#specifically to damage me in every single way

[dykedvonte]

I find the line "I have to believe our worst moments don't make us monsters." Fascinating because it comes from Anya, and I feel she really proves it the best.

For obvious reasons most people are in the "Anya did nothing wrong" camp and for good reason but there is a single action that I don't think she did well and it was her suicide. Specifically her method.

Realizing that Anya took Curly's painkillers was horrifying to me. As a Nurse I have no doubt that she'd know how terrible dying from overdose is. She had access to a gun which is well known for having a far more instant and far less painful death. And despite everything falling apart around her, knowing how bad Jimmy was, she still left Curly alive.

I don't think I thought about it much like that at first but the longer this game has sat with me the more horrified I am by the action. Curly is man who has been horribly disabled and is completely unable to help himself and he is very much a human being who does not deserve to be anywhere close to that amount of pain. Those painkillers were one that the few things that could give him any amount of relief and Anya took them.

She could have shot herself and left the painkillers for whoever was left to help Curly. She could've shot Curly and then taken the painkillers. She could've shot them both and quickly put an end to their misery, yet she didn't. Anya had a great amount of her agency stripped away from her, to the point that she didn't deem life to be worth it anymore and ended it, right next to a man who couldn't make that choice for himself even if he wanted to.

It is easily her most horrific choice and yet, she's still an angel.

(Please don't take this as Anya slander, I genuinely love her so much. I just find this to be an incredibly interesting thing)

I do subscribe to the idea that Anya realized that Jimmy was hitting Curly when giving him his medicine but didn’t intervene. I also don’t think her taking the pills from Curly as monstrous mainly because (while she knew he suffered worse with out them) she likely also knew they were basically bandaids on a bullet wound.

I have this sort of belief that that statement can only really apply to Jimmy in the inverse. Like some statements in the games aren’t meant to apply to all characters and not in every context of every action they do. It’s the idea that no one should be responsible for Jimmy’s actions but himself but they are forced to by him or the environment. Everyone is experiencing their worst moments but no one is a monster outside of Jimmy due to his inability to take responsibility and how he escalates the severity of the situation through his bad choices. Even then it’s not one moment that makes Jimmy a monster it’s the culmination of every moment that prove his inability to be anything but in this scenario.

With Anya you must remember she did have the code to the gun. Yeah, she could’ve broken it open but who’s to say how easy or how long it would’ve taken. Not to mention, there’s this misconception that she wanted the gun to kill Jimmy which isn’t true. She wanted the gun to defend herself in the case he got aggressive which is an important note of Anya being the only proactive person on the ship vs reactive. Locking the door, knowing there was no way in was likely a duel mercy for them both. A person in his state would die relatively soon without constant care and she has ample time to pass. It’s a hard decision to make for herself and someone else but it was the easiest even if it caused more damage than it was ever meant to cause.

It’s a sort of parallel to how Curly made choices he thought would help Anya and everyone but ultimately doomed them all further. Jimmy got what he wanted in both scenarios of crashing the ship and wanting Anya gone. What happened on the Tulpar will go down as a tragedy if they are ever found, a mystery if not but certainly not in a way that Jimmy wanted. Anya and the pregnancy are effectively gone but he’s still facing the repercussions for it.

There’s this idea that it’s controversial to say that Anya was anything but perfect and while I don’t think she did anything wrong, she certainly didn’t make the best choice in telling Jimmy but that again was because of the situation and environment she was in. We don’t know why she didn’t wait on Curly after their conversation in the cockpit, we know that was the plan and we know Jimmy finding out through her alone was the catalyst to the crash within like the next hour, yet you can’t really blame her. We don’t know why Jimmy came to medical nor what anyone else was doing. It can be considered her one mistake but then again we can’t blame a reasonable action on someone’s unreasonable response.

I think that’s a big aspect a lot of people look over in the characters actions. Most of them are normal, reasonable, human. But the systematic responses to them and Jimmy’s are unreasonably harsh and punishing.

This has gone off in a tangent from what you originally posed but I genuinely think of what might do happened if that confrontation happened with Curly there and away from the cock pit. I assume it’d happen in medical or even utility, hell, an area away from anything sensitive but what if? If the ability to do something awful wasn’t at Jimmy’s finger tips, if there was more than one voice in Curly’s head during that moment, what would’ve changed?

When I look at Anya I see her as having the best responses to anything happening during the events of the game but the environment, systems against her and even the other crew mates to an extent made it so it would inevitably backfire on them and mostly her hard.

[maximura]

[hopefullhearts]

Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

--

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

--

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

--

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

[fuckingrecipes]

Cooking question I'm too embarrassed to ask someone IRL: how easy or hard is it to accidentally poison yourself?

I know not to eat things that are too old (past the best-by date, changed color etc), I know not to eat things that were burned. I know to be careful about handling raw meat. I know how to store leftovers. I know to pay attention to instructions on the package and to check if the package is damaged etc.

But at the same time... well, a lot of cooking advice I've seen over the years includes some variation of "try things out, see what you like!" and I'd kind of like to do that. But if the results turn out inedible, I'd like them to be "inedible" as in "tastes very bad" and not "inedible" as in "going to upset your stomach" or "send you to the hospital"

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat?

What about lettuce? I'm aware it would probably taste bad, but would it be safe to try?

If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat? (Assuming all the components are edible by themself, I'm NOT talking about cleaning solutions or dish soap or whatever)

What might be some questions I don't even know I should check?

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat? If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat?

100% safe. There is a ZERO (0%) percent chance of accidentally creating a poison when cooking a safe-to-eat-raw food item.

You're not going to accidentally create a poison when you mix spices, sauces, or various edible ingredients together.

It's just not how chemistry works. With no exception I can think of, you can't take one safe-to-eat plant or animal and cook it or mix it with another in a way that will create a toxic substance.

Cooking lettuce to eat is safe. Cooking whole fruit is safe. Mixing a hundred sauces together is safe. Go for it.

I could take a sample of every single individually edible item in my fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet, blend it all into a big slurry, cook it & eat a portion of that concoction with confidence that I won't die from it. While it may be gross and taste bad, it won't actually harm me. It won't be a poison, no matter how many different types of food ingredients are tossed into the pot.

I cannot guarantee that you will never upset your stomach, because you could be sensitive to or allergic to an ingredient that I don't know about. It's not a poison to all humans, but it'd be uncomfortable to you. You can only learn about that through experience.

What CAN be dangerous:

Improper sterilization and improper technique can accidentally leave poison-producing bacteria or mold to breed when canning or fermenting foods.

Eating large amounts of a couple specific foods can be risky. There's not a lot of these, so here's a list of the big names to keep an eye on:

Cassia (common) cinnamon has a chemical that is toxic in larger quantities, but harmless in small quantities. If you eat 2 teaspoons a day, every day, you'll run into trouble. If you use Ceylon cinnamon instead, you can eat pretty much as much as you want.

Don't eat a whole nutmeg. It's wonderful when used sparingly, but can be poisonous in large amounts. Same rule as Cassia cinnamon: 2 teaspoons a day, every day, will get you into trouble. Eat less or less often.

Eating too much Liver (the organ) can cause copper toxicity and Vitamin A toxicity. It's great for you when added to a meal once a week, or a couple times a month, but shouldn't be eaten daily or in huge amounts.

Don't swallow cherry pits. They're generally harmless when swallowed whole, because they pass through digestion unscathed, but if they're crushed or cracked open first they release a compound that turns into cyanide when digested. Our body handles cyanide pretty well, but 4-5 cracked pits can become harmful. So: Don't chew them, and don't swallow them on purpose.

There are some foods which need special preparation to be made safe. They're safe COOKED, but not RAW.

Cooked beans & legumes are safe to eat. But if you're starting from a totally DRY bean or lentil (canned are pre-cooked) make sure to soak them in water for several hours and boil until they're FULLY COOKED before you eat. (Fully cooked is when you can crush them easily with a fork, with no gritty or hard center) Undercooked or uncooked beans & legumes can fuck up your guts real good. Very painful, horribly unpleasant, but probably won't kill you.

Cassava (the root vegetable that tapioca is made from) MUST be thoroughly cooked before eating. Raw cassava can be toxic. It's another cyanide bro.

Don't eat raw potatoes - always cook them. If your potatoes have sprouted, don't eat the sprouts & peel any green skin off. Tbh tho, an adult would need to eat at least a pound of green potatoes to get sick. Be reasonably cautious about it. Don't feed green potatoes to small children.

--

Note: This advice is intended for someone who shops at a grocery for their food, not someone who is foraging for ingredients or is growing their own. There's a lot more opportunities to poison yourself when working with whole plants in the wild, and not the prepared-for-sale ones at a store.

[n0cturnalp1g]

Tale As Old as Time

Summary: Prince Daemon Targaryen hated everyone and anyone that has the name Hightower in it. But there was an exception to it, the oldest sister of Alicent and Gwayne Hightower, the Wretched Hightower as she was infamously known for. But Daemon was on a mission to ensure she will be called by any other name–even if it means putting his own as a result. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Otto Hightower. Alicent Hightower. Viserys Targaryen. Word Count: 1,360 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Slight Profanities. Otto being Otto. Author's Note: Enemies to Lovers anyone?

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prince Daemon Targaryen knew how much of a cunt Otto Hightower was. It goes for Alicent and Gwayne too. But somehow, such disdain and loathing cannot be said about you. His exception as he fondly calls you.

You were known as the Wretched Hightower that did not stay long in Oldtown for causing far too much destruction and the only way for your father to ever control you was if you were close to him–or rather have the Kingsguard and even the City Watch constantly under surveillance of you.

Hence, this was the very reason why Daemon was so fond of you. How even his most skilled City Watch or even the Kingsguard themselves was no match to your resourcefulness and how easy it was to evade each and every single one of them at night as you spent your nights in Fleabottom, away from the constant control of the Keep.

“Here you are again, it seems.”

Daemon looked at you, defiance all too evident in your eyes as you looked right at him. One too many run-ins with each other, the surprise has finally worn off your face every single time he catches you strolling around. But never once did the dagger in your grasp ease away in the numerous instances of seeing you.

“I’m sure at this point you are just following me, Your Grace.” You spoke, no sense of decorum or politeness unlike your sister. You were very much a woman with a mind of your own not controlled by your father.

“I am simply doing my job. Somehow, my patrolling the safety of King’s Landing also has an additional responsibility of making sure the Wretched Hightower does not cause a scene.”

At the mention of the moniker, your eyes darken and your knuckles turned white as your grip on your dagger tightened. If he pushes you further, there might even be a chance you might make use of it–on him more specifically.

“I apologize for adding to your responsibilities, Lord of Flea Bottom.” You curtsied mockingly in front of him to earn a huge grin on his mouth. He loved this, you play as hard as he does, every single time, you will not let anyone else win if you had a chance. Never one to allow anyone else to have the last word.

But the Rogue Prince wasn’t known for his patience, more known for his pettiness.

With a nod, he moved quicker than you anticipated and you were lifted into his arms before moving until you were now on his shoulder. An annoyed scream escaped your lips, your dagger was taken before you could make use of it.

“Let go of me you stupid fucking lizard!”

“My, does your father not teach you manners, or respect?” He teased as he began his journey back to the Keep, anticipating what that Cunt Otto would do now. “I could even cite you for attempted regicide.”

“I don’t give a damn about your laws, Targaryen! Let go of me!” You continued to scream, your fist hitting his armored back. He was genuinely surprised by how unmoved you were by the metal he wore–but then again anger and spite was the best remedy for pain but he was all the more certain you will be feeling the damage was all was said and done.

“I’m sure your father would love to hear you and your opinions of the law in the Seven realms.” He chuckled, ignoring the eyes that had now come glued to all of them.

He ensured even in your already embarrassing state, you were decent. The hand holding onto your dagger also ensured your skirt did not show more than you intended to.

“Make sure you rest well, the next time I see you I’ll make sure to slit your throat and bathe in your blood.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Daemon continued to point out with a wicked grin as he walked further away from the chaos of Fleabottom. “I can only hope you still have that fire when we return to the Keep, Lady Hightower.”

Daemon only knew what your father would think of this situation, more so when he was once again responsible for taking you back without harm on a single hair on your pretty little head.

“You continue to bring shame upon the family name, you insolent brat!”

You have been so used to your father’s scolding, but the only difference with this time was the fact that he wasn’t alone. Daemon Targaryen had made a spectacle out of you, bringing you into the throne room in front where your father, the King’s Hand stood, arms crossed and veins on the brink of popping.

In the throne room also resided a few key figures in the parading embarrassment that was Daemon’s own making.

The King himself, amused as much as he was tired of your antics sat on the throne, the grin openly evident on his face but no one was to question him for his emotions for he was afterall the King.

Your younger sister and the King’s wife, Alicent, was also present. Ever the lapdog of your father was also disappointed in you as you strived for your own freedom–something she did not have since agreeing to marry the King.

Then there was the man that was responsible for your predicament. Prince Daemon Targaryen. A smirk all the more evident on his face, victorious for one upping you in this imaginary war you somehow waged with the Rogue Prince since your nightly escape.

“Are you done, father?” You inquired.

“This is the reason why I should have married you to that Lord in the south!” Otto continued, voice growing louder now.  “I can’t control you, your Uncle could not control you, your husband might control you as he should!”

You scoffed. You knew as much as he did that there was no Lord in the south. His first plan of many was for you to marry the King the first moment that the late Queen was burned in the Hill of Rhaenys. But as Wretched as you were known in the realm, you still had common decency. You will never marry a mourning man who lost his wife and child for the sake of a better standing for the family. The same could not be said about your younger sister, now married and now carrying her second child with the King.

“I’d rather be a Septa than marry a man that will never keep up with me, Lord Hand.” You spat.

You glared at the chuckle that escaped the Rogue Prince’s lips.

“I think there will be a much better way to handle this dispute, Lord Hand.” King Viserys pointed out, the fun of the situation now gone and it left nothing more than a family dispute that he should not be a part of.

“Nothing could control her, no Kingsguard nor City Watch can tame her, and I am having second thoughts of throwing her into sept instead.”

You rolled your eyes. He never truly cared about you, your brother, or your sister. It was always like this with him. If he finds no use out of you, he will throw you out like a used toy. It was a cycle that you were all the more familiar with. Lived through it for years, long before either Alicent or Gwayne was born.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Daemon began.

All heads turned to the man, your heart lurched from your chest as if already having an idea of what he had in mind. The games this bastard was playing.

“I am in need of a new wife…as you may all know Lady Rhea Royce has recently passed and our union did not bless us with any children.” He continued as the grin on his lips grew wider, all the more seeing his brother, the King convinced with the idea.

“No!” For once you and your father was in agreement with something, who would have ever thought it would be to oppose a man you had both equally despised–but for reasons far different from one another. 

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel crack headcannons!

im alive!

note: use of “tits” instead of “breasts”, i hate that word yall. 

-You love being mushy with him. Complimenting his eyes, his hands, his voice. He gets all blushy and squeaky and it’s so cute. 

-He activated cuteness aggression which confused him at first but he secretly loves how obsessed you are with him. (he’s never had anyone be so obsessed with him) 

-You both give each other flowers. The first time you gave him his own bouquet he was giggling and kicking his feet in private. 

-You have trouble trying new food, so he will let you try a bit of his meal if he gets something new. That way you don't “waste” (even though he has enough money to buy velaris at this point) money. Even if he insists you don't need to worry about money. 

-You like asking him insane questions. 

“How do you feel about me wearing revealing clothes in public?” 

He shrugged. “I can fight and you look beautiful in anything.”

“If i got a new piercing-“

“My love, it’s your body. But if you pierce your nipples i’m going to have so much fun.”

-You got your nipples pierced. You couldn’t decide on what jewelry to get. So you bought two pairs. One, for the healing process that were barbells with blue gems. 

For after, barbells with an ‘A’ on both ends of the jewelry. That man audibly moaned when he saw that specific piece of jewelry. 

-He has loud sneezes. 

-He’s afraid of spiders. 

-You two 100% gossip. 

-You’ll read smutty novels to each other in funny voices. This is the only way Azriel discovered that he can make an incredible high pitched voice. 

-He gets the zoomies at random times. You know it’s brewing when the shadows start to practically vibrate in the air. 

-If you have your hair up, he or his shadows will play with your baby hairs that escape the hairstyle. 

-Speaking of the shadows, they’ll just sit on your waist like a belt and just be part of whatever outfit you have on. Or a necklace (not in a kinky way you dirty birds) 

((but like, that too))

-Speaking of things being taken as kinky. He stretches you out. You have a disability that worsens when you don't do your daily stretches (sciatica nerve damage gang rise up) so he forces you to do them. 

-As in pins you down and forces your body to stretch out the nerve. 

“It’s almost like you like to be in pain.” He admonishes as he pushed on your glute. 

“I’m just lazy.” You admit. 

He smacks your ass, causing you to yelp. “Well, I don't like seeing my love in pain, so stop being lazy.” 

-He may be a stoic warrior, but he’s also a guy. He loves titties. 

-He’ll burrow into them when he’s upset. 

-When your cycle happens, your tits get sore and swollen. So he’ll massage them, suck on them, anything. 

-You wear lip balm a lot. You just have a thing where a tube needs to be on you at all times. He personally prefers when you wear a balm that’s vanilla or like a baked good. The minty balms he really doesn’t like the taste of.  

-Usually, he is the exact opposite of lazy. However, you’ve turned him into a lazy sunday morning man. Or really, any day he wants to sleep in, he does now. You’re just so warm and sweet and sleepy he can’t resist it! 

-You sprawl out in bed. You starfish over the entire bed if he gets up for the bathroom or water in the middle of the night. To get you back to your side, all he has to do is poke your side and you curl in on yourself. 

He giggles (yes, giggles) every single time. 

-He already is a mischievous man, but with you the silliness hits an all time high. 

-Random ass spankings, he bean dips you, when he works out wearing a shirt, he’ll take the shirt off and throw it at you. So you have a musty sweaty ass shirt coming at you. 

-You always call his shadows “little stinkers” and he loves it. 

-They’ll move things to higher shelves to force you to ask Azriel for help getting them.  

The man loves leaning over you, your sweet ass pressed against him as he reaches. 

-Sometimes, you’ll just stare at him and wonder how this beautiful man is yours. 

But that’s okay, because he stares at you the same way. 

[vexwerewolf]

If I could ask you for some advice, what do you think helps the flavour text of a mech or piece of equipment sell a player on the fantasy of using it?

I'm finding it frustratingly difficult to do so with my own homebrew content: I can come up with lore and backstory easily enough, but re-reading it feels dry, and I can't help but contrast it with how the descrptions in official content and other supplements is more evocative, at least for mechs.

Let's observe some corebook Lancer flavour text and examine the various varieties it comes in.

Purely Functional

While it's usually not the most fun type of flavour text, this just tells us what the weapon is, and - if it has any particular tags or on-hit effects - why it's like that. The Hand Cannon is a good example: here's what it is (modified pistol), here's why it does more damage, and here's why it has Loading.

The main advantage of Purely Functional flavour text is that it provides space for other types of flavour text to breathe. Flavour text is a great place for jokes, but it's not good for every piece of flavour text to be a joke - the pauses between notes in music are just as important as the notes.

Obfuscating Vendorspeak

The Bristlecrown Flechette Launcher this is a great example of dark humour that Lancer uses quite often: marketing fast-talk to cover up something really unpleasant. The joke here is based on us understanding precisely what the equipment does mechanically, and then seeing how the manufacturer tries to sell it. There's a bunch of dense technobabble here meant to obfuscate the fact that this weapon fires knives in every direction specifically designed to kill infantry.

Deadpan Weirdness

The joke here relies on describing something extremely weird like it's the most natural thing in the world. Wait, you're telling me that in a world where I can just print new parts if the old ones break, they put DRM on my fucking knife and I have to apologise to the fucking knife maker to get a new one? What the fuck, dude? Why are you acting like this makes any sense?!

My sword uploads fucking what to the Space Internet?!

Third-Act Twist

This type of flavour text disguises itself as something else - most often Purely Functional - and then hits you with Third Act Twist. It makes you go "wait, what?!" It's very classic setup-punchline stuff. You're telling me my mech can rot?!

As a side note, Lancer loves to use this for its NHPs.

WHY DID YOU PUT THAT IN SCARE QUOTES, LUCIFER

Worldbuilding

This is similar to the Purely Functional, but instead of just describing technical specifications of the weapons, it puts the weapon in the broader context of the setting's history. Okay, so we know what this weapon is and what it does - why was it built? What was the original use case, and why? Most importantly, what can the existence of this weapon tell us about the world that build it?

Whimsical Aside

This is the insertion of a light-hearted, humanising little insertion regarding how this piece of equipment gets used in the field. This serves to remind us that soldiers aren't cold, unfeeling killing machines: they can be as emotional, irreverent and silly as the rest of us, and they do things like name their mobile bombs...

... or call resupply drones "mech snacks."

The Ominous Out-Of-Context Quote That Explains Nothing And Only Raises More Questions

As I've said in multiple textmash memes, this is basically Tom and Miguel's shorthand for "this technology is Intensely Fucked Up in a way that it is more fun and scary not to explain." This is essentially Lancer's version of SCP's [REDACTED].

You might think this is the domain of HORUS, and you'd be right, but every single manufacturer indulges in these - although IPS-N had to wait until NRFaW to get theirs:

What the fuck do you mean by that, Lancer?

[itendtothinkalot]

daddy's girl! (enemies to lovers)

summary: beomgyu's teasing is getting out of hand, and you're constantly left wondering what you did to deserve it. does he hate you? and if he does, why don't you hate him? your major crush on him certainly doesn't help. when he's teasing you, all you can do is stare at him, wondering if he’d ever like you back.

genre: FLUFFFFFF

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 9668

warnings: none!!!

You’ve always considered Beomgyu the single biggest annoyance in your office. He’s the type who breezes into work with a cocky grin, always a little too casual, always quick with a teasing comment that seems specifically designed to get under your skin.

You’ve somehow managed to ignore him for your first few months in the company, but recently over the year, he’s been… everywhere. Offering to help with projects he has no reason to be near, popping into your workspace with coffee, even catching your eye during meetings. 

And the worst part? Lately, instead of just being annoyed, you’ve started noticing things: the way his laughter lights up the room, or how he remembers your favorite coffee order, including yours. It’s maddening, and the more you try to brush it off, the harder it is to ignore that twist in your stomach whenever he’s around.

And...you hated every bit of it, you think. Every time he’d tease you—calling you “princess” when you were stressed, smirking when he made you flustered—it was like he was actively trying to get a rise out of you. And it worked. Every. Single. Time. 

“Boo.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it made you jump so hard that your coffee slipped right out of your hand, splattering across your dress in a warm, sticky mess. You whipped around, finding Beomgyu standing there, barely holding back a laugh as he took in the damage he’d caused. 

“Beomgyu,” you gritted out, grabbing a paper towel in a futile attempt to dab at the stain. “Do you enjoy terrorizing your coworkers, or am I just special?”

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you with an amused tilt of his head. “I don’t know, maybe I just have a soft spot for you.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware of his gaze lingering on you as you tried to clean up. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, hoping he couldn’t see the faint pink on your cheeks.

He shrugged, a slow, lazy smile creeping onto his face. “You know you’d miss me if I didn’t keep things interesting.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you shot him your best death glare, then turned sharply on your heel, whipping your ponytail right in his face. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you heard him stifle a surprised cough behind you.

“Mm, raspberry,” he said suddenly, taking an exaggerated whiff. “Nice shampoo choice.”

You spun back around, crossing your arms and giving him a look that could curdle milk. “Dude!” you snapped, appalled—and maybe a little flustered. “People are staring.” You shot a glance at a few of your coworkers, who were desperately stifling their laughter.

Everyone in the office was all too familiar with the occasional “spat” between you and Beomgyu. For some reason, the two of you bickering like an old married couple had become prime entertainment around here.

He laughed, completely unbothered. “They’re just enjoying the show.” His grin didn’t waver as he looked at your coffee-stained dress with obvious amusement.

“I’m not in the mood for this,” you muttered, pushing him aside as you made a swift exit out of the pantry. “Not after you’ve essentially soaked me from head to toe with coffee.”

“Okay, okay.” He jogged up beside you, catching your arm just as you were about to storm off. Your eyes dropped to his hand on your arm, a spark of warmth rushing up to your cheeks. You’d blame it on surprise, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart picked up speed at the contact.

Beomgyu seemed to notice, too, because he let go almost immediately, a flicker of something in his expression—guilt? Amusement? You couldn’t quite tell. He recovered quickly, though, shooting you an apologetic smile that, annoyingly, looked almost… genuine.

“C’mon,” he said, voice softer than before. “I have an extra shirt at my desk. It’s clean, I promise.”

You crossed your arms, trying to look unimpressed, even though you were already considering it. “And why exactly would I want to wear your shirt?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirk slipping back into place. “Because…you either wear my shirt or walk around smelling like a coffee spill all day.” His eyes glinted with a challenge.

Your glare returned, but this time, you hesitated, the discomfort of your soaked clothes settling in. With a huff, you crossed your arms. “Fine,” you relented, narrowing your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you were standing in the bathroom, staring at the shirt Beomgyu had handed you. You sighed, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. There was no way you were going to wear this. You could practically feel your dignity slipping away with every second you stood there.

“Doing good in there?” Beomgyu’s voice floated in from the other side of the door, his tone teasing.

“Choi Beomgyu,” you called out, your voice dripping with disbelief. “I am not wearing this.”

From the other side, you could hear his laughter, muffled but still unmistakably filled with overconfidence. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

With a sigh, you stepped out of the bathroom, already bracing yourself for the inevitable ridicule. The moment you emerged, you looked up to see Beomgyu standing there, absolutely dying of laughter. His eyes formed perfect crescents, his whole face lit up in a way that made your heart beat faster than it did before.

It was a bright, obnoxious shade of pink, with Beomgyu’s face cartoonishly plastered on the front, a goofy grin matching the bold words scrawled across it: “Daddy’s Girl.”

Beomgyu was clutching his stomach, laughing so hard he could barely stand. "Oh my god," he gasped between breaths. "You look—" He paused, wiping tears from his eyes. "You look adorable."

You stood there, face flushed with embarrassment, glaring at him. “Why do you even have this damn shirt?”

His laughter slowly died down, but that infuriating grin of his remained. “It was a gift from Soobin,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just never expected to see it on you. However, I do have to say…” He trailed off, his grin widening as he stepped a little closer.

“What?” You didn’t want to ask, but it was already too late.

“Well, you pull it off better than I expected. Almost like you actually are Daddy’s Girl.” His voice dropped a little as he teased the last part, his tone playful and teasing. He inched closer to you, his presence suddenly a little too close for comfort.

“Y-you’re... an asshole,” you stammered, pushing him in his chest with more force than necessary.

You walked away, but you could still hear his laughter echoing behind you, completely unbothered that he had essentially broken down all your walls.

Your cheeks were burning, but as much as you wanted to keep the little pride you had left, you couldn’t help but suppress a grin that tugged at the corners of your lips. Beomgyu might be the last person you'd ever want to give the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, but there you were, cheeks red, heart racing, and trying to hide the smile that was slowly creeping across your face.

You could hear him still chuckling in the distance, and, despite your best efforts, a part of you almost hated how contagious his laughter was.

–

The whole office seemed to be buzzing with energy as everyone gathered for the afternoon meeting. You tried to act normal, to slip into the routine of things, but the moment you walked into the conference room, you felt it—the eyes. The teasing smiles. The laughter that seemed to linger just behind every glance directed your way.

You walked to your usual spot, only to have Soobin glance over at you with a mischievous grin. "So," he started, his tone light but laced with something that made you instantly uneasy, "How does it feel to be Daddy’s Girl?" His words were casual, but there was no mistaking the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Your face immediately flushed, and you could already feel the heat creeping up your neck. "What? No! That's not—" You stammered, but your words faltered, and before you could regain your composure, Yeonjun jumped in.

“Oh my God,” he teased, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Didn’t expect the whole ‘Daddy’s Girl’ look to work for you, but Beomgyu definitely has good taste. You make that shirt look way better than he does.”

“Seriously? He spilled coffee–” You attempted to explain, but quickly gave up, realizing no one was really listening, too busy giggling. “Beomgyu, aren’t you going to explain why I have to wear this?”

“Because you’re daddy’s girl?” He laughed, clearly enjoying the moment way too much

The entire table broke into laughter, with some of the interns joining in, adding their own playful remarks about how you and Beomgyu seemed to be “matching in more ways than one” and how “that shirt definitely tells a story.”

Trying to maintain some dignity, you crossed your arms and glared at Beomgyu, who had his usual half-smirk on his lips, though his eyes held a playful spark. “You really had to do this, didn’t you?” you muttered, barely able to mask the irritation creeping into your voice.

Beomgyu’s grin widened. "I didn’t know you’d look so cute in it," he teased, completely unbothered. "Guess I should have made you wear it sooner."

“Seriously, Beomgyu?” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day at work, you walked into the office with a scowl, still trying to shake off the embarrassing memory from yesterday. You had barely managed to avoid Beomgyu for most of the morning, but as you rounded the corner to your desk, you found him standing there—leaning casually against your cubicle wall, as if he’d been waiting for you.

He looked up with that all-too-familiar grin, the same one that had made your cheeks flush the day before. "Well, well, if it isn’t Daddy’s Girl," he teased, his voice dripping with that playful tone you couldn't escape.

You groaned inwardly, trying to hide the heat rushing to your face. "You’re really not going to let that go, are you?"

Beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly, still smiling like he was having the time of his life. "I mean, it’s a pretty good look on you," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You might want to consider keeping it as your new work uniform. Though, of course, you still look good in this little office siren look you’re going for.” He looked you up and down, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.

You couldn’t help but push his face away, trying to avoid his gaze, and quickly looked away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. "You're impossible," you muttered under your breath, focusing on anything but him.

Beomgyu paused, his eyes back on you, "You look good," he said, this time a little more serious, like he meant what he was saying.

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. For a moment, the usual playful mischief was gone, and it was just him, staring at you with an intensity you hadn’t expected. You looked at him, unsure of how to respond, the tension in the air suddenly making you feel even more awkward.

"And you’re still annoying," you snapped, trying to regain control of the conversation, though your voice betrayed a hint of something softer beneath the words. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze for too long.

“Okay, okay. Look, I’m sorry if I took things a little too far yesterday,” he apologized.

You examined his face for any sign of mischief, but soon realized he was being sincere. You nodded, walking away.

—--

A few hours of working in silence passed, everyone was in their own little cubicle typing away with whatever they had to. 

Just as you were getting into the groove of things, you heard footsteps approaching. Soobin’s voice broke through the quiet office. "Hey," he greeted, leaning on your desk with a smile. "Where’s your Daddy?" He raised an eyebrow playfully, clearly teasing about Beomgyu.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden question. "My what?" you repeated, confused for a moment before you realized what he meant. "Oh, please, don’t encourage him," you groaned, rubbing your temples.

Soobin chuckled. "I mean, you are Daddy’s girl, aren’t you?" He laughed again, clearly enjoying your discomfort, making you glare at his way. "Anyway, wanna grab lunch? We haven’t done that in a while.”

“As long as you stop calling me that.” You rolled your eyes.

Soobin raised his hands defensively, smirking. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

“I just have like a couple more e-mails to sort out.”

“Got it. I’ll wait for you outside.”

You went back to typing, trying to wrap up your task quickly so Soobin wouldn’t have to wait too long. You were back to focusing, but just as you were picking up the pace, you felt hands cover your eyes from behind.

“Beomgyu,” you muttered without looking up from your screen.

Beomgyu’s voice came in soft and teasing. “How’d you know it was me?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing his hands away. “You’re the only one who bothers me when I’m trying to do work.”

He chuckled, sliding into the chair next to your desk. “Guess you just know me so well, huh?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” you said, shaking your head as you finished up a few last details.

There was a minute of silence before you finally did look up at him. Beomgyu hated to admit how cute you looked when you looked up at him—your eyes meeting him with that slight furrow in your brow, your hair falling perfectly around your face. It took everything in him not to smile, but he quickly masked it with his usual smirk.

“So what do you want?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished up a few last details.

“Lunch with daddy?” he replied with a casual grin, though his eyes held a glint of something that made your stomach flutter.

“Oh, I’ve already made plans with Soobin, dad” you said, not thinking much of it as you slipped your phone into your bag.

“Soobin?” Beomgyu’s voice hardened ever so slightly, but you didn’t catch the shift at first. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing just a touch.

You shrugged, focusing on gathering your things. “Yeah, just grabbing lunch. We haven’t hung out in a while.”

Beomgyu’s smirk faltered for a second, his usual confidence slipping just enough for you to notice. But before you could react, he leaned back, his demeanor slipping into something more casual, though there was still that slight edge to his words. “Right. Of course. Soobin.”

You looked at him, slightly confused by his changed demeanor. “Okay?” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows.

Beomgyu didn’t immediately respond. He just leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he watched you. There was a tension in the air now, something unspoken, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. His eyes, which were usually so playful, were now unreadable, like he was deep in thought.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his tone back to its usual teasing edge, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Enjoy your lunch, I guess.”

—-

During lunch, your mind replayed the previous scene with Beomgyu one too many times. Why was he so pissy after you mentioned going to lunch with Soobin? Weren’t they good friends? Why was he being so dramatic? Crazy ass, you thought to yourself.

“Are you even listening?” Soobin’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You snapped out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” you mumbled, offering him an apologetic smile.

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been acting weird since we left for lunch. Did you even hear my harrowing story about how Beomgyu’s been acting up at home?”

Right, they’re roommates, you remembered, a pang of curiosity hitting you. “Wait, what did he do now?”

Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe it—he’s been sulking around the apartment lately, for reasons he won’t even explain. Just moody and snippy about everything.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’m starting to think he’s hiding something.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Beomgyu’s strange mood earlier was connected. Trying to play it cool, you asked, “Does he, like…do that often?”

“Nope, which is why it’s weird. And this all seemed to start around…” Soobin paused, giving you a suspicious look, “…around the time you two started bickering at work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t blame this on me.”

Soobin laughed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Hey, I’m not saying anything,” he teased, though his smirk suggested otherwise. “Actually… there is one thing that might explain it.”

“What is it?” you asked, curiosity and a tinge of dread mixing in your voice.

“Well,” Soobin began, leaning in a little, “he was on the phone with one of our friends the other night, talking about some girl he’s into.”

Your heart did a little flip. A girl he’s into? Was it you?

“Yeah, someone from his yoga class,” Soobin added, watching you carefully.

Oh. Yoga class. You didn’t go to yoga. You felt a mix of relief and… something else you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

“Oh,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, though your disappointment was evident. “That’s… nice.”

Soobin tilted his head, amused. “You sound thrilled.”

“I am thrilled,” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Glad he’s happy. Maybe then he’ll stop fucking with me.”

Soobin leaned back, watching your expression with that same knowing look. "Yeah, apparently she's, like, really flexible," he said, barely holding back a grin.

You forced a casual nod, hoping your face didn’t betray you. "Good for him, then."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“What?” You scoffed, trying to brush off the question, but your voice came out a bit too defensive. “Why would I be jealous?”

Soobin chuckled, leaning forward. "I mean, you guys do spend half your time arguing, and the other half looking at each other like... well, like something is going on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We’re just… coworkers. Besides, he’s obviously into some yoga girl I’ve never even met. Who’s apparently really flexible.”

"Uh-huh," Soobin said, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t buying it. "Well, for what it’s worth," he added, "I don’t think he actually likes yoga that much."

“Oh, sure. I don’t actually care,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief.

“Really,” you said, the words coming out a little too firmly—as if you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Soobin’s gaze dropped to your plate, and he chuckled softly. “Then why’ve you mashed your rice into porridge?”

You looked down, realizing your grip on the spoon was practically turning your knuckles white.

Your face heated with embarrassment, and you shot Soobin a glare. “You seem to be really enjoying this, Soobin. What happened to ‘I missed you, let’s catch up’? You’re practically using our only hour to tease me.”

Soobin laughed, leaning back in his chair with an innocent shrug. “Hey, I am catching up. I just happen to find your love life… fascinating.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to brush it off. “It’s not my love life.”

“Right. Just your very intense work rivalry,” he said, grinning. “But fine, I’ll ease up. For now.”

—

You sighed, glancing at the clock. Just one more hour, and you’d be free. It was Friday, and the idea of slipping into bed and sleeping through the night was the only thing keeping you going. Unlike your coworkers, who were always up for late-night drinks, you had a steadfast love for sleep.

Well, at least until…

“You coming tonight?”

Startled, you looked up to see Beomgyu leaning against your cubicle. His hair was slightly tousled from a long day, and somehow, he looked even better when he was a little worn out. You felt a pang of frustration at yourself for even noticing.

“Where?”

“The team’s going out for drinks,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes fixed on you.

You hesitated, glancing away. “I don’t know. I was planning on just heading home,” you replied, trying to ignore the way he made it hard to focus on anything but him.

He tilted his head, a playful smile forming. “Come on, you’re always skipping out on these things. One night won’t hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. “Right, because I’m sure you’re really hoping I’ll be there.”

“I was,” he paused, then corrected himself, “I am.” He looked at you seriously, as if making sure you knew he wasn’t joking or lying.

“I—I…” You stammered, unsure of what to say.

“Please?” He added, his tone softening, almost like a plea.

“Fine.”

—

The bar was buzzing with the chatter and laughter of your coworkers. The group had claimed about four or five tables, but you’d positioned yourself at the bar, seated on a stool. You weren’t sure why you even agreed to come—maybe it was Beomgyu’s pleading, or maybe the way his eyes softened when he asked you. Damn it, he could be so cute without even trying.

You stirred your drink, watching it swirl as your mind wandered. Every so often, you glanced over to where Beomgyu was standing, sandwiched between two tables. He was in his element, effortlessly drawing people in with that easy, curse that confident charm of his. His laughter filled the air as he joked with your colleagues, their faces lighting up at whatever he’d just said.

He had a way of making even the most mundane conversation feel like the most interesting thing in the room. His smile, his gestures, the way his eyes sparkled when he said something funny—it was like he could command the room without even trying. It was no wonder people were drawn to him, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in too, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

You watched as he shifted from one group to the next, always moving with such ease, always the center of attention. His effortless charm left a weird knot in your stomach, but also a strange flutter, something you didn’t quite know how to process.

Damn it, you thought again, taking another sip of your drink. You were making yourself dizzy just watching him.

“You’re going to catch flies with the way you’re staring at Beomgyu,” Soobin teased, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous grin. He placed a finger under your chin, gently tilting your head up.

You sighed, trying to brush off the comment, swatting his hand away. “Soobin,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “If you’re just here to mock me about my stupid crush on Beomgyu—”

“Oh, so we’re admitting it’s a crush now?” Soobin interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! I—I… it slipped out,” you stuttered, feeling heat rise in your cheeks as you tried to recover.

Soobin leaned in, his grin widening as he pressed, “So you are admitting it—”

“I’m not admitting anything!” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and giving him an exaggerated glare.

Soobin chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that," he said, giving you a wink before turning his attention back to the table, though his smile lingered as if he knew something you didn't.

You huffed, trying to push the thoughts of Beomgyu out of your mind. The alcohol wasn't helping; if anything, it was just making things feel more awkward. You shifted in your seat, glancing back toward Beomgyu. He was laughing with your coworkers, his hands animated as he told some story, effortlessly commanding their attention. It was almost maddening how easy he made it look, his charm radiating off him like it was second nature.

"Are you sure you don’t have a thing for him?" Soobin’s voice brought you back to reality, and you looked at him, annoyed.

“I already told you, I don’t—" You stopped, realizing how defensive you sounded, how your heart was racing at the mere mention of Beomgyu’s name. You ran a hand through your hair, frustrated at yourself.

"So, what's going on then?" Soobin asked, his tone suddenly softer, less teasing. "You can’t keep pretending you don’t care."

You looked away, avoiding his gaze as you focused on the edge of your glass. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

For a moment, Soobin didn’t say anything, just watched you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now, but don’t pretend like it doesn’t matter."

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“Okay, what if I do…” you whispered, barely audible, eyes darting around nervously.

Soobin leaned in closer, eyebrows raised. “Come again?”

You sighed, feeling your face burn as you tried to keep your voice low, as if somehow that would protect you. “What if I do… have a tiny little bit… the tiniest bit… of a crush on him…” you whispered even softer, almost too quietly to hear.

Soobin leaned in further, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips as he mimicked your whisper. “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing your embarrassment. “I said,” you shouted, louder than you intended, and immediately felt the weight of your coworkers' stares on you. You quickly smiled awkwardly at them before turning back to Soobin. “I said... what if I did have a tiny crush on him?”

Soobin burst into laughter, loud enough that it felt like the whole bar could hear it. His laughter, bright and unapologetic, drew even more stares from the surrounding tables. You felt your face flush even more.

“You know,” he said, catching his breath, “it’s about time you admitted it. You’ve been looking at him like that all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Right, because I didn’t just see you staring at him while he was telling that story about his yoga class.” Soobin grinned knowingly.

You groaned, sinking lower into your seat. “Can we drop it now?”

Soobin held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, it’s obvious to everyone here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, finally calming down. “Trust me, you’ve got the ‘I’m-trying-to-hide-a-crush’ look written all over you.”

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling in defeat. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Soobin said with a grin. “If you’re embarrassed, then that means you care. And that’s actually kind of cute.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Soobin patted you on the back. “No problem, now go get your man.”

You snorted. “I’m not ‘getting my man’ anywhere besides isn’t he into this yoga girl you keep mentioning about?”

“First of all,” Soobin sighed. “I mentioned her once. Second, you're really gonna use her as an excuse now? I was just kidding. There wasn’t any “yoga girl”, I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“You lied?”

“For a good cause!” Soobin said, defensively.

“Look, I don’t even care. I mean... it’s not like he’s even looking my way,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to Soobin. “In fact, he hasn’t even talked to me all night.”

Soobin gave you a knowing look, the kind he always gave when he knew you were being a little dramatic. “You’re really gonna do this right now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “You’re letting one night ruin your mood?”

You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I mean, it's fine, really. I didn’t come here to be his entertainment plus free drinks!”

Soobin rolled his eyes. “It’s not about that, though, is it? You didn’t come here for him to entertain you, you came because you wanted to see him.”

“I did not come here…to see him.” You attempted to defend yourself. “I could be here to see you. You’re a pal.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Soobin rolled his eyes. 

You shot him a glare but it only made him laugh. He could always tell when you were hiding something, and right now, he was enjoying it a little too much.

“Fine, maybe I did want to see him,” you finally admitted, your voice softer than you wanted it to be. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s just—he told me to come, which I did but now he’s been avoiding me all night and talking to everyone but me.”

“Have you tried initiating the conversation first?” Soobin said. 

You stared at Soobin, momentarily taken aback by his insight. “I just… I’m not sure what to say anymore." 

"Say hi or something, in fact," Soobin said, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. "You talk to him tonight, and... yeah, that’s it. Just talk to him. No ands ifs or buts."

"W-what? No! I can’t... I’m not ready! I’ve only had one shot of vodka. I’m not ready for this level of commitment—"

Soobin sighed in frustration. "Damn, you’re stronger than you look." He grunted, struggling to pull you up as you continued to thrash in your seat.

You dug your heels into the ground, still trying to resist as Soobin tugged at your arm. "No, seriously, Soobin! I'm not ready for this. What if I screw it up?" You felt the panic rising in your chest, your pulse quickening. The idea of talking to Beomgyu, of finally doing something about it, felt too overwhelming.

“And what’s going on over here?”

The two of you stopped your struggle, realizing it looked as though you were hugging, and quickly turned around, both of you frozen like deer caught in headlights.

“Beomgyu,” the two of you muttered in unison.

“You’re making quite the scene,” Beomgyu said. His tone was hard to place, but you would guess he was either slightly annoyed or, more likely, not at all amused.

“Sorry.” You glanced around, realizing no one was really paying attention to the two of you, which left you a bit confused, but you decided to ignore it.

“Soobin, Taehyun’s looking for you.” He pointed over to the table of interns.

“Taehyun’s here? Doesn’t he have…” Soobin gulped. “Okay. I’ll go find him.”

Soobin gave you one last glance, his smirk still lingering as he followed Beomgyu's direction. “Don’t think I forgot about this,” he teased, then strolled off toward the interns.

You let out a small breath of relief, now alone with Beomgyu. He was still standing there, his expression unreadable, though you could have sworn you saw something in his eyes when Soobin had left.

“So,” you started, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Thanks for... saving me from Soobin.”

Beomgyu chuckled, his gaze softening slightly. “Not sure you’re saved when a bigger devil is here.” He smirked.

“Right,” You chuckled before turning your attention back to your drink.

"Care for a conversation?"

"Now?" You hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic.

Beomgyu looked at you with a hint of confusion in his eyes before replacing it with his usual smirk. "What’s wrong with a little conversation?"

"I just... don’t you have a whole parade to lead? Aren’t people waiting for the life of the party?"

“Well, the life of the party needs a break, and I was kind of looking for my own relief.” He glanced over at you.

“And?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Found her.” He locked eyes with you, a hint of mischief in his gaze.

You shifted awkwardly, trying to gauge his intent, but he kept his eyes on you, unfazed.

“So, this is where you take your breaks?” you asked.

Beomgyu’s smirk deepened. “Only when the company is worth it.”

Your breath caught slightly, caught off guard by his boldness. You didn’t know how to respond right away, so you turned your attention back to your drink. The silence stretched on, and for a brief moment, it felt like there was something unspoken between you two.

“Oh, right!” You pulled out a small paper bag from your work bag. “Here.” You handed him the washed t-shirt he had lent you.

“You can keep it,” he said casually.

“And why would I want to keep a shirt with your face on it?” You rolled your eyes, holding the t-shirt up with mock disdain. 

Beomgyu chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Y’know…I always thought you were pretty, but I think wearing my face has made you ten times prettier than you already were.”

He leaned back, watching you closely, his smile softening into something more sincere. “I’m serious though. You look good in it.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly brushed it off, trying to maintain your playful composure. “Sure. But I think I’ll pass on wearing it as a permanent look.”

You glanced at your watch, it was still early. If you were home you’d probably be binging a drama. You shook your head. It was time to say goodnight. You didn’t feel like overstaying your welcome. 

“I’m gonna take off,” you muttered.

“What? So soon? It’s only 10,” Beomgyu said, sounding surprised.

You shrugged. “Yeah, and I’m wasting my Friday night being surrounded by drunk colleagues.

“Okay, then at least let me send you home,” he said, his tone softening.

“It’s totally fine! I can take the bus!”

“The bus? We can share a cab!” Beomgyu insisted.

“I’ll be fine, I swear.”

“And I won’t be until you let me take you home safely!” Beomgyu said, pouting ever so slightly, his lips curling downward. You stopped yourself from smiling at the sight of his pout.

“It’s really fine! If it makes you feel better, I’ll get Soobin to drive me back. I mean, he drove me here,” you replied, trying to brush off his concern with a casual shrug.

Beomgyu’s demeanor shifted immediately. His face tightened, and you noticed a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Again with Soobin," he muttered, his voice a little sharper than before.

You glanced over at Beomgyu, seeing the almost imperceptible shift in his expression. He looked... frustrated, almost as if your mention of Soobin was a trigger. You weren’t sure why, but the change in him caught your attention. 

“Yeah, I mean, he drove–”

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” Beomgyu sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy… torturing me?” he repeated, sounding almost exasperated by your sheer density.

“Are you drunk?”

He shook his head.

He pulled you aside, guiding you into a quiet corner of the bar. Now, there was no sign of your colleagues—just the two of you, standing by a plant. The sudden isolation made the air feel heavy.

“You’re torturing me,” he muttered, his voice low. “You actually hate me.”

You blinked in surprise, unsure if you had heard him right. 

“Hate you?” You frowned, trying to make sense of what he was implying. “Beomgyu, I don’t hate you.”

“You avoid me,” he sighed, frustration laced in his voice. “You’re always making jokes with everyone around you. Yeonjun, Soobin—dear God, you even make jokes with the new interns, Taehyun and Kai.”

You stood there frozen, caught off guard by the intensity of his rant.

“You laugh with everyone, you smile, you bat your eyelashes at Soobin, you touch Soobin’s arms, you go on one-on-one lunch dates with Soobin… You like Soobin.” His words came out in a rush, and each sentence hit harder than the last. “And you don’t feel a single thing for me.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his accusation, your stomach dropping. 

“I–”

“Why won’t you like me back?” Beomgyu repeated, his voice softer now, but still laced with an underlying pain. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer that you weren’t sure how to give.

And it was… three seconds of silence before Beomgyu hurled onto your shoes.

You stared in disbelief, mouth agape, as the reality of what had just happened set in. The mixture of complete shock and disgust made you freeze for a moment, unable to process what had just unfolded.

“No liquor, my ass!” You screamed, stepping back in horror as you looked down at your shoes, now a disgusting shade of… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

Beomgyu collapsed onto the floor, his body crumpling like a ragdoll.

“Oh my God!” You shouted, hands thrown up in the air, unsure of what to do. You were stuck between wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all and wanting to strangle him for ruining your night—and your shoes.

Beomgyu’s head lolled to the side, eyes barely open as he slurred, “I... I didn’t mean for it to... to go like this. I just… I thought you’d—” He cut himself off with another groan, clearly too far gone to finish his sentence.

Your mind raced, torn between sympathy for his state and pure annoyance. You didn’t sign up for this. 

—

Soobin had driven the two of you back to your place. Beomgyu, half-conscious and heavily leaning against your shoulder, made no effort to support himself as you navigated him out of the car. 

You reached your front door and stopped, fumbling with the keys for a moment before Soobin broke the silence with a sigh. “You sure you don’t want him to just go home with me?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the concern in it, even if he tried to mask it with a teasing tone.

You shot him a tired glance as you finally unlocked the door. “Isn’t your mom visiting right now? You sure you want her to know this is the kind of roommate you have?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you nudged the door open with your foot, glancing at Beomgyu, who was mumbling nonsense under his breath.

“Yeah?” Soobin shrugged, clearly not thinking it through. “But, you know, I could always—”

“You sure you want your mom to see all this?” you interrupted, gesturing at the disaster that was Beomgyu, who looked like he might pass out any second.

Soobin blinked, his face faltering slightly as the reality of the situation hit him. “...You’re probably right,” he said with a chuckle that barely covered his embarrassment.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping despite everything. “Thanks for the ride,” you said, offering a strained smile before you turned your attention back to Beomgyu. “Alright, let’s get you inside.”

Beomgyu stumbled and flopped onto the couch as soon as you let him go, groaning dramatically, his head lolling to the side. His disheveled hair and the faint smell of alcohol coming off him was enough to make you feel a little queasy, but you refused to let him see how uncomfortable you were. Instead, you turned to Soobin, who lingered by the door, looking unsure about whether to stay or leave.

“Is there anything I can do?” Soobin asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You looked at Beomgyu again and sighed. “Just help me change him.” You half-smiled, trying to reassure Soobin despite feeling like a mess yourself. 

Soobin chuckled awkwardly. “You should probably get him some water or something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you said, already moving toward the kitchen, your mind racing as you debated what to do next. You glanced back at Beomgyu, still sprawled out on the couch, looking like he had no care in the world. He was out of it, sure, but the way he had acted earlier still lingered in your thoughts, leaving a pit in your stomach.

Soobin finally left, his footsteps fading as the door clicked shut behind him. You were alone now with a drunk, insufferable Beomgyu, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever this night was about to throw at you next.

—

You were thankful Soobin stayed long enough to help change Beomgyu out of his puke-soaked clothes. It was an awkward scene, but you couldn’t exactly leave Beomgyu in his state. Soobin had managed to get him into a pair of comfortable sweats and a t-shirt before he left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

As you walked back into the living room, you found Beomgyu still sprawled on the couch, his head resting awkwardly on the armrest. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep but uneven. Despite the mess he’d made, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

You grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and gently placed it on the coffee table in front of him, hoping he’d wake up enough to drink it.

It’d been a few hours since the incident happened. You had just been sitting on your armchair, waiting for Beomgyu to wake up.

His eyes fluttered open a moment later, his vision blurry as he blinked a few times, trying to focus on his surroundings. When he saw you standing there, a faint, sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re still here…” he mumbled..

“Of course,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the couch, keeping a safe distance. “You’re kinda at my house.”

Beomgyu let out a groan, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into all of this…”

You sighed, watching him closely as he sat up, trying to get his bearings. “You didn’t drag me into anything, I just so happened to be standing right in front of you, waiting for my prince charming to puke on me.” You replied, trying to hide the slight irritation in your voice, but the frustration from the whole night was starting to seep through.

Beomgyu winced at your words, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “Yeah... that wasn’t my best moment.”

“No kidding.” You leaned back, folding your arms across your chest. “I’ve never seen you this... well, out of it. What even happened tonight?”

“I don’t know. I think I just... lost it. All the stuff with you and Soobin, it’s been bugging me more than I want to admit. And, well, I guess it all came crashing down at the wrong time.”

“So… you remember what you said in the bar just now?” You asked, the tension in your voice barely masked by the casual question.

Beomgyu nodded, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was trying to piece everything together. “I’m puke and black-out drunk. Not the kind to forget about the stupid shit I do when I’m drunk... kind of drunk.”

You laughed awkwardly, trying to process what he was saying. "So you… were—are—jealous of Soobin?"

Beomgyu nodded slowly, his gaze avoiding yours as he seemed to wrestle with his own feelings. “Kind of. I guess. I don’t really know. But listen, he’s a great guy and clearly in better shape than me, so I… genuinely think the two of you would be great together.”

You blinked at him, trying to process the unexpected confession. "I don’t know… I kind of had my eyes on someone else, actually."

“It’s Yeonjun, isn’t it? It’s because he’s up there with that whole manager position and his weird party tricks… damn it, I should’ve picked up rollerblading when I had the chance.”

“No—not Yeonjun. He’s a little too intense for me,” you said, the memory of Yeonjun yelling at you for accidentally dropping a pack of Skittles down the garbage disposal flashing through your mind.

“Then who is it? Not Soobin, not Yeonjun—I’m gonna be so for real with you right now, we’re kind of your only options if you were into like hot people–”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I just… I’m curious to know who this guy is! Who’s this less attractive person I’m losing out to, y’know?”

“Well, he’s kinda cute to me.” 

Beomgyu sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but also trying to mask it with a weak smile. “Okay, fine. I get it. You like someone else, and that’s cool. But you’re really killing me here with the suspense. Actually, you know what…maybe I don’t wanna know.” He sat up from the couch, shaking his head.

You were leaning against the wall opposite him, your arms crossed loosely over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. Your eyes flicked to Beomgyu, watching him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts.

The way he shifted uncomfortably on the couch made you feel almost guilty for not speaking sooner, but you weren’t going to lie, you kind of enjoyed this little mental torture he was going through. 

Served him right for teasing you so much.

The truth was, you had been trying to avoid it, trying not to make things complicated especially with someone you weren’t even sure that liked you back. 

Come on. Dropping your coffee and making you wear the ugliest t-shirt? That didn’t really seem like someone who liked you.

“Look, y’know what, I’m fine. I’ll just go home,” Beomgyu sighed, standing up from the couch. “Thanks for taking care of me. I’m really sorry about the shoes. I’ll get you a new pair. I promise.” He ruffled his hair, clearly trying to hide the awkwardness with a forced smile, but you could tell he was feeling guilty.

“Beomgyu–”

“I’m good. Look, it stings. The girl I’ve been pining for, for about a year or so, doesn’t like me back. It’s cool. I’ll get over it. Not now, but soon enough. I just hope this guy—whoever the fuck he is—treats you well… but like, I hope he’s not that hot. I don’t think that’d be good for my self-esteem. But you also deserve the best so I hope he’s at least hot-ish…? I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m being really immature right now, aren’t I? This is not a good look on me,” Beomgyu rambled, his voice wavering slightly as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

“Dude, you gotta let me talk.” You sighed, walking over to Beomgyu and gently pushing him back onto the couch. He blinked up at you, still looking a little frazzled, but his shoulders visibly relaxed when you didn’t back away.

“This guy…that I’m into–”

“Oh great. We’re still talking about this asshole.” 

“He’s really funny,” you spoke, your tone exasperated but softening.

“It’s that one tall dude from marketing, isn’t it?” Beomgyu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not listening!” you yelled, cutting him off. Beomgyu gave you a sheepish, apologetic smile, slowly realizing that he was spiraling. You pulled his chin toward you, making sure he was looking at you. “He’s funny. He’s kind of an asshole, actually.”

“You’re into that?”

You shrugged, “And he’s really handsome.” You looked up at Beomgyu, giving him the sweetest smile, which made his heart leap.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You’re just gonna make me more hung up on you.” Beomgyu’s voice was softer now, the playful edge gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your heart race. 

You chuckled, “He’s also really cute. Didn’t peg him for the jealous type.”

“What?” He tilted his head, confused.

“He’s also really narcissistic. Has apparently zero alcohol tolerance,” you mumbled. “He also puked on my shoes.”

Beomgyu blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Wait, he puked in your shoes? And you’re still into him?” He let out a disbelieving laugh, though it was edged with a hint of nervousness. "And you think I'm the one who’s messed up?"

“Beomgyu, it’s you. How are you not getting it?”

“Oh.” 

Beomgyu’s gaze softened, the realization sinking in fully. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, but he hesitated, unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the conversation.

“I’ve liked you for awhile now.” You continued, “I just thought you genuinely…disliked me. Or at least just enjoyed making my day miserable.”

“Miserable? Baby, I was entertaining you,” he said, his voice low, teasing but with an undeniable sincerity underneath.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling both amused and flustered. “Entertaining me? By making me spill coffee on myself and tricking me into wearing that ugly t-shirt?”

Beomgyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well–” he started, clearly trying to defend himself but failing to keep his grin in check.

“How about two weeks ago when you took out the screws of my chair at work and I fell and hurt my ass?” You crossed your arms, a playful yet accusatory tone in your voice.

“To be fair, that was Soobin’s idea,” Beomgyu said quickly, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. He looked genuinely innocent for a split second before breaking into an even wider grin. “But I did help, so I guess I’m partially guilty.”

You scoffed, unable to suppress a smile despite yourself. “Partial guilt? You’re the mastermind behind most of it.”

"You don't get it!" Beomgyu sighed dramatically. "You're just so... adorable when you're mad! Your eyebrows furrow, your eyes widen, and when you pout... it's just... God, if you could see yourself the way I see you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. "Adorable? Really? You think I'm adorable when I'm mad?"

Beomgyu nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up. "Yes! You don’t get it! You’re like a firecracker. When you get all huffy and your cheeks puff up, it just... it drives me crazy." He looked almost embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's like the cutest thing ever."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine sound that surprised both of you. "Am I just your daily work stress ball or something?”

"Yes!" Beomgyu replied instantly, his voice a little too eager. He leaned in slightly, his tone softening as if revealing a secret. "I swear, if you could see yourself, you'd understand. It’s like you’re all fierce and pissed off, but still so... you. And God, it's so easy to fall for."

You smiled shyly, “You’re a little weirdo, aren’t you?” 

Beomgyu grinned, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you’d come to know all too well. "Maybe," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But I'm your weirdo. If you’ll take me."

He leaned in just a little closer, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, and for a brief moment, the air between you seemed to thicken. You felt your heart skip a beat, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but your voice came out softer than you intended. "I don't know if I’ll like that," you teased, though you couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Beomgyu chuckled, his expression softening into something more sincere. "You should. I swear, I’ve got the best intentions. Even if I do mess with you a little."

Your breath caught as his words hit you in a way you hadn't expected. He wasn’t just being playful anymore—there was something real behind his eyes.

"You’re... kind of sweet when you’re serious," you murmured, unable to stop yourself from feeling a little flustered under his gaze.

Beomgyu leaned back just slightly, his smile turning a little shy, like he hadn't meant to let that much of himself show. "Yeah, well... I mean it, you know?" he said quietly, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. "You make it hard not to feel this way." 

“You’re being ridiculous.” You puffed your cheeks.

“There! There it is!” Beomgyu shouted, jumping up and down on your couch in excitement like a little kid.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, your heart skipping a beat at how effortlessly cute he was. “You’re being insane!” you said, still smiling.

“I’m not!” Beomgyu responded dramatically, flailing his arms for emphasis. “How are you not seeing how cute you are?!” His voice was nearly exasperated, like he was trying to make you understand some grand truth about yourself.

“It’s probably how I see you!” you shot back, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips.

A moment of silence filled the room, the weight of what you had just said hanging in the air.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened slightly, his expression faltering as he processed your words. “That’s how you see me?” he asked, his voice softer, almost unsure.

You nodded, your gaze shifting as you tried to put your thoughts into words. “Yeah. You’re… well, close to perfect, as far as I can see.” You shrugged slightly. "The way you put your tongue at the side of your cheek and poke it when you're feeling smug after winning an argument with me... Maybe that's why I let you win sometimes. You look... sexy when you do that."

Beomgyu froze, his eyes locking with yours, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his gaze. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a grin, that mischievous glint returning. “You think I’m sexy when I do that?” he asked, scooting closer, his hands coming to rest beside your thighs on the couch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, suddenly self-conscious as you realized what you'd just admitted. But before you could retreat, Beomgyu leaned in a little, his face lighting up with that playful yet sincere spark. “Well, now that you’ve said it... I’m definitely not letting you off the hook,” he teased, his tone warm and a little more serious than before, making your heart skip a beat.

“What else do you like about me?” he asked, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips.

You blushed, feeling your heart race. “When you… when you make everyone laugh. You’re just so effortlessly you,” you said softly, your voice warming as you smiled shyly at him.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered your name. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “You’d see the most beautiful person in the world.”

You stayed silent, your heart pounding as his words settled in. The air between you seemed to thicken with unspoken feelings, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "And, would the most beautiful person in the world... let me kiss her?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You could feel the tension, the way everything seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with him. He was so close, and his expression was so genuine, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

Slowly, you nodded, barely able to whisper, “Yeah... I think I would.”

His eyes lit up, and in that instant, the world around you seemed to disappear. Without wasting another second, Beomgyu gently cupped your face in his hands, leaning in until his lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet at first, testing the waters, before deepening as you both relaxed into the moment.

Everything felt perfect. Well…until…

You pulled away, suddenly aware of the rules that had always been lurking in the back of your mind. “Wait. Doesn’t our company have a rule about dating?”

Beomgyu froze for a second, his lips brushing yours one last time before he pulled back, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I could quit tomorrow if it meant I could kiss you every day,” he sighed dramatically, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything, Beomgyu pulled you gently but insistently closer, guiding you to sit on his lap. He leaned in again, his lips on yours.

“Beomgyu, I’m serious.” You mumbled between the kisses, your voice breathless but laced with uncertainty.

He only grinned wider, his hands lightly gripping your waist, “Rule, schmule,” he muttered dismissively, pushing you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. "We’ll figure it out. Besides, isn’t Taehyun like the boss’s son or something? We could bribe him."

“What?!” You gasped, pulling away from the kiss, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he muttered sheepishly, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes was unmistakable as he shrugged and pulled you back into the kiss.

“You did not just drop a big bomb like that!” You tried to protest, but your words were muffled by his lips.

“Less talking, more kissing,” Beomgyu murmured between kisses, his hands gently guiding your face to meet his again.

“But we have all night,” you teased, breathless but still managing a smirk.

He paused for a moment, his face a little too close to yours, his grin playful. “I’m listening…” he said, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, pushing him playfully away just enough to get a word in. “You’re also gross.”

Beomgyu’s expression faltered for just a second before he burst into laughter, his arms wrapping around you tighter as he pulled you back against him. “Gross? I thought you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest made it hard to stay mad. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, even as you found yourself leaning in again.

“Impossible to resist,” he corrected with a wink, his lips capturing yours once more, and this time, there was no pulling away.

[olive-main]

Heyyy! What do you think about a fanfic of Eris x Reader where they're both newly mated but Y/N lives in the Night Court while Eris has to look over the Autumn court. So he sends her tons of extravagant gifts while they're separated cuz he misses her and even the inner circle is like 'isnt this a bit much?'. Until they meet up again and Eris convinces her to live with him in Autumn. I hope you like the idea and thanks for hearing me out! 💕

Treasured Yearning

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Separated by their courts, Reader and Eris navigate the strain of their newfound mating bond. Eris, sends gift after gift to try and quell the unspoken longing. As the inner circle questions Eris’s intentions, Reader must choose between the home they know and the mate who waits for them in Autumn.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: I changed up the plot a littttlleeee bit but it’s essentially the same thing. Send in more requests specifically for Azriel and Eris, especially if they’re angsty :b

——

The gilded box rested on the polished table in the House of Wind, casting tiny flecks of amber light onto the stone walls. The sunlight streaming through the open balcony doors caught the delicate pattern carved into the wood, turning the leaves of the Autumn Court’s sigil to gold.

You drew a deep breath, preparing for the familiar, turbulent mix of emotions. The gifts always came this way, beautifully crafted and painfully personal, each one a reminder of the mate you hadn’t seen in weeks. Eris vanserra, the High Lord of Autumn, who somehow still made you feel his presence across court borders.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I swear to the Cauldron, if this isn’t the most over-the-top thing he’s sent yet, I’ll eat my own boots for dinner.”

“Be kind, Cass,” Feyre murmured, her expression soft but strained, as though she was trying not to reveal too much. You could tell she was torn, watching your struggle but respecting your mate bond. Still, the strain in her voice was unmistakable.

“I’m serious,” Cassian insisted, his brows furrowing. “Six gifts in one week? That’s a bit much, even for a High Lord trying to win over his mate.”

You didn’t respond, carefully prying open the box. The velvet interior cradled a necklace—amber stones carved into perfect, tiny flames, each glowing with a life of its own. However this necklace was different from the others you’ve received, the second you grazed your finger against the stone a familiar warmth brushed against your skin as if he were here, holding you.

Mor leaned forward, her gaze sharp. “It’s manipulation,” she said, a note of disdain curling her lip. “He’s making sure you don’t forget him, tying you to him with magic and gifts. Typical Vanserra behavior.”

Her words cut deep, even though you knew she was trying to protect you. You wrapped your fingers around the necklace, the gems warm in your palm. “It’s not like that,” you murmured, but your voice wavered, and everyone heard it.

“Isn’t it?” Mor shot back, her eyes fierce. “You’ve been miserable since the mating bond snapped into place, and he’s… he’s in his court, playing High Lord. How is that fair to you?”

“Mor,” Feyre warned, but the damage was done. The room went still, and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t fair—none of it was fair. The bond had given you a mate who was kind and cunning, fierce and surprisingly tender, but one who was tied to a court that had never been kind to you or your friends. Yet from the second the bond had snapped he had revealed what laid behind his mask of indifference. Since then the separation was an agony Eris tried to ease with every carefully chosen gift, every whisper of warmth that only made you long for him more.

You stood, the necklace clutched tightly in your hand. “You think I don’t know that?” you asked, your voice breaking. They all fell silent, their concern and pity hanging heavy in the air. “You think I don’t feel how unfair this is every single day? But he’s doing his best. He’s…” You took a shuddering breath, fighting to keep the tears at bay. “He’s trying.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened, and he inclined his head. “We only worry because we care,” he said, his voice gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Worry, perhaps. Or doubt.

You didn’t have the strength to argue. Not after having one too many since they found out about Eris. So with the necklace in hand, you left the room, feeling the weight of their concern and disapproval pressing down on you. The wind whipped around you as you stepped onto the balcony, cold and biting, a stark contrast to the warmth you craved.

You missed him. You missed him more than words could convey, and no amount of gifts could fill the space he’d left in your life. You slipped the necklace around your neck, shivering as a warm, gentle pulse spread across your skin. It was almost like he was here, standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders, whispering reassurances you desperately needed.

It won’t be forever, you told yourself. But you didn’t believe it, not really.

——

You laid in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep as a million thoughts ran through your mind. You were never very good with the unknown, and this whole situation with your family and Eris left too much to the unknown. So you decided that you wouldn’t wait, you wouldn’t sit around until things got worse or better.

Writing a quick note you watch as it disappears to Eris. In reply, he tugs on the bond. Relief washes over you as you let out a deep breath. Scribbling one more note for your family, you winnow away.

——

The woods of the Autumn Court were alive with the crackling energy of falling leaves and crisp, golden air. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting everything in shades of fire, and you stood in the heart of it all, wrapped in a cloak that did little to ease the chill seeping into your bones.

You heard him before you saw him. Footsteps crunching over leaves, his familiar step steady and certain. His copper hair gleamed like flames, his amber eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that nearly brought you to your knees.

He looked tired, but when he saw you, his whole face softened. “Y/N,” he breathed, and it was all the invitation you needed. You crossed the space between you, and his arms were around you, warm and strong, pulling you close like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I hate being apart from you,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I hate all of this. Everyone thinks… everyone thinks you’re manipulating me. That you’re doing this for some sick plot.”

Eris’s hold tightened, and you felt the tension radiating from him. “I know,” he said, his voice rough. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from people who have spent their whole lives seeing the worst in me. But it’s not about them. It never was. It’s about our bond, love. I feel it. Every second we’re apart, it feels like something is tearing me in half.”

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, searching for the truth. His face was open, vulnerable in a way few ever saw. “Then why haven’t you asked me to come with you?” you asked, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Why do we have to keep doing this?”

Eris cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear. “Because I need to make sure it’s safe. Because I want you in Autumn, but I can’t put you in danger until I’m certain no one will use you to get to me.” His voice broke, and for a moment, the strong, confident High Lord you knew crumbled before you. “But I can’t keep doing this either.”

A shudder ran through you, and you pressed your forehead to his. “Then tell me to stay. Tell me to come with you.”

He closed his eyes, breathing you in. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice full of longing and fear and love. “Please.”

And even though the Night Court had been your home, even though leaving meant facing a court full of enemies and allies who might not welcome you, your heart had already made its choice.

As always Ty for reading XOXO~

[homunculus-argument]

The ancient Romans didn't really care that much about distinguishing legends from historical records, a cool story is a cool story regardless of how much truth there is to it. Anyway, this one guy, named Gaius Mucius Cordus, later given the cognomen Scaevola - "left-handed", because ancient Romans weren't all that familiar with steel, and "balls of steel" was not an available option. Anyway the story goes that as a young soldier, he sneaked into an enemy' camp to assassinate their king. The attempt failed and he was captured. Looking death in the eye, he figured that the best course of action would be to survive by sheer audacity.

So he looked the king he just failed to assassinate in the eyes, told him that yeah I came here to kill you, and you can kill me now but you better get just as lucky every single time, because there's like 300 guys beside me who volunteered for this mission. And then he stuck his entire right arm into a pyre that was within reach, standing perfectly still in place while letting his hand burn, solidly keeping eye contact with the Etruscan king the entire time, just as a way of going "this is what I am capable of doing. This is what I can and will do to myself just to flex on you. The fuck do you think you could do that would harm me."

And the king was sufficiently freaked out by this and decided to just go alright, fair enough, you win this one, by all means please do fuck off, seriously just get the fuck out of my camp. So Mucius was freed and allowed to return to Rome, alive and unharmed if one does not count the collateral damage of one sword arm. And the Etruscan king came to the conclusion that whatever the fuck the Romans have going on, he wants nothing to do with that, and sent ambassadors to Rome to negotiate peace.

Anyway, that's also vaguely how I feel every time I see a tumblr user whose screen name is something like "autistic-faggot". I'm gay myself and have nothing but respect for people on the spectrum, but if all I know about this person is that this isn't just what they're braced to be called, but what the have specifically chosen to name themselves, and how they prefer to be addressed, you can't tell them shit that would even make them blink.

[riizegasm]

Cherry Waves || H. DM (Taesan)

❀ pairing: boynextdoor taesan x fem!reader (mentions of riize anton)

❀ genre: college!au, fluff, minor crack

❀ word count: ~5.1k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, taesan is a little bit of a loser here (endearingly), slightly ooc!taesan

❀ summary: You don't like Deftones. You like Han Taesan. Han Taesan likes you and Deftones. All it takes is some rock music, a bad college party, and a few broken vinyls for you to reconcile the differences. With stuttered words and an embarrassing amount of blushing, you learn to make it work.

❀ a/n: My first piece with absolutely zero angst! Are you guys proud of me? I absolutely adore this piece, so I hope you guys do as well. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged!

masterlist

“Dude, just go talk to her!”

Taesan immediately flushes at the comment, smacking a hand over Jaehyun’s mouth. It doesn’t matter if the music in the party is loud enough to drown out every conversation. He can’t risk anyone else hearing, especially you. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, finally releasing his hold on his best friend’s mouth. “What if she hears you?”

Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow. “Do you want her to hear me? HEY Y/N!”

Taesan scrambles to cover Jaehyun’s mouth again, but it’s too late. The damage has already been done. 

Your eyes light up when you spot the duo in the kitchen, waving animatedly. Taesan struggles to contain the stampede running through his stomach and the blush overtaking his cheeks. You always look stunning, but there’s something about your baggy jeans and cropped graphic tee that has Taesan swooning. It should be embarrassing, how good he thinks you look, but nothing can overcome the feeling of sheer panic as you begin to approach. 

“Myungjae! It’s been forever,” you say, reaching over to pull your friend into a hug. 

“I know! It’s weird not having classes together anymore,” Jaehyun responds with a dramatic fake sob. 

Your slight giggle is barely audible above the music, but it’s almost as if Taesan’s ears are specifically in tune to you and every sound you make. He silently curses when you turn your eyes to him, a soft smile gracing your face. He knows his face must be fire engine red at this point, simply unable to cope with you being so close. 

“Hi Taesan. Long time no see.”

It hasn’t been that long since he’s seen you, but he’s not quite sure how to articulate that without sounding like a total creep. That’s not to say he’s a stalker or anything, but the two of you seem to cross paths quite frequently on campus. You wouldn’t know, of course, since Taesan always ducks for cover any time he spots you coming. Instead of saying that very fact, he opts for a simple smile. 

“Yeah, it has. How have you been?” He mentally cheers at his ability to get his sentence out without stuttering. “Jaehyun told me you’ve been pretty busy.”

Your smile grows even brighter, eyes taking on a teasing glint. “You asked about me?”

Even the overly loud bass line can’t vibrate a single cell in Taesan’s body, the man having grown rigid at your question. The short answer is yes. How could he not when even the tiniest glimpse of you has his heart racing in his chest. He knows he can’t say that, though, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he flounders for an answer. 

“I’m just kidding!” You giggle. “But Myungjae is right. I’ve been so busy this semester. My research project is taking up all of my time.”

When Taesan looks to his left, he notices the aforementioned man is nowhere in sight, clearly having abandoned you two. Taesan makes a mental note to beat him up a little bit later. But for now, he just has to focus on not weirding you out. 

“Oh! Um, what’s your research project on?”

With the way your eyes brighten underneath the dim purple glow of the party, Taesan wishes he had his camera. He wishes he could simply capture something that showed just how happy you were. For once, he understands why artists spend hours capturing their subjects on canvas. He could fill an entire gallery with paintings dedicated to the light in your eyes and the brightness of your smile. 

“It’s on how urbanization and lack of green spaces affect mental health,” you beam. “And I’ve lowkey gotten so much pushback from my professors because they feel like it’s been done before but—oh shit.”

Taesan barely registers the fact that you stopped talking, too engrossed in the delighted expression on your face. But when that drops in favor of a panicked look, he finally snaps out of his reverie. Despite the dim lighting, it’s clear that you’re looking at something, or rather someone. When Taesan turns to figure out exactly what it is, you’re quick to place a hand on his cheek, turning him back to face you instead. 

“Don’t look!” You exclaim in a whisper. “It’s my ex. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The words take a second for Taesan to digest, still focusing on where your warm palm lays on his cheek. 

“Your ex?”

Taesan was vaguely aware of the fact that you were in a relationship about a year or so ago, having heard from Jaehyun about the hardship of your breakup. He didn’t know you back then, but he imagined that it would have made him sick, to see you stupefied in love. He never considered himself the jealous type, but when it came to you, he imagined that even another person looking at you too long would set him off. 

“Yeah, shit. He’s coming. I’m about to do something and please just go along with it.”

Taesan flushes when you make eye contact again, your hand making a slow trail from his cheek down to wrap around the back of his neck. He struggles not to moan when your nails begin to play with the small hairs at the nape of his neck. It makes it even worse that he can’t help but track the movement of your mouth as you lick your glossy lips, cheeks pulling upward into a sultry smile. When your other hand places itself gently on his chest, Taesan doesn’t know whether to curse or cheer. A fuzzy feeling is slowly clouding his head, all of the blood in his body having rushed south. 

He knows he has to make this believable, though, so he snakes a hand around your waist, thumbing at the bare skin between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your shirt. It takes all of his resolve not to explode right then and there. How the fuck are you so soft?

“Y/N?”

Your eyes sharpen as they make contact with the tall man rounding the corner. Your hands still stay glued to Taesan, though, not willing to part from the close contact. Your ex seems to notice, judging by the way his eyes scan the points where the two of you are connected. 

“Oh, Anton! Didn’t know you’d be here.” Your voice carries a tinge of annoyance as you regard the man. “What’s up?”

Anton stutters out an answer, voice coming out too soft to compete with the noise of the party. You cock your head at his words, not fully able to hear what he’s saying. It’s not like you’d want to, anyways, not with the calloused fingers splayed across the exposed skin of your waist and the soft locks peeking through your fingers. You don’t seem to be the only one who doesn’t want to part, though. This close, it’s easy to feel the heart thundering underneath your palms and the goosebumps rising where your nails tease the skin of a neck. Interesting. 

“What was that?” You question, cocking your head cutely. 

Anton’s blush is clear despite the colored lighting of the party. “Um, never mind. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

You nod, watching as his overly tall form retreats. Once he’s lost in the throng of people crowding the party, you let out a sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. Taesan remains frozen where you hold him, eyes widened in shock. It’s only when you take in his expression that you realize that the two of you are still connected, rushing to take a step back. Taesan takes a breath when his own hands fall to his sides, chest shaking as he exhales. 

“I’m so sorry!” You wince. “But thank you for doing that. He’s, uh, persistent, I’ll say.”

“N-no problem,” Taesan stutters.

Silence lingers between the two of you, except the sultry music of the party makes it not all that silent. Distantly, you hear a call of your name, just barely audible above the smooth melody of the R&B track that blasts from the speakers. You turn to give your friend a quick wave before facing Taesan once again, not surprised to see his gaze trained on the floor. 

“I’ll, um, see you around,” you mutter, smoothing a hand down the expanse of his bare arm before leaving to meet your friend. 

Taesan remains rooted in place, unmoving for a long few moments. The phantom warmth of your hands against his skin has him shivering, unable to think of anything else. After a moment, he sighs, silently willing his erection away. 

.         .         .

“And then her nails were playing with the hair on the back of my neck, and I swear to god, I was about to cream my pants!”

“Ew,” Woonhak gags as he fiddles with the game controller. 

“No talking about how Y/N gave you a boner in front of the baby,” Sungho nags. “Save it for your studio and put it in a song.”

Taesan sticks his tongue out at the older man, always having hated when he puts his motherly persona on. Normally, Taesan isn’t the one to take up all the air in the room discussing his newest infatuation. But after last night, it’s all he can seem to talk about. 

He would admit that Sungho has a point if he hadn’t already written three songs in less than twenty four hours just about the feeling of your hands on his skin alone. It’s as if you’re consuming him, quite literally engulfing him in the memory of you. You exist so vividly in his mind, the curl of your smile, the color of your eyes, the sweet scent of your perfume. Just the memory of it all has him wondering if he needs to compose a fourth song right now. 

“Where did Jaehyun go?” Donghyun asks after he loses the game, pointedly ignoring Woonhak’s celebratory dance. “I feel like he’s been gone for an hour.”

Sanghyuk barely looks up from his phone, speaking through a mouthful of potato chips. “He went to meet up with Y/N for ice cream. Apparently she was having an emergency or something.”

A complete sense of dread overtakes Taesan’s body, fully frozen in the beanbag he had chosen to sit on. What if your ex had come back? What if he was able to see right through your little act and had come back to try to win you over? What if the two of you were getting back together? Or even worse, what if you were telling Jaehyun about the moment you had yesterday, complaining that Taesan was a creep for liking your touch so much? What if you felt uncomfortable around him?

Worst of all, what if you saw his boner?

He isn’t afforded much longer to stew in his hypotheticals, as Jaehyun chooses that exact moment to come through the door. Instantly, he locks eyes with Taesan, expression curling into an annoying smirk. The younger tries his best to seem nonchalant, but he knows his friend can likely see right through him. He’s never been the most subtle.

“Han Taesan,” Jaehyun practically yells as he approaches the living room, ignoring everyone else in the room. “You son of a bitch!”

Taesan’s eyes widen into saucers, staring down the man as he approaches with the force of a bull. “What?”

Jaehyun continues to smirk, plopping down into the beanbag next to him. “I can’t believe you’ve actually done it. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Didn’t know I had what in me?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” the man responds, miming zipping his lips shut. “But just know that I’m proud of you, son.”

“I thought I was your son,” Woonhak whines from in front of the tv.

Jaehyun immediately grins, not missing the opportunity to smother the youngest. He moves to go crowd him against the couch, pressing obnoxiously loud kisses all over his face. Donghyun laughs at the antics, happy that it finally gives him a chance to beat Woonhak at the video game. Unfortunately, Taesan isn’t able to laugh, still left reeling over Jaehyun’s earlier comments.

What the hell did he do?

.         .         .

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your clothes and checking your makeup in your compact mirror. It’s not like you have much to worry about. You know that you look good, having spent an extra twenty minutes getting ready for this exact moment. Thankfully the ten minute walk to get to your destination wasn’t enough to ruin your appearance. 

A little bell above the door jingles when you enter the tiny record shop, instantly greeted with the loud riffs of a Deftones song. It’s somewhat jarring and not exactly to your taste, unexpected from a quaint shop near a college campus. But when you remember exactly who works here, it all makes sense. 

“Welcome in!” A voice calls from somewhere in the depths of the store. 

With all of the stacks of CDs, records, and magazines, it’s impossible to see the majority of the store. But you don’t need to see to know exactly who the voice belongs to. The fact that he’s here brings warmth to your cheeks, forcing you to take a deep breath to keep your composure. You remind yourself that he can’t see you with everything in the way. First thing’s first, you have to fix that. 

Inky black hair is the only thing visible when you approach the counter, the worker crouching underneath to unpack some boxes. You try not to laugh when you hear a muffled curse, the cashier clearly displeased. 

“Hey Taesan,” you say softly, trying your hardest not to sound as flustered as you feel. 

Your response comes in the form of a loud thump, followed by a curse. Before you can react, Taesan is standing to his full height, hand rubbing a spot on the back of his head. His eyes are rounded in surprise, mouth hanging open in half a groan of pain. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” You question. 

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Yeah, I’m, um, fine. It doesn’t even hurt!”

You bite back a giggle as the man stutters over his words. “Are you sure? It sounded pretty gnarly.”

“No, not at all. I’m good, I swear.” Taesan’s hand finally leaves the back of his head, moving instead to awkwardly scratch the base of his neck. “What are you doing here?”

In reality, you should have known that he was going to ask. It’s a good question, really, because you don’t know. All you know is that Jaehyun mentioned that Taesan worked here and you’ve been working up the courage to drop by ever since. In the week that you’ve been preparing to come, it never crossed your mind to come ready with an excuse. 

“Oh! Well…” your eyes scan the area, looking for anything that could be your saving grace. “I was looking for some retro rock albums! I was telling Myungjae and he said I should come here because you work here. He also said you have really good taste, so…”

It’s not completely untrue, which you feel like is better than flat out lying. And seeing the excited smile bloom on Taesan’s face proves just how much it was worth it. 

“You’re into rock?” He asks, eyes lit up like a child on Christmas. “Who’s your favorite band?”

Fuck. “Deftones!”

You guess they are your favorite, since they seem to be the only band you recognize as Taesan rambles on about his love of 90s bands. It makes it easier to zone out, tracing the shape of his lips as they form excited syllables and getting lost in the glimmer in his eyes. You were always so attuned to how attractive Taesan is, but seeing him so excited is undoubtedly different. You try your hardest to ignore the continuous fluttering in your chest. 

“So?” Taesan asks, drumming his fingers against the wooden counter. “Are you looking for vinyl, cassette, or CD?”

You’re quick to snap out of your reverie, smiling sheepishly. “Vinyl.”

.         .         .

Taesan swears he must have been a hero in his last life or something. He must have saved kids from a burning orphanage or stopped a war from happening. He must have saved one million trees or stopped robbers from ransacking grandmas’ houses. How else can he explain why he’s been blessed with so much of your presence over the last few weeks?

Every Tuesday and Friday, you waltz into the record store like clockwork, looking like nothing short of a dream. You never really buy anything, which doesn’t bother Taesan, because it means you spend extra time talking to him. He constantly swoons when you laugh at his jokes, perpetually fighting a blush near you. The angelic sounds of your giggles are always heard over the harsh guitar riffs of Deftones, which he makes sure to always have on when you walk in.

You’re giggling now, head tipped back and nose scrunched adorably. Taesan swears that one day he’s going to record the sound and put it in a song. It would just add to the list of countless songs he’s produced about you, a plethora of hard hitting raps and softer rock ballads. He wonders if one day he’ll ever get to play them for you.

“I can’t believe you knocked over the entire display,” you giggle. “Did any of them break?”

Taesan smiles sheepishly. “Let’s just say a huge chunk was cut out of my paycheck to repair the damage.”

It’s hard for Taesan to do anything but stare as you chuckle once again. The tips of his fingers itch to reach out and smooth back the stray pieces of your hair that have freed themselves from your neat style, desperate to make any type of physical contact. He’s craved to feel your soft skin again ever since the party two months ago. He wonders if you’re still just as soft, if your nails would scratch his scalp the same way, if you’d bite your glossy lips as you peered into his eyes again. 

“You know, I wish I could work in a place like this. I feel like it would just be perfect since I love music so much,” you gush. “I’ve always wanted to make my own song, but it seems so difficult.”

Taesan lights up at your admission. “I could show you!”

At the cute tilt of your head, he decides to backtrack. 

“I mean, I don’t know if you know, but I make music. It’s actually how I met Jaehyun! So, if you’re curious on how to do it, you can drop by the studio sometime and I could show you.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You don’t even know the beginning of what Taesan would do for you, but instead of telling you so, the boy just nods. “Of course.”

The two of you make arrangements for you to stop by the next day, Taesan fighting a smile as you give him your number so he can send the address. 

He ends up using it for more than that, the two of you chatting via text for the rest of the afternoon. You try your best to dismiss it as him just being friendly, ignoring the heat that rises to your cheeks every time your phone goes off with a new notification. It’s right before you leave for your morning class that you get another one, causing you to snort out a laugh:

See you in the music building on the second floor! Lmk if you get lost. That would suck :(

The music building is one of the oldest buildings on campus, its ivy-covered brick exterior serving as a trademark of your school. But when you push through the grandiose front doors, you realize that the inside is actually much nicer than you had expected. Sleek linoleum floors are polished so well that they practically serve as mirrors, reflecting the light from the opulent overhead fixtures. Even the staircase is nice, its carved wooden railing cold to the touch as you ascend to the second floor. Pretty signs make studio 2N easy enough to find, tucked at the end of a long hallway. 

It’s only as you approach the door that your nerves begin to show themselves. You knock on the studio door with sweaty palms, hating the way that your heart hammers in your chest. The feeling of being so nervous before you see Taesan has become increasingly familiar as you both have spent more and more time together. Despite the number of visits you have paid to the record store, your body has never stopped kicking into overdrive at the thought of seeing him. 

Before you can knock again, the studio door swings open, a tall figure standing in the doorway. He’s bathed in blue light from the LEDs that hang along the walls, creating a halo around his dark locks. A pair of thick black glasses frame his eyes, softening his normally intimidating look. When he breaks into a smile, you find yourself doing the same, mirroring his infatuated expression. 

“You made it,” he says softly, motioning you inside. 

The door is heavy when it falls shut behind you, leaving the both of you in a blue bathed silence. 

“I did,” you reply, looking around at the various recording equipment strewn around the space. “This place is incredible.”

Taesan shoots you a closed lipped smile, sitting down at a desk on the far side of the room. He motions to a comfy looking chair next to him, smiling fully when you sit down next to him. 

“Thanks. Jaehyun and I got special permission to decorate it and make it more of our own. I feel like it makes it easier to get the creative juices flowing, you know?”

You have no idea, no longer having paid attention after the first word. It’s too easy to get lost in the way Taesan’s mouth moves as he speaks, something you have found happening over and over again whenever you see each other. You thank the divine that he hasn’t seemed to notice your habit. 

“Oh!” Taesan interrupts his own ramblings. “We also have a fridge. Do you want anything? Water, juice, beer?”

“You guys can have beer in here?”

Taesan smirks as he approaches the fridge. “Nope. Catch!”

The can is ice cold when it falls into your hands, serving as a cool refuge for the otherwise clammy surface. You wait until Taesan settles back next to you to crack the drink open, smiling when he bumps his can against yours in a silent cheers. 

Being with Taesan in his studio proves to be extremely different from being with him in the record store. He’s clearly in his element here, showing you what each button of his complex equipment does as he stacks sounds on top of each other. He even asks for your input, seeing what you like best before adding it to the track. The beer also seems to help ease his nerves, no longer a stuttering mess whenever he addresses you. 

It makes the time that passes feel like nothing as the two of you work on the song. A couple of hours in, you both have created an entire instrumental track, just waiting for lyrics to complete it. 

“Who knew you were such a good producer?” Taesan asks as he saves and closes out of the track. “You must have been an artist in your past life.”

You roll your eyes at the joke, cracking a smile at the boy’s antics. When you glance back at the screen, however, the smile instantly dissipates from your face. 

“Taesan,” you breathe. “What’s that?”

The man in question follows your gaze where it is trained on his computer screen, clearly stuck on a folder that is simply labeled with your name. He feels his heart rising into his throat, rushing to open up a new window to hide the folder. 

“N-nothing,” he stammers, but judging by your expression, he knows it’s too late. “I promise it’s not anything weird or creepy or anything! Shit, that makes it sound more creepy. But it’s not, I swear.”

“Taesan,” you repeat slowly, “what was that?”

The man buries his face into his hands, groaning loudly before looking at you again. “Fuck, you’re gonna think I’m such a loser.”

You choose not to respond to that, motioning at his computer again. Even in the artificial blue light, you can see the color that begins to rise to his cheeks. In any other situation, you’d consider it cute, but you’re still not sure whether or not to be creeped out. 

Taesan sighs, double clicking the folder to reveal a plethora of untitled files. You try your best to see what they are, or what they could contain, but Taesan opens one before you get a chance. It brings you right back to his producing software, a track beginning to load. 

“Just listen.”

The melody that plays is hard hitting, a little jarring in the small space. There’s a strong drum beat for a moment, only to be slowed down right before a voice starts rapping.

Taesan keeps his eyes firmly trained on the floor as the song plays, trying his hardest not to cringe at his own lyrics. He goes on and on about the way you laugh, the color of your eyes, the swell of your hips. In the chorus, he highlights how much he wants to be yours, how perfect you are. It all repeats until the end, where he confesses how perfect he could be for you. 

When the song ends, neither of you move, letting an oppressive silence linger in the small space. You don’t even notice the way your mouth has hung open until you feel a slight pain in your jaw. Despite it, you can’t seem to keep your mouth closed, continually floundering for words. 

“You wrote that?” You question, voice barely coming out as a whisper. 

Taesan simply nods. 

“About me?”

When the boy nods a second time, you can’t help but stand from the chair, taking the two steps necessary to stand in front of him. He’s clearly startled when you place a hand on his shoulder, eyes tracing your figure as he looks up. The light of the computer screen is reflected in his eyes, making them appear as if they are sparkling. 

“You like me?”

Taesan swallows thickly at your question, nodding again slowly. He goes to look away, but you place a hand under his jaw, preventing him from turning. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Taesan whispers. “You’re you and I’m me. I like you so much, but you’re, like, so out of my league. I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes at the boy’s confession. But it immediately dies in your throat when Taesan squeezes his eyes shut, looking on the verge of tears. You instantly scramble to reassure him. 

“No, I promise I’m not laughing because of that,” you coo. “It’s just…why do you think I kept coming by the record store?”

Taesan opens his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. “Because you like Deftones…?”

“Oh my god!” 

You can’t help but fully laugh this time, releasing Taesan’s face in favor of squeezing onto his lap. His mouth drops into a soft “o” as you settle in, hands frozen awkwardly on the arm rests. You take his surprise as an opportunity to snake a hand around the back of his neck, letting your nails scratch at the base of his skull like they did months prior. 

“Taesan,” you whisper. “I don’t like Deftones.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I like you.”

You wish you had a camera to capture Taesan’s expression at the moment when what you’re saying clicks for him. It takes a moment, the words seemingly churning in his head before their meaning becomes apparent. His head cocks to the side, eyes no longer glistening with unshed tears, but rather sparkling with disbelief. 

“You like me?”

The chuckle that escapes you is dripping with fondness, your hands tightening where they rest around Taesan’s shoulders. “Yes. I like you a lot.”

“I also like you a lot.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You already mentioned that part.”

Taesan still looks nervous, hands clearly fumbling as he decides whether or not it’s okay to touch you. “So…what now?”

You inch forward, slowly minimizing the already small distance between the two of you. It’s close enough that you can feel Taesan’s shaky breath, warm as it fans your face. He goes a little cross eyed as he tries to maintain eye contact, clearly still startled at the newfound close contact.

“Now you kiss me.”

There’s a brief hesitation, the tiniest moment in which Taesan’s eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. But then, he immediately surges forward to close the distance between you two, his soft lips blanketing yours. It’s a timid, chaste kiss that only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away.

“Taesan,” you whisper, as if not wanting the words to escape the cocoon that you have created with your bodies. “Kiss me again.”

And he does. He kisses you again and again until your hands travel to his cheeks, keeping him in place. It allows you to kiss him deeper, savoring the warm feeling of his mouth on yours.

Despite his shy nature, Taesan seems anything but inexperienced as he finally relaxes into the kiss. His hands slowly migrate from the arm rests to your hips, hands smoothing along the fabric of your jeans. He strikes a comfortable balance between the gentle way he kisses and the firm groping of your body.

Just when you start to lose yourself in the feeling, he pulls away, leaving both of you panting.

“Wait, Y/N…let me play you another song.”

With a little bit of shuffling and clicking, Taesan finds the audio file he's looking for, kiss-swollen lips settling into a satisfied grin. He leans back to observe you as he presses play, letting a melody flow through the speakers. 

You're my girl

And that's alright

If you sting me, I won't mind

'Cause you're my girl

And that's alright

If you sting me, I won't mind. 

.FIN.

[yuri-is-online]

Bro floyd is so handsome-

And he's weirdly the only twst character that I can describe as handsome??? Like every other character I like is either cute or pretty. Trey and leona might have been handsome to me at one point but I'm just. Not attracted to them yk? Even Jade! Jade is very pretty! He's my evil little wife! But floyd is like. The only one that's actually handsome, like in the traditional sense. At least to me he is. Just like. His mannerisms I guess... idk man he's cool as hell and weirdly reminiscent of dark vintage americana. Weirdest fucking aesthetic I can connect him to but fuck you I'm connecting them (national anthem demo 1 by lana. I was reading the lyrics and also the overall vibe of that specific version of the song just kind of cemented for me)

Idk dude sometime I just go into you inbox and dump out my twst thoughts with no real purpose or structure and this is one of those times 🦵...also it's 2 am so that probably has something to do with it. Good night Yuri!

The prequel to this ask and also still goodnight because it is rather late here rn

Floyd is very much a mob boss, old Americana, guy you obviously should not be attracted to but still everyone kind of understands why type of guy. He's handsome in italics, in a way that you giggle about and exaggeratedly wag your eyes because hey you could be joking.

He's that sort of handsome where most interested parties would ditch him after a weekend. Handsome in a way that sparks but doesn't start a fire, like one of his bad moods that's strong, horrible, and will do so much damage but is gone as soon as it's come on. Like a man desperate for a real connection and can't quite get it, who is looking into your eyes while it rains outside not saying anything but really wanting you to know it's real. Handsome like the guy who doesn't get the girl but everyone knows if the writer was paying attention to their own characters would have been the better choice.

Handsome in a way that's stammered out without a technicality offered by someone small, vulnerable, and foreign to everything he knows in more ways than just the one obvious fact who ignores all of that stuff. Handsome enough for the spark to catch and the connection to wrap itself around your waist and drag you into the ocean without a single scream because the part those stories often ignore is that there are people who would look at an eel three times there size and still "would."

He laughs, dizzyingly loud and all the things he is at once because what he thinks of you is much simpler than all of that. He thinks you're cute~ so cute he could just eat you up.

[zaynescitizen]

How do you think what could be the kinks of LnDS boys? 😏😏😏

I had fun writing that but oh my god I was STRUGGLING with Xavier, and I had to hold myself back with Sylus because in my eyes he is an absolute whore🎀. For Rafayel and Xavier I think it ended up being quite poorly written but I genuinely couldn't think of anything more than that, so I do apologise.

-Issa

(English is not my first language so there is a high chance of grammar mistakes. If you come across any please point them out and any and all constructive criticism is welcomed)

content warning: NSFW, different kinks and slight descriptions of them (I never know how to write the CW </3 let me know if I should add any specific ones)

Word count: 671

Characters: Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier

Lads and kinks:

In general:

-Starting off I don't feel like any of them have those extreme kinks except maybe Stylus but that is speculating purely off of his card (no defense zone, unfortunately, that is one of two cards 5 star I have of him). I don't think I can genuinely place them from most to least kinky since all of them are on about the same level of it, some a bit more some bit less but overall on the same frequency

Zayne:

-Breast worship, and I will die on this hill. He loves your chest. Coming home after a long day of surgeries he wants nothing more than to play with your breasts or sleep on them. The amount of hickeys he leaves there is abnormal.

-Praise, he loves both giving and receiving paise. Burying his face in your neck while ramming into you, telling you how well you're taking him and how good it feels

-I don't know if this would count as a kink but seeing you ride him makes him near feral, his hands resting on your hips with a tight grip, helping you move over his length.

-Spanking, he loves spanking you as a form of punishment, though he doesn't go overboard and makes sure you are fine with it and are doing alright.

Sylus:

-Accidental stimulation, except it's not accidental and he loves riding you up during auctions he finds boring or when it's least necessary. Seeing you squirm and try to calm down brings him joy and entertainment.

-Sensory deprivation, he loves tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him great ego boost since he takes it as a sign of trust, and the way you react to every touch and kiss makes him lose his mind

-Breathplay, same as the previous, he takes it as a sign of trust and the visual gets him off. Squeezing your throat just enough to make it hard to breathe, but not doing any actual damage

-Begging, another ego boost. The fact that he makes you feel so good that you are begging for him is a dream come true

-Spanking, if you were being bratty he will gladly put you in your place, whether with the palm of his hand or a riding crop

Rafayel:

-This man is a brat and you can't deny it no matter how hard you try.

-Begging, he begs you so sweetly while moving in and out of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses and giving lovebites while trying not to lose it completely

-Bondage, either tying you up or being tied up himself. He loves it.

-Lingerie, he loves seeing you in such pretty yet revealing sad excuses of clothes. He doesn't know whether to take you right then and there or to draw you.

-Temperature play, his evol is fire, he will use that to his advantage and warm you up in all the right place, though for cooling down he will have to use ice cubes

Xavier:

-I think Xavier is the least kinky of them all. After being alive for so long I think he does enjoy more casual vanilla settings, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy something more from time to time

-I genuinely can't think of a single kink for this man, which is disappointing. He has them, but I can't pinpoint which ones.

-One I can definitely see him in is restriction/bondage, holding your arms pinned up against the bed or behind your back while rutting into you like a dog in heat

-Again, not sure if this counts as a kink but he loves giving you oral. He could do it all day, every day, anywhere, everywhere, on every surface, in every position… you get the point. He loves it.

-Cockwarming, sometimes he just wants be be close to you, inside you, but is simply too tired. Especially after a hard mission. Lying in bed with him, filled up and on the verge of falling asleep in his arms

[xfolex]

In the newest Walpurgis Night, one of the skills used is named "Rushing Arms of Rest"

This being notable because that's the name of the very first ordeal from the legacy version, the Violet Dusk, which was quickly removed and replaced.

Now, I love it whenever PM mention stuff from the older versions because it makes me feel slightly less insane for being so obsessed with it. Even though using the name for another ordeal's skill might mean that the FloodTentacles might never come back, I'd love it if one day we get the chance to fight the old Violet Dusk again. I have a score to settle with those bastard tentacles and destroying them in the legacy version can only bring so much joy.

For anyone curious, during Violet Dusk several tentacles each spawn throughout almost every room in the facility, dealing strong physical damage to any employee it attacks. Now, you can try to kill them one by one, but that would be incredibly inefficient considering they are decently tanky. In each of the department's main room there is a "main" tentacle that is noticeably larger than the rest. The optimal way of dealing with this dusk is by killing the "main" tentacle, since once that dies all other tentacles in its department also dies alongside it.

What makes this ordeal extremely dangerous is that any low level employee's health can quickly be whittled down by the FloodTentacles, and considering they spawn almost everywhere nowhere's safe (especially since you can't move employees into a specific room in the legacy version). Like I mentioned earlier they're pretty tanky so killing them can be very dangerous if you're not well prepared, and it takes away time spent working on Abnormalities (in the legacy version Abnormalities worked on a mood timer system). Additionally, unlike the current legacy version Ordeals spawn starting from day 11 instead of day 21, and ordeals also have a considerably higher chance of spawning as well (In the current legacy version you realistically could go through the entire game without encountering a single ordeal, but in the old version with the Violet Dusk they were practically guaranteed to spawn any day it was able to). All of these reasons combined meant that the best way to deal with Violet Dusk was to not deal with it at all and hope the day ends quick enough that it doesn't have time to kill anyone.

[cripplecharacters]

Writing Intellectually Disabled Characters

[large text: writing intellectually disabled characters]

Something that very rarely comes up in disability media representation are intellectually disabled characters. There is very little positive representation in media in general (and basically none in media meant specifically for adults or in YA). I hope this post can maybe help someone interested in writing disabled characters understand the topic better and create something nice. This is just a collection of thoughts of only one person with mild ID (me) and I don't claim to speak for the whole community as its just my view. This post is meant to explain how some parts of ID work and make people aware of what ID is.

This post is absolutely not meant for self diagnosis (I promise you would realize before seeing a Tumblr post about it. it's a major disorder that gets most people thrown into special education).

Before: What is (and isn't) intellectual disability?

ID is a single, life-long neurodevelopment condition that affects IQ and causes problems with reasoning, problem‑solving, remembering and planning things, abstract thinking and learning. There is often delay or absence of development milestones like walking (and other kinds of movement), language and self care skills (eating, going to the bathroom, washing, getting dressed etc). Different people will struggle with different things to different degrees. I am, for example, still fully unable to do certain movements and had a lot of delay in self-care, but I had significantly less language-related delay than most of people with ID I know. Usually the more severe a person's ID is the more delay they will have.

Intellectual disability is one single condition and it doesn't make sense to call it "intellectual disabilities" (plural) or "an intellectual disability". It would be like saying "they have a Down Syndrome" or "he has autisms". The correct way would be "she has intellectual disability" or "ze is intellectually disabled".

Around 1-3% of people in the world have intellectual disability and most have mild ID (as opposed to moderate, severe, or profound). It can exist on its own without any identifiable condition or it can be a part of syndrome. There is over a thousand (ranging from very common to extremely rare) conditions that can cause ID but some of the most common are;

Down Syndrome,

Fragile X Syndrome,

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,

Autism,

Edwards Syndrome,

DiGeorge Syndrome,

Microcephaly.

Not every condition always causes ID and you can have one of the above conditions without having ID as long as it's not necessary diagnostic criteria to be met. For example around 30% of autistic people have ID, meaning that the rest 70% doesn't. It just means that it's comorbid often enough to be counted as a major cause but still, autistic ≠ intellectually disabled most of the time.

A lot of things that cause intellectual disability also come with facial differences, epilepsy, mobility-related disabilities, sensory disabilities, and limb differences. A lot, but not all, intellectually disabled people go to special education schools.

Intellectual disability isn't the same as brain damage. Brain damage can occur at any point of a person's life while ID always starts in or before childhood.

"Can My Character Be [Blank]?"

[large text: "Can my character be [blank]?"]

The difficulty with writing characters with intellectual disability is that unlike some other things you can give your character, ID will very directly impacts how your character thinks and behaves - you can't make the whole character and then just slap the ID label on them.

Intellectually disabled people are extremely diverse in terms of personality, ability, verbality, mobility... And you need to consider those things early because deciding that your character is nonverbal and unable to use AAC might be an issue if you're already in the middle of writing a dialogue scene.

For broader context, a person with ID might be fully verbal - though they would still probably struggle with grammar, what some words mean, or with general understanding of spoken/written language to some degree. Or they could also be non-verbal. While some non-verbal ID people use AAC, it's not something that works for everyone and some people rely on completely language-less communication only. There is also the middle ground of people who are able to speak, but only in short sentences, or in a way that's not fully understandable to people who don't know them. Some might speak in second or third person.

Depending on the severity of your character's disability they will need help with different tasks. For example, I'm mildly affected and only need help with "complex" tasks like shopping or taxes or appointments, but someone who is profoundly affected will probably need 24/7 care. It's not infantilization to have your character receive the help that they need. Disabled people who get help with bathing or eating aren't "being treated like children", they just have higher support needs than me or you. In the same vein, your character isn't "mentally two years old" or "essentially a toddler", they are a twenty-, or sixteen-, or fourty five-year old who has intellectual disability. Mental age isn't real. Intellectually disabled people can drink, have sex, smoke, swear, and a bunch of other things. A thirty year old disabled person is an adult, not a child!

An important thing is that a person with ID has generally bad understanding of cause-and-effect and might not make connections between things that people without ID just instinctively understand. For example, someone could see that their coat is in a different place than they left it, but wouldn't be able to deduce that then it means that someone else moved it or it wouldn’t even occur to them as a thing that was caused by something. I think every (or at least most) ID person struggles with this to some extent. The more severe someone's disability is the less they will be able to connect usually (for example someone with profound ID might not be able to understand the connection between the light switch and the light turning off and on).

People with mild intellectual disability have the least severe problems in functioning and some are able to live independently, have a job, have kids, stuff like that.

What Tropes Should You Avoid?

[large text: what tropes should you avoid?]

The comic relief/punching bag;

The predator/stalker;

The "you could change this character into a sick dog and there wouldn't be much difference";

...and a lot more but these are the most prevalent in my experience.

Most ID characters are either grossly villainized (more often if they have also physical disabilities or facial differences) or extremely dehumanized or ridiculed, or all of the above. It's rarely actually *mentioned* for a character to be intellectually disabled, but negative "representation" usually is very clear that this who they're attempting to portray. The portrayal of a whole group of people as primarily either violent predators, pitiful tragedies or nothing more than a joke is damaging and you probably shouldn't do that. It's been done too many times already.

When those tropes aren't used the ID character is still usually at the very most a side character to the main (usually abled) character. They don't have hobbies, favorite foods, movies or music they like, love interests, friends or pets of their own and are very lucky if the author bothered to give them a last name. Of course it's not a requirement to have all of these but when there is *no* characterization in majority of disabled characters, it shows. They also usually die in some tragic way, often sacrificing themselves for the main character or just disappear in some off-the-screen circumstances. Either way, they aren't really characters, they're more like cardboard cutouts of what a character should be - the audience has no way to care for them because the author has put no care into making the character interesting or likable at all. Usually their whole and only personality and character trait is that they have intellectual disability and it's often based on what the author thinks ID is without actually doing any research.

What Terms to Use and Not Use

[large text: What Terms to Use and Not Use]

Words like: "intellectually disabled" or "with/have intellectual disability" are terms used by people with ID and generally OK to use from how much I know. I believe more people use the latter (person first language) for themselves but i know people who use both. I use the first more often but I don't mind the second. Some people have strong preference with one over the other and that needs to be respected.

Terms like:

"cursed with intellectual disability"

"mentally [R-slur]"

"moron"

"idiot"

"feeble-minded"

"imbecile"

is considered at least derogatory by most people and I don't recommend using it in your writing. The last 5 terms directly come from outdated medical terminology specifically regarding ID and aren't just "rude", they're ableist and historically connected to eugenics in the most direct way they could be. To me personally they're highly offensive and I wouldn't want to read something that referred to its character with ID with those terms.

(Note: there are, in real life, people with ID that refer to themselves with the above... but this is still just a writing guide. Unless you belong to the group i just mentioned I would advise against writing that, especially if this post is your entire research so far.)

Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability

[large text: Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability]

[format borrowed from WWC]

I want to see more characters with intellectual disability that...

aren’t only white boys.

are LGBT+.

are adults.

are allowed to be angry without being demonized, and sad without being infantilized.

are not described as "mentally X years old".

are respected by others.

aren't "secretly smart" or “emotionally smart”.

are able to live independently with some help.

aren't able to live independently at all and aren't mocked for that.

are in romantic relationships or have crushes (interabled... or not!).

are non-verbal or semi-verbal.

use mobility aids and/or AAC.

have hobbies they enjoy.

have caregivers.

have disabilities related to their ID.

have disabilities completely unrelated to their ID.

have friends and family who like and support them.

go on cool adventures.

are in different genres: fantasy, romComs, action, slice of life... all of them.

have their own storylines.

aren't treated as disposable.

don't die or disappear at the first possible opportunity.

...and I want to see stories that have multiple intellectually disabled characters.

I hope that this list will give someone inspiration to go and make their first OC with intellectual disability ! This is just a basic overview to motivate writers to do their own research rather than a “all-knowing post explaining everything regarding ID”. I definitely don't know everything especially about the parts of ID that I just don't experience (or not as much as others). This is only meant to be an introduction for people who don't really know what ID is or where to even start.

Talk to people with intellectual disability (you can send ask here but there are also a lot of other people on Tumblr who have ID and I know at least some have previously answered asks as well if you want someone else's opinion!), watch/read interviews with people who have ID (to start - link1, link2, both have captions) and try to rethink what you think about intellectual disability. Because it's really not that rare like a lot of people seem to think. Please listen to us when we speak.

Good luck writing and thank you for reading :-) (smile emoji)

mod Sasza

[evilwickedme]

I said I'd never do jumblr content again and yet here I am because this keeps coming up and it's like the only thing I can think about. That said I will not hesitate to turn off reblogs if y'all are horrible in the notes again, and be warned that I will be blocking anybody who supports any of the theories I mention immediately

There is no such thing as a conspiracy theory that isn't antisemitic. There is no such animal

Antisemitic conspiracy theories go back thousands of years. The ones that still have the most hold on culture to this day are the blood libel, and the protocols of the elders of zion

The blood libel was an accusation that would be brought against Jewish populations in Europe often but especially around Passover claiming that we were killing Christian children for ritual purposes, usually to use their blood for baking matza or other nonsense (it is important to me that you know that this is nonsense. It is horrible and damaging but also to the core a ridiculous lie that never at any point made any sense. They just didn't care). Debatably this trope is present in the merchant of Venice. Undebatably Jews were killed because people did and still do sincerely believe this

The protocols of the elders of zion is a fictitious document published in Russia at the very beginning of the 20th century, supposedly detailing the meetings of the Jewish people who secretly run the world. The protocols were almost immediately proven to be a rip off of another document - ah, plagiarism - but that hasn't stopped antisemites from embracing it wholeheartedly (special thanks fuck you to Henry Ford for publishing them in his newspaper, spreading it across the USA). It built on previous antisemitic tropes, from the greedy banker trope (Jews were forced to be money lenders in medieval Europe as it was forbidden in Christianity and Jews weren't allowed to join any guilds, preventing them from making money in any other capacity - the reason why there are so many Jews in Hollywood is identical, but in the early 20th century) to the concept of dual loyalty (i.e. Jewish are loyal to ourselves above all else and cannot be trusted to be loyal to the country where we live, see: modern trope that every Jew is probably loyal to Israel and the subsequent idea that it's okay to ask every single diaspora Jew how they feel about Israel immediately upon meeting them). It's also worth noting that the word cabal, used to denote the shadowy organizations that supposedly control the world, comes from kabbala, which is Jewish mysticism

The idea of lizard people, created by a guy literally named Icke because he is a gross human being, was designed to repackage the antisemitic shadow cabal concept to be supposedly more palatable

Most qanon theories also build on all of this, such as world leaders preying on children (remember pizzagate?)

But more importantly conspiratorial thinking always positions you as the good guy standing against a mysterious "them", an other which is influencing things behind the scenes. The Jew is the ultimate other, and specifically an other that supposedly forms a shadowy world government, controlling everything and yet somehow not managing to get rid of antisemitism (see: protocols of Zion, lizard people, we control Hollywood and the government which is of course conspiring against you). There is no way to decouple the idea of an evil shadowy organization (usually also referred to as a cabal to really hammer it in) from antisemitism and antisemitic tropes

And this means that even supposedly "harmless" conspiracy theories attract antisemites and train people who aren't necessarily rabid antisemites to confirm those kinds of biases. Obviously Qanon and lizard people are antisemitic, but what does the moon landing have to do with Jews? Well, it was Hollywood and the government that faked it, obviously. Hell, even the conspiracy that Taylor Swift is secretly a lesbian and is either still secretly dating or is exes with Karlie Kloss is riddled with antisemitism -

Okay so I need to explain my position on this because I fucking hate this conspiracy theory, and the fact that most people simply won't acknowledge that that's what it is. Firstly, Taylor Swift has stated that she is not gay or considers herself an ally at least three times off the top of my head, and specifically denied that she was dating Karlie Kloss. Secondly, outing people is wrong. Thirdly, the conspiracy theory hinges on the idea that she would be risking her career by coming out, except that she's proven that basically no controversy can come in the way of her career, she's already "come out" as an ally, donated to glaad and the equality act, promoted queer musicians & artists & designers (there was a song in the reputation tour that was dedicated to a gay designer every single night of the tour). So what's stopping her from coming out at this point? Mysterious forces, clearly. The antisemitism in that I've already explained, but also the virulent antisemitism among Kaylor shippers aimed at her husband and at the fact that she converted to Judaism is fucking disgusting

Again: even a supposedly harmless conspiracy theory leads to antisemitism and attracts antisemites

A few years ago I tried to rewatch white collar cause I remembered really enjoying that show as a preteen and after around a season I just couldn't stand it anymore, because all I wanted to do was jump into the universe and yell at Mozzie to shut the fuck up because these conspiracy theories were barely presented as a joke and never challenged even once by any of the characters. When I rewatched that 70s show it also fucking sucked, but at least it wasn't showing up in every single episode. The blacklist focuses entirely on a literal Cabal, that's what they're called

This stuff is so normalized and it's fucking everywhere and it's exhausting. Jews are to this day being murdered over this. I can't change the world by myself, unfortunately, but if you don't have a specific person to blame for your troubles, shut the fuck up. Just shut up. There is no conspiracy against you. Sometimes life just sucks. Or definitely does for the Jews who get shot at over this shit

Again, I'll be blocking anybody who parrots this bullshit in the comments but especially fucking gaylors y'all are one of the main reasons that being a fan of Taylor Swift's music is fucking unbearable. Just accept you can connect to music made by somebody different than yourself it's not that difficult of a concept