#there's a lot of ways that could go honestly

[frogsandfries]

I am incredibly lucky to never have had to sleep rough. If I am ever in a hard spot, there is always, at the very least, a floor for me to sleep on, if not a couch or a whole room. There have been, and will continue to be, a lot of periods where I've been between work due to my mental and physical health. If I had just five hundred or a thousand dollars for free, and could still get my health cared for, it would take such a burden off my shoulders.

In my periods of unemployment, I have never stopped using my hands--writing, working on a graphic novel, bead weaving, sculpting, typesetting, book binding. My skills aren't exactly cohesive, and they aren't hip or anything like that. But my skills are valuable in and of themselves. If I could financially contribute to my home and household with something like UBI, it would take a massive burden off me to find a job or find some way to capitalize from my skills, when honestly, no one is going to want to pay fair prices for my skills when they can just order something similar drop-shipped to them.

The only times I get bored are times when there is literally nowhere to go (the library and the bar, that's it right now, gotta love Wisconsin). Being depressed is not the same thing as being bored.

I would still never stop using my hands. Even having surgery on my hands hasn't stopped me from determinedly using my hands. Crafting and modeling and stitching and writing--the resume I've built for my own personhood and pleasure--I took on those skills of my own initiative for the joy of it, for the knowing that I could share these objects, some of them immediately and for the short term, and some of them ideally will last for generations with careful treatment.

I would love to bitch that my money isn't making me enough money. Why the fuck would I need $100,000 of passive fucking income??? I could honestly stop at about $2500 right now, so maybe I would stop at $5,000 to future-proof myself.

A life obsessed with the dollar signs sounds fucking miserable. "Omg if I earn $50,000 less this year, I'll have to cook a whole meal each week and do my own grocery shopping once a month 😱" Fridge frigging magnets, I literally cannot imagine what it would be like to never, ever worry about food or taking a month-freaking-long vacation.

Despite every moment of life being indescribably precious and a wondrous mystery, I will spend it caring about dividends and how many rental properties I have.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

The Return of Superman- Jaemin

(cw: f!reader called “mama”, children)

Jaemin liked his privacy. He liked knowing that only certain parts of his life were shown, certain parts he shared, he liked having the clear distinction or public and private. He, of course, enjoyed providing content for his fans and living a dream that millions of people could only dream of.

He got the best of both worlds. He got to date you for a good few years without getting caught, he'd spent two years of newlywed marital bliss with you with only so much as a statement from his company to let the world know that he was a married man. When he was asked about you, his wife, he merely smiled and expertly evaded answering. So how did he get himself here?

What had happened in his years of famous privacy to now allow a whole camera crew into his home to film him and his daughters-- who, no one had even seen since they were posted with obscured faces in a birth announcement post 3 years ago?!

It had definitely been his management that suggested he do the show, they planted the seed in his brain, but it was you who pushed him to do it! "Come on, my love, the fans will love it. You can do just one episode and then the girls won't be seen until their 30! Come on, it'll be fun," You'd convinced him. And Jaemin, well, he wasn't a strong man when his wife was whispering so sweetly in his ear and pressing even sweeter kisses against his cheeks.

So that's how he got into this mess, at least he would have you to help him out... right, he wouldn't. Damn this show!

-

"Would you stop rubbing your head against the pillow, please?! Appa just did your hair!" Jaemin yelled in exasperation, his eyes locked on the three year old who for some reason was rubbing her head across the pillows on his bed. Meanwhile, his hands were preoccupied with the identical girl standing on a stool right in front of him.

"Well, what an introduction to the Na family," a commentator laughs while they all watch Jaemin struggle to pull one of his daughter's hair into a bun while simultaneously also trying to sweet talk the other twin to stop being a menace. He was unsuccessful.

The scene cuts to show Jaemin sitting in front of a black backdrop smiling at the cameras as he introduces himself, "Hello, I'm Na Jaemin from NCT. I have twin daughters, Taera and Sora. They're both 3 years and 5 months old and the light of my life-- along with my wife, of course. Taera is the older of the two and struggles with listening, at least to me while Sora is the better listener of the two."

The producer behind the camera asks a question and Jaemin listens intently before answering, "honestly, of the two of us, I'm the parent that let's the girls get away with a lot. She plays the authoritarian role, which admittedly, I struggle with. The girls are just too cute to get mad at!" He takes a break to think over his answer, "I do think it will be a little difficult with it being just me and the girls. Usually my wife and I are each responsible for one of the girls, and we rarely go out just one of us with both of them. It will be very interesting to see how this plays out."

-

The scene cuts to a scene of the toddlers running around the living room, hair done in tiny buns on top of their head, looking messy, though no one can tell whether that's from their running around or their dad's lack of skill. Jaemin can be seen scrambling around the kitchen filling matching purple and pink water bottles with water and tossing snacks into the bags.

"I wonder what Jaemin is getting the girls ready for..." One of the commentators adds as the girls play tag with each other, giggling wildly.

There's nothing telling quite yet, both girls are wearing matching pastel pink shirts and pink sweat pants with white socks. Jaemin wrestles them into sweaters, then their backpacks, and finally their matching Crocs. He holds one twin on each hip, making his way to the car to load them into car seats.

"Wow! He's a professional! Look at the way he carries both of them at once!" A commentator exclaims in wonder.

"Wait a second, this song sounds familiar," Another commentator adds quickly. The panel quiets down, all eyes locked on the screen to watch the girls dance around in their car seats.

"Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum! Chew-chew-chew-chew," the girls chant, legs kicking out as they wiggle and dance in their chairs. They look so happy, smiles plastered on their faces and Jaemin, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. His face is set in a mild frown, listening to this repetitive song that he made when he was 16.

-

The scene changes, showing Jaemin helping one of the girls into a tutu while the other, who is already dressed, twirls around laughing as her skirt flares out. "Oh my! The girls are in ballet! How cute!" One of the producers coos.

Jaemin can be seen sitting in front of the black screen once more. "Oh yes, the girls are trying out ballet. We want to get them more involved in other activities and find some way to get their energy out. They're not very... good yet, but it is only their third lesson. I think Sora might be more of a ballerina in the future, and maybe Taera will be better at something more... energetic."

True to his word, the scene cuts to show a very focused Sora following her dance teacher's instructions. Her arms are posed in front of her while in the first position. She listens intently and copies the teacher's moves, she wiggles her feet out until they point outward and extends her arm.

"Good job, Sora. That's perfect!" The teacher praises softly. Sora giggles excitedly, a blush spreading across her small, chubby cheeks.

On the opposite end of the room, her twin is jumping and reaching for the small window that allows parents to look into the small studio. Jaemin is busy taking pictures of Sora among other adoring parents to send to you when he hears a familiar sound, even muffled he'd know that sound anywhere. He casts his eyes down and catches Taera with tears in her eyes and red cheeks with her arms reaching for the window.

Jaemin jumps into action quickly, moving his way through the small group of parents around the window and enters the small room with a look of concern on his face. Taera has never reacted like this before. He pulls Taera into a hug, calming her down until her tears have stopped. He sends an apologetic smile to the teacher and she sends him a small bat of her hand as if to say, 'it's fine.' Jaemin cups Taera's face, wiping away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs, "princess, what's wrong?"

She lets out a shuddery breath, her tiny chest trembling while she tries to breathe in a deep breath, "I want Mama to watch me too."

Jaemin feels his heart break, pouting sympathetically at his daughter, "I want her to be here too, princess, but she'll be back before you know it. Tomorrow we can wake up early and make breakfast for her when she gets back. How does that sound?"

"With berries?" Taera asks with wide eyes.

Jaemin laughs softly, booping the girl's nose, "yes, with berries. Now, go be a good big sister and dance with Sora. We can't leave her alone can we?"

"No," She smiles, turning to run to her sister's side before she comes bounding back to Jaemin. She presses a kiss to Jaemin's cheek, "love you, Appa. Stay with us?"

Like Jaemin said, he can never say no to them. Instead of joining the rest of the parents on the other side of the small window, he finds himself following along with the teacher's instructions behind the rest of the children in the class.

His daughter's turn to look at him with the biggest smiles he's ever seen. They're so excited that he's in class with him and even more so, doing the dances with them!

The commentators coo at the scene, gushing over Jaemin being such a good dad. He raises his arms, drops them, extends them forward, and situates his feet into the right positions to follow along with the teacher.

At the very end of the episode and his girls sit in front of the black backdrop. The girls raise their arms over their heads, forming the biggest hearts their little bodies will allow. In unison, all three Na's scream out, "we love you Mama!"

Jaemin leans forward, getting close to the camera with his arms wrapped around the twins to keep them from falling, "you're not allowed to leave me alone with these monsters ever again!"

The girls giggles persist as the episode fades away, a faint, "but Appa you said we're princesses."

"Yes, baby I did say that. You're like monster princesses, do you like that?"

The girls can be heard screaming a loud, "no!" in perfect harmony.

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[wonallofme]

pinching!

tw and tags: bully!heeseung x plus size!fem!reader, descriptions of bullying, a lot of physical contact, noncon then heavy dubcon, oral sex (f receiving). word count: 2.3k note: originally written with a different idol in mind, this fic was already posted in my old blog. while talking to one of my best friends in the app we decided to re-post old fics for fun and idk why but while checking some of them I felt this one fitted Hee. I changed it a lot tho. anyway, hope someone here likes the concept. i’m a big fan of plus size/chubby reader but haven’t had the opportunity to talk about it here in the blog yet so, if you like it too, please don’t hesitate to hit my (empty) inbox! special thanks to fairy for being my first-ever beta reader ❤️

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place not to leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were kind of happy to move. Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room. Perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and there was the chance of making new friends too. Good things could come, you thought.

If you’re honest, you just hoped you could see him again.

You should've known at that point in your life that having expectations only leaves the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, the entire house had changed because of your mother's decision, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him. He had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good, old friend all grow up into a real man. Sadly, he wasn’t as happy as you to see you again, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me,’’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong. Perhaps you were too confident, your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him. You honestly had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed too. 

After all, that sweet boy you used to know would’ve never talked to you that way.

That interaction alone was enough to make you never want to approach him again. You didn’t want to hear that tone or see that expression again, so you did your best. You avoided him in the hallway, you stayed in your seat not to cross his way during breaks, and you didn’t look his way when you recognized his voice. 

It was all useless though.

You had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite. He’d throw comments every now and then about your physical appearance, like comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size. 

His friends only laughed at these comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent. They were different groups but shared one same trait– None dared to approach you, afraid of receiving the same treatment from him.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it. Later, it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight. Finally, one day, when everyone had left for the PE class while you were searching for your towel in your seat, approaching you silently from behind, he pinched your waist.

Scared, you turned to him. It had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheeks. You knew that, more than to bother you or call your attention, like on the other occasions, he had done it with all the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, you noticed that his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised expression and curious eyes instead. Somehow, you felt that something bad was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you were leaving with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your teacher asked you.

‘’I forgot it,’’ you answered, not wanting to return to the classroom.

Later, Heeseung arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips not to make a sound so you wouldn’t get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away from his teasing, the back of your hand when you tried to push him away, or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin,’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away. ‘’Your body is begging for it.’’

When you tried to do it again, to get away from his hands, he pinched the space of your chest that your bra didn’t cover.

Making you whimper in pain, he laughed at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost cause. It didn’t matter that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to tell yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy. It was impossible he only focused on you the entire time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you prayed, you’d never see him again.

Everything comes to an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had. Even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Heeseung, unlike your school, or the streets you walked to arrive there.

Sometimes, he would follow you while murmuring insults, pretending to be a good friend walking you home. Nonetheless, once you opened your entrance door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved that he didn’t try to follow you inside, too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room,’’ your mother smiled. ‘’I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ 

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly not to show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

‘’He’s become such a handsome man,’’ she murmured before leaving.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your room door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, so it was impossible to deny he had been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your diaries open in his hands, he sensed your presence.

‘’Didn’t know you took so many walks, thought you would never come,’’ he said, passing the page and inspecting its content as if there was something in particular he was looking for. ‘’It doesn’t explain why you still look like that though.’’

‘’Heeseung, I’ve done nothing to you,’’ you sounded as if you were begging at that point. ‘’Why– I just don’t get why.’’

‘’I have my reasons,’’ he answered, closing the book and leaving it where it previously was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you. Your hands became fists behind you, fully alert, one of them gripping the knob, ready to run into another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends,’’ you said, lower lip slightly trembling. ‘’Please, stop. It hurts, Heeseung. It hurts a lot.’’

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed.

Walking towards you, you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t.

As you remained frozen in your place, caging you with his body, he finished closing the door behind you. Too late, you only reacted after hearing the loud click the secure did.

You started trembling as you realised he had blocked the only way of running away you had.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand in his. 

Not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him. Your torso compacting his made you more conscious of how you were completely alone in your room, and, therefore, of how unrestrained he was allowed to act.

‘’If you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard on you. What do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand him. Being good with what? 

Looking up at him, you couldn’t move your chest from pressing his because his other hand, forcing you to stay in your place, went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where his actions were going. 

You felt yourself get nauseous with his body temperature and his aroma suffocating you due to the inexistent distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick,’’ he smiled, wetting his lips, unconsciously sending a signal to your brain that screamed for you to just be good and get it over with.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ Your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore,’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks created by him before finding your chest, and groping it with obvious satisfaction a few times, he felt them until he decided he wanted to touch more of you.

His hands continued their way until he found his new goal.

He cupped your face with a tenderness you had never met from him before, and not wanting to provoke him in any way, you muted yourself. 

To his unpleasant care, thumbs caressing your cheeks, you didn’t make a single noise, not the hiss you always let out when he pinched you, nor the cry when he painfully rubbed your soft skin.

‘’Well done,’’ he praised you, proud of what he recognised as your acceptance.

He expected you to continue being so obedient when he obliged your thighs to open with his knee.

Quickly, he found his place.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you never imagined the situation would end with him ditching your pants somewhere in your room and desperately dropping to his knees so he could accommodate between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip not to suffer when the moment of taking him arrived.

Not being able to call his name properly, you whined when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, penetrating it with sloppy stabs.

The sensation of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit and his fingers separating your plump folds made you bite your lips to stop what felt like a moan.

He was eating you out like a starved man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you have no idea what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too. 

You wanted him to suffer too.

Full of unknown courage, you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crush his face, using him instead of the other way around.

Then, it felt good– To hurt him felt way too good. 

You thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially, with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. 

His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed. Instead, they were completely lost, drunk and unfocused. You couldn’t contain your moans anymore when his eyes batted and he seemed pleased to have your attention on him.

Not much after he started fucking you harder with his tongue, the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second.

Without intention, or maybe with all the intention, you closed your large legs around his head, not caring that you were crushing his face as you strongly came over his mouth and nose. 

He mewled, hugging your legs as you asphyxiated him for many seconds before your orgasm finished and you inevitably relaxed. 

Just after giving him everything you had, you finally allowed him to breathe. 

You freed him from your hold, but he didn’t move away immediately.

Gulping your remaining juices, he hardly inhaled once through his nose before he started licking the drops of your orgasm inside your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way until he found his new favourite thing.

With both hands on the back of your thighs, he blinked multiple times before his tongue found its way between your folds, searching for your clit to leave a last loving lick.

As if he was proud you had abused him, only separating forcedly because of your hands pushing his head away from your sensitive clit, he took open-mouthed deep breaths with a still dazed expression.

Regaining some of his senses, he talked with the lower half of his face glistening.

‘’See? This didn’t hurt, right?’’ he smiled.

[crown-prince-zuko]

I understand this is well intentioned but I would really appreciate if i wasn’t used as a kinda ad for masking because it unintentionally represents me as someone who doesn’t…

I do mask (admittedly I could stand to do it more often). I have gotten sick like this since I was a kid. I have contamination OCD and wash my hands a lot more than the average person. I take Covid so seriously and I’ve actually never caught it (thank goodness). I know masking helps because I do it (again I can admittedly l stand to do it more than I do). I rarely go out because I freelance from home.

Some part of me is upset because a bunch of people keeps saying “well do you mask??” Or “mask tf up OP” but not once has anyone condemned or talked about the fact that a ton of people don’t mask and how that potentially impacts my health because I still have to go places and be around people who aren’t masking. Me alone masking yeah is good and you know what I’ll increase how often I do that, but that doesn’t prevent other people from not and potentially spreading around their germs to me in other ways.

It kinda feels like everyone’s automatic reaction is to point at the sick person and just tell them to get better at defending themself instead of saying “god I wish more people would take sickness seriously”.

Sorry for not including the articles as a link. I honestly wasn’t intending for this to be a bigger post as it was more of a rant/vent about my experience with health.

I appreciate that you’re trying to spread awareness about masking, and I’m glad you don’t get sick often. I just am getting exhausted of assumptions or being used as a lowkey advertisement for masking to the general public.

I won’t tag this with anything and I’m sorry you’re the person I am stating this on but this is kind of one of the more general posts that isn’t outright accusatory or rude so I feel more comfy stating it in response to this one.

Why do human bodies suck?

What do you mean we get sick like 8 times in a year THAT'S LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF OF BEING SICK. Every year??? And why do we get tired that quickly? We developed opposable thumbs just to be like in bed sick for a month and a half ? that's crazy.

[corseque]

I honestly just wanted one single plot step that I could not predict given the 10 year wait. More behind the cut, I talk about Emet too, and I'm comparing his writing favorably to Solas' writing and why it worked better for me personally, but I am just talking about the writing skill that went into the games and not the dudes themselves, I love them both dearly of course. idk this is a mess and I am not going to edit it for clarity

For me, the game was a series of me saying

"ok I knew that. cool."

"oh yeah, I knew that. I guess it's good that the larger fandom knows about that now."

"nice, but yeah I already knew that too"

"that was something we've been talking about a lot for years"

"this thing they are acting like is a huge enormous reveal that the characters could not possibly have deduced through simply thinking about it in depth over the 10 years... the fans easily figured out by thinking about it in depth 10 years ago. So you would think his girlfriend would be able to figure it out more easily than we did. Like, why couldn't the game have been like 'oh lavellan already figured that out a while ago' it would have cost them nothing"

"this is something I've been thinking about for years, and now that it's being revealed, the companions' reactions to it are very irritating and jarring and unnecessary and I really dislike the experience I'm having right now, in this, the hour of my greatest triumph"

"this thing that is happening on my screen right now is something that I wrote an essay about 2 years ago describing how it would be a letdown if it happened without the correct setup"

"this way that they're characterizing Solas makes him less likable and less interesting than I have been finding him for all these years, and I have had people tell me 'no, he's simpler than you think' for years but I guess I was wrong, he really is simpler than I thought, so that fucking sucks. I wish I could take that information out of my brain."

"this thing is a retcon of information I have been thinking about for 10 years, and so I don't know how to follow along with this new direction, and I'm not sure if I even want to because it's not particularly interesting anyway"

"aw that was sweet"

"why is it like, so very impossible to have an honest back-and-forth with my favorite character about the dilemma that was most interesting to me about the previous game"

and then, as soon as, like, the other fans had caught up to the Solas lore that was really obvious from the other games, the game was.... over without anything surprising happening, or introducing a new element or plot point or perspective, or a real true twist (or two, or three) for those of us who have thought about it too hard for too long. It was very simple and easy, much, much, much, much easier than I was imagining. It all felt sort of like that Nicholson quote:

The thing was, the whole story was so interesting to think about because in 10 years, I couldn't figure out a good solution to it!!!!! It's why I was never able to write post-game fanfic about it. So I was stoked to find out some reveal we never knew about, some new information, in maybe a SERIES of steps of new information, that made the situation more complicated but also something that could be navigated by everyone involved. I know it was asking for a lot, but they had TEN YEARS, and they seemingly had set up the things they did in DAI on purpose, so surely they had some idea of a complex and satisfying narrative that would reconcile everyone.

The reason why I was expecting this is because FFXIV did a very similar story arc, which was started AND concluded WITHIN those 10 years (so it took the FFXIV team far less time to deliver as well). And the conclusion to the story in FFXIV did what I was expecting Dragon Age to do. So I thought, "holy shit, if this is the FFXIV version of this plot, how much more complicated is DA4 going to be!?!?" The DA devs also PLAYED FFXIV so they were completely aware, several years ago, of a satisfying story ending that was pretty darn similar.

People are probably going to think "oh, well Chelsea was disappointed because she spent too much time building it up in her head" but that's exactly it - I actually speculated and thought about FFXIV's story IN DEPTH NONSTOP for a year+ before its ending came out, and the ending absolutely blew me away. FFXIV Endwalker managed to introduce information and new story elements that I was not able to figure out in the YEAR I spent speculating on the ending of FFXIV's story. It took a complicated situation and revealed several several more facets to it that I was not able to predict, but were very interesting and thematically compelling, and took us all to surprising and climactic places that we could not have predicted.

Endwalker ("end" is in the title on purpose) too, was written to be THE ULTIMATE SATISFYING ENDING for a very long-running story in the exactly way that Veilguard SHOULD HAVE for Dragon Age, so while this complexity is being explored, FFXIV also gave catharsis to many different plot threads that have been built up through the previous expansions, until finally it ends with a bang. The story is desperately good to me, I loved it, it gave me closure for Dragon Age long before Veilguard was even revealed, and going back and looking at its story has made this whole thing far less painful for me.

So, I actually did not have a picture in my mind for how things SHOULD go. I just had the thought "I hope it's complicated and there are points of view or facts that we haven't before been exposed to, and the situation is resolved respectfully for Solas, not making him look like a fucking idiot (lol, the only thing I asked for). I don't even care what happens to Solas and Lavellan, I just need the story to be complicated and interesting to think about. Please, god, don't let it be "solas is wrong and he just needs to be convinced" because that's like the simplest story you could tell with this setup"

(btw they managed to tell Emet-Selch's story without making him seem like he's being an idiot on purpose or can never get anything right, and in fact the more the story goes on, the more you think of him as smart and capable and cool, so it is possible to write.... I wasn't asking for the entire moon)

And I played it and... yeah. Most of the story beats were more simple than I wanted them to be, a lot of them didn't make sense in my heart given the writing from Inquisition. (This is another essay, but if Solas' thematic story arc was always about him needing to let go of regrets, why was his personal quest the way it was? After that quest, doesn't he end up regretting not doing more....? Why did he never really talk about regret during Inquisition? If he was so trapped by regret, why was he able to do so many actions? It doesn't mesh well to me. The whole regret thing was very quarter-baked to me, I don't even like thinking about it.) His story never seemed like one that was as simple as being about one man's regrets, but then, I guess, it was always just about one man's regrets.

Emet-Selch's personal storyline (and the way it interacts with and affects the larger story) is very similar but much more cohesive and satisfying to me. It would be difficult to explain why without the aforementioned 5-hour essay. Emet-Selch's story IS about grief and anguish on a world-shaping scale in a similar way that Solas' was apparently always about letting go of regret, but Emet's story was also very pointedly and beautifully about that one theme for the entirety of his story from every tiny detail, from beginning to end - meanwhile, it seemed to me that they tried to introduce 'regret' as the main thrust of Solas' story only in the short story with the Regret demon onward.

From Inquisition just by itself, the closest I personally could get to a story theme for Solas was his inability to trust others hurting him and the world, but his trusting others in DA4 wasn't really addressed to my satisfaction. He is never required to trust anyone before the ending, he never opens up or makes himself vulnerable at all. People find out information about him, he never really dynamically opens himself. So the personal story I thought he had was never addressed at all, while a new one about regret was introduced that never made a ton of sense to me. And I don't think this is just because of my expectations - my reaction to FFXIV proves that I am able to meet good writing where it goes in surprising directions, as long as it's interesting and thoughtful and clear.

And I think this might be part of what people felt was off about the ending - Solas is sort of uninvolved in the revelations that are about him, and doesn't do much to be part of his own ending. Part of what I loved about Solas in Inquisition is that he is not controlled by you in any way, and so he feels like his own person with a very strong sense of character.

Anyway, Emet-Selch, in a very comparable and arguably more extreme plot position, is very involved in the revelations about himself, he always feels like a very strong character who cannot be affected by the player, and the whole situation is handled with deft emotion and care and delicacy. The story is comparatively very uninterested in litigating Emet-Selch or putting him on trial - the story allows you to simply feel the way that you feel in an organic way, and Emet's story spends that energy instead actually exploring his thematic material about grief and legacy, and the larger story theme of existentialism instead, in a way that is very refreshing and interesting. I've seen a lot of western stories tie themselves in knots over "redemption" and frankly it's almost never been interesting at all. Who cares about any of that. lol

(Now, I guess this is a matter of preference, because some people really like being able to shape a character's story, but idk I rewatched the ending of FFXIV and even though there wasn't a choice with Emet, because it isn't a branching story, his story felt more satisfying to me, maybe because there isn't a patronizing choice to be made for him. He is who he is, and he fulfills a very beautiful narrative role and purpose that no other character could in the story.)

I don't know how this could have been improved to me and still allowed players to choose Solas' ending for him, but I can actually think of a few different methods, none of which involve Rook condescendingly and patronizingly lecturing Solas as if Solas had never thought about a single aspect of this horrible situation he's in before that very moment that Rook lectures him lmfao.

All this to say... idk I'm writing this and I am not going back to edit it so it's stream-of-consciousness. But yeah

I just wanted the story to be complicated on a few more levels than I could have predicted. I genuinely don't care what happened, but I thought of a few twists like the Veil coming down and yeah, I was expecting A Single Twist or reveal to happen. In a Dragon Age game.

I wanted Solas to seem cool and capable and noble and smart, and actually feel like he was as old and experienced as he is.

I wanted a clear theme I could sink my teeth into

Like notice I didn't even say anything about Solavellan. Like I never in 100 years thought they were getting a happy ending where they were both alive in bodies, and I like that we got that, but I would honestly trade it for a more complicated story. To me, if a story is sad you can always write fanfic, but if a story isn't COMPLICATED, that's a much more urgent issue.

These 3 things DA4 didn't give me in a way that satisfied me but FFXIV did. anyway idk the way my hyperfixations work, I completely switch to a new subject so talking about Dragon Age is actually hard for me right now.

[servndipityz]

namgyu with alternative reader? perchance.. smut🫶🫶😁

a/n ── i'm so nervous about this one! i hope i didn't do a terrible job on portraying alt culture (i know nothing about it). i kinda tried to make it not super specific so anyone can feel identified. again, sorry if it's lowkey bad. it's also my first time writing smut, believe it or not, but i've had years of experience reading it so i don't think it's that bad. enjoy :)

STRIPPED

warnings ── smut, +18 MDNI!!! porn w plot. drug usage, sex under the influence, sex in a club, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, light choking, kinda brat taming? p in v, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count ── 4.6k

he'd ended up there. of course, he'd ended up there. only someone as unlucky as him could wind up at some fucking goth party. or punk. or… whatever. he didn't really care about the whole thing—the dramatic makeup, the dyed hair, the incredibly loud music blaring through the club. none of it.

nam-gyu had envisioned a chill night on his free day, but no. of course, his co-worker had to get sick. of course, nam-gyu owed him money for the pills he'd given him last week. of course, he had to cover for him that night.

and, of course, it was alternative night at club pentagon. usually, his co-worker handled these kinds of nights—special events, themed parties, all that.

what did nam-gyu know about alternative culture anyway? he wondered the same thing as he weaved through the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time, keeping an eye on bar sales.

so far, he'd been stepped on twice—not too bad, except when it came from one of those platform boots everyone seemed to be wearing. those hurt like hell. but at least the night was going smoothly. for now.

so good, in fact, that nam-gyu figured it was time for a drink. he'd been working for hours, making sure this party ran smoothly. he owed that co-worker a lot of drug money, and this was the only way to settle it. it’s not like he’d ever do this out of the kindness of his heart.

he made his way to the nearest counter, resting his elbows on the cool marble as he waited for someone to take his order. he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could actually dance to this loud-ass english music that sounded more like screaming. he'd take the regular techno dj any day.

meanwhile, you finished pouring a vodka red bull and handed it off to yet another customer. that's when you noticed him.

he stood out—not in a good way.

hunched over the counter, inspecting it like he might find some cocaine stuck in it (which, honestly, he probably would if he looked hard enough), looking like a wet rat. his clothes gave him away. who even let him in like that? plain black shirt, black jeans, a couple of rings.

he looked up as you approached.

his first thought was that your leather top made your tits poke out. his second was that, without all that emo makeup, you'd actually be pretty cute.

his third was what the highest-alcohol-content drink he could order was.

he opened his mouth to ask, eyes flicking to the bottles behind you—

but you spoke first.

"you're ruining the vibe, man."

he frowned, caught off guard.

you just raised an eyebrow, speaking over the loud music. "i said, you're ruining the vibe."

"i'm not doing anything," he scoffed, annoyed. he just wanted to order his damn drink. last thing he needed was some lecture.

"exactly," you said. "you don't belong here. what are you even doing?"

not like you actually cared. you were here to do your job, bartend, make money, go home. but this guy—standing there, stiff shoulders, sharp jawline, judging everything and everyone, probably without even realizing it—looking at you like that, eyes dragging over you like you were some kind of curiosity—

yeah. he rubbed you the wrong way.

being alternative, you already got judged enough. the last thing you needed was someone doing it at an alternative party.

he frowned even further. "i'm here to work. not that it's any of your business."

that caught you off guard for a second. "you work here?" your head tilted, curiosity slipping into your tone. you leaned over the counter, the neckline of your top shifting just a little lower. who knew—if this guy was someone important, you had to use all your charms. especially after being so rude. "i've never seen you around, and i always bartender at these kinds of parties."

his gaze flickered down your cleavage before snapping back to your eyes. but you saw it. the way his jaw clenched, the way he suddenly looked more annoyed than before—like he was mad at himself for looking.

"i'm not thrilled either," he mumbled, clearly uninterested in conversation. "just covering for a friend. now, could you actually do your job and get me something to drink?"

you bristled at his tone, raising a brow as you turned to the shelves of bottles. "jeez, someone's grumpy. what can i get you?"

in reality, nam-gyu wasn't grumpy. well, he was, but that was just how he was. it was just... for some reason, you made him nervous. the girls he usually dealt with at clubs were boring bitches trying to get a VIP card or whatever drugs he had in his pocket.

you were the opposite. rude. annoying. and he didn’t like that. but for some reason, it made his blood rush somewhere else, clouding his brain.

"just give me a shot," he said after a pause. "something strong."

you turned your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips—the kind that sent a shiver down his spine. you walked back to the counter, reaching for a bottle hidden underneath.

"drinking on the job?" you asked while pouring the liquid into a shot glass, then casually grabbing a second one.

nam-gyu let out a short, amused huff. if drinking was the worst thing he’d done on the job, he’d be in a much better place. but he watched curiously as you poured the second shot, his eyes flicking up through his lashes, brow slightly raised.

"what?" you asked playfully. "if you’re doing it, so can i."

you finally set the bottle back and raised your glass. he mirrored you, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something in his expression—almost a smile. you entertained him.

"cheers," you said, clinking your glass against his before downing the shot in one go. he followed suit, setting the glass back on the counter, suppressing a grimace at the sharp burn of alcohol.

“so,” you said, clearing your throat slightly after the shot. “who’s the friend you’re covering for?”

nam-gyu said the name, and your eyes widened.

“that junkie, huh?” you smirked. he chuckled. “yeah, i know him. he’s a little more talkative than you, though.”

nam-gyu narrowed his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing. it’s okay to be shy.” your voice was innocent, teasing, calculated. you'd decided that you'd had enough, that you might as well have some fun. “anyway, my shift’s almost over. wanna get out of here?”

“i’m not shy.” he sounded offended, then glanced away, considering your offer. “and i told you, i’m working.”

you huffed. “fine. just needed someone to smoke this with." you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a tiny zip-lock bag filled with greens. "guess i'll have to find somebody else."

now that caught his attention. maybe almost as much as your exposed skin did. suddenly, he was interested. but also suspicious.

“what do you have?” he asked, leaning slightly over the counter, his voice lower, more serious.

“your junkie friend gave it to me for a gig i did. said it’s good shit.” you shrugged, playing it cool, acting uninterested—like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. and he took the bait.

“why would you wanna share it with me?” he still sounded wary, but there was something else in his tone now. curiosity. maybe even something close to interest.

you groaned dramatically. “look, i’m heading to the staff room. you coming or not?” you said, already turning away, signaling to your co-worker that your shift was over.

now, nam-gyu didn’t need weed. not exactly. he could probably find ten of those zip-lock bags hidden in his place, forgotten in favor of other, harder drugs. but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to say no to free drugs.

especially not from such a petty girl.

you grinned to yourself as you felt him rush to walk behind you, trailing after you through the club like he didn’t know the way like the back of his hand.

as you reached the hallway leading to the staff room, nam-gyu couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on your half-ripped fishnets, the way they framed your legs under that short black skirt. was he here for the weed or for you? he wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t care much.

you finally reached the door, slipping past a few couples too caught up in each other to notice, and he shut it behind him. the staff room was small, dingy, and reeked of bleach and cigarette smoke, but you still sank onto the worn-out sofa next to the table like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

you leaned back, stretching your legs out just enough for your skirt to ride up slightly. not too much—just enough to make him notice. and he did.

nam-gyu stood near the door for a second, like he was reconsidering this, before scoffing to himself and dropping onto the couch beside you. he was close, not touching, but enough that the warmth of him was noticeable. enough that when he exhaled, you could feel the faintest brush of his breath against your shoulder.

"roll it," he said, nodding at the bag in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. "you're really bad at asking nicely, huh?"

he just looked at you, serious. "you’re really bad at shutting up."

that made you laugh. he was watching you now—really watching you—as you pulled out the papers, fingers working effortlessly, licking the edge just to see his reaction. you weren’t disappointed. his jaw flexed again, his eyes dark, tracking your every move like he was trying to pretend he didn’t care. like he wasn’t already leaning back, manspreading, trying to act like he had the upper hand here.

cute.

you tucked the blunt between your lips, lighting it, taking a slow drag before passing it to him.

nam-gyu hesitated, just for a split second, then took it, bringing it to his mouth. his fingers brushed yours in the handoff, and it was stupid how that tiny touch sent something sharp down your spine. or maybe it was just the way he inhaled, head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as he exhaled, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

you licked yours.

the weed hit, slow and warm. the music outside was muffled, the sounds of the party fading into the background, leaving only this—dim lighting, the scent of smoke and alcohol and something else, something charged.

"you always do this?" nam-gyu asked after a beat, voice lower, lazier. "lure random guys into the staff room for a smoke?"

you smirked, tilting your head. "only the rude ones."

he huffed, shaking his head, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. he passed the blunt back, his fingers lingering just a second longer this time. you let them.

the room felt smaller. warmer.

"you always this uptight?" you asked, taking another slow hit. "or just with me?"

nam-gyu let his head roll against the back of the couch, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "you always this annoying? or just with me?"

you exhaled smoke, letting it curl between you. "you like it."

he didn’t answer. but he also didn’t look away.

you were both leaning back now, legs almost brushing, breaths slow and measured like you were both pretending not to notice the heat building between you.

nam-gyu wet his lips, head still resting against the couch, eyes flicking to your mouth before he caught himself and looked away. like it was a habit. like he was trying so fucking hard not to slip.

you took one last hit before stubbing out the blunt in the ashtray beside you. then, shifting slightly, you turned toward him, letting your knee press against his thigh. deliberate. slow. testing.

"you're staring," you murmured.

he scoffed, but it came out weaker than he probably meant. his hands clenched into fists on his thighs like he was keeping himself still on purpose.

"you’re high," he muttered, looking away.

"so are you." you tilted your head, voice dropping, playing with the edge of your ripped fishnets like you weren’t watching the way his gaze followed the movement of your fingers. "and what, does that mean i can’t see the way you’ve been looking at me all night?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "i haven’t been—"

"you have," you cut in smoothly, shifting closer, feeling the warmth of his body now, solid and tense. "you’re mad about it. i can tell."

his jaw clenched.

"tell me," you purred. "are you mad because you don’t like it? or mad because you do?"

his fingers twitched on his thigh. his breathing was heavier, controlled, like he was still fighting it. fighting you.

so you leaned in, lips just close enough to ghost over his ear. "it’s okay," you whispered. "you can touch me."

and that was it.

nam-gyu moved so fast you barely had time to smirk before he grabbed you by the back of the neck, his lips crashing into yours, hot and desperate, all teeth and pent-up frustration. his other hand found your waist, yanking you onto his lap, and fuck—he wasn’t holding back anymore.

he was done fighting it.

and so were you.

his lips were all heat, all pressure—nothing hesitant, nothing soft. you barely had a second to adjust before his teeth caught your bottom lip, his fingers gripping the nape of your neck like he wanted to own you. his other hand, firm on your waist, yanked you flush against him, and fuck—he was hard.

not that he acknowledged it. not that he’d ever admit that you’d done this to him.

your knees bracketed his hips as you settled onto his lap, rolling your hips down just enough to feel him. his grip tightened, nails digging into the meat of your waist. he hissed against your mouth—half warning, half surrender.

“you don’t play fair,” he muttered, lips grazing your jaw now, teeth scraping skin, testing.

your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt. “neither do you.”

his hands dropped—one to your thigh, sliding under your skirt, fisting in the torn mesh of your fishnets. the other traced the curve of your ass before shoving you down against him again, this time deliberate, a slow grind that made both of you exhale sharp.

his breath was uneven, warm against your throat. “you think i haven’t noticed?” his fingers curled, gripping tight enough to bruise. “the way you’ve been—” a sharp pull at the fishnets, a rip, cool air hitting skin—“fucking teasing me?”

you laughed, half-gasping when his tongue flicked against the pulse at your neck.

his fingers dipped, pressing against the damp heat of your panties, no patience, no hesitation. his other hand was now tangled in your hair, keeping you locked right where he wanted—breath hitching as he rubbed slow, teasing.

then his hand moved, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, warm against your skin, sliding between your thighs. the first touch was barely there, just a single fingertip running along your slit, slow, teasing.

you squirmed, but he didn’t let you go. “look at you,” he murmured, mocking, the pad of his finger dragging over your cunt, pressing just enough to make you shudder. “all that attitude, but you’re already—” he exhaled sharply, felt it before he even had to say it—so fucking wet.

"fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his forehead resting against yours for a second like he was trying to collect himself. but his fingers were still moving, sliding along the slickness of you, testing, exploring, spreading it just enough to make you squirm.

"yeah?" you murmured, voice breathy, teasing. "you like that?"

his only response was a low, quiet curse under his breath before he pressed his fingers in deeper, the tips just barely pushing inside before pulling back, slow and torturous. he was watching you now, eyes dark and half-lidded.

and then, without warning, he slid one finger in, slow but firm, curling just enough to make your breath catch. your nails dug into his shoulders, and his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you steady.

"fuck," you whispered, rolling your hips into his touch, chasing it, needing more.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug, and then he added a second finger, stretching you just a little more, fucking you slow and deep with just his hand. the angle was perfect, his fingers pressing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl, made your breath come faster, needier.

"you’re so fucking tight," he murmured, more fascinated than anything, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside you, the way you clenched around them. he twisted his wrist slightly, his palm pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, setting a rhythm that had you grinding against him, chasing that pressure.

your moan was quiet but desperate, and he smirked, eyes flicking up to yours.

"you always this easy?" he murmured, his voice taunting, dark.

you opened your mouth to snap something back, but then he crooked his fingers just right, pressing deeper, and your words dissolved into a gasp, your head tipping back. his lips were on your throat a second later, sucking, biting, leaving marks you’d have to cover up later.

his pace picked up, fucking you harder with just his fingers, each drag of his palm against your clit sending another sharp wave of heat curling low in your stomach. the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathy moans, his heavier breathing, the slick sounds of his fingers working you open.

"you gonna come?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough now, strained.

you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. "fuck—don’t stop," you breathed.

nam-gyu felt it—felt the way your body tensed, the way your thighs shook against his hips, the way you were right there, so fucking close. he could see it too, in the way your mouth parted, in the soft, breathy little gasps escaping your lips, the ones you were trying to swallow back like you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but he wasn’t that generous.

just when you thought he’d let you tip over, when your body clenched down around his fingers so tight he could barely move them, he pulled away.

just—gone.

the sudden loss was so sharp, so fucking unfair, that you let out a frustrated, needy little whine before you could stop yourself, your hips rolling forward, chasing after the feeling, after his hand, anything. but nam-gyu just sat back, bringing his wet fingers up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth with a slow, deliberate hum.

"mm," he mused, tongue flicking over them, eyes locked on yours. "not bad."

"are you fucking kidding me?" you were panting, legs still shaking where you straddled him, your body on fire, needing more, needing anything. your eyes flashed, your hands curling into fists against his chest like you were two seconds away from either punching him or ripping his shirt off.

he just smirked. "what?"

"you—" you gritted your teeth, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "you’re such a fucking asshole."

nam-gyu chuckled, low and lazy, his hands dragging up your thighs again, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just to remind you he still had you exactly where he wanted you. "maybe, but you're still here," he murmured. "still dripping for me."

"yeah, because you didn’t let me cum, you dick," you snapped, rocking forward again, grinding against him, feeling the hard, thick press of him through his pants. he was just as worked up as you were, and you could tell—he was trying to play it cool, but his breathing was heavier, his fingers twitching against your skin like he was barely holding himself back.

that made you smirk. "ohhh," you taunted, rolling your hips again, slower this time, watching his jaw clench. "that’s why, huh? you’re hard as fuck and don’t wanna finish before i do."

his eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your hips. "watch your fucking mouth."

"or what?" you leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. "you gonna do something about it?"

that was it.

one second you were teasing him, playing your little game, and the next you were flat on your back, your spine pressing into the shitty, worn-out couch, his body caging you in. his hand was already shoving your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, not even bothering to be careful.

"you talk too much," he muttered, voice rough, breath hot against your jaw.

"and you do too little," you shot back, just to push him, just to make him snap again.

it worked.

his hand was on your throat, not squeezing, just there, just pressing, just reminding you that he could if he wanted to. his other hand yanked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he undid his pants, as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

fuck.

you’d felt it before, pressing against you, teasing, but now you saw it. thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, the kind of length that made your thighs press together instinctively, made you bite your lip even as you refused to let him see you flustered.

nam-gyu saw it anyway.

"knew you wanted it," he muttered, running the head of his cock along your slit, dragging it slow through your wetness. "acting like a brat, but your pussy’s already begging."

"shut the fuck up and—"

he pushed in, just an inch, just enough to make you gasp, make your nails dig into his arms.

"yeah?" he exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, like he was already holding himself back. "that what you wanted?"

you barely had time to adjust before he thrust forward again, burying himself deep, stretching you in one slow stroke that left your back arching, your head tipping back against the couch.

"fuck—"

nam-gyu groaned, low and almost desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottomed out, as he let you feel every fucking inch of him.

"you feel that?" he murmured, breath ragged, his hips rolling just a little, just enough to make you whimper. "how tight you are? how you’re fucking squeezing me?"

you couldn’t answer. you couldn’t think. all you could do was feel—the way he filled you, the way he stretched you, the way he stayed there for a second, teasing, waiting, making you want it more.

you swallowed, trying to catch your breath. "you gonna move, or you just like teasing your own dick?"

his laugh was low. then he pulled back and slammed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck—"

your back was pressed against the couch, legs spread wide, thighs trembling as he held you open. his body caged yours beneath him, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, keeping you still as he drove into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. his cock filled you completely—thick, hot, deep—dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp with each desperate slap of his hips against yours.

"you gonna be good now?" his voice was low, ragged, dark with amusement. his grip tightened, fingers digging bruises into your skin. "or you still wanna run your mouth?"

you tried. you really did. you opened your lips to snap something back—something mean, something cutting, something to remind him you weren’t easy to break.

but all that came out was a choked moan as he grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing. "bratty little thing—talking shit. but look at you now."

his hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you in place. not squeezing. just controlling. just owning. his other hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the swollen bud.

"fuck," you gasped, your hips rolling up instinctively, chasing that pressure, that friction.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug. "yeah? you like that?"

you wanted to tell him to fuck off. you really did.

but then he twisted his fingers just right, his cock hitting that spot inside you at the same time, and your body jerked, your moan breaking into something desperate.

"that’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his pace still brutal, relentless. "don’t fight it. you wanna cum, don’t you?"

"yes—yeah," you panted, nails scraping against his wrist where he held your throat.

he pulled back suddenly, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained, making you whimper at the loss. his fingers abandoned your clit, and before you could protest, he did something worse—something filthier.

he spat.

the wet warmth of it landed directly on your pussy, slick and obscene. your whole body jolted.

"fuck—" your breath stuttered, your back arching as heat shot through you.

nam-gyu groaned at the sight, at the way you clenched, the way your body reacted so instantly, so helplessly.

"you like that, huh?" his voice was thick with satisfaction, his fingers dragging through the mess, smearing it over you, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t.

but the heat in your stomach coiled even tighter.

"say it," he ordered, his voice rough, his cock pushing back inside you, stretching you open again, slow and deep, making you feel every inch. "tell me you fucking love it."

your pride cracked. your body betrayed you.

"fuck—i love it," you gasped.

nam-gyu groaned, his breath hitching, his pace quickening. "good girl."

and then his fingers returned, rubbing messy circles over your spit-slicked clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, pushing you higher, harder—

you were already close. too close.

"fuck—fuck, i’m gonna cum," you choked out, hips jerking against his hand, against his cock, chasing it. "please—please don’t stop—"

and this time he didn’t.

he fucked you through it, his fingers never letting up, his pace relentless, driving you higher, harder, until it finally snapped—

your orgasm hit like a fucking wrecking ball.

your body clenched down on him so tight he cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering for the first time. the pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking as you moaned through it, loud and wrecked, the sound swallowed by the shitty little staff room.

"fuck—fuck, yeah, that’s it," nam-gyu groaned, his grip on your hips bruising now, his thrusts rough and desperate as he chased his own release. "god, you feel so fucking good—"

he buried himself deep, his breath stuttering, his cock twitching inside you, and then he was coming, his grip tightening, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he groaned low into your skin.

for a second, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breathing, the quiet hum of the party outside, the distant bass thudding through the walls.

nam-gyu exhaled, slow and shaky, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your waist, still holding you, still pressed against you.

then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of you, dripping between your thighs.

he smirked, dragging a lazy finger through it before pressing it against your lips.

"open," he murmured.

you did.

and fuck, the look in his eyes when you sucked it clean—

you were so fucked.

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 6

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2162

Danyal keeps to the shadows as he enters the town. He doesn't know where he is or if anyone that could recognize him is here. The last thing he needs right now is for Grandfather to know his location; or Damian. Which is not a thought he would ever think of. While the two of them certainly had their differences, Danyal never thought they would end like this. He should have though he realizes; their story was only ever going to end with a tragedy.

Grand- Ra's has made his displeasure of Danyal known for quite some time now so it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when he and Damian were forced to fight. What was surprising though is just how easily his brother accepted it.  

Was he not worth fighting for?

He was prepared to stand against Ra's with Damian at his side knowing full well that it wouldn't have ended favorably for them. It seems his brother didn't feel the same way though. 

Damian and him weren't brothers anymore though were they? He wasn't an al Ghul after all. Danyal al Ghul is dead from this point forward; he's just Danyal right now.

As the sun begins to set lower and lower it makes Danyal feel more comfortable with exploring the town's streets more in depth. The first thing he needs to do is find a place he'll be able to safely lay low for the night. If he can do that then he'll be able to sit and think more clearly about what his plan for the future is. 

What Danyal doesn't expect though is that while making his way through an alley he would have a run in with a girl with bright orange hair who looked to be a couple years older than him. While his first instinct is to immediately eliminate this unknown threat he decides to instead push that feeling down when he realizes that this girl would stand no chance against him in a fight. 

He's not going to let Ra's training control his life anymore; not everything needs to end with spilt blood. So against everything he's ever been taught Danyal runs, or attempts to at the very least. 

The girl on the other hand decides to chase after him instead of simply letting him melt into the night. 

"Hey! Hey wait!" She calls out after him.

Best to get this situation over with now. Danyal abruptly stops and turns to the girl, "What do you want?" 

"Are you ok? Do you need help?"

Which is honestly a fair question honestly now that he thinks about it. He is, after all, still mildly damp, his shirt is torn with blood stains, and overall Danyal would say he looks similar to that of a stray cat. "I'm fine. Leave me alone, and go back to wherever it is that you need to be."

"You look hurt though. I can bring you some bandages, or water!" It's obvious that she's not going to simply let this go anytime soon, After a few moments of silence though she hesitantly offers her name. "I'm Jazz, what's your name?"

"Danyal." He finally answers after a few seconds. 

"Daniel?" 

"…Yes" Everything about his old life is gone from this point forward. Might as well start with a new name. They sound similar enough anyway it won't be a difficult transition to make for himself.

It doesn't take a lot after that for Jazz to convince him to accompany her back to her home. To this day he'll blame it on the exhaustion he was feeling. At the same time though he knows he made the best decision he could have going with his, now, sister. He doesn't know what his life would be like right now if Jazz hadn't followed after him and- 

"-ny! Danny!" Snapping back into reality he sees both Sam and Tucker looking at him questionably.

"Yeah, um yeah! I'm sorry, what were you saying Sam?" 

"I was asking what your thoughts on the new planetarium Wayne Enterprises just opened are. It was apparently something Damian Wayne himself advocated for. Maybe we'll have to plan a group trip to Gotham to check the place out." Sam repeats herself with a dramatic eye roll before her face softens out with a more gentle tone in her voice. "It might be good for you to get away for a bit, away from your parents." 

When it's clear Danny doesn't show any sign of answering right away Tucker takes the moment to try and lighten the mood, "It seems even your celebrity look-a-like is interested in space!" 

Damian was never interested in space that Danny knew for a fact based on how many times he would have to beg his brother to go and watch the stars with him. His twin always did it though, no matter how much of a fuss he put up Damian would join, and listen to him explain the stars. 

"Maybe you're right Sam," He can't help, but let out an exhausted sigh, "Maybe getting away will help them come to terms with everything. I think we should avoid Gotham though; that's basically me asking for trouble. I hear Central City is pretty this time of year though." 

Danny knows that his friends will assume that avoiding Gotham will be about not wanting to get involved with any hero/villain problems, but really it's so that he doesn't have to worry about running into any of the Wayne's, specifically Damian. He'd sworn off the city entirely when he first learned about his brother's dramatic arrival. Danny has long accepted that this would mean never meeting his father. 

“How- how are they doing now? Do you need to stay here again tonight?” Tucker hesitantly asks. It seems like all their conversations eventually lead them to the topic of his parents nowadays. 

“Thanks man, but no. I’m going to be going back tonight. Everyone in the house has been avoiding the topic, and staying away isn’t going to help fix anything either.” It wasn’t easy being in that house though. It’s tense everytime he interacts with his parents. The looks they always give him, as if he’s just some stranger living in their home now. 

At the same time though he can tell that they want to understand, to learn. They haven’t gone hunting since they found out, and removed any kind of weapon from the house; securing them up tightly down in the lab. 

Danny doesn’t quite fault his parents for how they're acting right now. Years and years of research only to learn that everything they have built their lives on is a lie. At the same time though he hoped that all of this could have been a much easier situation for everyone. 

“Before we can plan any summer trip away though we need to figure out a way to deal with the GIW. They’ve been much more active lately, and I’ve seen more and more trucks leaving Amity this past week.” Danny needed to talk about anything other than his parents right now. 

“You think they’re setting up shop somewhere else now?” Tucker questions, already pulling out his laptop. 

“Where would they even move to? They’re already in the most haunted city in America.” Sam gives Tucker a slight nudge, “Mind looking up the second most haunted city?” 

"New Orleans." 

"Yeah, that tracks." Sam peers over Tucker's shoulder to look at his screen, "Think you can finally hack your way into their systems?" 

"You're only talking to the second greatest hacker," He cracks his knuckles before beginning to type, "I'll have us inside in a matter of minutes, and with what Technus and I have been doing lately they won't have any clue we were even there to begin with." 

Despite already knowing what his friend is going to say he still asks, "Second? Who's the first then?”

"If you don't know Danny then I haven't been talking about them enough. Don't worry though I already have a presentation I can show you about why Oracle is the greatest hacker." 

"Nope, I'm good." 

"That's what I thought next time don't-" Tucker cuts himself off as he shouts, "I'm in!" 

Immediately, both Sam and him are moving to see the screen. "Search for anything that talks about moving or new locations."

"Really think it's gonna be that easy?" Sam asks, "That obviously marked down for anyone to find?" 

"If their filing system is anything like my parents, then yes." 

She seems to be thinking about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "That's fair." 

"Got a match with 'new location'. Anyone want to place a bet on where they're going before I open it up?" Tucker grins as his finger hovers over the search hit. 

"Hopefully somewhere cool since Danny is definitely going to drag us there to check the place out." 

"Well you're free to stay behind and miss out on all the fun then, Sam." He laughs at the playful glare she shoots at him, "Open it up Tucker! Let's find out where these guys are going." 

With one click a file was opened and right there at the very top it read: Protocols for new location — Gotham. 

The world really does hate him, Danny thinks to himself. Of all the places the GIW could have picked they just had to pick the one place he desperately wanted to avoid. It was already going to be hard enough staying off the GIW's radar, and now he'll have to plan to stay off the bats' as well. Which Danny was already admitting to himself was a plan doomed to fail from the start. 

He needs to stop the GIW though, "Does it mention anything about what they’re wanting to do there?"

Tucker nods and points to a specific area to screen, "It seems like they’re looking for something called a revenant that’s been detected in the area. They mention it several times throughout all this. Priority number one it’s been listed as."

"Revenant?" Sam asks. 

"A person who has returned from the dead." Danny answers her, "Good to know that all those books Clockwork had me read are actually helpful." 

"And this is different from what you are, how?" 

"I'm both alive and dead right now, this revenant died and is now alive again. They don't quite have a full core though — more of a baby core — which I guess is enough for the GIW to want to capture them." It seems not even being completely alive again is enough to keep the GIW away.Danny can't help but think about how many people they must have taken.

As if sensing his thoughts Tucker turns from the screen, and places a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to get involved with whatever they’re doing in Gotham?" 

"I- I need to at least warn whoever this revenant that they're being hunted. To give them information about who is after them. I would have given anything to have a friendly stranger answer all my questions." He admits. 

"Seems like we'll be going to that planetarium after all then, huh?" 

Danny is honestly a little shocked at the laugh that creeps out of him, "I guess we will won't we? Might as well see the sites while we're there." 

"Oh! Maybe you'll run into your doppelganger too!" Tucker exclaims, "I'd love to see just how similar you two are in person." 

"I hope not, it's bad luck after all to meet your own doppelganger. Combine that with my Fenton luck, and you can bet on it that if I see Damian Wayne I'm running in the opposite direction. I don't need that in my life right now." Danny assumes that his friends think that he's joking, but if he does run into his twin he's booking it.   

It doesn't take them long after that to get a semi figured out plan sorted. They have a vague idea of where to find the revenant due to the file, mostly likely to be found in a place called Crime Alley. How they're going to find their mystery person he doesn't know, but Danny is hoping that dead recognizes dead will handle that part. 

The hardest part of all this is getting their parents' permission. It's a bit of a back and forth with getting Tucker and Sam's parents to agree to their impromptu travel plans, but they agree in the end. 

Danny on the other hand hesitates over contacting his own parents, and so he doesn't. He sends a text to Jazz to let her know the full situation around why he's going to be spending some time in Gotham. With how little his parents and him are interacting they might not even know he was even gone in the first place. 

With the soonest flight booked the trio this time tomorrow afternoon are boarding the plane to Gotham. 

[wondergirlsthings]

Jude Bellingham Reads Thirst Tweets About Himself

Jude Bellingham x Reader

The camera is set up, and Jude Bellingham sits comfortably on the couch, holding your phone. He looks at you, already suspicious.

“You really got me reading thirst tweets?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod excitedly. “Yup! And no backing out.”

Jude sighs but smirks. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He scrolls and immediately widens his eyes. “Nah, this one’s crazy.”

He clears his throat dramatically before reading, “‘Jude Bellingham could ruin my life, and I’d thank him.’”

His jaw drops. “RUIN your life?! What does that even mean?!” He looks at you for an explanation.

You just shrug. “They’re dedicated.”

Jude shakes his head and keeps scrolling. “Okay, next one.” He reads, “‘Jude Bellingham’s hands look big enough to carry me, and honestly, I’d let him.’”

He pauses, flexing his hands. “I mean… I do have big hands, but what do you mean, ‘carry you’? Where are we going?” He laughs, but his ears are turning red.

You burst out laughing. “Jude, you’re blushing.”

“I am NOT.” He clears his throat again and continues. “‘Jude Bellingham could look at me once, and I’d pass out on the spot.’” He leans closer to the camera. “Alright, let’s test that theory. If you’re watching this, don’t pass out.”

You roll your eyes. “Jude, stop flirting with the internet.”

He smirks. “Not my fault they started it.”

Scrolling again, he suddenly chokes on his own breath. “Oh, NO. I’m not reading that.”

You snatch the phone. “Oh, come on. What does it say?”

Jude groans, covering his face. “It says, ‘Jude Bellingham could call me a bad girl, and I’d forget my own name.’”

Your mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”

Jude stares at the camera in disbelief. “You lot need Jesus.”

You’re crying laughing. “Read one more!”

Jude sighs but scrolls. His eyes widen. “Oh, hell no.” He reads it anyway. “‘Jude Bellingham, if you see this, I will bark for you.’”

He drops the phone. “Nah. I’m done. You’re all unhinged.”

You’re wheezing at this point. “Regret doing this?”

Jude shakes his head, laughing. “One hundred percent.”

[TikTok ends – comments are wild]

Top Comment: “THE WAY HE SAID ‘YOU LOT NEED JESUS’ I’M SCREAMING 😭”

Second Comment: “‘Let’s test that theory’ JUDE PLEASE 😳”

Third Comment: “We broke him and I have no regrets.”

[lyvhie]

okay hi haechan anon again!! im back with another request! so I'm missing my taeyong a lot (hashtag military wife..) and I was listening to 2 baddies as any baddie would and. the line "now you wanna ride these wheels" had my legs FOLDED 🥴 those wheels aren't the only thing I wanna ride.

and that brings me to my request. riding tyongie pretty pretty please???

── .✦ everybody makes mistakes

ex-bf!lee taeyong x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: You were going through a busy time in your life, and going to a party was supposed to help you relax a little and... Well, your ex certainly turned out to be a good distraction. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, riding, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie because why not 😞, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HIIII, ANOOOON!!! GLAD YOU'RE STILL HERE 😚😚 i get you... i feel like we are 12949 years without tyong, we need him back ASAP, i can't have a happy life if taeyong isn't here PLEASE. ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE!

This was definitely not part of the plan. It was supposed to be a fun night at your friend's party—a chance to unwind and forget about the chaos that had taken over your life lately. Honestly, you hadn’t even planned on coming, but your friends had insisted, saying some fresh air would do you good. You finally caved, figuring what was the harm?

Wrong decision.

If you had known your ex-boyfriend would be there, you’d have stayed home.

You thought you were over him, it had been months since the breakup, after all. There was no reason to panic, you told yourself. Besides, he hadn’t even seemed to notice you were there. You could enjoy the night without a care. Or so you thought.

Your eyes kept drifting to him, as if drawn by some invisible force. Watching how he moved through the crowd, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in people’s ears, flashing that smile that used to make your heart race. The same smile he was now directing at others.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. Focus on your drink. Your friends. Literally anything else, you told yourself, desperate to ignore the annoying tightness in your chest every time you caught sight of him leaning in close to someone else. But it was no use.

You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it. His eyes were on you, burning with that same intensity you’d once found irresistible. Against your better judgment, you glanced over and instantly regretted it.

There he was, lips curling into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing expression that only made your stomach twist further. And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke, he started walking toward you.

Your heart skipped, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever your friends were laughing about. You even forced out a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing.

Taeyong, of course, wasn’t fooled. He thought it was cute, how bad you were at subtlety, how transparent you always were when you tried to act cool, just as he remembered. If anything, it made him want to reach you faster.

From the moment he approached you and murmured a soft “hey,” everything became a haze, your senses drowning in the intensity of his presence. You remembered the way he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and familiar, dripping with charm as he told you how much he missed you, how surprised he was to see you there when he knew this wasn’t your usual scene.

His hand had found its way to your waist, his touch firm but not forceful, as if asking for permission rather than demanding it. You hadn’t stopped him. The heat of his body pressed against yours was both comforting and electric, stirring something in you that you thought had long been buried.

Every subtle gesture—a thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way his gaze never wavered from yours—pulled you deeper into the gravity of his orbit. You knew you should step back, but instead, you let yourself lean into the closeness, into him, even though you both knew exactly where this would lead.

And all of it led to a kiss, slow, as if to test the waters, then deepening with the kind of urgency that only old lovers can share. That kiss led to lovely whispers and stolen touches, and before you knew it, you were in the parking lot, your heart pounding as he opened the door to the backseat of his car.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he pulled you close, his hands finding your waist like they never forgot the shape of you. It was reckless and impulsive, the kind of decision that you knew you’d question later—but right now, with his lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you, it felt like the only decision to make.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he held you down against him. His mouth was relentless, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. Your hips began to move instinctively, a slow grind against him that drew a deep groan from his lips. The confined space of the car only heightened the heat between you, every movement feeling more intense, more urgent in the close quarters.

You felt his hands slip to the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but you stopped him just in time, pulling away from the kiss, both of you panting softly.

"This is a bad idea," you whispered, though your body leaned into his, contradicting your words.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made your resolve waver. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you tried to reason, though your hands remained on him, your touch lingering.

“You can blame the alcohol if it helps," he suggested, his lips tracing a path up to your jaw before capturing your mouth again. You didn't resist, kissing him back.

"I didn't drink that much," you argued softly.

"Then blame me," his hand drifting lower, inching toward the space between your legs, sending a wave of anticipation through you. "You're always good at that."

"Shut up," you retorted, nipping at his lower lip, earning a hiss and a soft chuckle from him. “Tell me to stop," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his lips hovering just above yours. "And I will, pretty.”

Yes, you just needed to say the word and get out of his car. Of course, that would be the right thing to do, but... you were already this far.

You would blame him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this," you muttered before crashing your lips against his again, kissing him more fervently than before, grinding against him harder, his bulge applying just the right amount of pressure against your core.

Your hands fumbled with the button of his pants, a mix of nerves and anticipation guiding your movements. He was quick to undo yours in return, his desperation evident as he helped you, pulling his pants down just enough while you slipped out of yours along with your panties, leaving no barriers between you.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you over him, one of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other slid down, wrapping around his hard cock. It throbbed under your touch, and he let out a soft moan at the slightest contact. You stroked him slowly, savoring the way he responded, before lowering yourself just enough to let the tip brush along your slick slit.

He groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, urging you to stop teasing. "Don't play with me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of control you had over him, but your own need was overwhelming.

With a soft exhale, you slowly sank down onto him, both of you gasping as he stretched you, filling you completely. Fuck, how he missed this—the feeling of your warm heat enveloping him, just as tight as he remembered. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, his breath hot against your skin.

“You feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You missed this feeling too, the delicious stretch of him inside you, your walls fluttering around him, as if your body was echoing the same sentiment. He bit your neck to muffle a moan, the sound vibrating through you.

And for a few seconds, you both stayed like that, motionless, just reveling in the feeling of him taking up all the space in your pussy. Then, slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips over him before lifting yourself just enough and sinking back down, drawing moans from both of you. His hands slid down to cup your ass, fingers digging in as he followed your movements, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan.

Your movements were slow at first, teasing, but you quickly found your rhythm, pressing down on him, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body. The heat between you was unbearable, the cramped space of the car amplifying every sound—the wet glide of your bodies, the breathless moans, the creak of the leather seat beneath you.

His hands moved back to your waist and his grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh as he urged you to move faster. You picked up speed, setting a pace that felt good for you, making him gasp with each roll of your hips.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, lifting his head to watch where your bodies met, eyes dark with hunger. "Just like that... take me deeper."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as you obeyed, bouncing harder, grinding down to feel every inch of him. The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, stealing what little self-control you had left. His hands left your hips, moving up your body, dragging your shirt up to expose more of your skin.

“Fuck, look at you," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around him.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he thrust up into you slightly, meeting your movements. "Shit—keep that up, and I won't last," he warned, voice strained. But you didn't stop. You couldn't. You were too close, too lost in the way he filled you perfectly, the way his body fit against yours like he was made for you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you, the heat between you both intensifying. Just as he had said, he wouldn’t last much longer. It wasn't just because it felt incredible, but because it was you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, almost a plea, his thighs tensing beneath you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, every little sound he made pushing you closer to the edge too, but you weren’t there yet.

You didn’t need to say anything; your body said enough. The way you moved, the way you squeezed him with every roll of your hips—it was too much. His grip on you tightened as he groaned deep, his body shuddering beneath you as he came, his release spilling inside you as you kept moving, letting him ride it out.

But he didn’t stop there—you still needed to finish too, and now it was his turn to take care of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck. Even with his body still trembling from his own release, he started moving again, thrusting up into you with deep, desperate strokes.

A shaky whine escaped his lips as the overstimulation hit him, but he didn’t let up, his grip on you firm, determined. “Gotta make you feel good too,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, breathless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper despite the sensitivity. His name spilled from your lips, hands fisting in his hair as he held you close, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was hot against your neck, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate, but he didn’t stop—not until he had you right where he wanted. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble around him.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, voice hoarse, lips brushing your ear. Your grip on him tightened as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, the pressure building with every stroke, every thrust. His name tumbled from your lips, breathless and needy, and he groaned at how good you sounded.

And then, with one more deep, well-angled thrust, pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed before melting into his, a broken moan leaving your lips as your release washed through you. He groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his arms holding you steady as you rode out your high.

Even as your body sagged against his, he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breaths ragged, shaky. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, tracing slow circles on your back as he helped you come down.

It wasn’t the smartest decision, you knew that. But, in that moment, you felt... satisfied.

You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes. Your friends had been right, maybe you did need to let go of the weight on your shoulders and relax a little.

"Wanna come home?"

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[beneathsilverstars]

I think maybe they’re acting odd enough in Dormont that when Isabeau leaves the favor tree and goes up to the cliff, he stays closer to the town side — looking at Mirabelle and the path to the favor tree — as he considers whether he should talk to anyone else about it, or ask Siffrin if they’re okay once they’re back from the favor tree, or something. And honestly he probably wouldn’t have ended up doing any of those things! But it means he is close enough to see when Siffrin is about to slip on the banana peel, whereas Siffrin didn’t even notice him there, because why would they look for any changes? Nothing ever changes unless they change it by force.

So Siffrin casually strolls towards the peel, and Isabeau shouts, "Woah, Sif, look out—!" and manages to catch him right as his legs go out from under him. Which, wow! That was scary! Good thing he was there, that could’ve been awful, what with the cliff right there and everything!

So now Siffrin can’t use the banana peel; Isabeau threw it away. And they can’t will themself to just jump off the cliff without it. So they resign themself to getting to the house the slow way, but, stars, they do not feel like sitting around Dormont right now. And it wasn’t even the first floor that they needed to go to anyway, so they’d be doing the whole entire night in Dormont, just to end the loop asap anyway! So. Eventually they give up and go for the dagger. But they’ve never used the dagger in Dormont before, and once they decide to use it they don’t waste a lot of time planning, so. They don’t do a good enough job making sure no one is nearby.

And it turns out Odile was right around the corner behind him, and she rounds it just in time to see him raise the knife. She casts slow on him and rushes forward and manages to yank his arm back before he can cut unsalvageably deep, then shouts for help. She sends the nearest villager to get Mirabelle, who hasn’t used any craft yet today, so she’s able to pour everything she has into healing him. Meanwhile Odile goes to get Isabeau and make sure Bonnie stays away until the situation isn’t so gory.

Eventually Mirabelle has Siffrin all healed and cleaned up and situated at the clocktower, and Bonnie is retrieved to start making dinner a little early. And now Odile and Isabeau and Mirabelle have allll evening to talk to Siffrin and try and figure out what’s wrong and how to help. Though Siffrin, of course, is being very unhelpful. They're desperately looking forward to their next chance to loop, and worried they won’t get one, and spiraling about upsetting everyone, but refusing to tell them about the time loops because it doesn’t matter, Siffrin doesn’t want to upset them more, they just! need! a way to loop!!

And of course he doesn’t say any of that out loud. But it’s not hard for the others to pick up that Siffrin wishes they hadn’t stopped him and is looking for a chance to escape, so of course they don't give him the chance. They ask if anything happened during/before his nap, and he insists no, nothing happened, he's fine. They suggest he doesn’t have to — and in fact, probably shouldn’t — go to the house tomorrow, but that really upsets him, because he wants to help them, he doesn’t want them to get hurt without him!! But they don’t want him to get hurt either.

But eventually they’re like, okay, even if we did give you your dagger back tomorrow so you can fight with us in the house, because we trust that you wouldn’t put us in danger, and we’ll keep a close eye on you — what next? We can’t just! Leave you! I mean we can't stop you from leaving but we want to help if you’ll let us!!!

And Mirabelle starts saying, "Maybe you could stay in the Dormont house with me, when it's back to normal? Until you're feeling better? I know everyone here, I could help you find a counselor if you'd be okay with that!" And Odile adds, "Or if you have somewhere to be I could accompany you; I didn’t have any particular plans on where to go next, so I might as well go the same direction as you." And of course Isabeau chimes in, "I really don’t need to get back to Jouvente any time soon — I quit my job, after all. I can stay with you as long as you need, as long as you want." And they ask Siffrin what their plans were, where they’re headed, and. Siffrin can’t come up with an answer that’s specific enough to be believable, not when they’re currently trying to plan specifics. Playing it off with a joke won't work, not this time. He tries to reassure them that they don’t need to change their plans for him, he’ll be fine, he knows they have their own things to do, and he’ll be fine on his own—

But Isabeau says, "You gotta understand why I don’t really believe that right now, Sif. You don’t have to let us stay with you if you don't want, but please don’t lie to us, you're obviously not fine. We want to help, if there’s anything we can do." And Mirabelle realizes she knows something relevant, so she says, "You told me... You told me a couple weeks ago that— this journey was the happiest you’ve ever been." And in the horrible quiet, Odile reaches the inevitable conclusion: "That journey will be over tomorrow, one way or another, and you don't have anything else to keep going for."

And Siffrin — they've been internally freaking out and spiraling this whole time, right? But it was never quite enough to automatically loop back, because— every mistake they made was immediately followed by clear assistance and compassion. Even when they first cut their throat, the moment that they realized they'd been caught was also the moment Odile touched them and then held them, reassured them with uncharacteristic desperation between shouts for help as she used her own coat to staunch the blood.

And now, no matter how horribly guilty and sick he feels that he's forcing his family to stay with him because they mistakenly think he's suicidal, this is them staying with him. It is a way forward.

So. The truth is out. They know that Siffrin was dreading the end of the quest because he had nowhere and nothing and no one to return to. They're wrong that he was about to kill himself over it, technically, except aren't they right about that too? No one knows it, but that was the reason for the loops, and he sure did kill himself far too easily in them.

The others talk about how they enjoyed the journey together, too, and... none of them wanted to part, either, they just hadn't brought it up yet. Odile says, "If I'd just said something sooner... I couldn't have known this would result, and yet... I should've known something was wrong. I'm so sorry I let you feel so alone and hopeless." Isabeau breaks the sorrowful quiet to say, determined, "We'll just have to make it up to you now. Bonnie will need to get back to their sister, right? What if we all accompany them to Bambouche?" And Mirabelle says, "Yes! That would be wonderful! And, you know, I was thinking of going on a pilgrimage soon — Siffrin, would you want to come with me, after we drop Bonnie off?" And of course Isabeau and Odile chime in that they'd love to go too. And, if they're all staying together, Bonnie might be really disappointed to stay behind in Bambouche, but maybe they could ask their sister if the two of them would like to travel for a bit as well...?

And Siffrin just starts sobbing. After a moment Mirabelle can't stand it, she has to at least offer, "Would you like a hug..? No pressure! But if you want one!" She holds her arms out a little in offer, and Siffrin can't stop themself from falling into them, and soon enough even Odile is patting Siffrin's back while Mirabelle and Isabeau hold them. After a bit, they hear Bonnie from outside the door, sullen: "I know you said they need space because they got hurt. But. You're all in there. And dinner is ready..?" And they tell Bonnie to come in, and Bonnie was mad at Siffrin for getting hurt again, but it turns into shock because, "What the crab, since when are we allowed to hug Frin??" And Isabeau says, "Since now, I guess?" And Bonnie hesitates for a moment, but relief that Siffrin is upright wins out, and even as they launch into a lecture they launch themself into the hug and nearly knock everyone over.

And then they're all laughing, and crying, and telling Bonnie about their travel plans. And then Bonnie brings in dinner, and Siffrin is ready to make himself eat it, but his poker face is gone right now and it's obvious he has no appetite for it — even aside from the fact that it's the same clocktower dinner that he's eaten dozens of times in a row, there's the whole recently-healed neck injury thing — and Bonnie's like, "Well, duh, if you're hurt or sick or whatever you need like, plain rice! And soup! And crackers! And lots of water!!" And they rush off to get a little of the extra rice and whip up a quick simple soup. And it's so nice to eat something new after months of the same stuff that Siffrin starts crying again, so of course they all have to hug him again. And eventually he falls asleep like that, surrounded by his family.

... And then they have to go through the house again the next day.

And, actually, at this point Siffrin is so scared of losing all of this. It's what he deserves, after guilting everyone into staying with him — after making Odile see such a horrible sight, making Mirabelle exhaust herself healing them, making Isabeau carry them back to the clocktower, making Bonnie cook them a whole separate meal — but still, he doesn't want to lose it. And he knows that doesn't actually matter, he'll loop again like he always does; if the perfect family loop didn't work, why would this failed loop change anything, this disaster where he didn't help anyone and instead they all helped him? But he wants to stay with them so bad. Can't he pretend, just a little longer, that there's any chance of escaping? Can't he force himself through the entire house again, just in case? Can't he act like this miraculous plan to travel together is possible? Can't he hope, one last time?

At the very least, they can linger. Siffrin can feel the dread building, they can't imagine how they're going to bear waking up in that meadow again, but they can put it off for as long as possible. They take their time to check every item. They try not to zone out, and sometimes they accidentally drift for a bit, but sometimes they listen and they do catch something new, bits of travel planning and bits of worry. They don't even use their strongest attacks unless the battle is looking dicey. They just make their way through the house as slowly as they can without raising suspicion.

Siffrin is terrified the entire time; he tries to hide it but he's so so tired, and he's so tired of hiding it, too. Everyone tries to reassure him, but it's to little success; and honestly, that's fair enough, with the King ahead! But then they beat the king and Siffrin is more scared, not less? And he's starting to feel sick and dizzy, too — the wish's conditions have been fulfilled. Its craft is dissipating, and without that energy the craft exhaustion is starting to hit.

But everyone is determined to help. They remind him that they've promised to keep traveling together, and it sets him off crying because he wants it so bad and he's so scared, so they all hug one more time before heading to Euphrasie. And Siffrin reminds himself, just one more time. He just has to hold onto hope this one, last time. Just in case.

They talk to Euphrasie, Siffrin shaking, one arm around Isabeau and other hand in Bonnie's, Odile right next to them, Mirabelle right ahead. When it's their turn, Siffrin takes a deep breath in and out and steps forward, and Euphrasie starts to talk and then—

Stops to ask if they're alright.

And she says something else to him, but he can barely hear it, because it's something different. It's something different. And then Isabeau is guiding him to sit down and reminding him to breathe, and Euphrasie is discussing something with Mirabelle, concerned, and it's all different.

It's different.

And it stays different for the rest of the day, and they wake up the next day to Bonnie shouting that they all need to pack so they can leave for Bambouche. Together.

:( au where siffrin tries to end a loop early but someone sees in time to stop/heal him. and they’re desperately trying to figure out why he did that and convince him life is worth living, and in that discussion someone suggests traveling together after the loops. and then ofc they’re keeping a very close eye on him after that, so, he doesn’t get another chance to reset. then they beat the king! so! conditions met! that’s the last loop! the one where they all saw siffrin try to kill themself! the one where the party surely only agreed to stay with them out of guilty obligation. but he’s selfish so of course he won’t do the right thing and refuse to go along with it. :( :( :(

[bubblez-bubble]

Guys.

Natsu leaving Lucy with nothing but a note was way sadder than you think.

The last words Lucy ever heard from her father she didn't even actually get to hear, she read them on paper.

So imagine how devastated she was that Fairy Tail disbanded and she went home to find a note from Natsu that he was leaving without her. (Honestly I think I have that switched, please correct me if I do.)

But just like when her dad died, when Natsu left she felt like she had no one left and no home to go back to anymore, so she packed up and left for Crocus to start over.

Now I don't know if Layla got the chance to speak to Lucy with any final goodbyes before she passed, but let's believe for a moment that she didn't and that she left Lucy with a letter explaining how much her mother loved her like her father did. Yes the circumstances are different, but also bare in mind no parent wants to see their child suffer, so forcing Lucy to watch Layla die slowly and painfully probably wasn't on Laylas agenda.

So it's plausible she also left Lucy with a letter.

Which also makes her writing letters to her mom and dad after they die even sadder, even though she knows they'll never get to read them, that was the note they left her on.

So with that mind, it stands to reason that Lucy subconsciously associates receiving a letter from someone as a goodbye is a final goodbye and she'll never get to see them again.

Which could explain why she was so distressed about Natsu leaving her with a note instead of talking her face-to-face. She probably would've been more understanding and less upset about Natsus decision had he actually talked to her.

Sure there may have been a "let me come with you" back and forth, but if Natsu had told her no and explained why, she probably would've been able to let him go easier with that understanding.

But because at least one, potentially two people, had left her with no more than a letter as a final goodbye, it's possible that Natsus "harmless" note was actually extremely emotionally damaging for Lucy and maybe even traumatizing. Because people that leave her with letters are people she never gets to see or hear from again.

Now you could argue Natsu left a note and not a letter, but pen on paper is still pen on paper and words that'll never be spoken aloud.

On the flip side to this, a small part of me feels that Natsu leaving Lucy with a note was also a call back to the time Lucy left him with a note when she went to confront her father.

Except, if that's the case, it almost makes it hard to feel bad for Lucy.

In Natsus note he explained he and Happy were going away to train and even specified how long they'd be gone.

Lucy's note simply said "I will go home."

That's it.

No timeline of when or if she'll return.

No explanation why.

Nothing.

"I will go home."

Which makes Natsu and the others panicking and going to get her back make a lot of sense because that makes it sound like she's going home and staying put to protect them.

Which would've been sweet if that's what she was actually doing.

In my opinion, her note should've said something along the lines of "I'm going home to stop my father, I'll return soon." or something to that degree.

The only reason it's easier to feel bad for Lucy is because unlike Lucy who specified her location (kind of), and made it easier for them to find her (because obviously if you ask enough people about an affluent family, chances are somebody knows where they live), while Natsu gave no direction at all, just that he was leaving to train and would be back in a year.

Each of their notes complimented each other in a way, each leaving out details the other made sure to include, almost as if Natsu remembered how freaked out he was when Lucy left with a note and made sure to include the details she hadn't before, but forgetting to mention the details she did give them, or perhaps, the more likely option, he didn't quite yet know his destination because he was traveling to train and just couldn't give her one.

Which their notes being the exact opposite of each other's on almost opposite ends of the series is like their relationship itself.

Lucy, a bright, intelligent, beautiful, and emotionally fragile girl who knows who she is and where she's going in life and shes happy with it, and then there's Natsu, not exactly the smartest, canonically considered ugly (because the people of their world are fucking blind!), and very stoic and self preserved with his emotions for the most part (unless it helps him unlock some important plot device power up), he struggles with who he is or which direction his life is heading, all he knows is he needs to get stronger.

She's calm, he's impulsive.

She thinks with her head, he acts with his heart.

Even their living situations are complete opposites, which, a little psychology lesson real quick, actually reflects on their mental states. Lucy's apartment is always cleaned and organized just like her thoughts while Natsus house is cluttered and dirty like his thoughts.

These two were literally made to compliment one another, right down to how they took off with nothing but a note.

With that in mind, it's very sweet that they compliment each other so well to that degree, however it still doesn't change the fact that it's possible that to Lucy, Natsu's note felt like a final goodbye like she had received from her father and potentially (not canonically) her mother.

I know this is a little scattered but it all came back to the note in the end at least. 😅

Thanks for coming to my very scatter-brained Ted talk.

[vinnyvin-thevincent]

I actually love that you're talking about this! Jayce's trauma is very overlooked, especially the long-lasting effects. I wish it was explored more, or that the writers added in a 4th Act to season 2 so that Jayces trauma could be expanded on, as well as his reaction to being around Mel in this new light.

Ultimately, I think he's overlooked BECAUSE people hated him in season 1. I was always an enjoyer and defender of his character and arc, he's actually been my favorite character since season 1 came out, but I think he's been reduced to "Oh traumatized man hot :0" because there's not a lot of critical thought into his story. A lot of people were neutral if not hating him, so people turning it around and saying "he's interesting now" just because he's now suddenly "hot" is the most they're allowing themselves to like him.

The perception of Jayce is that he exists only in reference to Viktor and Mel's plots. "Jayce's time in the cave taught him that he loved Viktor" no, he already did. He put Hextech, his life's work, on the metaphorical backburner FOR Viktor.

His hallucinations of Viktor and Mel didn't seem sweet to me, it didn't seem like a "deciding my boo" moment. He seems sad and angry, and he's realizing that he blames them just as much as he's blaming himself. Though this nuance isn't allowed to see the light of day because "unlikeable pretty boy is now sad and hot" mindset.

It's a shame, honestly. Now I'm not gonna be a hypocrite, I've watched and even made thirst edits of Jayce, back in season 1 and season 2. I personally think men look better with facial hair and beards, so does he look more attractive to me like that? Yes, but that's not the reason I'm obsessed with him. That's not the reason he's my favorite character. His story of building something to better the world, despite how much people wanted to shut it down, he persevered... only for the apocalyptic end of the world to be brought on by his very hands and his very obsession. He is the only one who saw this future, so he must fix it.

It's a tragic story, and one that is very very overlooked because "man look at his boobs" (look, he has a nice rack but be serious).

I dunno, I hope I'm adding good thought here. But his time in the cave/ravine is dehumanizing and breaking. Humans are social pack animals, and isolation is detrimental and can actually cause brain damage. The only reason I genuinely think he was functioning is that he was stuck in survival mode. When he got back to his timeline, he stayed in survival mode. He rushed to the Commune and shot Viktor. He found Caitlyn and hurried to Piltover to prep for the incoming war because he KNEW that wasn't going to be enough. He kept moving, kept moving, kept moving. It was the only way to stop the incoming destruction.

Tldr: You're right, I've noticed this too, and I'm more than HAPPY to discuss and focus on his arc with you

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

[fshfish]

could you share how you paint hair and skin? your art is so nice to look at

thank you so much!

maybe one day I'll make a more detailed post with screenshots as I render... but honestly my painting process is really pretty simple. I usually use a textured brush or something with hue jitter turned up 1-2% to put down base colours, and then I go in with a medium hard airbrush for shadows and for adding warmer colours where blood flows (nose, ears, cheek, around mouth sometimes, eyes).

after that i merge all my layers and basically draw on top of everything. bunch of refining details and texture and LOTS of cross hatching. hatching is a really good way to transition between colours i find!!

(another tip I use for skin rendering is adding gradients within shadows, anddd ofc I add hatching when I do that too)

I wish I could offer more technical advice but I really don't know what I'm doing in the slightest I just throw colours on there and hope for the best😭 I guess other good things to keep in mind for skin are the planes of the face (im rly bad at this one, but basically just look up planes of the face on pinterest and use that as a guide for shadows and form) as well as hard vs soft shadows!!

im also. Not good at this one. So don't take my word for it but i guess it's good to have a variety of shadows that end harshly vs shadows that are softer and blend in more? if that makes sense? you just need to think about 1. what is casting my shadow 2. what is it being cast on (or idk maybe its not. that's just kinda what I do) and render from there!

I like to outline my harsher shadows but thats rly just cause I love to outline everything. OOH THATS ANOTHER THING. use harmonious colours and outline shit it looks soooo good.

i do that shit all the time.Like don't be shy about grabbing colours that don't make sense being in your drawing. it's a drawing who gaf if vi arcane's hair is outlined in turquoise. NOBODY! and it looks fire!

for hair I just bullshit it and add hatching I really don't have a clue how to draw hair. I guess figure out where the hair strands are coming from and then draw them coming out from there (This is some real expert advice here damn) and then add shadows underneath the hair tuft clump things ?? no clue. someone make a tutorial for me im kinda the one that needs it in this situation.

uh I hope that helped at all!! Please watch YouTube videos and stuff by actual professionals take everything I say with a grain of salt because seriously I don't know how to do any of this I probably should study art more but I am LAZY

[bitchface24-7]

Salutations! I’m new to tumblr and I don’t know how this generally works, but the reason I even started to be here more was after Arcane’s ending

I downloaded the app moment I started reading your writing and other JAYVIK fanfic writers!! I admire your work and believe you have a lovely writing! I enjoy reading your works every time!

I’m embarrassed but I wanted to request a Jayvik x Reader with celebrating the reader’s birthday in some way, doesn’t matter how if it’s hurt to comfort or nsfw or anything (my birthday is today that’s why I ask, it’s bittersweet currently due to comments I’ve received n such) it’s all up to you! I’d be happy if you’d even read this! Thank you so much for your time and have a wonderful day!

YOUR SPECIAL DAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: it's your birthday today! Your boys spoil you to the best of their abilities, breakfast in bed, lounging all day, they even baked you a cake the previous night while you slept! The cake is plain, but it's the tastiest cake you've ever had.

warnings: fluffier than a cloud, pre-established relationships, spoiling, physical affection, a birthday everyone deserves, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Awe I'm sorry your birthday today is bittersweet due to some people who are buttheads. Happy Birthday!! Ignore them! I hope this fluffy little fic brings you some joy on your special day, and to anyone else who needs a pick me up on their special days too! Xoxo love ya (thanks for the compliments also) ❤️

The sounds of pots and pans clanging together wake you up. You grumble, rubbing your face and running a hand over your head, moving your hair out of your face. You look over to the side and catch your alarm clock, it’s 12:00pm.

You’ve slept in, like, by a lot.

You damn near bolt out of bed until Jayce and Viktor casually stroll into the bedroom, your favourite breakfast on a tray for you to eat in bed.

“What’s all this?” You ask, your voice rough due to sleep; but there’s a light smile on your face. Viktor and Jayce look to one another before bursting out into laughter. You pout at them.

“It’s your birthday today. Did you honestly forget?”

You pause for a second. Your schedule has been so hectic lately, that you felt like you could barely breathe. Your eyes shift to the side as you innocently state, “No?” in a questioning tone, dragging out the vowel as your voice raises in pitch.

Jayce chuckles and places the tray over your lap, the small legs keeping it upright. He kisses your cheek and Viktor puts your favourite drink onto the tray. He kisses your forehead.

Damn. This is a pretty good way to wake up.

“Relax. Eat. Today is a day of lounging. Watching movies, going out to do some activities. Don't even attempt to think about work, that'll make me quite displeased.” Viktor states, his accent rolling across the words smoothly and elegantly. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “As if you're not constantly thinking about work, you hypocrite.”

“Touche.”

And with that, you eat your breakfast and your two boys keep you entertained.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your birthday couldn't have gone any better. You did all your favourite activities, ate all your favourite food, and spent the day with your two favourite people.

It’s late into the evening by the time you all get home, a few movies are on your mind for you all to watch before heading to bed.

That is until you enter your home and see your boys rush to the kitchen. You just huff a laugh and take your shoes off, putting some slippers on you follow them to their mad dash of an escape.

What you see melts your heart.

It’s a cake. It's simple, with no wording or fancy icing techniques. It's clearly homemade and has a variety of different coloured candles.

It’s perfect.

Jayce and Viktor look sheepish, almost a little embarrassed. You shut that down real quick.

“You guys made me a cake? When?” You ask, your tone one of awe and appreciation. Jayce's shoulders slowly lower and Viktor lightly smiles. He hits Jayce's arm lightly and Jayce grunts in pain.

“I told you they'd like it!”

“Okay okay, you're right! I thought they'd like a nicer cake, that's all.”

“The sentiment means more than a pretty cake.”

You giggle as they bicker, and you wave your hands around a bit to catch their attention again, “Hello? First off, Viktor’s right. Second off, when did you make this? I would've seen you two baking in the kitchen.”

Viktor humphs in triumph and Jayce looks at the two of you fondly, “We made it last night while you slept.”

“You were so exhausted that you slept right through it! Believe me, we made quite a bit of noise. Jayce then had the brilliant idea of you getting breakfast in bed so you wouldn't see the cake in the fridge.”

“Then Viktor had the great idea to take you out, so that way we’d keep the cake a surprise. We'd do activities and eat at our favourite restaurant as well.”

You feel like crying. They're so sweet. So thoughtful. You don't know how you got so lucky.

You rub your nose discreetly as they light the candles, and start to sing happy birthday. Usually you find this part really awkward. You're just kind of there as people sing to you.

But right now, your heart is so full of love you don't even notice. When they're done, you can't help but beam a grin at them and lightly bend over to get closer to the cake. You close your eyes, make your wish, and blow out the candles.

When you open your eyes, all the candles are smoking. You got them all in one shot.

Viktor smiles and takes the candles out as Jayce prepares to cut the cake. You get the first slice, you wait a moment so your boys have their slice as well before taking a big cut with your fork and putting it in your mouth.

It's the most delicious cake you've ever had.

Honestly, what did you do to deserve them? You rant and rave over their cake as they blush and smile and your compliments, casually strolling to the couch where you three debate what movie to watch.

This day couldn't have gone any better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hope you all have had a good day, and that this little fluffy fic makes every ones birthday just a bit sweeter.

[ngage2003]

There is a joke that always stuck with me from the blu-rays/cast commentary, that being that Jay is a nepo baby and that is how he kept affording motels and gas and food for years, even with no job and a growing obsession. Like a dog to a chewed on and wilting sock, this is an idea I have latched onto and grown unreasonably obsessed with, which I personally believe kind of explains aspects of Jay's character.

⟦content warning: serious headcanon territory, but also still a lot of character analysis bc im coocoo⟧

At the start of the series and even into season 2 of Marble Hornets, I think it could definitely be argued that Jay is a passive character before his continued exposure to the Operator.

Now, that isn't to say he is meek (quiet, gentle, and easily imposed on) but he is very guarded, very willing to fade into the background or just go along with other people. I honestly think that is part of why Alex chose him as script supervisor. Because Alex can be fun but he is bossy and has a very specific vision and likes getting his way. (A trait thats honestly pretty normal, especially in artistic types.)

It is important not to conflate Jay's willingness to avoid conflict with submissiveness, gentleness or a lack of care though. Jay still has his own ideas, and when left to his own devices, a deadly curiosity. (That is why Marble Hornets as an online series started.) He still gets angry too, like when Alex is leading him around in circles because he refuses to/can't kill Jay, but also refuses to tell him what is going on. Jay is forced into action after dealing with this behavior for months, but even before then we see him getting more and more frustrated behind the scenes. (Entry 39 is the first example that comes to my mind.)

It also is important to not misconstrue his selfishness, as many people in this fandom do. Jay Merrick is a bit of a dick. (That is why he gets along with Alex.) He lies to Tim very poorly the first time they meet to get information out of him rather than try to directly ask, he didn't help Masky to the hospital after his leg was broken—yes, he thought what Alex did was wrong but ultimately stayed with him and kept following him for answers. Even with Jessica, part of the reason he cares so much is because he feels guilty/responsible and he is, he pulled her into this out of his damn curiosity!

Statement: I believe Jay holds extreme guilt over Jessica being brought into this and what happened to her. Evidence: in Entry 77, when Tim is saying, "there is two possibilities for what happened to jessica," Jay out of the blue says, "It wouldn’t be my fault!" at about 2:43. Tim never implied it was and the only reason I can see Jay to unprompted say this is because he believes it was.

Jay Merrick is someone defined by curiosity and selfish, but while habitually passive. He lies to hide what he wants and what he is doing, sometimes for an understandable reason but also sometimes out of just, once again, habit.

The question easily comes, why is he like that?

Well! Stick with me here—I think is because Jay Merrick IS a nepo baby. Specifically, I think he grew up in a household where his parents were neglectful, and when he was visiblly upset, that was repaid with harsh rejection and then money or expensive apologies rather than concrete change. It was a situation where, while his needs weren't being met, getting angry at it also feels bad because of how we as a society (and his parents specifically too) worship money.

I think his curiosity partially comes from this neglect too, as growing up his parents brushing off questions and lacking support always left him wanting more but without a way to voice it, leaving him with this lifelong unease and need for answers. His parents kind of forgot what it was like to be a kid and how you literally don't know anything, and would often brush off certain things because of this. Additionally, growing up this way also left him a bit selfish, as coming from a place of wealth, being neglected, and being somewhat isolated growing up as a "weird"/visibly autistic kid, that all left him struggling to connect to people and with his own empathy, as we see in canon. This doesn't make him a bad person inherently or anything, but is just a part of who he is. Aside from the obvious case of Jay dragging Jessica into this, I think an example of this is how in Entry 66, when Tim is laying out all his trauma, there is an interaction that goes like this:

Tim: One of the problems I was having was hallucinations. I had a lot of them. [...] [W]henever they would find me [after i escaped from my room,] I would say that I was hiding from whatever it was I was seeing so they’d bring me back and they didn’t have much of a choice except to lock me in here. That’s when it was at its worse. I’d be clawing at the walls and screaming at all hours of the night, they had to up my dosage just to calm me down, to the point that I was almost numb. Jay: But these hallucinations, what did they look like?

You could say his disregard is due to shock, but in my opinion that'd be a bit too forgiving. Sure, Tim is talking about his awful childhood and he is being pretty vivid but, Jay already knew about it to some extent due to his records, and while generally he is closed off and hard to read, he seems more uneasy with Tim's yelling than shocked. Jay's default is just curiosity and wanting answers, that is just kind of a pattern with him, even/especially at the expense of others.

I think he is so passive also because of his home life. Specifically, that was what made living at home easiest, with parents who like having you as a trophy but don't actually care about you. Keeping your head down is how you survive, and he kind of just accepted that "ok this is how the world works." Everyone wants something from you (a compliment, a second opinion that is more vapid support than substance, praise,) and giving it to them makes it easier. I think Alex wheedled him sometimes to try to get him out of that shell, but to some extent also he liked it, liked having someone who agrees with him, and in turn Jay admired his outspoken nature, blatant hatred of his parents, and tolerance for Jay's "weirdness". (Hyperfixations.) They weren't necessarily super duper healthy, but they were two traumatized kids clinging to each other, and sometimes that's just how the cookie crumbles, especially when you're isolated.

I also think, due to being a late 80s-90s kid, Jay did grow up with the internet and probably to some extent was unmonitored, which definitely influenced and impacted him but also did inspire his love of technology. (Specifically film/cameras.) I think it also to some extent fed into his worse habits by accident though, just the unfortunately common attitudes highlighted by the internet, but also was the original way he sated his curiosity. I think his propensity to tell "white lies," could have easily come from this exposure too.

I have a lot of specific instances tie to Jay's childhood that in my brain define why he is Like That, but this is just an overview of my main thoughts and I hope it makes sense.