#still having issues uploading the images

[every-sanji]

[keeps-ache]

sigh. alright

[temiizpalace]

☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[rowdyluv]

summary: jack is fuming mad about the gossip blog’s post about y/n. he makes a trip to her public relations manager’s office to settle the issue.

word count: 1k

warnings: angry jack, profanity, use of y/n,

notes: sincerest apologies for the delay and that it’s so short. I don’t want to mix two topics into one part and shorten the series, still working through hurricane helene damages at my sisters and a lot of co workers were affected and haven’t been able to come in.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Jack stormed into Ms. Castellanos' office, his usual bright blue eyes now a fiery mix of anger and desperation. He slammed his phone down on her desk, the screen displaying the latest headline from 'Pucking Gossip', a notorious bullshit gossip blog that had a knack for stirring drama in the lives of professional hockey players.

"You've got to be kidding me," he barked, his voice echoing off the eerily empty white walls. Castellanos kept her office appearance the way she typically came across, plain and empty. "What the hell is this? Did you even know this was out there? If not, what the hell are you doing all day? What are your employees doing? Get some smart computer person to it taken down. Find the person who wrote it, and get them to take it down. I don’t care just do it.”

Jack paced her office chewing the edge of his fingers, then his bottom lip, and back to his fingers. His motions flipped from anger, frustration, to worry for Y/n. Worry for if she had seen the lies someone had put out about her and now who knows how many people have seen it.

Ms. Castellanos took a moment to re-read the article again for the 100th time, her eyes narrowing with each line. When reading the article before she didn’t see much wrong with it. It was just another day for her in the office, another player’s problem becoming hers to clean up.

From a professional stand point she knew the stakes of the situation. Y/n had become a crucial part of Jack’s image rebranding, and any negative light on her could ruin everything they had worked so hard for. But, it was then she realized Y/n truly meant more to him than the agreement. She was skeptical of the best friends story he had spun out when suddenly she was the one taking the place of his fake girlfriend, but it’s clear now. But best friend doesn’t describe his feelings towards her in the slightest with the way he’s acting. She took a deep breath, her hands resting gently on the cold metal edge of her desk.

"Jack, I understand that this is upsetting, but we need to handle this strategically. We can't just go after the blogger or demand they take it down," Ms. Castellanos said calmly, her eyes never leaving the screen of the phone.

Jack's pacing grew more agitated, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "How is this strategic? They're tearing apart Y/n's reputation! She's not even met the girls yet." He jabbed a finger at the article, as if the digital ink could feel his fury.

Ms. Castellanos looked up from the screen, her expression shifting to one of understanding. "I know how much you care for her, Jack, and we will address this. But we can't let our emotions dictate our response. We need to control the narrative, not give them more ammo for their next article. You know all too well how quickly they will tear you apart.”

Jack stopped his pacing, his gaze locking onto hers. "But they're lying about her. She's not like that. She’s never been like that." His voice grew softer, the anger giving way to genuine concern for his friend's well-being.

Ms. Castellanos nodded, placing the phone aside. "I believe you, Jack. But we must be careful. We need to gather all the facts and build a counter-narrative that is both truthful and compelling." She paused, tapping her manicured nails on the desk. “One of the team’s charity galas is coming up. I will arrange for Amanda to interview you and Y/n on the red carpet. She will have specific questions to ask about why Y/n sits behind the bench versus why she doesn’t sit in the private box. I will arrange seating so that instead of your usual table with the singles, you’ll be with the couples. Giving her an opportunity to meet and chat. It is your responsibility to tell your teammates that none of this.” She waves her finger in a circle above the phone before sliding it across her desk. “Is true and that Y/n isn’t who it makes her out to be.”

Jack's fists unclenched slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "Okay," he agreed, though the skepticism was clear in his voice. "But what about the blog? What if they don't believe us?"

Castellanos steepled her fingers, her gaze sharp. "We'll have to be proactive. I'll draft a statement from both you and Y/n addressing the rumors. We'll release it before the gala so the media knows we're aware and in control of the story. We have taken multiple pictures of the two of you bumping fists or shaking hands before games or in between periods. We’ve caught you looking at her from the bench during timeouts too. We can spin a story out of it. In the statement release pre-gala we will be sure to include that the gala is the first time she will be meeting the entire team and their significant others as well. Clearing everything up, then Amanda will get personal statements in her interview.”

Jack took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with hope. He knew the PR world was a minefield, but he trusted Castellanos knew the terrain better than anyone. He finally sat down in the chair across from her desk, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his anxiety. The first genuine smile since he walked into her office graced his features. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I just need a moment to chill out."

Ms. Castellanos nodded in understanding, her own expression softening. "I'll get to work on the statement immediately. You go home and simply believe in me to get it taken care of.”

taglist: @luke-hughes43 @thedevilrisen

[c0llisiion]

NUMB TO THE FEELING — j.jk

♡pairing : jjk + fem!reader

♡: not proof read, exs, idol!jungkook x idol!reader , fwb kinda? , smut , mutual masturbation - lmk if i missed any!

W/C : 1,162

Pt.2 , Pt.3

A/N : SORRY 4 DISAPPEARING AGAINNNNN! i js got too busy guys 😣😣😣😣 rqs are open! Send in your rqs and prompts ily <33 anyways here is a jk fic i wrote instead of finishing my other jk fic :3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

2 months. Its been 2 months since you broke it off with jungkook. It was all over the news, a hot topic for the k media. ‘BTS’s Jungkook and Y/G/N’s y/n ends 4 year relationship’, was still trending on naver. It happened so quickly. Knets are already placing the blame on you for the breakup, as they view you as a mean rebel idol who breaks hearts and messes around. A face of disgust was plastered on your face as you scroll through the endless amounts of hate comments knets put under the articles.

“Wow I always knew she was a bitch”

“She definitely cheated on him with another idol lol”

“What do you expect when you date a wh*re? Jungkook should have never dated her”

“She ruined his image”

Back and forth, people were calling you degrading names and putting Jungkook in a good light. They said all of this while not knowing a single thing about how your breakup unfolded. It was mutual. You both started getting busy with schedules. That simple. Maybe a few disagreements here and there. Maybe a few trust issues but the main point was it was mutual and you both broke up because of schedules. You got tired of the same comments and decided to turn off your phone but you got a new notification.

baby star candy 🤍

Hey

Tf is he doing at this hour?

Y/n

???

baby star candy 🤍

Is it okay if i come over?

Classic jungkook. Getting straight to the point. You stared at the text for a while not realising that you were leaving him on seen.

My baby star candy 🤍

Helloooooo?????

Its fine if you dont want me to

Y/n

Yes. Quick.

You sent your reply before his second text got to properly load. And there you were. Your phone turned off, biting your nails as you waited for jungkook.

It didn't take him a lot of time. Reaching your place in under 7 minutes and 13 seconds. You heard your doorbell and you immediately rushed to the door. You stood at the door for some time, avoiding the impression that you were eagerly anticipating his arrival.

You opened the door and see the tall bulky black haired man with his calvin klein hoodie and grey shorts. You stared at him before he brought you back to reality by snapping his fingers. You let him in before locking the door. You grabbed him by his wrists and took him upstairs to your room.

He quickly settled in your bed letting out a deep sigh, Relaxing and stretching his limbs out onto the bed. His arm was tucked behind his head as he patted the empty space next to him with half lidded eyes. You rolled your eyes before snuggling with him. Your tv was on and playing a random tv show you put almost an hour ago, forgetting to it turn off. You sighed and relaxed into his arm. The silence was comfortable. Jungkook was playing with the hems of shorts and you with the drawstrings of his shorts. You knew where this would lead to.

His hands started slowly massaging your thighs and ass in a comforting way. Its like he knew you were sad. And he did. “Im sorry” he spoke up. You looked up at him. His eyes were focused on the tv infront. “Im sorry about those comments. I should have said somethin’.” He said finally looking down at you. You shook your head and nuzzled into him closer “dont be. Its not your fault. Tbh i really dont gaf.” He chuckled at your attitude. He always liked your idgaf attitude. That’s what made him ask you out. “So you are not sad?” He asked his hands trailing up your shirt, cold fingers resting under your tits. “Hmm i was but then there is no reason for me to be. Maybe we should upload one of our sextapes to show those bitchy knets and completely appall them..” you giggled thinking about their reaction. Jungkook sighed and chuckled. “Yeah? Which one? Our old ones or the one we are gonna make rn?” His cold fingers squeezed your bare tits and tugged on your hard nipples. You hissed at the feeling. He grabbed your hand using his other hand and started using yours to rub himself through his shorts. He let out a soft groan throwing his head back. You bit your lip as you felt his hand lower into your shorts, quickly taking your sensitive bud in between his fingers, tugging it gently. You gasped and held onto his wrists as he continued abusing your bud. He was growing harder and harder because of your hands and the unholy sounds you let out every time he flicked your clit. You put your hands into his shorts and wrapped your fingers around his dick. Your movements were restricted by his shorts which opted you to pull his dick completely out. You stared at it. Oh how much you missed that monster. “Quit staring baby..” you felt yourself melt as he inserts two fingers into your sopping hole. A loud squelch was heard when he started fingering you. Your hands lazily worked up and down his shaft. Small spurts of precum already leaking out of his red tip. You picked up your pace and so did he. You twisted your wrists around his tip. You knew how sensitive he was there and continued. His eyes were squeezed shut as soft moans left his mouth. He started choking on them as he felt your hands squeeze around his length. God the way you had this man under your control with Just your hands was insane. He was quick to return the favour as two more fingers were added. His thumb rested on your clit rubbing it in circles furiously as he fucked your cunt with his long fingers. Loud noises accompanied by yours and his moans were the only sounds heard in the room. Your vision went white as you finally reached your end. Squirting all over his hands and wetting your shorts as well as your sheets. You let out choked out moans and your back arched off of the bed.

“Attagirl…” jungkook said with furrowed eyebrows as he kept finger fucking you. Your hand movements got sloppy which prompted jungkook to thrust into your hands. You picked up pace which made jungkook stiffen. You knew his orgasm was close from the his facial expressions and his voice. You stared at his face as you watch your ex boyfriend come undone under your grasp. He let out a final gasp before cumming all over your hands. You slowed down your movements finally letting go of his softening cock before bringing your fingers to your mouth, licking all his salty cum clean, staring deeply into his brown eyes.

Only you had him like this. No other woman will never come to your level ever.

A/n : HEHEHE sex tape part 2? 🤭🤭🤭🤭 ALSO SORRY FOR THE USAGE OF BABY STAR CANDYAJJEKAJWJA I JS HAD TOOOOOO

[alphabetboyluvr]

HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning. 

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed. 

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long. 

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many. 

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel. 

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening. 

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again. 

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut. 

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again. 

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks. 

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too. 

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin. 

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. vi

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 2.8 k

warning : argument, mentions of cheating, negative depiction of wooyoung, mentions of loss, calling an adulteress an assortment of names, idk what else tbh lmk if there is anything else I should add

a/n : I FINALLY UPDATED !!!!! this chapter might be slightly shorter compared to the others but trust me when I say it's very much intentional because I just want to focus this chapter on this one specific interaction. some sort of catalyst or like break from the obliteration of pyp!woo's image ig lmaooooo BUT YAY I DIDN'T FORGET TO POST PYP THIS MONTH !!!!

buy me coffee ?

After the fiasco that was your unveiling of a VERY important information about a staff of the academy, Wooyoung was immediately pulled in to get his side of the story. And of course, unfortunately, you. Luckily, you didn't get chastised by anyone because you were CLEARLY the victim in this situation. Heck, the HR team even reached out to apologize to you for the inconvenience you experienced due to their staff's "misconduct" because you're one of the founders's wives. It was an interesting way of saying that their staff is a cheating whore without any redeeming value but you'll take what you can get out of them and the situation. Which also includes his own friend group contacting you every now and then to make sure that you are okay and some (Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho) even going as far as swearing to denounce their familial relations with Wooyoung which was sweet.

Speaking of Wooyoung, he had been shoved into the heap of horseshit that he had piled on himself. You honestly have never seen him so down because he was "suggested" to take an extra two weeks of break to "settle down from the issue" which was really code for HR still having to clean up his mess because Harin decided to not go quietly. From what you heard from a reliable source (Jongho over pastry and coffee after he ditched his vocal classes to gossip), Harin came back the day after she officially got fired and made a ruckus. Literally, she went crazy and made a mess of the lobby; throwing chairs and tables around, scattering pamphlets, breaking vases, and screaming random weird things like how the company is a misogynist for firing a woman for something that was beyond her control. Safe to say, because Harin refused to move to a quieter spot, Hongjoong had to step in and reiterate all the mistakes she had made including but not limited to her having an affair with a married man who was her boss. Hongjoong had even told her that while there was another party involved, another party that acknowledged the mistakes that he had made and agreed to accept whatever disciplinary actions were required, it was also her choice to partake in such behavior. Long story short, a student uploaded the whole thing on YouTube and as of today, there were 15 different TikTok remixes ranging from EDM, screamo, and even a Donald Trump edit. Without Jongho pointing it out, you could imagine that Harin's career in South Korea was over, not because of the cheating, but because of her disorderly conduct.

You found yourself spending time rather peacefully in recent times which was surprising since your house seems to always be in a state of chaos. For once, Wooyoung didn't try to make you talk to him or about him. In fact, he had the decency to be very considerate of you and your feelings, particularly about being in the same room as him. It made you feel slightly bad to be honest because although you both were going through something, he was in the middle of being the butt of the joke and jab by everyone at the company. It was sad and pathetic but also very much deserved. Sure you sometimes found his isolation to be sad, pathetic, and downright pitiful, but then you remember what he did and you remembered how he put himself in that position without even considering the repercussions.

The same could be said about Dayoung. Well, only in the sense of her isolation seemingly from the rest of the world. Your outgoing, extroverted daughter seemed to spend a good chunk of time locking herself inside her room after school. Usually, you would have to turn into a negotiator three times a week just to get your daughter to come home right on her curfew. This time around, you had a worse time trying to get her out, even making her run some errands just so she could get some fresh air. It wasn't until a while later that Wooyoung clued in on why Dayoung was acting like that. The way you went off on Wooyoung for breaking the news in such a manner without you present or even consulting you. You did try to understand that maybe he just... slipped or that he was so emotional that it just slipped out but the point stood that he waited until you were trying to piece things together to finally tell you. Yet another secret he kept from you. Considering the frequency of things he said but hid away from you, you had to think if this was some sort of behavioural pattern that he hadn't exhibited even if you both had been married for quite a long time. Maybe he had became a master a suppressing it and all it took was you forcing the truth out of him to make said behavior to come back to the surface.

On the other hand, Woohyun was turning into a more mature and responsible version of himself. the day you both came home from confronting the slut, Woohyun became so very helpful towards you. The first thing he did was took your bag and brought it over to the kitchen table before he dashed to the bathroom to wash his hands, cleaning himself up before you had to tell him to. Then he made himself very available for you by making sure that he spent almost every single waking or available moments with you. When you;re in the kitchen doing the dishes or cooking, he would be on the counter or the dining table doing his homework. Sometimes he would even try to do chores like one time he tried to help you bringing his sister's laundry basket from the second floor and he ended up scattering everything down the stairs. Woohyun was upset and worried that you would be mad but instead, you laughed it up and helped him clean up before teaching him how to carry items that are heavier than him down. Although you couldn't find it in yourself to bring it up in case you ended up accidentally telling him yourself, you had a feeling that Woohyun was trying to distract you from the reality of what was going on with your husband in his own way. One of the things that solidified your assumption was the fact that Woohyun had limited contact with his dad significantly. The two of them used to spend time together playing games or pulling pranks on one another and even on you or Dayoung but he had suddenly refuse to spend elective time with Wooyoung no matter how much Wooyoung tried to negotiate with him with everything that he got. Despite that, Woohyun dudb't lose respect for his dad.

"Mom?"

You almost dropped the plate you were washing when you heard a voice come up from the doorway. It was surprising to see Dayoung standing there, timid like a deer because she was always happy, lively, and rambunctious, even straight-up disrespectful to you, your space, and your boundaries. But never this. She had been so... quiet for a week and it would've made you freak out had it not been for Wooyoung letting you know that Dayoung knew. That was all he said, she knew. You did not know what had gotten over you to not deck Wooyoung right then and there but he should absolutely consider himself a lucky bastard.

The sight of your own daughter standing there made you feel... anxious. You probably (most likely) should not be afraid of a bitty teenager, but how can you not? It's not like you thought that she was going to attack you or worse, ask you to give Wooyoung a sponge bath. But you just never saw your daughter this... Muted. It was as if she had stepped into an old TV where there was nothing but black and white. You silently wished that Woohyun had not gone to the zoo with his playdate friends because he would be a great buffer. Or witness for whatever that was bound to happen.

"D-do you need help with the dishes?" She asked, stepping closer to you slowly. At first, you were surprised, not exactly expecting that the first thing she would say was an offer to help you with a chore. But, you welcomed her with a smile and nodded, stepping to the side so she could come next to you and start wiping down the washed dishes.

There were no words exhchanged between the two of you for the first five minutes or so but it wasn't awkward. It was the first time that the silence was peaceful when it was just the two of you. Usually, the silence would always only come from Dayoung and it was because she was mad at you for something. Not at you and Wooyoung, just you. You were always the receiver of her animosity even when she was mad at her dad for whatever insignificant reason there could be, but this time was different.

"Mom..." she called you suddenly but what came next surprised you instead, "I'm sorry," she started, not looking at you which was unfortunate because you were staring at her with a very priceless dumbfounded expression. "I- I- what?" "I'm sorry for... This, my part in... Whatever's going on with you and dad. I'm really sorry for making you take care of him. Had I known, I wouldn't have made you take him in," she confessed and you could see that she was starting to tear up. Your heart broke and you really wanted to pull her in and give her the biggest hug that you could muster just to show your support for her but you knew that it would just make yourself feel better for accomplishing something and not actually help her feel better. So you took a step closer to her and breathed out a sigh of relief when she didn't push you away. "I'm really, really, REALLY sorry mom. He's the worst husband ever," she sniffed which made you chuckle as you blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall, "Well, I would say that Emperor Peter, Catherine the Great's husband is a far worse husband than your father."

Your attempt at making light of the situation was met with Dayoung squinting her eyes at you. "Mom, I'm serious. I've heard about my friend's dad cheating but not like this. Not in your situation, and not with someone dumb enough to think she can substitute a hand wrap for martial arts with boob tapes," she scoffed, annoyed. You sighed and shrugged, "Well, people are complicated, sweetie. I... I'm not mad, annoyed, or angry that you wanted me to take care of your dad because, in retrospect, it WAS the absolute right thing to do. I mean, your dad was injured and he's facing such a hard time at work. It would be absolutely wrong to just toss him to someone else. Who would we even toss him to? His friend? His parents?" "His whore, mom. We could've tossed him out and have his whore handle him."

The very second the words left Dayoung's mouth, your eyes widened and your neck snapped in her direction to see her frowning, staring up at you. "He's a cheating bastard and we have the right to not even be in contact with him anymore," she curtly stated. "Jung Dayoung," you started shakily. Dayoung simply shook her head to cut you off, "No, mom, oh my God, you need to stop being a doormat." "Dayoung!" you exclaimed, surprised that she was able to say such a thing and perhaps slightly offended. "It's true! God, mom, how long have you known that he has a side piece who's as dumb as a bag of rocks? How long have you held everything in and just let him walk all over you? He fucking CHEATED on you mom! When you were so down in the dumps to the point that you couldn't even take care of yourself properly! You used Woohyun and I as a distraction, shoving all the attention and care to what, fill in the void over the loss of my would've-been sibling? And where was he? He was with some other woman because he is the worst of the worst and I will never forgive him for what he did to our family!"

Maybe it was the volume of her voice or the massive weight of her words but you felt your blood boiling and before you even realized it, you had shoved a plate into the sink and you were huffing, "Jung Dayoung that's enough, you should not talk about your father that way." "Why? Why shouldn't I, mom? My God, this is the first time in like, maybe ever that I'm standing up for you, this is me protecting you and yet you're still trying to make excuses for that pathetic son of a bitch who betrayed his family!?" "He did not betray our family, okay? He betrayed me, Dayoung!"

Just like it was the first time Dayoung defended you, you had experienced your first time screaming at her and to say that she was scared was an understatement. Dayoung shut her mouth and stared at you with sadness in her eyes because she had yet to comprehend why you were still trying to stand up for your cheating husband.

"Your dad did nothing to our family, sweetie. He did this to me," you sighed, closing your eyes and exhaling shakily as you used both of your hands to hold onto the counter to stabilize yourself. "Sure, he might have altered the dynamic and whatever else in our family but he... What he did was nothing against our family but it was just against me. At least, that's what I think. I don't think I have it in me to find out exactly why he did what he did because I'm weak, Dayoung. I'm a coward like that." you turned to her and shed a tear, breaking Dayoung's heart as she realized just how strong you were all this time.

"Then why, mom? Why are you still letting him off?" Dayoung asked, her voice cracking. You tearily chuckled and shrugged, "Who said that I am? I'm doing this, ALL of this, not because I want to. I did it, because for the longest time, that was what we have agreed on in our marriage. He deal with the monetary stuff and I deal with the family stuff. As much as it hurts, no matter if I like it or not, he is still my family because his behavior be damned, he... He gave me you and your brother and that is something I would never regret. For that, I will always be thankful to him and that is also why you should still respect your father. You can be mad at him, you can be hurt by what he did, but your respect should be non-negotiable not because he deserved it, but because your dad an I taught you better than that. He truly loves you, Dayoung. He might not love me anymore but you and Woohyun are the apples of his eyes, you are his stars in the dark night sky, and you are the best thing he had and would ever achieve. Do you understand me?"

Dayoung groaned and dropped her head on your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your waist. "Damn it mom, why do you have to make it hard for me to unleash my wrath on him?" You couldn't help but chuckle and return her hug, "Sorry sweetie, part of my job is to make sure you grow up to be a decent human being and sometimes I have to make or say things you don't like," you chuckled, making Dayoung roll her eyes but nudge her hips with yours.

As you spend a heartwarming moment with your daughter, you can't help but let your mind slip and travel somewhere else. You couldn't help but think about how you and Dayoung would probably not have experienced such a changing moment in your life. So as much as you hate it, there was a silver lining in this whole shenanigan.

Beyond the heartwarming scene in the kitchen, alone in the dark and cold emptiness of the living room, Wooyoung stood with his back to the wall. Having come down when he heard the commotion, Wooyoung initially thought he might have to step in to get Dayoung off your back. But when he heard you yell back at Dayoung, he stopped in his tracks and debated If he should stay or leave until his interest was piqued and he ended up listening in on the conversation which left him feeling broken down. Despite the gnawing pain that made him feel like he couldn't breathe, he knew he deserved that and more. He should not complain and instead, he should just accept the harsh truth. Not just the facts that you laid out to Dayoung, but also the truth that your action further proved that he was truly the devil in this equation. And perhaps he doesn't deserve to be forgiven.

network :

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[pillowfort-social]

ChatGPT Bot Block

Hey Pillowfolks!

We know many of you are still waiting on our official stance regarding AI-Generated Images (also referred to as “AI Art”) being posted to Pillowfort.  We are still deliberating internally on the best approach for our community as well as how to properly moderate AI-Generated Images based on the stance we ultimately decide on. We’re also in contact with our Legal Team for guidance regarding additions to the Terms of Service we will need to include regarding AI-Generated Images. This is a highly divisive issue that continues to evolve at a rapid pace, so while we know many of you are anxious to receive a decision, we want to make sure we carefully consider the options before deciding. Thank you for your patience as we work on this. 

As of today, 9/5/2023, we have blocked the ChatGPT bot from scraping Pillowfort. This means any writings you post to Pillowfort cannot be retrieved for use in ChatGPT’s Dataset. 

Our team is still looking for ways to provide the same protection for images uploaded to the site, but keeping scrapers from accessing images seems to be less straightforward than for text content. The biggest AI generators such as StableDiffusion use datasets such as LAION, and as far as our team has been able to discern, it is not known what means those datasets use to scrape images or how to prevent them from doing so. Some sources say that websites can add metadata tags to images to prevent the img2dataset bot (which is apparently used by many generative image tools) from scraping images, but it is unclear which AI image generators use this bot vs. a different bot or technology. The bot can also be configured to simply disregard these directives, so it is unknown which scrapers would obey the restriction if it was added.

For artists looking to protect their art from AI image scrapers you may want to look into Glaze, a tool designed by the University of Chicago, to protect human artworks from being processed by generative AI. 

We are continuing to monitor this topic and encourage our users to let us know if you have any information that can help our team decide the best approach to managing AI-Generated Images and Generative AI going forward. Again, we appreciate your patience, and we are working to have a decision on the issue of moderating AI-Generated Images soon.

Best, Pillowfort.social Staff

[wip]

is there any possibility of keeping the legacy editor as an option? for content creators, the new editor completely ruins the quality of our gifs/edits/art and it's really frustrated to be forced into using an editor that's going to kill the quality of the creations that we spend time perfecting.

Answer: Hello, @junghaesin!

Thanks for writing in. And thank you to everyone else who has shared similar feedback.

So, tl;dr—this is actually a blog theme issue. Your theme is not showing images in posts created by the new editor as you expect.

GIFs uploaded via the legacy editor or the new editor are actually processed the same way. There is no difference in bit depth or in resolution. You can see this by looking at your posts inside the Tumblr dashboard instead (e.g. instead of yourblog.tumblr.com/post/id, go to tumblr.com/yourblog/id). 

The reason why you see a quality difference is because posts created by the new editor are treated as text posts by older blog themes. Themes often add padding around all the content of a text post—including any images that appear in it. If your theme presents posts as 540px wide, then in a text post, with that additional padding, the available space for your images is actually less than 540px. As a result, the browser will scale your images down to fit, and when this happens, image quality takes a hit.

The solution—update to a more modern, up-to-date theme, like Vision or Stereo. Theme developer @eggdesign also built a theme template that works with new posts, that you can build on top of! These modern themes apply padding only to text blocks rather than the whole post, so image blocks receive no padding and are served at their full 540px width, just like the Dashboard. From what we’ve seen, this fixes all of the issues about perceived GIF quality on blogs.

We know. Changing your theme is a lot of work. In the near future, we’re looking into ways to make this transition easier—for example, helping you identify themes that work well with new posts in the Theme Garden. But working with new posts is the way forward—the new posts use a format that opens up a lot of opportunities in the future.

Why can’t you add post types to posts from the new editor? Why not serve new posts as photo posts instead of text posts?

The new editor uses a new post format, called Neue Post Format (NPF). NPF has given us a huge boost in flexibility when it comes to what content can be in posts—remember the time when you couldn’t even upload images to reblogs? Or how old chat and quote posts magically change authors? NPF helped us fix both of these things. It removed constraints—including post types, which limit each post to one specific type of content.

But existing blog themes still need to be able to display these posts. Because NPF posts can include media anywhere (while most of the old post types have a rigid structure for media), it was safest for us to categorize NPF posts as the least constrained post type—text posts. It’s the best we can do to make these posts backward-compatible with existing blog themes.

In lieu of post types, we’ve added an {NPF} theme variable per post that custom themes can leverage. Theme developers must update their themes to take advantage of this new data to retain full control of the HTML output of posts.

You can read more about these decisions, and the Neue Post Format specification, here and here.

Thanks for your feedback, and keep it coming!

With love,

—The Tumblr WIP Team

[thefusspot]

Can you please describe how cohost works? I remember having to pay for it, but idk if that's still the case, and is similar to Tumblr so that it'll be fairly easy to navigate?

September 25th, 2024: In case you missed the news, Cohost is shutting down at the end of September. I'd just remove this post but I want people to be able to refer back to it since it's probably going to wander around headless for a while after since this platform is so good at that.

The nutshell version:

You don't have to pay. When I signed up there was a waiting period between registration and being able to post. I have no idea if this is still a thing, but when I did it, it was about a day. (There's a Cohost Plus thing you can pay for but it's not mandatory and is presently only really for increasing your max upload size.)

It works a lot like Tumblr. If you're used to using this place, dollars to donuts you'll be able to use Cohost without any issue.

There is presently no algorithm, so no real built-in discovery. If you want to find stuff, search the tags and you'll probably find whatever you like.

You can hide 18+ content if you don't want to see it. This is, of course, dependent on people actually flagging their stuff as 18+, but as far as I've seen everyone's been really good about that.

The toggle is right inside the post box. Dead simple.

Bonus junk -

If you hate the color scheme but you use the Stylus extension, install this theme (https://userstyles.world/style/7690/cohost-theme-customizer) and you can make it any color you want.

There are no metrics. No way to see how many people have liked or reblogged your stuff, and no way to see how many followers you have. Some people hate this. I like it because it shaves some of the stress off.

You can toggle a bunch of things on other people's blogs depending on what you want to see.

There are no themes, but you can put images and junk into your sidebar, so you can still fancy up a bit.

As I mentioned in a prior post, you can make side-blogs, and those side-blogs all have their own feeds. So if you don't want your peas touching your potatoes, you don't have to let them touch.

There's probably more but that's about all I can think of right now. No, it's probably not a perfect solution for everyone and hopefully I'm not billing it as that. But it's great for people who love dicking around with HTML and CSS and just generally not being bothered by the kinds of crap we've gotten used to here and in other places so maybe some folks'll like it there.

[changes]

Friday, September 8th, 2023

🌟 New

We’ve rolled out dashboard tab configuration options to everyone. We’re still working on adding the ability to change the default tab between Following and For You. Also, if you were in the experiment and had enabled certain tabs, like Popular Reblogs and Blog Subs, please note that those settings have moved back to the Tumblr Labs settings, instead of being configurable options in the new config screen.

We’ve deployed some performance and stability improvements for browsing feeds through the site, including the ability to truly handle endless scrolling. If you disabled endless scrolling in your dashboard preferences on web because it was laggy, give it another try! If you disabled it because you like paged browsing better, keep on keeping on! You’ll still benefit from these improvements.

We’re working on improving search across Tumblr, and one of our latest experiments is to try surfacing posts in search results based on image recognition. If you search for something on Tumblr and it returns a bunch of images that aren’t actually related to what you searched for, and have no other text or tags to indicate why you’re seeing it, please send us some feedback via Support about it, providing the search term you used and what posts didn’t make sense.

In the post editor on web, you can now choose to convert a link block down to an inline text link if you’d like, via the meatball menu on the link block that’s generated when you paste a link.

We’re shortening the ask button label maximum length to 26 characters, and providing better error messages when exceeding that limit.

Replies/reblogs/likes from blogs that have blocked the author, or the author has blocked, will no longer appear in the notes view on your posts for anyone.

We’re now filtering asks and submissions from blogs that have blocked the receiver.

🛠 Fixed

We fixed an issue on the Following and For You tabs that was sometimes causing it to take 10+ seconds to load subsequent pages as you scroll.

In the post editor on web, we’ve fixed a variety of issues with copying and pasting and selecting text.

Clicking to like a post while logged out, and then logging in, now brings you back to the post, instead of bringing you to Explore.

When uploading media in the post editor on the web, the “Post” button stays disabled until the media finishes uploading.

Removing a reblog or reply from the notes on your post removes the associated activity item as well.

Folks can no longer mention blogs that they’ve blocked or are blocked by — this was already covered in most circumstances, but we’ve fixed a few rare cases that have popped up where people have gotten around it.

🚧 Ongoing

Nothing to report here today.

🌱 Upcoming

Nothing to report here today.

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 12 - STOWAWAY

<<< Previous episode | Next episode >>>

We're back! And with an episode that nearly broke the 30 image limit! This is part of the issue with the whole "some panels are blurry" problem, while I try to upload each panel individually to make each one as clear as possible for y'all, I can't feasibly do that when the panel count goes above 30 😅 So often times that means having to group panels together into image uploads :' 0

I'm sure y'all can see why this episode ended up being as long as it did, I wanted to give our guy ✨ CHARON ✨ his much needed spotlight! (congrats to those who won in the poll, RIP to y'all Despoina lovers but hang in there, we might get around to her at some point 🙏💖)

All that aside, thank you all so much for your patience and support! This past month has been wild, both with IEX and the apartment move. We're still not done unpacking in the new place as I'm typing this (it's Thursday afternoon rn, hello from the past!) but should HOPEFULLY be done by the time this episode goes up :3 Streaming is resuming this weekend as well so if you're reading this as soon as it goes up, peek in and say hi while we work on the next episode! <3

We also have a Discord!

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman. It stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

    No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing king in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

“Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!”

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

“My apologies, Papa,” you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell.

The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is Ser Lysan? And what in the seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the east.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

 You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy. It is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call. He had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he is naught but a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.” 

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness, such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing admonitions of the queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.” 

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the king explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really. For an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, she is. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say with a pleased look. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—is an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind a much younger version of you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided. “I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during small council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the white cloak—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy on your face. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view. 

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. To lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin.” You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned. 

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

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[mariacallous]

If anyone can rally up a base, it’s Taylor Swift.

When sexually explicit, likely AI-generated, fake images of Swift circulated on social media this week, it galvanized her fans. Swifties found phrases and hashtags related to the images and flooded them with videos and photos of Swift performing. “Protect Taylor Swift” went viral, trending as Swifties spoke out against not just the Swift deepfakes, but all nonconsensual, explicit images made of women.

Swift, arguably the most famous woman in the world right now, has become the high-profile victim of an all-too-frequent form of harassment. She has yet to comment on the photos publicly, but her status gives her power to wield in a situation where so many women have been left with little recourse. Deepfake porn is becoming more common as generative artificial intelligence gets better: 113,000 deepfake videos were uploaded to the most popular porn websites in the first nine months of 2023, a significant increase to the 73,000 videos uploaded throughout 2022. In 2019, research from a startup found that 96 percent of deepfakes on the internet were pornographic.

The content is easy to find on search engines and social media, and has affected other female celebrities and teenagers. Yet, many people don’t understand the full extent of the problem or its impact. Swift, and the media mania around her, has the potential to change that.

“It does feel like this could be one of those trigger events” that could lead to legal and societal changes around nonconsensual deepfakes, says Sam Gregory, executive director of Witness, a nonprofit organization focused on using images and videos for protecting human rights. But Gregory says people still don’t understand how common deepfake porn is, and how harmful and violating it can be to victims.

If anything, this deepfake disaster is reminiscent of the 2014 iCloud leak that led to nude photos of celebrities like Jennifer Lawrence and Kate Upton spreading online, prompting calls for greater protections on people's digital identities. Apple ultimately ramped up security features.

A handful of states have laws around nonconsensual deepfakes, and there are moves to ban it on the federal level, too. Rep. Joseph Morelle (D-New York) has introduced a bill in Congress that would make it illegal to create and share deepfake porn without a person’s consent. Another House bill from Rep. Yvette Clarke (D-New York) seeks to give legal recourse to victims of deepfake porn. Rep. Tom Kean, Jr. (R-New Jersey), who in November introduced a bill that would require the labeling of AI content, used the viral Swift moment to draw attention to his efforts: “Whether the victim is Taylor Swift or any young person across our country—we need to establish safeguards to combat this alarming trend,” Kean said in a statement.

This isn’t the first time that Swift or Swifties have tried to hold platforms and people accountable. In 2017, Swift won a lawsuit she brought against a radio DJ who she claimed groped her during a meet-and-greet. She was awarded $1—the amount she sued for, and what her attorney Douglas Baldridge called a symbolic sum “the value of which is immeasurable to all women in this situation.”

Last fall, tens of thousands of people registered to vote after the superstar posted a link to Vote.org on Instagram. And in 2022, her fan base, so enraged after waiting hours to buy tickets to the Eras Tour only to be beaten out by bots, reignited conversation around antitrust issues with Ticketmaster and Live Nation’s mega-merger. A cringy Senate hearing followed, and an investigation into Live Nation’s agreements with venues and artists is ongoing.

Swift and her fans could advocate for legal changes at the federal level to pass. But their outrage could do something else: lead platforms to take notice. “When you have a really massive group of users saying this content is unacceptable in this very high-profile way, the power there is about what it says to the platform about what users will and won’t tolerate,” says Cailin O’Connor, a professor of philosophy at University of California, Irvine and coauthor of The Misinformation Age: How False Beliefs Spread. X did not respond to a request for comment on the images and its moderation efforts regarding deepfake porn. Elon Musk bought the site in 2022 and quickly gutted its moderation teams. Advertisers have also dropped off recently after Musk’s apparent endorsement of an antisemitic conspiracy theory.

It’s not clear whether Swift will take on this issue. A representative for Swift did not respond to a request for comment for this story. Harassment of female celebrities is frequent and often brushed aside, but deepfakes are harming them and others without the same power. This could be a moment for Swift to use her powerful platform—or at least for her fans to push the issue before the public.

[sparklecarehospital]

Gonna try to get some major site work done this week. 💪💪💪💪💪

I'm going to try to fix a small slightly annoying page loading issue I'm having. To summarize, the dynamic generation of the comic page images that I'm doing with JavaScript is making everything but the comic page image load first and it makes a weird jump effect that is not only eye straining but just annoying. I'm gonna try to fix this because fuck it's annoying. No idea why it's even doing that. I'll figure it out.

Alongside that, I'll work on the transcripts and archive pages some more. I think I briefly mentioned that I'm gonna revamp those a bit. Still figuring out what I wanna do visually (and making it as accessible/user-friendly/device responsive as possible, of course).

After those are done, I'll work on uploading V2. I'm hoping to have a lot more progress by the start of July but I can't make promises. The medical emergency wasn't an anticipated thing and it really threw me off both physically and motivation wise

Still taking input and suggestions for features etc! I can't promise or guarantee implementation but I'm open to hearing suggestions and I've used them before :]

[gender0bender]

I have finally scanned and uploaded all of the 2010 Spring issue of Original Plumbing to internet archive for people to read for free. This issues focuses on health and safe sex in a transmasculine context, and features interviews, articles, and artist spotlights. You can buy this issue as well as others by the magazine on their bigcartel page here, and I really encourage you to support them! 

Image descriptions:

1. A cover of a magazine depicting a shirtless white trans man with short dark hair and facial hair smiling at the camera. He is standing against a brick wall. In the top left corner is the logo of the magazine reading OP trans male quarterly , with more text in the bottom right reading “the health and safer sex issue N0.03 / spring / 2010 /US $8″

2. A cropped piece of interview text reading: What is the hottest safer sex encounter you've had lately? Well, a funny Eros story. I was fucking this hot transguy with my gloved hand. At some point I needed more gloves and we had run out of them in the bin on the bunk we were playing on. At this point we had quite an audience so I leaned over and asked some guy to go get me more gloves. He did and I went right back to fucking that boy senseless. You just needed a helping hand! True, and I figured they were getting a show so they could at least help out. Wow, did any of them comment on the hot action they were witnessing? Or did they just watch and enjoy?

3. A cropped piece of interview text reading: You also are a go-go dancer with TransLicious Entertainment. What's the craziest thing you've had happen to you in a go-go setting? I just started go-go dancing, so unfortunately I don't have any crazy stories. But I do have something to share with OP, because it happened after I finished dancing at the OP issue #2 release party, which was amazing by the way. It was about 7am, I was finally laying down to go to bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night. Suddenly I thought, "I'm a transsexual and I'm beautiful!" and I realized I had never said that out loud before, so I did... and I started balling my eyes out. The journey of self-love has been such a long and sometimes painful process. But, I have to say, ever since that night, I feel unstoppable.

4. A photograph of a shirtless East Asian trans man with short hair crossing his hands over his chest and looking into the camera with a squint. He is wearing a white baseball cap, a necklace, and a wristwatch.

5. A photograph of white trans man in a speedo with brown short hait, snake bit piercings and glasses smiling at the camera as he pulls on a white latex glove.

6. A cropped part of a poster decpiting two trans men looking into the camera. The one on the left is a black man with  a bit of facial hair and long black locs. The one on the right is a brown man, with short black hair. The text above them reads “paps matter for trans men.” ED.