSTING HERSELF OUT IN THE PIE TRUCK

26:52 NICE

26:57 oh good grief they had to do this at night too. Get ready for a jump scare

27:21 daaaamn. Weird, eery.. I guess we'll find out what's going on later?

27:34 eughhh.

27:35 ugh he's doing the thing again with the rods and cones bs

27:47 okay I dont like that mr b is listening like that. Please dont get got

27:49 NO DONT LOOK AT HIM DONT DO IT EUGHGGJ

28:01 NOOO. NOOOOOOOO

28:12 oh shit they got there on time!! Cap looks good in the cap

28:16 OOOH THEY GOT THERE EARLY??? DANG!

28:24 one of those suitcases has the kids in it :) like for sure

28:47 ayyyy, there they are. That was smart!

28:50 awww the hand :) she's not going to accept but the gesture is there

29:00 god that was so sweet

29:04 AWWWW

29:16 AYYYY MARITIME JOB OFFERRRR

29:26 THE SALUTE

29:31 I'm sad to see him go, I want to know more about him!!

29:42 oh THATS why she stole fruit 😂

30:04 them 😂😂😂 give me that sibling dynamic

30:36 fair enough Kate LMAO

30:49 "Mr Benedict is not strong. he's a glass house held together by desperate optimism." Two things:

1. Standing tall and keeping yourself from crumbling when you're constantly in a state of self-sabotage seems like a form of strength to me. It takes so much to keep yourself going when it feels impossible to

2. Damn, she knows him really fucking well 😂

30:55 "that guy? Again?" I mean all of the passengers did have the same docking point, so yeah 😂

30:58 "must be hard to see" she knows he's jealous 🥺

31:08 omg did Sticky talk Reynie up??

31:11 OMG HE DIDDDDD

31:13 HIS BEST FRIEEEEND

31:26 AWWWWWWW

31:28 oh lord here we go again

31:37 this guy again! I dont remember his name

31:44 well yeah, that usually happens when someone's missing

31:48 ohhh I Dont Like that he's using their title, that shows respect for them, which means he's taking their threat seriously. Yikes.

32:04 yep. Yep. It's weird, and he's weird, and unfortunately, he's taking it seriously.

32:12 "I respect them deeply. Deeply enough to... treat them without mercy." BELGUHDOWHDHD EUGHH

32:19 ayyyy this is where the Portuguese on his name card comes into play!

32:21 dang he was really just in plain sight

32:26 I dont like that we cant see the driver

32:44 NO WHY IS HE SMILING DONT PROVE ME RIGHT

32:48 NOOO ITS OVER??? NOOOOOO

Okay I'm fucking shook??? You mean to tell me we have to wait a whole ass WEEK to find out what the hell's happening? Something something the driver works for Curtain, something something Number Two breaks out just to break back in, something something the adults have to improvise

Ahsjdjdjd 🥴 welp, time to scream and theorize. See y'all in discord, love you byeeee

[aloha-solar]

The Spaces Between the Stars: Chapter One

AO3 is here

Pairing: fem!Shep x Kaidan

Rating: M

Ex-Cerberus Operative Miranda Lawson was not a doctor. The Alliance military and the staff at King James Hospital made that quite clear when she sent in an inquiry to join their team. They said that while they appreciated civilian aid, “Miss Lawson was not equipped to handle the delicacies of medical aid on severely injured patients.” In an ordinary case, Miranda would have agreed with them. She didn’t know how to perform an appendectomy. She didn’t have a clue on the proper procedure to amputate a limb. Hell, if she needed to deliver a baby, Miranda felt pretty sure she would end up telling the mother to keep her legs crossed until the doctors arrived.

But Commander Shepard wasn’t an ordinary case. Miranda rebuilt the woman from scratch, fitted her with different cybernetics to repair the pieces they couldn’t replicate from ordinary skin tissue, and made her look and perform better than before. She brought a clinically brain-dead woman back to life. Whatever medical expertise that was, Miranda had it.

But the Alliance didn’t want an ex-terrorist working on their galactic hero. They wanted an actual doctor, and Miranda felt pretty sure most of the doctors in the hospital never worked on someone who ended up being as much synthetic as organic. She sent another fifty letters, all of them rejected. But she still waited. People always came around…even if it did take them a while.

“Are you serious about all this, princess?” Jack asked one night. “You seriously think they’re going to let some cheerleader with nice tits into one of their secret operations?”

“To be honest, Miranda, that does sound a little bit far-fetched,” Kasumi said. “Okay, well, more than a little, but I’m trying to be nice.” Miranda fought against rolling her eyes. The three women weren’t exactly friends, but when the whole universe seemed to be on the brink of destruction only a month before, it seemed only fair to let bygones be bygones, even though Jack still probably wanted to paint her bedroom with Miranda’s innards, while Kasumi most likely stole half of Miranda’s credits while Miranda was watching. However, Miranda wouldn’t have even sought out the position if it weren’t for Jack and Kasumi: several of Jack’s students were being treated at the same hospital, and Jack caught a glimpse at Shepard when she got lost after visiting hours. Kasumi got access into Alliance records during her work on the Crucible and discovered the files detailing Shepard’s rescue and her current medical condition. Jack had gotten the message to Miranda first, while Kasumi ended up sneaking into their comm channel and spamming the chat with all the data she could find about Shepard’s status.

Miranda drummed the rim of her wine glass, like she was playing a piano. “Why not?” she said. “I know every piece of Shepard’s body, both inside and out. I know what pieces of her are still organic, and what areas are heavily synthetic. I spent two years of my life trying to bring her back.”

“This isn’t some kind of fucked-up Frankenstein shit show,” Jack said. “This is actually treating a person.”

“She crash-landed on Earth,” Miranda pointed out.

“Yeah, but there was still an intact body.”

“And who gave Shepard the parts to keep that intact body? When we first got her, she was more like a pile of meat than an actual human. If the Alliance is working on an intact body, they’ve got the Lazarus Project to thank for that.”

“That’s not the fucking point.”

“It’s a point enough.”

“Maybe the Alliance is upset that the woman who rebuilt the Commander Shepard wasn’t actually Alliance-affiliated,” Kasumi said. “Or at least, she wasn’t at the time.”

“I’m still not.”

“There you go,” Kasumi said, taking a sip of her neon-orange drink. Miranda wondered if Kasumi drank enough of it, she would actually be visible when she cloaked herself. “They want to keep everything in the family. Better to not risk an outside source ruining the Alliance’s poster girl.”

“The queen of the girl scouts,” Jack muttered into her bottle of beer.

“So if the Alliance screws anything up, they’d end up blaming me and my Cerberus background,” Miranda said. She downed the last of her wine. In the dim light of the bar, it looked a little too much like blood.

“Yeah,” Kasumi said. “They screw up, they can blame Cerberus for shoddy workmanship. They make her as good as new, it was all the technological advances of the Alliance.” Miranda snorted. She grabbed the wine bottle and poured another glass, nearly overfilling it and spilling it all over the table.

“You’d think that because we worked with her, we’d actually get a chance to see her,” Miranda said, more into her wineglass than her tablemates.

“I think it’s more ‘forced into helping her on a suicide mission’, princess,” Jack said. She opened another bottle of beer with her teeth. Miranda winced and prayed that the white stuff she saw was beer froth and not Jack’s teeth chipping away. Kasumi peered at Jack from underneath her hood and caught the bottlecap when Jack tossed it to the side. “Besides, Kasumi’s still a thief, so they don’t want her stealing their fucking medical equipment. You were on the run for six-goddamn-months, so they don’t know what the fuck you were up to: you could have still been with the Illusive Man for all the Alliance knew. And I’m the Psychotic Biotic, so that’s totally someone they want around the Savior of the Galaxy.”

“Are they calling her that now?” Kasumi said, taking an orange slice from her drink and squeezing it onto the table. She dabbed at the juice spots with her glove. “I can see the air quotes around it already.”

“The point is,” Miranda said, “the rest of the Normandy crew—even Garrus and Tali—get to see her whenever they come back. We’re the poor idiots pushed off to the side.” Miranda swallowed the rest of her wine in the glass, before grabbing the bottle and finishing it off in three long gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, before standing up so abruptly that she made her chair fall backwards and the table wobble. Kasumi grabbed her drink without spilling a drop. She made a grab for Jack’s at the same time Jack did, spilling the rest of the beer onto the floor.

“What the fuck, princess?” Jack said, standing up too.

“You don’t need to follow me,” Miranda said. “I’m going to go to the hospital again. I just need an official explanation other than the vague political bullshit they gave me.”

“You just downed a whole bottle of wine in like ten fucking minutes,” Jack said. “You’re going to be shitfaced walking in there.”

“Liquid courage,” Miranda said.

“Oh my God.”

“Why are you questioning it?” Kasumi said, taking another few sips of her drink before dumping it into a potted plant just a few steps away from the table. “It’s either going to go extraordinarily well or extraordinarily poorly. Whatever it is, it’s great entertainment.”

“Kasumi—” Miranda said, but Kasumi cut her off by cloaking herself. Jack rolled her eyes and sucked at the beer bottle, trying to get the last dregs.

“Are you coming?” Miranda asked. Jack spat the bottle back out onto the table. It bounced and rolled off next to the potted plant that Kasumi threw her drink in.

“And miss the chance to see the Cerberus cheerleader embarrass herself? Fuck no,” Jack said.

“Good,” Miranda said, in a tone that implied the opposite. With legs wobblier than a baby giraffe, she led the invisible Kasumi and the (unfortunately) still visible Jack out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. Jack quickly motioned for a taxi and forced Miranda in first, then Kasumi, then Jack.

“Take us to King James Hospital,” Miranda said. Her stomach was churning like crazy. She wondered if wine vomit stained fabrics in the same way actual wine did.

“So what’s the plan?” Kasumi asked as she uncloaked herself.

“I dunno. Probably laugh at her when she pukes all over Admiral Hackett,” Jack said.

“I’m just trying to get an explanation,” Miranda said, shooting Jack a glare that should have killed her five times over. Unfortunately, Jack was still alive. Even worse, she kept snarking on Miranda.

“Remember how after Pragia I said I was going to spill your guts all over the walls?” Jack said, snickering. “Looks like you’re about to do it yourself, cheerleader.”

“Can we not go that far?” Kasumi said. “I am not in the mood to see if a test-tube human throws up differently than me.”

“I mean, she’s gotta be flawed somewhere, right?” Jack said. Her face flickered in the streetlamps, making her look ghost-like. “Seems not even Little Miss Fucking Perfect can avoid getting hungover.”

“Can we please stop now?” Miranda asked, clutching her stomach. The bottle of wine on an empty stomach—“You need to eat carbs before you go nuts on the alcohol!” Kasumi said when Miranda ordered the wine, but of course she didn’t listen—seemed to only get worse the longer it took to get to the hospital. Or maybe it was the nerves. Miranda sent in a lot of letters to the hospital, but she’d never actually gone in and spoken to the doctors face-to-face. Maybe she never had the time. Maybe she didn’t want to interrupt them. Maybe she was scared at taking the rejection in-person. It felt like one of the Illusive Man’s tricks, only there was no way to charm herself out of answering it. She put her head on the cool window and closed her eyes as Jack and Kasumi argued as to whether Jack could or couldn’t get alcohol poisoning based on her implant.

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop. Kasumi re-cloaked herself, Jack nearly fell out of the cab, and Miranda gave the driver five pounds extra than she was originally going to, but it seemed like the least she could do for him, especially considering that he just spent half an hour with the world’s best thief, the Psychotic Biotic, and the Cerberus Cheerleader. After she watched the driver peel away, Miranda staggered around and blinked in the hospital’s bright lights.

“You’d think they’d reduce their power a little bit, considering that London has power rations going on,” Kasumi mused from somewhere on Miranda’s left-hand side.

“And let five-hundred people die?” Jack said, scoffing.

“Fair point. Also, Miranda,” Kasumi said, briefly un-cloaking herself again. “I was able to steal some of Cerberus’ files before the Normandy got impounded. It’s all pretty much from the Lazarus Project.” Miranda blinked.

“What?” she said.

“I can transfer the files over to an omni-tool or a datapad. What one would you prefer?”

“Damn, Kasumi,” Jack said. “How did you even get those files?”

“A thief never reveals her secrets,” Kasumi said, typing on her omni-tool. “Or maybe that’s what magicians are supposed to do. Whatever. Anyway, Miranda, I’ve set the files to both your internet and extranet address.” Miranda pulled out her omni-tool. Sure enough, she received ten attachments. Tentatively, Miranda opened one. Her own voice came booming back out at her as a lung surgery played on the screen.

“As you can see here, we ended up abandoning the idea of using tissue from the right lung and instead just used synthetic pieces in order to repair the punctures in her left lung,” screen-Miranda said.

“What made you change your mind?” another voice said, and Miranda swallowed. She forgot that she gave every piece of information to the Illusive Man.

Another voice came on, and Miranda fought the urge to roll her eyes. Wilson. “With all due respect, sir, Operative Lawson realized that ou—my initial plan was foolish. We couldn’t take tissue from the right lung without causing severe damage to it.”

“I see,” the Illusive Man said. He paused to take a drag from his cigarette, and Miranda used the ensuing silence as a chance to turn her omni-tool off.

“Never thought I’d hear his voice again,” she mumbled.

“You want to know something funny?” Kasumi said. “In a lot of the Alliance documents, they abbreviated his name as ‘TIM’.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “And I thought Rodriguez’s name was pathetic. TIM? Yeah, that’s a name that’ll make people shit themselves on the battlefield.”

“They won’t accept it,” Miranda said. Jack and Kasumi glanced at her. “They’ll hear the Illusive Man’s voice and they’ll think I’m still with Cerberus. Let’s get back to the bar.” She turned around to call another taxi, but Jack yanked her back with a biotic pull. She pulled a little too hard, and Miranda landed right on her rear.

“Damn,” Jack said. “With a bubble-butt like that I’m surprised you didn’t end up bouncing.”

“What was that for?” Miranda said as Kasumi yanked her up.

“Yeah, it’s called ‘you’re not leaving this hospital until you go in there’, Queen-Bee,” Jack said. She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. “The Illusive Man was a major piece of shit, and if there’s a hell I hope that fucker’s rotting in it. But it’s like you said: you were the one who brought Shepard back, and you were the one who built the squad that took on the Collector base. You might piss me off most of the time, princess, but there’s two good things I can say about you: one, you’ve got nice tits, and two, you’re damn good at getting shit done when you put your mind to it.”

“That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Miranda said. She took a deep breath and gently shook Kasumi’s arm free. She stared up at the hospital again, her fists clenched. “All right then. Let’s do this.”

“And Jack and I will be there as moral support!” Kasumi said. “Jack’ll be the one you can look at for encouragement and me…well, it’ll be good to know my presence is felt.” Miranda gave a quick nod to the two of them before marching her way up to the hospital. Her legs still felt shaky, though she wasn’t quite sure if that was from nerves or from the wine. Luckily, she still managed to make it to the reception desk without turning her ankle in her boots. The receptionist—a young woman whose nametag read “Charlotte”—looked up at Miranda and Jack.

“Erm…” Charlotte said, her fingers hovering above the terminal as she took in their appearances. “Did you two just come from a fancy-dress party?” Miranda did suppose they looked a sight: while her white body-suit was more public-friendly than Jack’s crop top and tattoo combo, the two probably did look like they’d come from a costume contest instead of a bar.

“Good thing I cloaked myself, right?” Kasumi whispered in Miranda’s ear.

“No, actually,” Miranda said to both Charlotte and Kasumi. “We’re here to see Commander Shepard.” Charlotte bit her lip and looked at a spot on her desk.

“Commander Shepard isn’t here,��� she said, fiddling with a sticky key on the terminal. “Was there anything else I could help you with?”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jack said, and the two women pressed their palms and leaned over Charlotte’s desk at the same time. “Shepard’s here. She might be in a different ward, but this is the only hospital in a three-mile radius that’s had patients that were hit by the Reaper beam.”

“Plus we worked with Shepard, so we’re kept in the loop as to what happened to her,” Miranda lied.

“Plus I had access to the Alliance information that stated Shepard’s current medical condition,” Kasumi said, shimmering in-and-out of her cloak as she said it. Charlotte glanced from Jack, to Miranda, to the space where Kasumi stood, and wilted.

“She’s on the third floor. She’s had a whole private room to herself,” Charlotte said. “All the people from the Alliance keep going in there. I think one of the admirals is in there right now. Can you please…go away now?”

“That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” Miranda said. She turned on her heel and walked away. “Come on Jack,” she called as she walked to the elevator. She took a quick glance around and saw Jack do a quick fake-out at Charlotte’s desk before running up to catch the elevator. Miranda clicked the button.

“We make quite a power-team, don’t we?” Miranda said as she watched the numbers on the elevator slowly reach their floor. Jack snorted.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she said as the elevator doors opened.

“If we’re going to be a girl-squad, can we be like Charlie’s Angels?” Kasumi piped up as the three women stepped into the elevator. “No, wait, actually bring Shepard, Samara, and Tali into the equation and we’ll be like the Sailor Scouts!”

“Who?” Jack asked.

---

Shepard’s room wasn’t that hard to find. It was the only one surrounded completely by Alliance military. Miranda, Jack, and Kasumi turned a corner and, upon seeing the huge swarm of blue in the distance, all quickly turned back around.

“That many members of the Alliance there?” Miranda said. She glared at Jack. “I thought you said there weren’t many people around her room!” Jack shrugged.

“That receptionist did tell us that one of the admirals was in there right now,” Kasumi said. “They’re probably just there for protection.”

“There’s like ten guys there,” Jack pointed out. “They don’t need that many. And if you’re that worried, I’m sure a quick shockwave will send ‘em running.”

“We’re not here to give this hospital anymore patients.”

“If you’d like, I could go check,” Kasumi said. She shimmered and became invisible again. Her soft-padded shoes echoed down the hall as she ran down, before quickly running back. As soon as she saw Miranda and Jack again, she became visible. “What was that admiral that Shepard kept talking about? The one with the grey beard? Hatchet?”

“Hackett,” Miranda said. She sighed and buried her face in her palms. “Great. This is going as well as ever.”

“Might mean two things,” Jack said. “Either Shepard is awake and communicating, or she’s about to die and there’s like a funeral going on in there.”

Miranda pulled her head from her hands so quickly she banged her against the wall. “Kasumi, did you see Shepard’s condition?” she asked.

“No, I could only see the admiral,” Kasumi said. “But they wouldn’t bring ten bodyguards in unless something really big happened, right?”

“And this ward does require fewer medical staff. They moved her from the last time I was in to see the kids,” Jack said. “Before, she was in kind of like an emergency unit.”

“Great,” Miranda said, rubbing the back of her head. “So what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to them and act like I’m Shepard’s doctor or something?”

“Her nurse,” Kasumi said. “That would be a little bit more believable than a doctor.”

“Yeah, a nurse in a porno,” Jack said. “With that outfit, there’s no way they’re going to think she’s a nurse or a doctor.”

“I can steal one,” Kasumi offered.

“A nurse or a doctor? You’re good Kasumi, but no-one’s that good.”

“I meant an outfit. And we’ll all act like medical staff.”

“And then we’ll all get put in jail because we were caught impersonating medical staff,” Miranda said, sighing. She stood up properly. “No, the only way to face this is head on.”

“You’re not gonna puke, are you?” Jack asked from below.

“No,” Miranda said, though she wouldn’t be surprised if she did. “Wish me luck.” She stumbled around the corner again, and tried to muster up any sort of courage, drunken or otherwise. She couldn’t. What she got was a few angry soldiers staring at her as she wobbled towards them.

“I’m here to see Admiral Hackett,” Miranda said. Even before the sentence left her lips, she was aware of how stupid that sentence sounded, like a child on their first job interview.

“The admiral?” one of the soldiers said, and the one on her right hand side started to snicker. “Sure, if you pay me a million credits.”

“So the Alliance is accepting bribes now?” Miranda said, crossing her arms.

“How about two million and a night in bed with you?” said a soldier a few steps away from the first two soldiers. “Actually, forget the two million. How about just a night in—” Shepard’s door opened, and all the soldiers immediately zipped up their mouths and stood to attention. Admiral Hackett walked out.

“At ease,” he grumbled. He frowned at them. “Soldiers, you do know I can see you when you’re goofing off out here, right? Keep doing that, and I’ll tell your chief that he might want to put you all on latrine duty for a month.”

“Um, sir?” the first soldier said, raising her hand. Hackett scowled at her. Her friend pulled her hand down and the soldier started sweating. “Um…that woman over there said she was here to see you?” Hackett turned around and raised his eyebrows. Miranda clasped her hands behind her back, though despite her heels and her posture, she felt incredibly small.

“Yes, I am,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was the one who headed Project Lazarus—”

“—And brought Commander Shepard back after we all presumed her dead. Yes, I know who you are, Operative Lawson,” Hackett said.

“I haven’t been a part of Cerberus since the Normandy was taken by the Alliance,” Miranda said. Hackett had the ball in his court and this was her only chance to put up a decent fight. “The Illusive Man was dangerous and deserved everything that he got. I’m here as a friend to Commander Shepard—”

“Miss Lawson, I know you’re here as more than a friend to Commander Shepard,” Hackett said. He put his hand on his chin and gazed directly into her eyes. Miranda stared back. “You’re here because you want to get involved.”

“I am more than capable of doing so,” Miranda said. “I built Shepard back from nothing, and she saved the bloody galaxy.”

“I know,” Hackett said. “And you’re the only person who knows exactly what kind of tech we’re dealing with. You’re on the team.”

“I’m—what?” Miranda said.

“I don’t believe I stuttered there, Miss Lawson.”

“No, Admiral, I heard you the first time,” Miranda said, feeling her face grow hot. She felt a surge of bile in her throat and she quickly swallowed it down before she embarrassed herself even more. “I’m curious to know as to why you’re so…so willing. I have footage of the surgeries if you want solid proof of my work,” she said, pulling out her omni-tool. Hackett placed his hand on her arm and looked Miranda in her eyes again, much softer than before.

“We’ve already most of it, Miss Lawson. Some of it was left on your terminal on the Normandy, and we were able to pick up other bits and pieces from the raids on Cerberus bases,” Hackett said. “You’re the leader of this project now. Shepard’s been out for a month, and humanity wants to see its hero back. If we could raise the Normandy, we’d use them as a placeholder until Shepard was up and running, but they’ve been off the grid since the Crucible went off.

“So we need Shepard, and the staff here aren’t equipped to bring her back, especially when there’s so many wounded. There’s only one other person that’s performed the impossible, and that’s you. Get in there and wake her up. In exchange, I’ll make sure all of your activities with Cerberus are taken off your record. Troops, let’s head out.” With that, Hackett and his foot-soldiers marched away, leaving Miranda feeling like she did when they recovered Shepard’s body. From behind her, Kasumi and Jack walked up to watch Hackett and the Alliance soldiers leave.

“Well then,” Miranda finally said.

“God, if any of my kids turn out to be that shitty, I’m making them deal with Zaeed,” Jack said. “No, Garrus. Actually, fuck it: both.”

“I thought you met Hackett before this?”

“Yeah, with a group of like sixty other people to get pardoned. Not exactly a heart-to-heart conversation.”

“Did he say when you needed to start? Probably tomorrow, right?” Kasumi said. “Then let’s head back to the bar! You need to celebrate the fact you’ve got a new job now, Miranda!”

“Yeah,” Miranda said. “The most important job in the world. Now, does anyone know if there’s a bin or pizza place nearby? I’m probably going to throw up if we don’t get some of this wine absorbed.”

[thegreatobsesso]

word find game

Phew! I have been tumblin’ hard tonight. But it’s snowing here and I am havin’ a good time, havin’ a good time. This installment of the word find game courtesy of @authorlaurawinter and the words: blue, before, grin, breath.

blue

Simon POV

He went to Lee’s office, after - a double-storied wood-paneled room with soft lighting and softer furniture, designed to put people’s minds at ease. He’d never been here before, and he should have been. After Peter died, after the break-in - he should have.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” he confessed. His eyelids felt heavy.  The sun hadn’t even come up yet. Out the window, the snow-covered mountains sat in their deep-blue silence.

“Speak it,” she said, cradling a mug in her hands, black tea. “Give it words, if you can. They don’t need to be perfect. Just try.”

before

Callie POV

She reached to the back of her neck, where the little bump lived.

Out.

The chip tore itself from her skin; warm blood trickled down her back. She looked at it curiously for a moment before flicking it into the sea; and then, the gunfire began.

Prison officers in black uniforms poured out the bottoms of all the surrounding blocks like schools of ants, surrounding her, firing. She held her hands out, spread her arms wide to welcome the bullets. They stuck in a neat circle around her, a pincushion of ammunition.

Somebody realized too late what was going on and yelled to hold fire. The call caught on and the gunfire slowed to a stop, but not soon enough.

Bullets, she called: boats. With a flick of her hands, their fleet burst into smithereens.

grin

Callie POV

She reached up to hail a cab. “I found the guard I want too.”

“You don’t get to pick one out like a puppy,” Riley said, standing next to her and mirroring her motion. “We’re taking whoever we can get that works regular, predictable night shifts.”

“I’ll follow your lead then. I don’t have the patience for stalking, and you’ve already proven you do.”

“Stalking you didn’t require much expertise.”

“Bite me,” she said, grinning ear-to-ear. Everything was too fun. “We just need one key that’ll get us to the rest of the rest of the keys. I’ll take care of everything from there.”

breath

Simon POV

She nodded and followed him numbly, down the spiral stairs to his main living quarters, and then left him behind, heading straight for his small kitchen. He watched her wordlessly as she raided his cupboard, uncorked a bottle of red wine and downed half of it without taking a breath. The remaining liquid sloshed as she lowered it, and she wiped her mouth while inspecting the label.

“Nineteen eighty,” she read, and hiccuped. “Excellent year.”

She raised a single eyebrow and held it out for him.

“No thanks,” he said cautiously. “Listen, I didn’t mean to-”

She shrugged and brought the bottleneck back to her mouth, downing the rest in the same fashion. When it was gone she slammed it on the table with a clunk.

God, should he have stopped her? “I didn’t mean to re-traumatize you,” he tried again. “I would’ve never-”

“I’m not traumatized,” she said, and hiccuped again. “I’m, I’m angry, and I…”

She held a finger up like she was about to make a very important point, but stood like that for so long he wondered if she forgot what she was going to say.

That last bit is from one of my favorite chapters of all time: a big pause after a hell of a lot of action where Callie and Simon are shut up together in a sense and forced to work through all their baggage. Disaster enemies-to-friends, my beloved 💙

I feel like I don’t wanna spam anyone so this one is an OPEN TAG with the words ear[s], mouth, hand[s] and eye[s]. Tag me if you pick it up! Show me your writing bits!

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

What items did you get for your quarantine shopping list? I did re-supply my first aid kit, but am struggling with food ideas.

Oh, boy. I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I feel it never hurts to be prepared, so here’s my list.

For pantry food: rice, dried lentils, canned beans (pinto, red, garbanzo, black), canned vegetables (corn, green beans, mushrooms), canned tomatoes, canned chicken and salmon, canned corned beef hash, spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, peanut butter, jarred chipotle peppers, canned dulce de leche, microwave popcorn, plain and cinnamon sugar pita chips, tortilla chips, powdered milk, powdered mashed potatoes, Jell-O pudding in powdered form. Flour, sugar and yeast because my daughter likes making homemade bread. Graham crackers, Hershey chocolate bars, and marshmallows because the kids like making s’mores in the microwave. Rice Crispies because ditto rice crispy treats. Microwavable mac’n’cheese. Pop-Tarts, breakfast bars, instant oatmeal. Add-water pancake mix. Raisins. Peanuts.

For seasonings: Chili seasoning, Sazon seasoning, olives, capers, canned sardines, salt, pepper, hot pepper flakes, Soy Vey teriyaki sauce, hot sauce, powdered broth cubes, garlic, powdered Parmesan cheese (yes, we have this in the US and it’s an acquired taste), olive oil, vegetable oil, vegetable cooking spray.

For freezer (because electricity should not be a problem): ground meat, turkey kielbasa sausage, frozen soup vegetables for soup, frozen stir fry vegetables for fried rice.

For dehydration (some of the symptoms mimic stomach flu): Jello-O gelatin, Emergen-C, Crystal Light flavoring (also provides Vitamin C), Gatorade, 7up, lots of tea (chamomile, English Breakfast, Constant Comment, peppermint).

For illness: Advil, DayQuil, NyQuil, Immonium. Canned chicken noodle soup. As you can see, I am not really afraid of getting sick. My main concern is being told to stay home and having a hard time getting groceries either because I can’t get out or because the supermarkets are having trouble stocking food for any reason (hoarding, supply chain problems, etc…). [EDITED: thermometer, which I totally forgot about, chewable acerola tablets, and Vicks]

For pets [EDITED]: Kitty litter, cat food, dog food, pet meds.

Paper products [EDITED]: Paper towels, disinfecting wipes, toilet paper, kleenex tissue.

This is extremely individualized, so YMMV greatly. I also focus on foods that I will be able to use in the future (hence no Spam because we don’t eat it at home). I usually have most of this in my pantry (except for the powdered milk, and Jell-O, which I usually buy fresh), so it’s just a question of buying more than usual. That’s why I mostly buy stuff that keeps for a long time. I don’t want to have 50 lbs of cheese in my fridge for weeks or lots of moldy bread because I was paranoid.

With this I can make rice and beans, fried rice, rice with vegetables, lo mein, bolognese, puttanesca, arroz con pollo, rice with sausages, sausages and mash, picadillo and mash, sesame noodles, chicken soup, lentil and sausage soup, regular chili, taco soup, chicken tinga chili, salmon cakes, chocolate pudding, rice pudding, dulce de leche crepes, etc… I can also keep the kids entertained with bread and dessert-making, which is the biggest problem I tend to have during emergency situations. Luckily, electricity and wi-fi should be fine during this kind of emergency. If nothing happens (and it probably won’t) then I will use it up slowly over time.

I’ve lived through blizzards, hurricanes, and just plain blackouts, so this is pretty old hat for me. The one thing that’s different from my usual “something bad may happen, so let’s be prepared” list is that I added a frozen section since the power won’t go out. LOL, I even bought batteries because I may as well stock up on everything.

AGAIN, THIS IS NOT MEANT TO ALARM ANYONE. I don’t think anyone has to go out and buy cases of Spam and Velveeta. However, it doesn’t hurt to think ahead and try to figure out what you may need in case it’s recommended that people stay inside for a few days. Your list will probably be different than mine. Just think of what you would like to have around if you’re stuck inside for two weeks, and what you would do with it if this turns out to be over-prepping (as will likely be the case). 

And this is just what I do. Your list may be just Kraft mac’n’cheese and a couple of cans of Amy’s Soups, or you may have truffle oil as an essential pantry item you can’t live without. Everyone is different.