#this is slightly faster than the video version

[shayla567]

gif version

[norristrii]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU.

Summer at the Leclercs’ was always easy—sun, sea, and your best friend Arthur by your side. But now Charles is back, older, bolder, and looking at you like you’re not a kid anymore. And suddenly, everything feels new, exciting, and a little dangerous.

pairing. Charles Leclerc x fem! reader. (bonus: platonic! Arthur Leclerc x fem! reader)

warnings. 11,6k words, best friend’s brother! charles (based on this post), summer romance, angst, fluff, mean! charles kinda, drinking alcohol, 3 years age gap, implied timeskips, badly proofread (sorry was too lazy).

YOU GREW UP IN MONACO, running barefoot through the streets and spending almost every day with Arthur Leclerc. He was your best friend, your partner in crime. The two of you were always getting into trouble, laughing too loud, and making every summer feel like a movie.

Arthur’s house became your second home. You knew every room, every smell, every sunlit corner of it.

And then there was Charles.

Arthur’s older brother. He was taller, moodier, and always seemed annoyed when he had to watch over you. He didn’t like missing out on plans because of “the kids,” and he never let you forget it.

There were a lot of things you hated about Charles Leclerc.

When you grew up, things changed. You moved away, found new streets to run on, new friends to laugh with. But you never lost touch with Arthur. Not really. There were messages, blurry video calls, bad jokes that still made you smile.

Still, your favorite part of the year was always summer.

Because every summer, you came back. Back to the sun, the sea, and the little town that still felt like yours. Back to the Leclercs’ house—your second home, even now.

This year, you were back again. The air smells the same, the sea still sparkles the way you remembered, and your heart raced faster than it should.

Because you were about to find out if you still hate all those things about Charles Leclerc.

─── 1: I HATE HOW YOU STILL CALL ME KID.

You were back. Finally.

The air smelled just as you remembered—salt from the Mediterranean curling into every breath, sunlight warming the pavement, and that familiar scent of citrus and expensive perfume that always clung to the Leclerc villa like a secret. It was the smell of summer, of comfort, of the place that shaped you. Coming home didn’t feel like going back. It felt like waking up.

“I missed you so much, Y/n,” Arthur said, his hand wrapped around the handle of your suitcase as he hoisted it up the stone steps like it weighed nothing. His voice was the same—familiar and easy. “Everyone’s already here. Even Charles,” he added casually, like the mention of his older brother didn’t land in your chest like a stone skipping across still water.

You hadn't seen Charles in five years.

You were nineteen the last time you saw him. Half-baked plans, scraped ambitions, and a heart still soft around the edges. You came back every summer since, but not once had his car pulled into the drive, not once had his voice echoed down the hallway. He was too busy chasing the dream you'd heard him whisper about when he thought no one was listening—Ferrari, podiums, the roar of the track.

Now you were twenty-four. You had your own life, your own routine, your own apartment with a loose drawer handle you never fixed. You had grown into a version of yourself that didn’t chase things anymore. But something about being here—this house, this moment, that name—unraveled you slightly. Softened edges you’d carefully carved out.

“Go wait on the terrace, I’ll be there in a sec,” Arthur said, nodding toward the tall glass doors that framed the golden light spilling onto the patio. His tone was casual, but your pulse wasn’t. You offered him a small smile—tight-lipped, trying to look like your heart wasn’t suddenly echoing in your ears—and stepped forward, the wheels of your suitcase clicking softly on the stone as you walked away..

The door gave easily, and as you stepped out, the familiar scent hit you like it had been waiting: warm salt air, blooming jasmine, sunscreen, and sea breeze rolling straight off the Mediterranean. Everything about it said home.

And then you saw him.

A figure stood at the far end of the terrace, lean frame silhouetted against the view of Monaco—postcard-perfect and glittering in the late afternoon sun. He hadn’t heard you at first, too caught in whatever thoughts the horizon was pulling from him. But the sound of the door clicking shut behind you must’ve given you away, because he shifted, turned.

Charles.

His name collided with your heartbeat.

He looked—different. Not unrecognizable, but older. Sharper around the edges. There was a mustache now, annoyingly well-suited to the shape of his face. His hair was longer, messier, starting to brush the tops of his ears like he didn’t care much for styling anymore. He wore a plain white T-shirt, one hand tucked into his back pocket like he had all the time in the world.

But the eyes—those were the same. Steady, unreadable, a shade too amused for your liking as they landed on you.

"Kid’s back in town?” he said, and the sound of his voice nearly tripped your step.

It was deeper than you remembered. Rougher. And somehow, that one line managed to undo five years of growing up.

You stiffened, heat creeping up the back of your neck. Of course he’d go straight for that.

“I’m twenty-four, actually,” you replied, sharper than intended. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

His eyes skimmed over you then—slowly, thoughtfully—not with the arrogance you braced for, but with something quieter. He was taking you in, cataloging the details: your longer hair, your steadier voice, the way you didn’t shrink beneath his gaze this time.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low and lazy. “I see that.”

Then, without missing a beat: “But for me, still a kid.”

He said it so easily. Like it wasn’t a knife disguised as a tease.

Like it didn’t sting the way it always had.

And still, your breath hitched. You hated that. You hated how much that one word could pull you backward. How five years dissolved into nothing the second he opened his mouth.

Worse, you hated that a part of you wasn’t sure whether it was anger or something else rising in your chest. Something more dangerous. Something like longing.

Your voice came out before you could stop it, sharper than intended, laced with something that had been sitting in your chest for too long. “Why did you disappear for five summers? And not even say anything?”

The words surprised even you, but the ache behind them was real. It had always hurt when he teased you—but it hurt just as much when he simply vanished.

Charles shifted, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly. “I was working.”

You let out a dry laugh, folding your arms. “Right. Living your dream. Must’ve been exhausting.”

His gaze flicked to you, more tired than annoyed. “It wasn’t as easy as it looked. We struggled for a few seasons—midfield car, no podiums. It wasn’t all champagne and celebrations.”

You shrugged, tone cool. “I wouldn’t know. I was busy working too.”

He tilted his head, studying you like he hadn’t expected that answer. But you didn’t flinch.

Charles didn’t answer right away. He just kept looking at you—not glancing, not brushing you off the way he used to. It was the kind of look that pulled threads loose. Like he was comparing memories with reality and realizing they didn’t quite match anymore.

The quiet stretched, and you felt it settle heavy in your chest.

Your gaze dropped to the terracotta tiles, their pattern suddenly fascinating. Anything to ground yourself. “You could’ve said something,” you murmured, softer now, the fight draining from your voice. “Even just a message.”

He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair, and for the first time he looked like he might feel it too. The absence. The distance. The weight of what wasn’t said.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “I know.”

Before the moment could tilt too far, Arthur’s voice cut through the haze.

He appeared behind you, all bright energy and innocence, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “So,” he grinned, “how’s the big reunion going?”

You didn’t even look at Charles. Your reply was sharp, dry, and laced with more than a little salt.

“Perfect.”

─── 2: I HATE HOW YOU LOOK AT ME.

The morning sun spilled across the terrace like honey, painting the table in gold and warmth. Plates clinked, cutlery scraped gently against ceramic, and the scent of fresh espresso mingled with ripe melon and toasted bread. You sat across from Charles, barely breathing, trying to pretend you hadn’t noticed the way he kept watching you.

Arthur was in the middle of a story—loud, animated, waving a spoon around for emphasis. “—and I swear, we thought it was our boat. It had the same name, didn’t it? I mean, what are the odds, right? We were halfway into the harbor when this man comes running down the dock yelling in Italian—like actual yelling. Y/n looks at me and goes, ‘Arthur, why is that man pointing at us?’ And then—wait, wait—this is the best part—she hits the throttle!”

His voice was all sunlight and nostalgia, his laughter easy and infectious. Around the table, someone chuckled; someone else swore they remembered it differently. But for you, Arthur’s voice was more like background music—a melody you loved, but couldn’t really hear right now.

Not when Charles was sitting right across from you.

He hadn’t said much. Just sipped his coffee, eyes half-lidded behind sunglasses he didn’t need anymore. But you could feel his gaze burning into your skin. Not teasing, not mocking—something slower. He looked at you like you were something he didn’t expect to find again. Like he was trying to memorize you without letting on.

And you hated it.

You hated how your fork paused in midair when you felt his eyes again. How your skin heated under the weight of it. How every glance felt like a wordless conversation you weren’t ready for.

Arthur was still talking—“…and she’s shouting at me over the wind like, ‘Do you even know how to steer?!’ Like I ever had a chance, Y/n, you were the one pressing buttons like it was Mario Kart—”

But his voice had faded now. The table, the clatter, the laughter—it all blurred behind the silence stretching between you and Charles. The silence said more than Arthur ever could.

Because Charles wasn’t just looking at you.

He was seeing you.

And that terrified you more than anything else.

The second you stood, his eyes followed. Of course they did.

“Sorry—bathroom,” you muttered, not meeting anyone’s gaze as you pushed your chair back. Arthur was too deep into a tale about someone’s disastrous karaoke night to notice, but you could feel Charles watching you leave. You didn’t need to look to know.

The hallway was cooler, quieter. You stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and exhaled like you hadn’t breathed properly all morning.

You braced your hands against the sink, heart pounding in your ears. You hadn’t expected it to be like this. The staring. The tension. The way his eyes felt like a hand on your skin, pulling something up from the inside that you thought you'd buried years ago.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Same face. Same mouth. Just… different somehow. You hadn’t changed overnight. But the way he looked at you made it feel like you had.

And you hated that.

You hated that his stare said things he’d never said out loud. You hated how your body responded, like it hadn’t gotten the memo that you were supposed to be over him.

You gripped the edges of the sink one last time, the porcelain cool beneath your fingertips. Your reflection stared back at you, chest still rising and falling too fast, eyes too wide like they’d seen something they weren’t ready for. You'd come in here to breathe—to break whatever invisible thread was pulling taut across the breakfast table. But even behind a closed door, that look had followed you.

You ran your hands under the tap, splashed cool water on your cheeks, and closed your eyes. It helped. Not enough—but just enough to move again.

You dried your hands slowly, counted to five under your breath, and opened the door.

And there he was.

Standing in the hallway like he belonged there—which of course, he did—but to you, in that moment, it felt suffocating. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, posture relaxed, but his eyes were anything but. Focused. Watchful. Like he’d been waiting.

You stopped short. “Charles!” The name escaped like a reflex, startled and sharp.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t apologize. Just looked at you. That same heavy gaze that you’d run from minutes ago. Quiet. Curious. Too much.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

Still, he said nothing at first. Just tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours.

And then, finally, that voice—low, slow, achingly calm.

“You’ve changed so much, kid.”

─── 3: I HATE HOW YOU ALWAYS WIN.

It took you a while to adjust to the new version of Charles—the older, quieter, more unreadable one. He wasn’t exactly the boy you remembered, and yet… being around him felt frustratingly easy. Too easy. As if no real time had passed at all.

What surprised you most wasn’t how much he’d changed—but how little it mattered.

You, Charles, and Arthur sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the big TV, pillows and half-finished drinks scattered around like evidence of a lazy afternoon. The sun was dipping outside, turning the windows soft gold.

“Loser pays for drinks,” Arthur announced, wiggling his controller like a sword. “No excuses.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You always say that after you’ve had a practice round.”

Charles leaned back slightly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because he cheats on the practice round,” he said. His voice was smooth, low. Relaxed in a way that made your skin buzz.

Arthur gasped dramatically. “I do not cheat! I am simply… fast.”

“Fast at losing,” you muttered, smirking as you selected your go-to Mario Kart character.

Your kart was spinning, bananas flying, and your voice rising above the chaos. “You idiot!” you shouted, smacking Arthur on the arm as his character swerved in front of yours, blocking your path on Rainbow Road. “Get out of my way!”

Arthur was already laughing, wheezing through his half-shouted apology. “It was an accident! I swear, I didn’t mean—”

But whatever excuse he was making got drowned out by the sound of Charles erupting into laughter beside you.

Not just the usual chuckle, either—full-on, head-thrown-back, eyes-crinkling kind of laughter. It tumbled out of him, warm and boyish and utterly unguarded.

And then—he leaned into you.

Barely. Just enough for his shoulder to press against yours, solid and warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. He didn't pull away. Didn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and that was worse.

You froze for a beat.

Just long enough to miss the next turn.

Your kart plummeted off the side of the track.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, eyes wide, “Now you’re in my way!”

But Charles just kept laughing.

And for a moment, you almost did too.

Except now your heart was racing, and it had nothing to do with the game.

You barely had time to recover before another green shell flew across the screen and sent your kart careening into a wall.

“Arthur!” you shrieked. “Are you targeting me on purpose?!”

He doubled over beside you. “I swear I’m not—I’m just chaotic neutral!”

“You’re just chaotic!” you snapped, frantically mashing buttons as your character respawned in 12th place.

“Hey,” Charles cut in, voice smug but smooth, “try staying on the track next time.”

You whipped around, glaring at him. “Try not breathing so loudly. It’s distracting.”

It was complete, unfiltered mayhem. Controllers clicking like mad. Arthur howling. You yelling threats you had no intention of following through on. And Charles—silent but deadly—always three moves ahead, glancing at you from the corner of his eye with that maddening grin he tried to pretend wasn’t there.

When the race ended—Charles in first, of course—you threw your controller onto the rug in mock defeat. “I hate how you always win.”

He leaned back on his hands, eyes glinting. “Then get better.”

Arthur gasped. “Ooooh, the audacity!“

You lunged for a throw pillow and launched it across the room.

It hit Charles square in the chest. He didn’t even flinch—just tossed it right back.

And for the first time in a long time, you forgot to be guarded.

You just laughed.

Arthur had barely finished laughing when another pillow flew through the air—this time from Charles. You ducked, but not fast enough. It clipped your shoulder and sent you twisting, more out of laughter than anything else.

“Oh, you want to play dirty?” you challenged, scrambling for a second cushion.

Charles didn’t answer. He just lunged.

You shrieked, tossing a pillow wildly in his direction, but he dodged with infuriating ease and caught your wrist instead. In the next breath, you were flat on your back on the rug, giggling uncontrollably as Charles loomed over you with a wicked grin.

“Charles—don’t you dare—”

But he did.

His fingers found your ribs and you shrieked again, dissolving into breathless laughter as he tickled you without mercy. Your legs kicked. Your hands flailed. Arthur howled in the background, absolutely no help at all.

“Say you surrender!” Charles laughed, breathless himself now.

“Never!” you gasped, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“You’re stubborn,” he murmured, still grinning, “just like I remember.”

Eventually, you gave up, limp from laughter, panting against the carpet. He stopped tickling, resting back on his heels as he looked down at you, the edges of his smile softening.

Arthur declared something about needing a refill and disappeared into the kitchen, still cackling to himself.

And for a moment, the room was quiet again.

You lay there, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, heart thudding far too fast.

Charles was still watching you—but this time there was no smirk, no teasing. Just a calm, quiet recognition in his eyes. Like something had settled between you.

It felt reckless. Familiar. Like right before a storm, or right before a kiss.

Like summer had finally come home.

Charles shifted beside you, the pillow slipping from his hands as the last echoes of laughter faded into a quieter kind of silence. The kind that settles when the chaos dies down but the feeling lingers—bright and warm and heavy in all the right places.

You were still catching your breath, head tipped back against the couch, hair in every direction, chest rising and falling a little too quickly. He was close. Not in the accidental way. In the way that happens when neither of you decides to move.

You turned your head just slightly, and there he was—watching you again. But not with that sharp, impossible gaze from breakfast. This one was softer. Like he was remembering something and seeing it completely differently this time.

“What,” you whispered, a laugh still stuck in your throat, “you gonna say I’m still a kid after that performance?”

Charles gave a small smile, not the smug one he wore during Mario Kart victories. This one was real. Quiet. Thoughtful. “You’ve got fight in you,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You raised an eyebrow. “I always did.”

“I know,” he said. And the way he said it made your breath stutter again.

Outside, the light shifted into that golden hour glow. The kind that softened every corner and turned even old memories into something cinematic.

Arthur shouted something from the kitchen—something about cocktails and “where’s the damn ice?”—and the moment cracked just slightly, letting a breeze of normalcy back in.

You sat up, brushing your fingers through your hair. “We should probably go help before he burns the house down.”

Charles stood and offered you a hand without a word.

You took it.

─── 4: I HATE HOW YOU MAKE ME LAUGH.

It was far too late for you to be awake. The villa had gone still hours ago, the only sounds outside your window were the gentle lap of waves and the occasional rustle of night wind in the palms. Everyone else was sleeping off wine and laughter, the kind of drowsy contentment that came with salt-soaked skin and sun-kissed shoulders.

But not you.

Sleep refused to come, your thoughts coiled tight beneath your skin. Every shift beneath the sheets only stirred more questions—about him, about tonight, about the way he looked at you like he saw something he wasn’t ready to admit either.

Then came the knock.

Soft. Barely there.

Two polite taps against the wood, like someone trying not to be caught.

Your pulse skipped.

“You up?” Charles’s voice was quiet, almost careful. The kind of careful that made you think he’d been standing there for a minute, hand hovering, debating whether to knock at all.

You blinked at the door. What the hell was he doing here at—what? Two in the morning?

You threw the covers back and padded over, unsure if you were annoyed, curious, or worse—excited.

You cracked the door open just wide enough to peer out. He stood barefoot in the hallway, hoodie slung loose over his frame, curls messy from sleep or maybe indecision. His expression was unreadable. But he was here.

“No,” you said flatly, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with the ghost of a smirk.

His grin was already trouble the moment it curled up the side of his face. “Wanna go swimming?” he asked, voice hushed like a secret he was daring you to share.

You narrowed your eyes, arms crossed loosely over your sleep shirt. “Now? You want to sneak out? Are we seventeen?”

The roll of your eyes was automatic. But your smile—damn it—gave you away.

He didn’t miss it. “Just like when we were teenagers,” he said, smirking with a warmth that made the hallway feel ten degrees hotter.

You paused. Thought about the cool water, the hush of the waves, the moonlit grin of a boy who knew exactly which part of your brain still belonged to summers past.

“Give me five minutes,” you muttered, already turning to grab your towel.

He nodded once, already turning with that smug, unbothered confidence that somehow hadn’t faded with time. “I’ll be waiting at the dock,” he said over his shoulder, voice low, almost teasing. The hallway swallowed him up, and the air felt warmer for it.

You closed the door and leaned back against it, pulse thrumming just beneath your skin. It was ridiculous. Reckless. Exactly what you weren’t supposed to be doing.

And yet—five minutes later, you were slipping into the hoodie you always stole from him back then, your swimsuit underneath, towel in hand, tiptoeing barefoot down cool stone steps toward the water.

The moon sat high, casting silver ripples across the bay, and the yacht rocked gently against its ropes like it had been holding this secret just for the two of you. Charles was already there, one hand on the railing, waiting. When he saw you, his expression didn’t shift—not really—but something in it softened.

“Nice hoodie,” he said.

You rolled your eyes again, but your mouth twitched. “Still smells like you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a complaint?”

You ignored him, stepping onto the deck. The sea shimmered like glass all around you, and suddenly everything felt too quiet, too close.

“It looks so cold,” you muttered, tugging the hoodie—his hoodie—over your head. The salty air kissed your bare skin, sharp with night chill, and goosebumps rose instantly along your arms.

You padded to the edge of the yacht, eyes on the water, but you could feel it—him. That unmistakable weight of his gaze trailing over you, pausing like punctuation, drinking in every inch with quiet certainty.

You turned, and your eyes met.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. A smirk, maybe. A smart remark. But what you found was steadier than all of that. Intent. Like he knew something you didn’t—or maybe just wasn't afraid to admit what you both had stopped pretending not to feel.

And just when your lips parted to say something—anything—

His arms wrapped around your waist.

“What the—Charles!”

But you didn’t get to finish.

He lifted you, fast and without warning, laughter already catching in his chest. You shouted, twisting in his grip, but it was too late. You were airborne—both of you—and then falling.

The world paused.

You weren’t in the water yet, but your stomach had already dropped.

“You absolute asshole!” you yelled, just as the sea swallowed you.

Cold and wild and breath-stealing. You surfaced sputtering, hair slicked back, a curse halfway out of your mouth when he popped up beside you, grinning like the devil.

“You were taking too long,” he said, brushing hair from his eyes

You laughed—harder than you had in weeks. The kind of laugh that left your ribs aching and your voice cracking, tangled somewhere between disbelief and pure, breathless joy. The sea cradled you both in its cool hush, waves rising gently around your shoulders as you swam closer to him, every stroke slow and easy like the night had finally let you go.

“You are such an idiot, Charles,” you managed between gasps, your grin wide and irrepressible as another giggle slipped through. Water beaded along your collarbones, your skin flushed with the thrill of it all—of sneaking out, of salt on your lips, of him.

He floated nearby, treading water with casual grace, that infuriatingly confident smirk still pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You love it,” he said, his voice low and smooth, rippling across the water like a secret.

Maybe you did.

You drifted forward, slow and unhurried, like the water itself had drawn you toward him. It was barely more than a ripple, but the space between you vanished. His hand found your waist again, confident but gentle, fingers steadying you like the water might carry you away if he let go.

You didn’t realize how close you'd come until you were looking directly into his eyes—dark and lit by the shimmer of moonlight, reflecting something quiet but impossible to ignore.

Then his hand rose slowly, fingertips brushing your cheek before pushing a wet strand of hair behind your ear. The contact was featherlight but deliberate. Like he needed an excuse to touch you, and that one moment was all he dared to take. You forgot to breathe.

“You’re driving me insane,” you said, the words slipping out on the edge of a laugh. You meant it to be teasing—sharp, flippant—but the way it caught in your throat gave too much away.

He didn’t respond immediately. Just looked at you like that was exactly the effect he’d been hoping for.

And still—you laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was safer than silence. Safer than admitting what was happening between the laughter and the splash fights and the way his thumb had drifted from your waist to rest just above your ribs.

You hated that even now, with the ocean holding you both in its quiet cradle, you couldn’t stop smiling. That your body kept reacting like it remembered this version of him—warm, close, daring—before your mind could catch up.

His eyes flicked down, barely a breath, to your mouth. Then back up.

Not cocky. Not assuming. But sure.

Sure that he could kiss you right now.

Sure that you wouldn’t stop him.

He was watching you again—really watching. Like the only thing he could see in this whole endless dark was you.

“Charles…” you started, but you didn’t even know where the sentence was going.

Then—just as your lips parted, just as your eyes flicked down in that barely-there way that meant you could—

A clatter.

Somewhere nearby. Metallic. Sharp.

Your heads whipped toward the source instinctively—a boat hook had slid off the deck railing and clanged against the rail with enough noise to shatter the fragile quiet.

You sucked in a breath. He let out a muttered curse under his.

And then, from the far-off shore, Arthur’s voice carried like a warning flare: “If you two are making out, at least wait ‘til I’m asleep!”

You both blinked. Froze. And then burst into laughter again—real, ridiculous, too-loud laughter that cracked the silence and brought you crashing back to earth.

Charles leaned in, forehead briefly against yours in mock defeat, still chuckling under his breath.

“I swear, he times these things.”

You didn’t move. Just let yourself float there with him, tangled in the could-have-beens and the not-quites.

─── 5: I HATE HOW YOU SAY MY NAME.

It wouldn’t be summer at the Leclercs’ without a chaotic night at your favorite club—the one with sticky floors, neon signs, and exactly zero self-control. The bass vibrated through your bones, sweat-slick bodies packed wall to wall, drinks flowing like Monaco didn’t believe in hangovers.

And, of course, this time you were paying.

So naturally, Charles had been at the bar like it was a personal challenge. Three shots in, he was charming. Five shots in, dangerous. By the seventh, he was gone.

Now he swayed through the crowd with a glazed grin, sunglasses (where had he even found those?) perched crookedly on his nose, mouthing lyrics he didn’t know while dancing in a way that could only be described as... enthusiastic.

You and Arthur had been dancing near him, sharing glances every time he nearly tripped over nothing or saluted the DJ with a full drink in hand.

“Should I take him out?” you asked, leaning close to Arthur so your voice didn’t get swallowed by the bass. Close enough that your breath brushed his ear.

Arthur shrugged without looking too concerned. “Maybe.” Then he turned his head, giving you a far-too-knowing look. “Do you need help?”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head with a roll of your own. “No.”

Of course not. You knew Charles’s drunk rhythms better than anyone.

You cut through the crowd and caught his wrist mid-dance, halting him just before he could spin himself directly into a group of strangers. His skin was warm and damp under your fingers, his whole body still moving like the music hadn’t let him go yet.

“Time to go, buddy,” you said, tugging gently.

But Charles just blinked at you, lids heavy, hair sticking to his forehead, and smiled the slowest, most devastating grin. He leaned in—closer than necessary, breath brushing your temple—and mumbled, slurring ever so slightly, “You look so hot when you’re responsible, Y/n.”

You froze. Not because of the words—but because of the way he said them. No teasing lilt. No smugness. Just soft, honest awe. It landed somewhere dangerously deep in your chest, like gravity changed direction for a second.

“Oh god,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at his eyes.

He tilted his head, clearly pleased with your reaction and entirely unaware of the emotional war he’d just started inside you. “What?” he asked, grinning like he'd just won something.

You gritted your teeth and started guiding him toward the exit, trying not to trip on your own thoughts. Outside, the air was cooler, laced with sea breeze and the echo of muffled bass from inside. The cobblestones were uneven beneath your heels, and Charles wobbled dramatically, clinging to your arm like you were the only thing anchoring him.

“I’m fiiine,” he said as you helped him down the steps. “Just... tired. But you’re very pretty.”

“You already said that,” you muttered, but your cheeks betrayed you.

He dropped himself onto the curb like the weight of the night had finally caught up to him, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed. The streetlights cast a soft gold glow over his face, making his flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes look even younger than usual.

You hovered nearby, arms crossed, watching him with a sigh that came from somewhere deeper than just annoyance.

He looked up at you—slow, lazy—his eyes wide and glassy and far too sincere. That kind of drunk honesty that clung to the edges of everything he said.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he slurred again, voice thick and slow like honey warmed too long.

You rolled your eyes, even as your stomach did a quiet, inconvenient flip. “You’ve already said that, Charles. Twice.”

“I meant it both times,” he said, lifting one hand to gesture vaguely, as if his words needed space to land. “I’d say it a third. I’d say it a hundred. You’re—” He paused, squinting at you, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Like, movie-scene gorgeous. Like… I’d die for you.”

You froze for a second, your breath catching somewhere between disbelief and reluctant softness.

“Okay,” you said, crouching in front of him. “That’s enough compliments for one night.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, voice dipping low, suddenly quieter. “You don’t get it. You never got it.”

He was still slouched on the curb, the fluorescent spill of the streetlight painting soft shadows along the line of his jaw. You watched him, your arms crossed, trying to mask the chaos bubbling just beneath your skin. You'd seen Charles drunk before—knew the rhythms of his laughter, his stumbles, the way his charm dialed up to blinding—but this? This was different. The words that had slipped from his mouth weren’t tossed out for effect. They had landed with a weight you hadn’t been ready for.

“Y/n, mon amour,” he repeated again, quieter this time. Like maybe he liked the way it sounded in the air between you. Like maybe he’d been saying it in his head for years and only now had found the nerve to speak it aloud. His French curled around the words, gentle and devastating. It made your name sound like something delicate. Sacred.

“I think about you all the time,” he said. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, no longer teasing but soft, unexpectedly vulnerable. “Like… damn.” He chuckled to himself—an embarrassed sort of sound—and you could see the pink bloom across his cheeks, deeper than the flush from the alcohol. “I’ve been in love with you since like… forever.”

You felt the ache bloom slowly in your chest. It was a strange kind of ache—familiar and foreign all at once. Because in some impossible way, it made perfect sense. Like maybe you’d been waiting to hear those words your whole life and just didn’t know it. But before you could say anything, before you could let yourself feel anything, he added quietly, “But Arthur would probably kill me, you know how he is.”

And there it was—the unspoken name that always hovered like a ghost in the space between you. Arthur. His brother. Your best friend. The tether that had kept you both firmly rooted in the land of what-ifs and never-coulds. You swallowed hard, trying to find air in lungs that had forgotten how to expand.

Charles didn’t seem to notice your silence. Or maybe he did, and chose to fill it anyway. “Just look at you,” he whispered, voice low, almost reverent. “Who wouldn’t love you, darling?”

You crouched down next to him, knees brushing the edge of his thigh. He turned toward you slowly, his eyes glassy, but still full of everything he hadn’t said. Your name sounded dangerous in his mouth now. Like a truth he couldn’t stop telling.

─── 6: I HATE HOW YOU KNOW ME BETTER THAN ANYONE.

You hadn’t talked about it.

Not the things he’d said on the curb. Not the way he’d looked at you like you were the center of every blurry constellation in his mind. Not the way your name had fallen from his mouth in that accent of his—careless and reverent at the same time.

And definitely not the night swim. The moonlight. The silence that had almost turned into something else.

You’d both slipped back into the rhythm of summer like nothing had cracked beneath the surface. No one mentioned it. Arthur was clueless. Everyone else was oblivious.

And now—now it was just you and Charles in the kitchen. Late afternoon sun filtering in through the shutters, making the countertops glow. A bowl of half-sliced watermelon sat between you, juice bleeding into a paper towel. The hum of the fridge. The rhythmic thud of a knife against the cutting board. Your wet bikini clung uncomfortably to your skin, the water from your hair dripping onto the marble floor and leaving little trails behind you.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

“Can you pass me a bowl?” Charles asked, not loudly. His voice was gentle, like he was being careful with it.

You didn’t look up. Just reached for a clean one from the open cabinet and passed it to him wordlessly.

His fingers brushed yours. Briefly. Deliberately?

You didn’t ask. Didn’t meet his gaze. But you could feel it anyway—resting on your temple, drifting across your collarbone, dragging slowly down to where your hair was still damp against your shoulder.

The silence stretched. Thick. Charged. Still pretending to be casual. You sliced another strawberry. A little too hard this time.

You hadn’t said much in days. Not since *that* night. You stuck close to Arthur, keeping conversations quiet and safe, using him as a shield from what the rest of the world—what Charles—might still remember.

So when Charles finally spoke, it landed like something breaking. “Are you okay?” His voice was careful, but not distant. Not forced. He was watching you again, really watching. “You’ve been quiet lately.” You didn’t look up. You didn’t have to. Of course he noticed. Charles always noticed. He knew how loud you were meant to be, how your voice usually filled spaces and your laugh skipped over tile floors and soft poolside evenings like it belonged in every corner of his summer. Now, you barely made a sound.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, your voice clipped and too polished to be honest. And maybe you hoped he’d let it slide. Maybe if you delivered it with just enough steadiness, he wouldn’t ask again.

But he didn’t back off. Instead, Charles stepped closer—not enough to touch, but enough that you could feel his gaze trying to reach beneath your skin. “C’mon, Y/n,” he murmured, voice just low enough to feel private in the open room. “I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s off.”

You said nothing, eyes still locked on the cutting board as if the watermelon rind would answer for you. You didn’t expect what he said next.

“You’re doing that thing,” he said, softer now. “With the corner of your lip.”

Your breath caught in your throat, subtle but sharp. That hit in a way you weren’t prepared for. It was something tiny. A detail. Something so easily missed, even by people who claimed to know you inside out. Arthur hadn’t noticed. No one had ever said it aloud. And yet here Charles was—casually cracking open a part of you you hadn’t even known you were showing.

It wasn’t fair. That he could do that. That he could see through the armor you’d spent days, maybe years, building up. You hated how it rattled you, how it made your fingers falter just slightly on the knife. You hated even more the warmth blooming in your chest—because maybe, deep down, you wanted someone to notice. And it had to be him. Of course it was him.

You finally looked at him, really looked, and saw that he wasn’t teasing. His gaze was steady, unwavering, all the warmth stripped of charm—just the quiet kind of concern that only comes from someone who’s paid too much attention for too long.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Charles said, voice low and careful, like he was handling something fragile—like maybe he was handling you.

Your grip tightened around the edge of the counter. “I’m just—” You stopped, jaw clenching as emotion scraped against the back of your throat. “I’m just fucking confused, Charles.”

You tried to sound annoyed, sharp, anything but shaken. But it cracked at the end, too raw to hide.

His brows pulled together, but he didn’t interrupt.

You drew in a shaky breath and pressed on, your voice quieter, tremor riding every syllable. “I thought… I thought there was never gonna be anything between us. Especially not from your side. You were always joking. Flirting. But I figured it was just... you being you. And now—” You shook your head, words starting to tumble faster, too much and not enough. “And now you say these things. And I feel like you want me but maybe only halfway. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”

Your chest rose and fell faster now. You hated that your eyes were stinging. You hated even more that he was still just standing there—quiet, listening, like he wasn’t going to run.

Charles exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not halfway.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

He took a step closer. “It was never halfway.”

The silence that followed was thunderous, vibrating between your ribs. You turned slightly, your hand now resting on the counter more to steady yourself than anything else.

“You’re not just another person I flirt with, Y/n,” he said, and you could hear the weight in his voice now. “I joke around because I’m scared. Because what I feel for you doesn’t fit into something simple or easy or casual.”

You turned your head, eyes meeting his, and what you saw there unraveled something in you—honesty, fear, hope, all tangled together.

Charles stood quiet for a moment, watching the way your fingers clenched the edge of the counter, like if you let go you might fall apart entirely. There was something in your eyes that made his throat tighten—vulnerability you hadn’t meant to show, heartbreak you hadn’t had words for until just now.

He stepped forward again, slower this time, and leaned slightly against the island across from you. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, his voice rough at the edges. “God, I wanted to. So many times. But I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. I thought maybe if I kept it to myself, it’d go away. That I could just... be near you and be fine.”

He swallowed hard, eyes not leaving yours. “But I wasn’t fine. I never was. I’ve been carrying this thing around for years—this stupid, constant, inconvenient feeling. And I didn’t know how to give it to you without making everything harder.”

You stared at him, and for a second, the ache in your chest felt too heavy to speak around. But the words came anyway—fragile, but true. “Then why say it now? Why wait until you’re drunk and I’m already trying to forget how much it almost meant?”

Charles looked down, then back up, eyes glassy and unguarded. “Because pretending it didn’t matter hurt more than the idea of losing everything.”

A silence fell, thick and trembling between you.

Your voice broke it first. “I don’t know how to be your friend after this.”

His lips crashed into yours with no warning—just heat and certainty and a kind of desperation that had nothing to do with impulse and everything to do with time. Years of restraint, half-swallowed words, and silent moments that had begged for more—all of it spilled out in the space of a single breathless kiss.

His hands settled on your hips like they’d belonged there all along, steady and warm, grounding you even as your world tipped on its axis. You didn’t move at first. Maybe from shock. Maybe because deep down, you’d imagined this exact moment a hundred times and still never expected it would feel quite like this—both inevitable and completely surreal.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled back, just an inch, his forehead barely brushing yours. He was close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips, close enough to see the way his eyelashes fluttered before his eyes opened again, searching yours for permission—or apology. Neither of you spoke. Not yet. The quiet buzzed between you, too fragile to break.

“I can’t do this to Arthur,” you whispered, your voice frayed and trembling, the words escaping before you could hold them back. Guilt coiled instantly, sharp and familiar, winding around the base of your ribs and tightening with every syllable. Even saying his name aloud in that moment felt like betrayal. Your arms were still around Charles. His hands were still on you. But everything inside you had started to ache with the weight of what this meant.

Charles didn’t move away. His gaze didn’t waver. “I know,” he said softly, and his voice wasn’t defensive—it was resigned. Honest. A quiet confession of a boundary he never wanted to cross but already had.

“I know,” he repeated, and something in the way he said it made your chest ache. Because he wasn’t just saying it about Arthur. He was saying it about all of it. The guilt. The risk. The impossibility of pretending this hadn’t just happened.

─── 7: I HATE HOW YOU ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

Those days felt almost unreal—like living inside a warm, slow-motion dream you knew couldn’t last. You and Charles kept falling into each other easily, effortlessly. Whispered jokes over breakfast. The way his fingers would brush your lower back as he passed behind you. Shared looks that lingered a little too long across sunlit rooms.

But always—always—there was Arthur.

He wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t need to. You felt it. In the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way he’d glance up when you laughed with Charles, and then look away just as fast. Like he was bracing for the confirmation he didn’t want. And when he’d sit at the table with you both, his hands wrapped around a glass too tight, pretending not to notice the space between you narrowing… you knew.

Charles noticed it too. You caught him watching Arthur sometimes—subtle, cautious. Like he was waiting for him to say something. But Arthur didn’t. Not yet.

The silence between the three of you was turning into something dense. Fragile.

And you could feel it bending.

The afternoon sun cast golden stripes across the stone terrace, the air thick with late summer haze and the fading scent of oranges from the grove below. You sat perched on a cushioned bench, legs draped lazily over Charles’ lap, one of his hands idly tracing circles just above your knee as you laughed at something dumb—some ridiculous childhood story involving a treehouse, jellybeans, and a poorly timed wasp. He was smiling, easy and warm, the way he always got when he felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

And for a few fragile seconds, it almost felt normal.

Then the sliding door creaked open behind you. Arthur stepped onto the terrace.

You felt it instantly—the shift. The way laughter collapsed in your throat. The way Charles' hand froze. You moved quickly, instinctively, pulling your legs back to the floor with an awkward glance down, like maybe if you didn't look at him, it wouldn’t look like what it was.

Arthur didn’t say anything at first. He walked to the table, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, and sat in the chair across from you with a calmness that felt louder than shouting.

He didn’t look at either of you when he spoke. “That’s okay,” he said, voice even but heavy. “You can keep them there.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m glad you two are getting along,” he added, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the railing, past the olive trees, toward the blue stretch of sea where no one had to answer for anything.

Charles sat a little straighter, eyes narrowing, the sudden shift in tone igniting something defensive beneath his skin. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, not cold, but edged enough to invite tension. The humor was gone.

Arthur let out a dry, clipped breath, half a laugh, half disbelief. “I think you know exactly what it means,” he murmured, his eyes still on the water. “I’ve seen it.”

Charles ran a hand down his face like he was trying to smooth out the moment, but his words came sharp anyway. “If you have a problem, just fucking say it.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. When he finally looked over, the disappointment in his eyes landed like a punch you’d been bracing for—but still knocked the wind out of you. “Alright,” he said. “My problem? Maybe it’s that you’re sleeping with my best friend and acting like it’s just another one of your harmless flings.”

The words dropped heavy and final, like a door slamming that neither of you had the courage to close. You could feel Charles bristle beside you, but he forced a scoff, masking his tension with mockery. “Oh, so what, you’re jealous? Is that it, little brother?”

Your stomach twisted. The shift in Charles was subtle but sharp—his voice too calm, too practiced. You reached to nudge his knee under the table, but it didn’t slow him.

Arthur let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I’m not jealous, you idiot. I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me,” he said, shaking his head like even speaking it aloud stung more than he expected.

His voice wasn’t raised, but it hit hard—each word clipped, careful, hurt wrapped in sarcasm he couldn’t quite control.

He turned toward Charles first. “I saw the way you looked at her for years. You think I didn’t notice? I expected this from you, honestly. The flirting.“

Then his eyes landed on you. And this time, they didn’t waver.

“But you?” he said, softer now—but sharper somehow. “I didn’t think you’d be that easy to pull in. I didn’t think you’d make it that easy to leave me out.”

Charles spoke before you could even form a thought. “Maybe it’s time you accept she’s not yours to protect forever,” he said, his voice colder than the air between them.

Your heart sank. Oh god, no. Not like this.

“Charles!” you snapped, your voice cutting through the tension. “That’s enough.”

Arthur turned, something flickering behind his eyes—hurt, betrayal, something years old finally surfacing. “I wasn’t trying to own her,” he said, voice rising just enough to crack. “I was trying to make sure she didn’t get dragged into your mess like everyone else.”

Then, with a bitter scoff, “You’ve always been good at talking, Charles. Never been great at staying.”

He shook his head and stepped back, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re still the same selfish bastard you’ve always been.”

And just like that, he turned and walked inside, the door swinging slightly in the breeze behind him.

“Arthur!” you called, already pushing back your chair, chasing the echo of the door and the boy who once knew all your secrets.

Charles barely had time to react before your words sliced through the tension like a blade.

“You are such an asshole, Charles,” you snapped, your voice trembling with exhaustion and disbelief. He looked at you—like he hadn’t expected that from you of all people—but you didn’t care. You didn’t stop. You just turned, jaw clenched, blinking back the heat in your eyes, and stormed into the house after Arthur.

“Arthur, wait!” you called, voice urgent as your footsteps echoed down the hallway. He was already halfway to the guest room, shoulders rigid, head down like he didn’t want you to see how much he was breaking. You caught up and reached for his wrist—gently, like any more pressure might cause him to shatter completely.

He paused but didn’t turn. The seconds between you stretched impossibly thin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breath catching. “I was stupid.”

He let out a breath—half a sigh, half a laugh—and finally glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, a shrug in his voice. “A bit.”

And somehow, it broke the tension enough for your chest to loosen just slightly. You smiled—tiny, wobbly. “You know you’ve always been the most important Leclerc to me, right?”

Arthur turned all the way around then. And his expression—soft, exhausted, barely held together—cut deeper than any shouting ever could.

“God, Y/n,” he murmured, finally facing you. “You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

You didn’t expect it—not that fast, not like that. One second you were barely holding yourself together, and the next his arms were around you, grounding you like gravity had suddenly picked sides.

It wasn’t tentative. It was tight, certain, and real. The kind of hug that speaks before you can. His chin brushed your shoulder, his hand curled lightly into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid if he let go, something might disappear.

─── 8: I HATE HOW YOU LEAVE WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE.

The silence after the fight wasn’t just quiet. It was heavy. Every room in the house felt colder, like the laughter that used to fill it had been packed away too. You and Charles hadn’t spoken. Not properly. Just a few passing looks, a few stiff moments in the same space—but nothing real. Nothing that fixed anything.

Instead, you found yourself spending more time with Arthur. At first, it was just easier. Less tense. But soon, it started to feel like something you needed. You’d sit together on the back steps in the mornings, sharing coffee. Walk through the orange grove in slow silence that didn’t need words. He didn’t ask for explanations. He didn’t push. He was just there, and maybe that was the most comforting thing of all.

But still, it felt like choosing sides. And some part of you hated that.

Then one morning, you noticed the space behind the gate was empty. Charles’s car was gone.

You asked Pascale, his mother, where he had gone. She answered casually—like it meant nothing. “He went to Carlos’s for a few days,” she said, stirring sugar into her tea like it wasn’t strange. Like it wasn’t everything.

He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t said goodbye. And somehow, that made it worse. Because after all the noise, the arguments, the pain—you thought maybe he’d at least say something before leaving. But he didn’t.

The sun poured through Arthur’s window, soft and golden, stretching across the bed where the two of you lay belly-down on the covers. The photo album was open in front of you, pages slightly curled from years of flipping and laughter.

You turned another page, and there it was.

A snapshot of you and Arthur at around ten years old, sitting on the dock with your legs dangling over the edge, clutching ice cream cones like treasure. Your head leaned sleepily on his shoulder, both of you grinning so wide it looked like your faces might split.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, pointing. “I remember this. I dropped mine on the ground like, three minutes later.”

Arthur chuckled. “And I gave you mine, because I’m a saint.”

“You gave it to me after taking one last dramatic bite,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

“Fair. I was ten and deeply attached to my desserts.”

You smiled, eyes soft. “That was the day I decided you’re the one I need to keep.”

Arthur turned to look at you, mock-scandalized. “Decided? As if I wasn’t already keeping you? Please.”

You both broke into laughter, full and warm, the kind that shakes your shoulders and leaves your cheeks aching. The kind that belongs to inside jokes and old stories and years of knowing someone down to the last freckle on their nose.

“I swear, we peaked at ten,” Arthur said between giggles, flipping to the next photo.

It was one of him in a bright blue bucket hat, mid-cartwheel, legs a blur and his shirt flying up.

You burst out laughing again. “Never mind, I take it back. This was the actual peak.”

Arthur groaned. “Burn it. Burn the entire album.”

“Nope,” you grinned, hugging the album to your chest. “This is going in my will.”

Arthur rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked at you, still laughing. “I swear, if someone ever publishes this album, my dignity is done for.”

You hugged the book tighter to your chest, feigning solemnity. “Don’t worry. I’ll only leak the bucket hat photos. The rest are safe—maybe.”

He gasped. “You wouldn't.”

You grinned. “I would, absolutely.”

He groaned and flopped back onto the pillow. “I knew trusting you at six was a mistake.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “Too late now. You’re stuck with me.”

He glanced over at you again, his smile softening just a little. “I can live with that.”

You turned the page, and the photo made you smile the second you saw it. There the three of you were—on the yacht, the day before Charles’s 18th birthday. You were lying on your stomach with cards in your hand, laughing at something out of frame.

Arthur and Charles were sitting behind you on the sofa, both grinning like everything was simple and good. Charles looked like he had just won a round of UNO and was very proud of it. Arthur looked like he was pretending not to care, but you could tell he was annoyed that he was losing. Everything about that photo felt warm—sun, sea, and three people who didn’t know things would change.

You turned the page, and the photo made you smile the second you saw it. There the three of you were—on the yacht, the day before Charles’s 18th birthday. You were lying on your stomach with cards in your hand, laughing at something out of frame.

You stared at it for a moment before speaking. “Do you think it was always that innocent?” your voice soft, maybe even a little unsure.

Arthur looked at the photo for a long moment, then at you. “Was it ever?” he said with a quiet laugh, like he wasn’t sure of the answer himself.

You laughed a little too, shaking your head. “I don’t know,” you said, tracing the edge of the picture with your finger. “But I was so into him back then. Like, so into him.”

Arthur burst out laughing, louder than you expected. You turned to look at him, surprised, but he just grinned. “You still are,” he said through a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his.

You raised an eyebrow, but you couldn’t help but laugh too. Something about the way he said it—casual, light—made it easier to breathe. It didn’t feel like teasing. It felt like honesty, said kindly. And for the first time in days, the memory didn’t sting. It just made you miss the way things used to be. Before it all got so complicated.

You exhaled a small, guilty sigh. “Yeah, maybe,” you admitted quietly. “I’m... sorry.”

He blinked, then rolled his eyes with a grin. “Oh, come on, Y/n. Don’t apologize. I think I’ll survive the emotional trauma of you liking my absurdly good-looking brother.”

You smiled, a little caught off guard, but grateful for how easily he brushed it off.

He leaned back slightly, arms folded under his chest as he looked at you, his voice gentler now. “I just want you to be happy. If that means it’s him… then that’s okay.” He smiled again, more honest this time. “Really.”

And somehow, sitting there with him like that—laughing, remembering, being heard—it felt easy. Easier than you thought it would. Like maybe forgiveness didn't always have to come wrapped in pain. Sometimes, it could just sit quietly between two people who still cared.

Arthur’s words settled between you, light but real, like sunlight warming the edge of a shadow you hadn’t realized you’d been standing in.

For a second, you didn’t speak. You just looked at him—really looked at him—and felt something settle in your chest. Not confusion. Not guilt. Just… gratitude.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you said, your voice still soft, but steadier now.

He rolled his eyes with a smile. “Took you long enough.”

You laughed and leaned your head briefly on his shoulder, the way you had in the photo from years ago. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. He just let you rest there, like that was exactly where you were supposed to be.

─── 9: I HATE HOW YOU KNOW I’M WAITING FOR YOU.

The night was quiet, and the dock felt like the only place where the world stood still. You sat at the edge, legs dangling over the side, your feet slowly moving through the cool, dark water. The air smelled like salt, wood, and a little bit like everything you hadn’t said. Above you, the sky stretched wide and clear, filled with stars that didn’t help answer anything at all.

Your thoughts always went to Charles.

You didn’t know where he was, or who he was with. Maybe he was laughing. Maybe he was thinking of you. Maybe he wasn’t. That hurt more than you wanted to admit. You wondered if he missed you even a little, or if it was easy for him to leave without saying anything.

You thought about what he might be doing, if he had already moved on, or if he was still somewhere in between like you were. You never thought loving him could feel this heavy, this confusing. But here you were, sitting in the quiet and trying not to fall apart. Maybe if you hadn’t been so quick to fall for him, things would be different. Maybe everything would be fine. Easier. But you did, and it wasn’t.

You heard it then—footsteps behind you, slow and uneven on the wood. You didn’t move. You didn’t have to. You already knew it was him.

“I knew you’d be here,” came his voice, low and familiar. That voice that had been missing.

Charles.

You didn’t turn around right away. You just stared out at the dark water, your voice soft and full of something tired. “You came back, huh?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, slowly, he stepped closer and sat down next to you. Not too close, but close enough that you could feel his presence again. Like he never really left, not completely. You didn’t look at him. Not yet. But his being there stirred something that had been still for days.

His voice cut through the quiet. “I had to come back. For you.”

It landed too sharp. Too flat. Like the feeling got lost somewhere between his chest and his mouth.

You didn’t turn to look at him. You just stared at the dark water, trying to breathe around the ache in your throat. “You didn’t have to,” you said, barely loud enough. “I would’ve been fine.”

It was a lie, and you both knew it.

He let out a breath, like he’d been holding it for days. “I love you, Y/n,” he said, softer now. “I love you too much to stay away. I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t do it.”

That stilled something in you.

You drew in a shaky breath, the air cool against your skin, and finally let the words fall. “I’m scared, Charles. I don’t know what to do next... after this ends.” Your voice was low, barely louder than the waves brushing the dock’s edge. It felt like saying it aloud made it more real—that this moment, this summer, this version of the two of you might slip away the minute it was over. And you didn’t know how to make peace with that.

You turned to look at him then, really looked, the tears clouding your vision making his face blur slightly. But you could still see the way his expression shifted—how the boy you knew sat beneath the man in front of you. He seemed just as lost. “I don’t know, Y/n,” he said after a long pause, his shoulders lifting in a quiet shrug. “I wish I did.”

There was a weight behind those words, the kind that only comes from knowing something good has an expiration date. He looked out toward the water as if the answer might be hiding in the waves, and for a second, you both just let the silence stretch between you. It wasn’t empty. It held everything unsaid.

“Maybe we should just... not think about it,” he said finally, his voice gentler now. “Just enjoy the last few weeks. Let it be what it is. And then... maybe we just forget.”

Your chest tightened at that. The idea of it all—being reduced to a memory, a footnote in a chapter you didn’t want to close—made something inside you ache. You were about to nod, to agree even if it was a lie, when he added, softer this time, as if he wasn’t even sure you were meant to hear it, “I don’t want to forget.”

That changed everything.

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, like he wasn’t sure he should say it—but he did anyway. “I just want you to know I’ll always love you.”

You didn’t look at him right away. The words settled between you like something tender and impossible to hold.

“Yeah,” you said softly, nodding just once. “Me too.”

Then your smile faltered a little, and you added, “Maybe that’s the problem.”

You breathed out slowly, your chest tight with the truth of it. Loving him had always been the easiest part. It was everything else—the timing, the choices, the weight of what ifs—that had turned things hard. The love was constant. Maybe that’s what made it so complicated.

─── 10: I HATE HOW YOU ALWAYS WILL BE THE ONE.

And somehow, you did enjoy it as much as you could.

The days blurred into one another—warm mornings by the water, quiet afternoons full of sun and stories, soft nights under the stars. You laughed more than you expected. Sometimes too hard. Sometimes just enough. Arthur kept finding ways to pull you into old games, silly traditions, the kind of things that didn’t matter unless you were ten years old or heartbroken and trying not to be. Charles didn’t say much at first, but he didn’t leave your side either. And slowly, he softened again. Or maybe you did.

It all felt dreamlike—so easy it was hard to believe it belonged to real time. Like you’d stepped back into some version of childhood, but this time you knew what was coming. So you held on a little tighter. Laughed a little louder. Let every golden hour slip into your skin before it passed completely.

They tried not to talk about the end. About what would come after. Arthur joked more. Charles stayed longer when he didn’t have to. You never asked. You just let the days keep coming.

But every moment slips away, as all things do.

You stood outside the airport, suitcase by your side, the air a little colder than you expected. People rushed past with bags and tickets, voices rising and falling, but your whole world had narrowed to the two people in front of you—Charles and Arthur. Both of them just standing there, like they didn’t know what to say either.

You gave them a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was really good to see you again, boys,” you said, glancing from one to the other slowly. Taking them in one last time. You wanted to remember everything—the way Arthur’s smile always made things lighter, the way Charles looked at you like you still mattered, even when neither of you said it.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Arthur first. He didn’t hesitate—just pulled you in tight like he already missed you. You held onto him like you weren’t ready to let go either.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you whispered. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Arthur stepped back, and you saw it right away—the way his eyes were glassy, blinking too quickly. He tried to smile, but it wobbled at the edges. “Aw, don’t cry,” you said with a soft laugh, your voice catching as your own tears finally slipped free.

You wiped at your cheeks, half-laughing through it now. “Great, now we’re both a mess.”

He shook his head, chuckling quietly as he swiped at his face too. “We’ve always been a mess.”

But in that moment, it didn’t feel like a bad thing. Just honest. Just the kind of goodbye that only happens when it really meant something.

You turned toward Charles, and the look in his eyes almost undid you. They were shining with the kind of emotion he rarely let show, blinking too fast like he was trying to hold it all in. “Char,” you said gently, your voice softer than it had been all day, “come here.”

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His breath shook near your ear. “I love you,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, but thick with everything he couldn’t say before.

You laughed through the lump in your throat, trying to keep it together. “Stop,” you said, voice shaking, “or I’ll cry even harder.”

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling through tears. His laugh came first, low and a little broken, then yours followed, and suddenly you were both laughing like you hadn’t just said goodbye.

“So...” he said between breaths, trying to calm the shake in his smile, “see you next summer?”

You looked at him, heart full and aching, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said quietly, “see ya.”

You knew, deep down, that you’d made the most of this summer. You’d squeezed every last drop from the slow days, the warm nights, the laughter that echoed through quiet rooms and open fields. Even with the weight of saying goodbye, even with the ache that came from leaving Charles behind, you didn’t regret a single moment of it.

The ending was bittersweet—yes. But you wouldn’t have traded it for something easier or simpler. Not when it gave you memories that felt like sunlight, friendships that held you up, and a love that, even if only for a while, felt like everything.

© norristrii 2025

babsie radio ! First summer break day. Can u believe it? That’s crazyy… hope u guys enjoy it as much as you can!! <3

tag list ! @haniette

[schlattschlut]

Camera Flash - Schlatt smut

Schlatt always has a camera pointed at you.

Anyway, here you go

Cw: smut, sex tapes, fingering, yk the works

Schlatt couldn’t help it, his love for physical media and me were both too strong. He couldn’t really be blamed that he had a stack of polaroids of me, several cassette tapes piled in into a locked box underneath our shared bed; images he kept for his eyes only.

Except for the times he wanted me to see them too, placing the box in the bed and putting in the code, flipping it open while he smirks at me. “Please?” He begs slightly, “You look so good in this one.” He mutters, pulling out a specific tape, one dated just over two months ago.

“Schlatt…” I mumble, standing next to him and staring down at the tape in his hands. I knew exactly which one it was, considering it was also labeled Bathtub. I didn’t mind Schlatts urge to keep a camera on me, I found it incredibly endearing. But even all of the tapes locked away in the box are filmed from his perspective, only showing my body and none of him. He knew how much I preferred to be looking at him in those moments, but he still couldn’t help but beg me to watch them anyway.

“I can make it fun.” He states, setting the tape on the bed and closing the box, shoving it back in its place under the bed before picking up the tape again and grabbing my hand, pulling me with him towards his desk where his cassette player was set up.

He slides the tape into the player, turning on the small tv next to it that he insisted was the only right way to enjoy physical media like this.

Schlatt sits down in his chair as the video starts, he grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap to watch along with him. His lips attach to my neck while he keeps his eyes on the video screen, watching the replay of us in the bath together, his hands running over my body and causing suds to slide along my skin.

I whine as he bites my neck, his fingers start to slide along my inner thigh, pushing my dress up my hips as he did. My hand reaches up to tangle in his hair, tugging on it softly as he bites my neck again.

My eyes flutter close for a moment and my head lolls back before Schlatt lifts his head from my shoulder, grabbing my cheeks and forcing my face back to the tv. “Eyes on the screen.” He mutters, his fingers running along the edge of my underwear as he ensures I’m watching the tv. “This is my favorite part.” He mutters, pulling his hand from my cheeks to point at the screen just as he slides into me on camera, my moans audible and making me blush in real time as I feel his fingers slip past my underwear, his middle finger running along my folds before pressing against my clit.

My eyes are still on the screen, watching the water splash as my hips moved over Schlatt and he smacked my ass repeatedly.

He moans behind me, slipping just his middle finger into me, pressing against the sensitive spot inside me. My breath catches in my throat as he adds his ring finger, his fingers curling faster now as he listened to the way my body reacted.

Schlatts free hand pushing my dress down my shoulders, exposing my chest to him; his fingers pinching my nipple and he hummed at the way they hardened.

“Look at you.” He mutters, referring to the version of me on the tv, “You always look so good on my cock.”

His words make my head spin, his teeth grazing my ear as he pants heavily, his hips bucking against my ass as his fingers start to get deeper, his movements deliberate and well planned. It was an entire possibility that he could get me off better than I could, seeming to know my body even better than me.

I feel coil in my stomach grow tighter, wanting desperately to be released. “Schlatt…” I whine, almost as a warning.

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come?” He whispers into my ear, already knowing what I was trying to say. “Gonna come from watching me fuck you, huh?” He taunts.

I nod frantically, my eyes watching the screen closely as the feeling built even more. I was right on the edge, squeezing around Schlatts fingers just before he pulls away completely; leaving me whimpering at the loss of contact.

“Need you to come around me.” He states, lifting me from the chair and carrying me over to the bed. He unzips his pants, pushing them down and freeing his length from his boxers. He runs his cock over my folds a few times, gathering my

juices as lubricant before sliding himself into me slowly. He grips my thighs roughly, pushing against the way my body resisted him at first. Once he’s fully seated in me, I whine and squeeze around him, “There you go.” He mumbles, “Knew you could take me.”

His words force a moan out of me as his hips start to rock slowly. My eyes roll back as he starts to speed them up.

Schlatt lets go of my legs, pushing my dress up just far enough to expose my chest to him. He leans forward, pursing his lips and spitting on my breast before taking my nipple in his mouth. He hums softly, his eyes closing and his body relaxing for a moment before he pulls away with a pop.

He leans back, admiring my body under him as his hips hammered forward.

My eyes close, I sigh softly and trail my hands along his chest as the shifting of his hips clouded my brain. I don’t even register that he’s picked up his polaroid camera until the flash hits me and I open my eyes, watching the photo print slowly from the camera as he pulls his face away from the view finder.

Schlatt grins, grabbing the picture and setting it on the bed next to us. “Sorry toots.” He mutters, picking up the camera and angling it lower; capturing just the way our bodies connected, “You’re too hot not to.” He states, setting that picture down and picking up the other to show me. I blush, shoving his hand and the photo away.

“Let me.” I mumble, reaching for his camera.

Schlatt laughs, holding the device up and out of my reach, “No way toots.” He replies quickly, “This film is reserved for your pretty face.”

I whine, pouting up at him, “No fair.” I huff, “I want pictures of you.”

A smirk crosses Schlatts face, “I’ll have to buy you your own camera then.”

I groan, crossing my arms, “So not fair.” I mutter, pouting further as he lowers the camera again and snaps another photo of me.

He doesn’t let me complain further, not even waiting for the photo to print fully as he sets the camera down on the bed and slams his hips against mine.

My breath catches in my throat and my back arches; Schlatt grabbing my waist and holding me down against him as he starts to thrust steadily.

He smiles as he hears my moans, the look on his face incredibly smug. He takes one hand off my waist to press his thumb against my clit; a whimper escaping me as he starts to move in small circles.

Schlatt laughs softly, his free hand now wrapped around my throat as he stares down at me. “Too dumb to complain now.” He groans, his hips not slowing down as he chased his own high. I squeeze around him and he grunts softly, his hips stuttering. “Goddamnit.” He mutters, his hips stilling as he comes in me.

Schlatt lifts his body off of mine, his hips rolling slowly. “Say cheese.” He chuckles, grabbing his camera and snapping a photo as soon as I come around him.

Schlatt sets the camera back down, laying his chest on top of mine as he worked to catch his breath. I glance at the camera, picking it up quickly and pointing it at the two of us; pressing the button quickly.

The camera flashes and Schlatt groans in annoyance; “You’ll pay for that.” He grumbles as I feel him start to harden again, his hips pressing forward.

[inmyheaddd]

just feeling my way back to you - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a flashback in a grayson series i’m working on but idk if im ever gonna post it 💔 summary: having what was supposed to be a relaxing picnic by the river, took a very unexpected turn when it started raining. heavily. warnings: rain kiss rain kiss rain kiss!! nothing really tho wc: 1.6k masterlist

you and grayson sat by a creek-river hybrid, the sun painting a golden hue over everything as the water beneath you seemed to glitter. 

there wasn’t much noise, apart from the rustling of leaves, the sound of the water, and of course, you and grayson’s non stop quiet chatter and laughter.

the air sent a breeze down your spine, but it did nothing to bother you. you don’t think anything could ever ruin this moment with you and grayson, with your head on his shoulder as you brought your knees to your chest.

well, one thing nearly came close. 

you felt a drop of water on your nose, making you sit up fully as you let out a small gasp. 

“oh my god, is it raining?” you reached your hand to wipe the droplet off your nose, only for more to start dropping on your face, faster, too.

you didn’t see the way grayson’s face turned into a slight frown when you lifted your head off his shoulder, you were too preoccupied with looking at the clouds as more rain started falling down, almost in awe.

grayson then found himself smiling as he watched you look up to the sky and laugh, a sound he’d replay over and over on a record player in his mind. 

his gaze stayed on your face as you tilted your head back down and looked at him, a grin spreading across your face. 

“i have an idea,” you said in a sing-song voice. 

“no.” he deadpanned. 

“i didn’t even tell you!” 

grayson raised his eyebrows at you, a hint of laughter in his voice. “your ideas in situations like these are never good.” 

your jaw fell open in mock offense. “never good? well that’s just a lie.”

his lips threatened to turn up. you would’ve barely noticed if it was anyone else, but you noticed everything about grayson. 

“i apologize, never sensible.” he corrected himself.

it was already raining harder now, but you paid it no mind. looking into grayson’s eyes felt the same as looking up at the stormy skies. 

“and when was the last time you had fun doing something sensible?” you retorted, and now grayson’s barely there smile fully cracked. 

it made way for a chuckle as he looked away from you, a light shake of his head before he ran a hand through his hair. 

you knew you’d gotten him with that one, muttering a small, “exactly.” as you turned yourself around, looking through the bag you’d brought with you. 

after flicking through extra clothes, snacks, your phones, and a speaker, you found the item you were looking for. 

“hey, grayson, this is waterproof, right?” you called out to him as you pulled his camera out of its cover. 

obviously grayson hawthorne’s far-too-expensive camera was waterproof, who were you kidding?

he hummed lowly, more in confusion as to answering your question. 

leaning forward with your legs crossed, you you set up the camera against a tree stump beside you, pressing the record button as grayson watched you — still slightly befuddled.

“hey guys, it’s raining!” you spoke into the camera, adjusting it so you and grayson were in frame with the scene behind you.

“—i’m with grayson hawthorne right now, on a sunday, 6:32 pm, and it’s raining!” you reiterated yourself with a laugh, setting the frame for whatever version of yourself would be looking back at this video in the future. you with grayson, you’d silently hoped.

as you talked, grayson looked at you like you were so much more than you actually were, with so much love in his eyes. it stilled you for a moment as you saw it in the camera. 

your attention was no longer on the camera as you sat upright again, looking at grayson with an ever present smile on your face. 

“what?” you laughed quietly.

in all of his hawthorne manner, he answered your question with one of his own. “what are you doing?” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out with the patter of the rain and sounds around you. 

and in all of your “i love annoying grayson” manner, you didn’t answer his question. you simply grabbed the camera and stood up, and his gaze followed you the whole time.

you jogged towards the river, the rain soaking through your clothes as you went, and set the camera up again on a large rock. grayson’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you.

"what are you doing?" he projected his voice over the rain, punctuating each word as he grew concerned. 

you shot him a quick look over your shoulder, your smile growing even wider. "making real memories!” you exclaimed.

before he could protest, you made sure everything was in frame on the camera, then took a few steps back, your bare feet sliding a little on the wet grass.

"you’re not serious," grayson stated as he followed after you, but there was a tiny hint of humour in his tone now.

"oh, i’m so serious!" you shouted back, already running toward the water.

"sweetheart, wait—" grayson reached out as if to stop you, but it was too late.

you launched yourself off the bank and into the river with a squeal, the cold water hitting you like a shock to the system. it wasn’t that deep— coming up to just below your chest. 

grayson stood frozen for a second, shaking his head as he watched you pop up, gasping and laughing, water streaming down your face as you smoothed your hair back.

"come in!" you called, laughing breathlessly, lifting your arms to show him how much fun you were having. "you know you want to!" you added, giggling to no end.

he hesitated, eyes flicking to the camera that was still recording. "i have absolutely no desire to go in. i truly worry for your sanity sometimes.” 

"my sanity may be questionable, but at least i’m having fun!" you countered, the water swirling around your legs as the rain kept falling. "this is all on camera, gray. if you don’t come in, you’ll be known forever as the grumpy blonde who stood on the sidelines, while i had the time of my life." 

grayson davenport hawthorne would forever be known as a lot of things— and you knew you were going to keep this video as a keepsake for just you two. precious, untarnished with the effects from anyone else. just yours.

maybe not everyone would know the real him— which in fact wasn’t the grumpy blonde like you had joked — but you did. and you were endlessly thankful for that.

grayson let out a deep, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his wet hair before speaking. “you’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” 

"so are you getting in or not?" you teased, splashing water in his direction.

grayson looked at you for a second longer, hesitant, before pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest that had you grinning. 

this was always how it went with you two, but you liked — no, you loved it.

it was second nature for you two; you doing something he found reckless, and him following after you anyway. you completed eachother. 

he kicked off his shoes, then without another word, ran towards the water and landed with a massive splash.

you let out a huge squeal, shielding yourself from the wave and laughing uncontrollably as grayson surfaced, shaking the water from his hair.

you threw your head back laughing as grayson approached you. “i can’t believe you got in!” 

he let out a chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “you could get me to do just about anything on this planet.” he said softly, his hands finding your waist as the rain continued to pour around you.

you felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t let it show. you smiled up at him, the sound of the rain pattering against the water filling your senses. “just about?” you teased.

“anything.” he corrected himself, pulling you even closer against the water. 

"oh, that’s a dangerous amount of power to give someone, isn’t it?” you joked, putting your arms around grayson’s neck. “especially for a hawthorne like you." 

"oh, undoubtedly.” he teased you right back with a barely there smile, as one of his hands trailed up to caress your face. 

“even more so when it’s you." his voice was all low and smooth, it nearly turned you into putty in his arms.

"you’re lucky i don’t plan on abusing it," you said quietly, trying to keep things light, but you felt your heart hammering against your chest as his face drew nearer to yours. this would never get old.

he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "you already have, sweetheart." 

he said those words before finally pressing his lips to yours, and the kiss was perfect. it was everything and more that you could’ve ever hoped for, it was the rain kiss of your dreams. 

and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, grayson’s hands travelled down to your thighs, signaling for you to wrap your legs around his torso. 

and that you did. 

you fought breaking into a smile as your hands weaved through his wet hair, and as you felt his hands on your body. 

it was nothing you hadn’t felt before, but it still gave you fireworks every damn time. 

—

as you pulled back back, both breathless and panting against eachother, you asked him a question. 

“you think that cameras still recording?” you murmured into the tiny space between you. 

“it can record for up to 48 hours before its battery begins to drain, its—”

you cut him off with a quiet laugh, “gray, a simple yes or no would’ve sufficed.”

he smiled, nodding and somehow putting his lips even closer without kissing you, “yes, then.” he breathed out— but you had a feeling he wasn’t really talking about the camera anymore as he pulled you in for another total mind-numbing, record breaking kiss. 

you didn’t need that camera to know that this moment would never be forgotten between the two of you.

taglist: @charsoamerican @ariabedumb @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary

@littlemissmentallyunstable @whatsamongus @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle

@sheisntyou @midiosaamor @emelia07 @sweetreveriee (if you’d like to be added or removed pls lmk! 🤍)

[hypnohimbodrone]

Team Sync

The rain had just stopped as the Redfield Rovers wrapped up their evening training. The five-man squad gathered at the side of the small pitch, sweat still clinging to their jerseys. Josh, the team captain, wiped his brow and looked over to the changing room, where Coach Taylor had disappeared.

The past few weeks had been strange. Coach Taylor, usually loud and full of energy, had become quieter, more composed. His once casual tracksuit had been replaced with a sleek black and green uniform that hugged his toned frame. The guys had joked that he was going through some midlife crisis.

As they sat on the benches, catching their breath, Coach Taylor reappeared. His posture was immaculate, hands clasped behind his back, eyes calm and focused.

“Alright, lads,” he said with a smooth tone. “Team talk inside. Got something important to show you.”

The guys exchanged looks. Liam, the goalkeeper, shrugged. “Probably another strategy video,” he muttered.

They filed into the small changing room. Coach Taylor locked the door behind them, an odd move that made Josh raise an eyebrow.

“Everything alright, Coach?” he asked.

“Better than ever,” Coach Taylor replied. “I’ve found a way to make you all stronger. More focused. Perfectly synchronized.”

He placed a small device on the bench. A green spiral projected upward, spinning slowly, the light reflecting off the tiled walls.

“Just watch,” Taylor instructed, his voice low and soothing. “Let it settle your thoughts. You’ve worked hard. You deserve to let go.”

The spiral flickered with a rhythmic pulse. One by one, the players’ gazes fixed on it. Josh felt his shoulders relax, his mind growing calm.

Taylor stepped closer. “You’ve noticed I’ve been different. That’s because I’ve been aligned with something greater. The Server has shown me how to become the best version of myself. I’m here to share that gift with you.”

The light from the spiral deepened, its glow pulsing in time with their breathing. Tommy, the striker, blinked slowly, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“We are a team,” Taylor continued. “We move together. Think together. Train together. Now, you’ll become truly unified. Let the light guide you.”

A faint hum filled the room. The spiral seemed to grow brighter, each pulse sinking deeper into their minds.

“We are The Server,” Taylor whispered, voice calm and unwavering.

The players echoed softly, voices monotonous. “We are The Server.”

Green tendrils emerged from the device, flowing like liquid across the floor, coiling around their ankles. None of them moved to resist. Josh felt the tendrils slide up his legs, forming a glossy black material that hugged his thighs and waist.

The others barely reacted as the suits continued forming, covering their chests, arms, and legs in sleek, rubber-like material accented with thin green lines. Their old football kits melted away, replaced by these tight, futuristic uniforms.

The room seemed warmer. Taylor moved in front of them, observing their blank expressions, their eyes now glowing a faint green.

“Stand up,” he instructed.

All five rose simultaneously, their movements smooth and precise. The suits shimmered in the dim light, their bodies now strong and unified.

Taylor inspected them, nodding approvingly. “You are now more than just a team. You are one with The Server.”

Josh stepped forward, his voice calm and unwavering. “Together, we are The Server.”

The others repeated the phrase, their voices synchronized and harmonious.

Taylor smiled, placing his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You will continue to train as normal. You will play harder, move faster, and think together. You are no longer just men. You are part of something far greater.”

The spiral dimmed, but the glow in their eyes remained. They turned as one, filing out of the changing room, stepping onto the pitch for one more practice round. Their movements were precise, perfectly timed. Passes were sharper, shots more accurate. There was no hesitation, no disconnection.

As the final whistle blew, they gathered in the center, forming a tight circle. Taylor joined them, placing a hand in the center.

In perfect unison, they chanted, “Together, we are The Server.”

The words echoed around the empty pitch, as if the ground itself was absorbing their unity. As they left the field, their postures remained upright, eyes forward, knowing that their newfound purpose was only beginning.

Taylor watched them go, proud of his team’s transformation. He knew that the other local clubs would soon see the difference. One by one, they would understand. One by one, they would join.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

A quick look at the Splatoon 3 Version 9.3 changes!

(credit to Lewyn4k on bluesky!)

I'm a bit late with this one, all the Splatubers have already gotten their patch note explanation videos out, but this is a really interesting patch so I wanted to go through it and give my thoughts!

Let's start with the Main Weapon changes:

Sploosh, Splattershot Jr., Aerospray and Dapple Dualies have all had their shot velocity increased by 3%, which confers a slight range increase as well (because if your bullets travel faster they get further before they start to drop!). I don't think this solves any of these weapons' most pressing issues, but let's not look that gift horse in the mouth. Gift seahorse?

N-ZAP is now a little bit more accurate and moves a little bit faster while shooting, which makes it in line with the Mini Splatling in terms of strafe speed. Keep in mind that this value is multiplicative with Tacticooler, since it maxes out your Run Speed, so Zap's gonna be really zooming now!

Nova's had its' jump RNG decreased by 33%, which is a big change numerically, but I don't think it amounts to very much. Nova's still incredibly inaccurate as a baseline needs to hit five shots to kill, so t his doesn't do anything real for it, I think.

Big Swig's vertical flick hitbox is now slightly bigger. For some reason it used to have a more narrow vertical flick than the other Rollers, but this change should likely but it more in line with the rest.

Painbrush's delay between swings has been reduced by about 2 frames, which is a small but not insignificant change. While Painbrush can two-shot, it's much more likely to splat in three or even four shots due to its damage falloff, and with this buff those will now be 6 and 8 frames faster, respectively. This buff also means that painbrush paints better, too!

Mini and Heavy Splatling both had their charge time reduced by 2 frames for the first ring and 3 frames for the second for a total of a 5 frame faster full charge. Mini now gets a full charge in 27 frames (less than half a second!) while Heavy gets a full charge in 72. Additionally Heavy had its firing duration increased by 11%, which means it fires for roughly two and two thirds of a second. Some nice changes for weapons that were honestly pretty good already!

Splat Dualies' bullets are now a bit bigger making them easier to hit. This does not increase their paint or anything like that, and it does not affect your shots fired while sitting after a dodge roll. This is actually a reversion of a nerf they got in late Splatoon 2! Splat Dualies were already really good with a stellar kit in the form of Suction Bomb/Crab Tank, and I don't think this moves the needle much, but hey, can't complain!

Recycled Brella gets a paint buff and a 14% ink efficiency buff. "Slightly" is doing a lot of work here, because the actual increase is somewhere in the ballpark of 27%! Recycled paint was mediocre on a good day, so it's well deserved. The ink efficiency buff also means that it gets two more shots on a full tank, which combined with the painting buff means it might just get a decent amount of Specials, of which it has two pretty good to pick from. All in all a big win for Recycling fans!

Snipewriter gets its' second paint nerf, and while they didn't put a number here datamining's shown that it roughly translates to a 5% paint decrease. Not nothing, but it'll probably be fine, though this is not the only nerf the pen is getting this patch as we'll see in a bit.

And for the final Main Weapon change of the patch it's Decavitator's turn on the chopping block, the dash slash now takes 2 more frames to start, going from 8 to 10 frames, while its paint's been reduced by 12%.

I actually really quite like these changes because while I like Decav a lot it's always been a bit overtuned, and these nerfs reduce some of those aspects while still retaining the most fun and interesting aspects of the weapon, the big hitbox and high damage. This is a very good approach, I'd say.

There's no Sub Weapon changes this patch (boo! buff angle shooter and toxic mist already!) so before we continue to Special changes let's take a look at the points for Special changes:

Snipewriter joins Squeezer and Sloshing Machine in the 220p club, and S-BLAST is paying the price for its recent competitive popularity, having risen in usage quite a lot after the Ranged Blaster nerfs last year. Not much else to note here, I think.

So now, let's talk about Special Weapons, and this is where the juice is this patch.

Ultra Stamp had its thrown mode damage numbers changed around quite a lot, having its instant splat radius massively increased while its outer splash damage radius had its damage doubled. To show you what this means in practice, well...

If Ultra Stamp would paint your feet with its explosion, you get evaporated. This is a big buff, making thrown Ultra Stamps a genuine threat that you need to be on the lookout for facing a weapon that has one.

So is Ultra Stamp as bad as Trizooka now? I don't think so, and it's for a couple of reasons. For one Ultra stamp takes more time to activate and throw than it takes to get your first Trizooka shot out, making it easier to react to. It also can't arc around obstacles the way Trizooka bullets can with their weird spiraling trajectory. Also, you only get one shot, when you've thrown your hammer it's all you get. And the final nail in the Trizooka comparison is that, well...

Trizooka gets a major nerf this patch, essentially getting the reverse change of Ultra Stamp. Roughly the outer half of the splash radius was changed to deal 35 damage from 53, so the person using it has to be pretty precise to get meaningful damage onto people now. They also decreased the duration from 6 seconds to 5.5 seconds, so you've gotta get those shots out fast!

And finally, Triple Splashdown paints 11% more. This change is a help in Splat Zones in particular, as Triple Splashdown actually painted surprisingly little given the three explosions, but now it'll paint enough to flip some zones on its own with no Special Power Up. It's not as good for this as Reefslider since you have to actually be in the zone as you start the Special, but utility is utility!

While we're all done with weapon changes, there's still some Stage changes, specifically to Tri-Color Turf War stages specifically:

To demonstrate the layout changes, here are some images courtesy of diamcreeper24 on twitter and Inkipedia. Old layout on left, new on right:

These stages, Bluefin in particular, were some of most imbalanced in terms of attacker/defender win/loss ratio, hence why they got changes.

And that's the patch! Overall I like the changes, but I do hope that in the future we see a bigger focus on buffing weaker Subs and Specials, as the biggest problem a lot of weapons have is not that their Mains are weak, but that they are hard to justify because of bad Subs and Specials. That said the Ultra Stamp change is a good start, here's hoping for something similarly drastic for Wave Breaker,

[andromedabooks]

Lab Partners

Summary: In which the team finds out about Spencer and Nora’s relationship in a slightly less than ideal manner.

CWs/Tags: Season5!Spencer. Fluff! Established but Secret relationship. Well-meaning teasing and banter. VERY slightly suggestive connects

A/N: This is the cute version of how Spencer and Nora's relationship comes out to the team. There’s an angsty, running into each other’s arms in the field while someone is bleeding version floating in my head as well...  

For someone healing from a bullet ripping through some crucial ligaments, Spencer was shockingly mobile. He’d figured out the scooter in record time, not without a good deal of bumping into furniture and frustrated swearing that made Nora laugh entirely too hard. She relieved herself of her guilt as she let him stay most nights at her picturesque first-floor apartment in a DC brownstone under the guise of easier handicap access. She knew he mostly wanted it because he wanted to be there, to see her the instant she got back from a case where he couldn’t yet go with. Of course, she knew, but that didn’t stop her from letting him stay. 

He was, therefore, elated when he learned she’d been assigned to stay at Quantico with him for this particular case due to the complex chemical anesthetics the unsub used while the rest of the team was scattered about DC. The pair, given their combined scientific expertise, had been sequestered in the lab. 

Spencer was zooming about the lab, ecstatic to be free of Penelope’s bat-cave. However, they’d still been forced to bring one of Pen’s clunky laptops to connect them to the rest of the team via video call. 

And so, both clad in lab coats and blue nitrile gloves, the pair set to work on puzzling out this particular cocktail of toxins with the occasional chatter of the rest of the team in the background.   

“Spence, can you bring me an Erlenmeyer flask and a micropipette set?” Nora asked, voice echoing from underneath the fume hood where she’d been forced to move her atomic emission mass spectrometer so she could begin to determine what the hell this compound was made of. 

“Sure!” And Spencer zoomed off to grab her desired equipment while she flipped on the spectrometer and met him in the middle on a lab bench to begin the next test. Spencer, meanwhile, parked by her side and simply stood enamored by her diluting a sample of a victim’s blood with reagent. “You’re so pretty when you’re processing potentially toxic blood samples,” he said almost dreamily, leaning in to tuck his chin against her shoulder as she worked. 

“You’re a weirdo, Spencer Reid,” she muttered under her breath, lips quirking upwards in a smile despite herself. 

“You signed up for it, love,” he sang-songed, grinning with a level of playfulness that was reserved only for her. 

Nora broke into a proper smile and laughed despite herself. “Shut up and get me the second reagent.” She lightly shoved Spencer’s head off her shoulder with a gloved hand. 

Spencer retaliated with a kind of confidence everyone—her included in the beginning—presumed he would not have. He turned her around by hands at her waist with impressive dexterity for a man standing on one and a half legs, and he kissed her soundly. A logical part of her brain said that this was their office, that they could be seen by anyone, and that this was most definitely not acceptable behavior in the workplace. That part of her brain went quiet a lot faster than she’d like to admit. 

She leaned into him, allowing him to manipulate the tilt of her head with a hand on her jaw. His other hand trailed from her waist to her hip to her ass—which was, once again, definitely not work appropriate—while she wound her hands up to grip behind his neck. 

If Nora had been thinking about things logically, she probably would’ve considered the fact that, while the rest of the time wouldn’t see or hear them unless they called, Penelope Garcia and her about twenty different monitors likely had their laptop’s video feed pulled up on one of her screens. If she’d continued that line of logic, she would’ve anticipated the gasp when Spencer called her love that turned into shrill shrieking that echoed through that bullpen of the BAU when they kissed. It was a shriek that brought Emily and Derek sprinting into Garcia’s office in enough time to catch the pair as their hands grew less PG and kissing began to turn into eating each other’s faces. The trio stood in stunned silence for a moment before Spencer moved from kissing her lips to her jaw and her neck, then Derek seized the keyboard and frantically unmuted their feed, all but shouting: “Hey, Geniuses! Maybe don’t commit public indecency on company time!” 

They sprang apart comically, faces flushed a guilty shade of pink. Spencer actually moved so quickly that he almost fell off his scooter, and Nora had to catch him by the shoulders and set him right. She knew the team was bound to find out at some point. When they’d passed the six-month secrecy mark last week, they’d joked they were living on borrowed time. Still, she hadn’t expected it would come out like that. Nora braced for the barrage of commentary through the tinny speakers of the laptop as if she were bracing for an earthquake. 

Spencer, no doubt sensing the tension across her shoulders, drew her in with an arm around her. He reached out casually to mute the laptop, cutting off the three stooges who were all yelling over each other from upstairs. He then pulled her in tighter with his other arm around her waist. “I guess we’re going to have to fill out that disclosure paperwork now, huh?” he joked softly. He was red—arguably redder than she was—with flush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. But, there was also some giddiness in his eyes that indicated that it wasn’t just an embarrassment to be caught with her, but a point of pride. “And I get to call you mine in public now,” he whispered just low enough that the laptop wouldn’t pick it up. 

Nora, despite all good sense, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. This time, she knew everyone could see them.

They had precious few minutes of silence where they kissed gently before the door to the lab burst open and their trio of nosy coworkers barged in as they’d grown tired of being ignored. 

“How long?” Penelope demanded, bustling up to poke Spencer in the chest as he tucked Nora into his side again. “How long has this been going on?” 

“Officially? Six months, ten days, and 22 hours.” Of course, he remembered down to the hour. Probably the minute, too, if Nora felt like asking. 

Three jaws fell in near unison. “It’s been half a year?” Emily demanded with indignation. 

They simply nodded and let them—mostly Penelope—squawk about not being told and being deprived of their adorable relationship. 

Derek eventually slid to Spencer’s side, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good job, man,” he said with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. “I didn’t know you had that much game, but from what I saw on that monitor, you’ve got some somethin’ bold in you I didn’t expect. I mean, since when does the good doctor back his girl against a counter?” His humorous, honeyed gaze flicked to Nora. “You teach him that trick, Johansen?” 

Spencer flushed back to a near tomato red, spluttering a defense, and Nora laughed despite everything. “He came that way. Preset, my friend,” she said, leaning back to meet Derek’s eye. “I’ve taught him a few tricks, though.” And then, because she wanted to see him blush redder, she said, “Not any you’ll get to see, of course.” 

There was a chorus of gasps, shouts, and wolf whistles while Spencer buried his head in her shoulder. “How dare you?” he groaned into the skin of her neck, and Nora laughed harder than before.

[hazbinwithquantum]

Sims 4 Vee Tower Wallpaper CC

Well, I certainly finished polishing this one up faster than I expected!

18 swatches, 4 of which are gradients! The first swatch is the gradient visible in the show.

This background from "Radio Killed the Video Star" is one of my favorites, so I started with it, of course. The unpolished version I posted last night had some issues with the wallpaper being slightly discontinuous, and not as many swatches, so I recommend downloading this new version!

Download (SFS)

Alternate download (Patreon)

Original post

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi!

Could I please request Ace, Deuce, Jack and Epel reacting to the reader wearing a cheering them on during a match/club event?

Hi, thank you for the ask! This is a really cute idea haha

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel x reader who is cheering for them in a match/club event

Ace

Before the game, he probably kept telling you "oh it doesn't matter if you don't go, I'll be sad but you'll ultimately be the one missing out" but he was honestly really, really hoping you would go and see him. Besides, who doesn't love a guy playing basketball?

If there was a Twst version of High School Musical this might be it haha. The way you basically cheered him on the loudest when it seemed like he had lost focus at a pivotal moment of the game and everything low-key seemed like it was from a music video

He would be super pumped you got to see him, hell seeing you made him kinda flustered. Like, he feels extra-ready to play? You'll often see him giving you a smile or a wink while he runs across the court and he catches your eye.

After the game, he will pretend like he didn't have any struggles, sort of like "yeah yeah I'm just that good." He has a bit of an ego haha, but either way he will make sure you know he was super happy you got to see him during the match. Sure he might be a little sweaty and a bit out of breath, but he'll still hug you and might lift you up a little bit

Overall, his ego will have a boost and he will be super happy. Will he talk about how cool he was in the game to everyone? Yes. Will he talk about the game with you for the next few days? Yes.

Deuce

He does Track and Field! Which honestly covers a lot of different activities, but he likes doing it with others. Because of this, you might catch him in the relay race events. He happened to be participating in the game that was coming up and (in a slightly stammered way) asked if you wanted to go watch him. Of course, you agreed and he was super grateful

To say he was a little nervous would be an understatement. He was already a little antsy with the competition but he was like "omg they're going to watch me I can't fail" and people might notice he's more jittery than usual because of this

The track is super big, so he doesn't know if he'll see you. However, you bet he would glance towards the audience before his event. If he manages to catch you in the audience, expect him to give you a small smile, maybe a little wave too. He'll remind himself that you're there to see him when it's finally time for him to run too

I think after the event he'll be super tired so he might not be as energetic when you get to meet up with him. However, he'll be blushing, slightly out of breath as he drinks from his water bottle, and will give you a soft hug. "T-thanks for coming today," he might say. If he won, he'll be super elated but if he didn't then just let him know you're still proud of him ;-;

Overall he's grateful you got to be there and cheer him. He wants to just relax with you afterwards, which means you two might be having a cozy movie night together at Ramshackle

Jack

He too is a track and field guy! I imagine he would also be a runner, and while he wants you to see him he's also nervous you might not really enjoy the event or you might be busy. He'll bring it up quietly, just like a "it would be nice, I have a track event coming up." Just know he'll be super grateful if you do agree to go

He's super serious during the event, you might think he forgot you were there because he doesn't at all look at the audience when it's his turn on the track. But his hearing's good, if you happen to be cheering for him really loudly he'll hear. He might not react, but he'll have a small smile on his face

I feel like this might be one of the first times you see him racing, and omg he's so fast. Like, you knew he would be but like this? He might've been faster this round because he doesn't want to lose but also because he wants to, well, impress you a bit haha. Sure he's a humble guy, but sometimes he likes to boast ;)

After the event he definitely hugs you and lifts you up in his arms. He might be a little worn out from the event but he tells you "nope I'm feeling the best I can because I get to see you." Honestly just your presence is enough for him, whether or not he won in the event.

I think after the event you two might take a slower hang out, maybe you guys cook together or watch a movie. Either way, he'll just spend some time with you relaxing and if you happen to pamper him during this time he'll be flustered with all of the affection

Epel

Epel's in Spelldrive! One of the biggest sports in the school, and one that you've had first-hand account in haha. You've probably watched Epel practice from time to time, but when one of the big school games come up, he'll ask if you'll go. He'll be a little shy about it, but once you tell him you're going he'll be super energetic (expect a very strong high five haha)

During the game, he might go close to the audience just to say hi to you haha. He was one of the strongest players for Pomefiore, and many of his classmates were cheering him on with you. Who knows, maybe you led a whole cheer with them haha

I think he would be super serious when playing but from time to time he'll look around to see you. He might've waved at you once as well! He'll do some extra tricks on his broom if he can just to impress you a little more

Whether or not Pomefiore did well, let him know you thought he did his best and that it was a lot of fun. He probably just liked being able to play and he'll let you know he's super grateful you got to watch him. Taking a bottle of water, he might tell you "thanks for coming today, I'm starving though so did you want to grab dinner together?"

Overall, he was super pumped to see you and definitely played a little harder than usual with you in the audience. You two will likely have a really good dinner together and if you want to, you guys might go on a magical wheel ride as well.

[losing-dog-art]

I just drafted all of this then lost it I'm going through a wall

Finished murderbot concept!!!

With bonus version with clothes 🎉

I have been making a lot of art lately (this is because I am procrastinating other things 😶)

Explanations below the cut (there was going to be a video but tumblr decided to fuck that)

So I have this old post about some head cannons for MBs appearance, but doing this full body design involved more thinking

I find it interesting that MB really only ever describes it's appearance when it's relevant to the plot/fight/scene, so anything that isn't relevant is left to our imagination. That being said:

MB says all it's inorganic parts are covered by a long sleeve shirt with a collar, pants and shoes. This means no inorganic parts on its face or hands

MB says it has no organic parts on its feet.

Slightly deeper cuts but MB mentions that it has inorganic and organic parts around its knees (I believe in exit strategy) and that it has an accessible company under its ribs (artificial condition)

People are often surprised when they see MB out of armor -- people who aren't familiar with secunits don't expect it to look as human as it does

MBs skin is canonically clear af (network effect I think)

Based on those handful of canon details, you can imagine Mb a lot of different ways -- this is great! And I've said before I think Martha Wells does this very much intentionally. So, that being said, here is some of my thoughts in this interpretation:

Based on that last point, MB looks surprisingly human. For me, this means soft facial features, eyelashes, and more organic parts than you might expect. Also, the inorganic parts are also round and nice looking -- this is partly just me thinking in a fun sci-fi way but also secunits are designed to be comforting

I've seen some people give it mechanical legs that are kind of bird-like or resemble running prosthetics. I think this is super cool and it makes a lot of sense-- those legs are basically a better form of bipedalism and let you run faster etc. BUT they would significantly change your gait. And thus be something MB considers when it is trying to pass as human. So I gave it more human feet, with the important toes and everything

I'm no expert on robotics or anatomy, but I really tried to think a little bit functionally. How would a secunit fold? How would it bend over, squat down, etc? I tried to give the look of some kind of shock system in the ankles, and conical-axis based joints. the hip area is probably the weak point in my design in this areas, idk, imagine ball bearings or something

For clothes, it's pretty straightforward. MB describes this more than a few times, but I tried to give some slightly fun sci-fi decoration bits

I tried to think about how androgyny might be generated in a silhouette in an unintentional way -- androgyny that is the result of functional design decisions and not aesthetic ones.

Idk. I had a lot of fun with this. This took about 4 hours (I've been trying not to overwork stuff lately and let the process show through) I might try and post the speed-draw video later? As a reblog perhaps. Idk Tumblr didn't like it the first time

Also a girl on bumble mentioned reading all systems red and I had to act so normal

[homestuckreplay]

Here's How GG Can Still Win

(page 637-650)

9/14/2009 Wheel Spin: Movie Reference Verdict: John’s Life Might Be Too Weird For Movies

9/15/2009 Wheel Spin: being silly :3c Verdict: being scared and terrified D:

John’s hammer, despite being sick as hell, turns out to be dangerous for him too. This is poetic, given the number of injuries he sustained from the pogo ride as a child, that he’s now finding newer and better ways to injure himself with it. Rose’s sweet catch is really good – and I’m always impressed at her 20-dexterity video game reflexes snatching Dad’s PDA from the air and sliding John’s bed beneath him just in time to avoid injury – but in this case, her move also stops John from falling through the hole into Dad’s room. Is this a coincidence, or is she still focused on stopping him from getting in there?

The Big Imp has entered the house, but is too big for the rooms inside. It’s going to cause serious destruction just by moving around if John can’t kill him soon – and John’s reached a high enough level that a second one is following close behind. It makes me wonder if the Big Imp will drop different, stronger types of grist that can be used to reinforce the house against mundane physical damage. Server player is definitely a full time job despite what Rose says about being ‘just a facilitator,’ and when Rose does enter the game and has to divide her time between server and client goals, this game is going to get even harder.

The visuals of page 641 don’t quite work for me, as the top two pictures overlap each other, and it’s hard to make sense of where the overlap begins - I turned it into a single image to get a better view (comparison below). I think this page would have worked much better as three sequential pages. The following page does this much better – despite the white space between panels, each starts where the previous ended, and it comes together in a visually pleasing way. I mention this because the problem will only compound as the scale of John’s house continues to increase, and the necessary aspect ratio continues to change. There are rare examples, such as pages 376, 484 and 494 where slightly taller images are used, and there are also animated and [S] pages, such as 246 and 250, where we are able to zoom out or pan up or down to see the world on a bigger scale. We haven’t seen it yet, but there could also be interactive panels, where we can use arrow keys or zoom buttons within a panel to see different parts of John’s house ourselves, while sticking with the standard panel dimensions – like having access to a ‘view only’ version of Rose’s server controls.

‘TT: In a way, thieving you of your free will as an adventurer, and the need to advance by your own skill and ingenuity.’ (p.643) I think it is deeply arguable how much free will John has as an adventurer or player, and I hope that the explicit mention of free will means it will be discussed in more depth later. The mechanic does make sense, though. If Rose could just pick up the bed and click and drag John to the first gate, that’d be a huge exploit in the game. Despite being in beta testing, we haven’t really seen any bugs in Sburb so far – it’s extremely well made and tightly programmed, arguably more so than most AAA game releases.

I thought Sburb would operate on video game logic where player characters don’t need to eat, sleep, use the bathroom, brush their teeth, or do other human things to sustain themselves, so long as their gel is viscose enough. So, what does it mean for John to sleep within Sburb? Is sleep still necessary for human survival, is it unnecessary but simply nice to take a nap, or is it something that could provide game benefits – such as minigames that can be played while asleep to gain extra resources, faster/automatic recovery of gel, or saving the game state to potentially return to that point later?

Also, the new sleepy John song is very windchimey to me, reminding me of Windchime Foley from page 82.

‘if you obtain the code for any item at your disposal, you think you could theoretically send the code to John and he could make it himself.’ The Sburb server disc didn’t work out, but Rose’s instincts are good. I wonder if there are any other items in Rose’s house that could help John out. Such as, I don’t know, whatever she’s got hidden in that purple box on p.218. A Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious could be helpful too, as could a 20-foot tall granite statue of the mighty wizard, ZAZZERPAN THE LEARNED. This sadly makes me realize that Sburb alchemy is restricted to items that are small enough to captchalogue.

It’s certainly interesting that the Sburb server CD doesn’t have a captcha code – this must be intentional on the part of the developers. The relationship between the captchalogue system and Sburb as a game is really interesting to me. It makes sense that certain items just can’t be alchemized because they’d break the game, and these items wouldn’t need codes. We know that the Medium, where John is, exists outside of time – how possible is it that the sylladex system is also created by Skaia’s power (as it transcends those same digital-physical boundaries) and was always created to be a companion piece to Sburb? Or alternatively, did the sylladex system exist previously but without the codes on the backs of cards, and Sburb has somehow exploited that existing system to place those codes only on cards that will then be used in alchemy?

The forest fire is approaching Rose’s mausoleum much faster, and now the generator has gone out. It either hasn’t recharged the laptop’s battery at all, or its shutting down has caused the laptop to shortcircuit, as Rose’s laptop immediately goes dark. This is certainly much more dramatic than switching back to battery power. I asked a few weeks ago for the tension with Rose’s situation to ramp up so Act 2’s pace can accelerate, and I think we’ve officially hit that point – which I’m really excited about.

Rose’s main focus is on saving herself. This makes sense on two levels – she’s scared and entering self preservation mode, and it’s also necessary on a practical level, because John can’t progress in the game if his server player dies. I see Rose as someone who likes to be independent and self-reliant, and it must be hard for her to have to depend on someone else to get out of this situation. In this way, she’s the opposite to John, who wanted Rose’s help but was left without it when her laptop died – I love the storytelling here, it’s a great beginning of both their character development to challenge them and put them out of their comfort zones like this.

So, who will be Rose’s server player? Dave seemed likely, but he’ll almost certainly have to escape Bro’s rooftop saw traps before he can get the discs, and I don’t think Rose can wait that long. John seemed possible, but Rose’s plan to send him the disc code failed, and I highly doubt he’ll locate his dad’s car and the original disc any time soon. That means the only person left is our good friend gardenGnostic, who also happened to be the person who originally tipped Rose off about Sburb. This would be poetic, going from the snow to fire, from talk of a dead cat to sitting beside its corpse, from the birthday gift of an important tip to the ultimate gift of saving Rose’s life.

I think Homestuck will throw a curveball and suddenly introduce GG at Rose’s moment of greatest need, just as Rose was introduced at John’s. So far our characters have been introduced in early act 1, late act 1, and early act 2 – so if act 2 is heading towards endgame, which I think it is, this is the moment to finally reveal GG. They’ll need to happen across a server disc somewhere, so whatever the source of their prophetic gifts is could kick in to reveal its location. Alternatively, GG has said that ‘mail takes a while to get anywhere from here!!!’ so if they have been signed up as a beta tester without their knowledge, some delayed mail could be arriving right now. Either way, I think we’re about to get GG discovering a disc and swooping in to save Rose.

[onebizarrekai]

totally valid, i like looking at your works sometimes, i can tell they're very thoughtful! i like the fact you tend not to leave things unanswered unless it's a great question, demonstrated by the fact you have a height reference tag LMAO, i've wondering if there's anything in kcu or ds that you've never said about them before, even just the most fandom facts character-oriented or not! or if not, is there any scrapped concepts for eithier that you decided not to introduce?

heck! there's probably so much. I have so many docs sitting around about everything I've made, some having collected more dust than others. I can give you some fun facts about various things I've made. I don't remember which ones have been mentioned or not, so I'll try to find really specific things.

ink was going to be the literal son of satan in the old version of fatal flaws exclusively for the meme

kevin the chicken appeared in the bizarre saga as a different godly talking chicken character before dreamswap

there's a lot of stuff I haven't shared about the kcu because it's unfinished and I'd like to complete it when the dangan vibe comes back, but I gave byakuya a relative named tony t. togami who works at the future foundation and he's absolutely terrible (in a good way). there is also a character named the alpha roomba, but I will not elaborate at this time

the kcu is an honorary video game, because there's a roomba racing minigame and one of the expert mode challenges is kaito, who is always slightly faster than you

with greyscale's art style, I was planning on adding more and more colors in every chapter as they befriended more people, while xaki stayed more monochrome until their heart was opened in the end. it was a cool idea on paper, but it ate through my art supplies and nowadays I would prefer the art being easy to manage over the metaphor.

have I ever mentioned that I occasionally imagine ibvs as a beat 'em up game with crappy ds graphics

the evil sans squad was going to exist in ibvs (back when I was first coming up with ideas for it, like a long time ago) until I realized that they had no reason to be in the story besides utmv points and also completely undermined nevin and chris's plotline

felix was going to be a one-off villain but then he kept coming back and now he's the main villain of season 2

honestly you can safely assume that I've imagined almost everything I've made as a video game at some point

[thesharktanksdriver]

Any thoughts or ideas of DC Comics!magical girl reader in the Teen Titans (2003 version)?

Bro I love 2003 teen titans sooo muchhhhhh. It was so good.

In dc magical girls timeline Dick is already grown up but meeting 2003 Dick would definitely interesting! I imagine in this some dimensional shenanigans happened leading to the 2003 cast ending up in their universe.

She’d get along with them like a house on fire, it’s honestly kinda funny how the moment the crew of teens spit her she somehow integrates with them seamlessly.

I imagine magical girl y/n as kinda deadpan most times and somewhat stoic. It’s kinda a product of her childhood (or lack thereof one) and being slightly jaded with the world due to her duties to protect it. So having kids her age who are shackled with something similar yet are more optimistic (hell even Raven seems more happy than her sometimes) kinda lifts her mood.

I’d say within the group she’d find them all to be uplifting but would especially like how they try their best to make her feel like her age again.

Starfire takes to try and engage with “girly” stuff the Tamaranian girl had seen in tv shows and magazines. Having “girls nights” where Starfire, along with Raven and the batgirls force y/n to enjoy things they once never had the time nor privilege to experience. Things like painting her nails or even just the simplicity of having another girl to talk to about things like dealing with societal pressures and the influx of weird creepy guys despite being literal children. Along with this Starfire would absolutely be obsessed with y/n’s ability to change their magical girl outfits and Rigel. Y/n would most definitely at one point twin with Starfire and the two would be a dynamic duo.

With Raven there would be a kinda camaraderie in both being magic users that have to deal with larger and more complicated threats. Raven didn’t exactly have the best childhood and neither did y/n, the both of them having to grow up faster than everyone to protect not only themselves but others as well. Along with this the two of them are more of a quiet force, though for different reasons. While no one sees the two of them openly talking much they’d definitely have a deep and quiet kinda friendship. One where in the middle of the night they sit atop Wayne manor and just kinda enjoy the silence or speak their minds.

For Cyborg he kinda just took one look at them and being the extrovert that he is adopted them. Not in the literal way but in the way an extrovert spots an introvert and someone absorbs them into their friend group kinda way. Either or he acts as y/n’s voice in some situations and makes sure they’re included. He’s a bright and inspirational pillar to y/n, someone who’s not only strong and intelligent but also is able to balance being a kind and loving person. Though he can be serious when he needs to he’s can also struck a balance between that and cracking jokes. I’d like to think that when seeing y/n’s more stoic composure he makes a challenge with the others in who can make her smile more. Like he’s tallying everything down, small barely visible smiles are 1 point, a somewhat clear one is 2, ones where it’s a full on one is 3 points and a laugh/giggle is 4 points.

You’d best bet beast boy is acting like a hyperactive ball of sunshine who doing as many cheesy puns as possible. It’s kinda like how he is with Raven but with less threat of being sent to the shadow realm and more just blank face stoicism with a small shimmer of amusement he can see in their very tired eyes. Though he can loud and a bit childish y/n would really enjoy his presence even if they don’t outwardly say it. If he’s smiles and sunshine then their the calm peaceful presence looming beside him as he drags them away to go and play video games. He’d definitely at some point shapeshift into a ferret to look like Rigel, the “real” ferret giving a small sound that seemed like a chuckle as it curled around your neck. At some point Damien is probably dragged into a weird friendship with him, cyborg and y/n. Two extroverts and two introverts on all ends of the scale.

Robin/Dick would definitely be the most interesting of the bunch especially considering how there’s an older version of himself and the Robin currently is Bruce’s biological kid who’s wielding a sword at everyone. Either way Robin being ever resourceful adapts with his team and strikes a friendship with the relative oddball in the Wayne manor. Both 2003 Robin and y/n in a lot of ways are similar due to the responsibility on their shoulders and having to be at the forefront of it. But unlike y/n Dick is able to better cope and handle it which he sees y/n still somewhat struggle with. Both he and the alternate older version of himself kinda team up together in dragging y/n away from tirelessly working or going on patrols alone. Along with that he’s kinda able to see when he himself is pushing himself too far and how that hurts not only himself but others through y/n.

Sorry this took so long to answer and how lengthy it is lol

[k-tarotz]

AHHH THAT BEOMGYU READING WAS ADORABLE

can i request one on how jay from enhypen would treat his crush please? thanks!

Thank you!! I'm happy you liked it lovely!! <3

Yes of course, Jay is someone easy to read too hehe!

Feel feel to like and reblog this, thank you!<3

Paid personal readings | paid kpop readings | masterlist

How Jay acts around his crush:

King of wands, the chariot

More Optimistic in general he would become a bit more optimistic, I think he might be realistic in general, but being around his crush would make him think more positively about many things. But even about things like a new music video, new album and such stuff would make him more optimistic as well because he would genuinely be curious about his crushes opinion and reaction to those.

Best version of himself he would also be the kind of person who would try to better himself, even though he is doing perfectly fine you know? As for his personality I feel like he would try to be more easy going than he already is in general. As for looks he would try to look more manly, despite that he already is. He might wear jackets more often that make his shoulders look a bit bigger tbh sunghoon would do the same, probably prefer to wear black more often as well as he might view that as a colour that makes people look more attractive

Nervous man man man... when I tell you, if he is around/near his crush he would get so nervous that for a moment he has to check if he is still wearing his pants or shirt- I absolutely don't mean this in a nsfw version, but you know some people have those dreams where they go out of their house forgetting to wear a pants right? In that moment he would think something like "hold on- do I still wear my clothes? Do I have something on my face? How is my hair?" Boy would overthink it for a few seconds there but who is he to blame? No one wants to accidentally embarrass themselves in front of their crush, we all want to look amazing around them

Trying to joke more often so jay is someone who likes to rather joke with his friends that he knows for longer, like especially if he doesn't know his crush for too long yet, but honestly I think if he is really comfortable around his crush regardless of that and likes them genuinely a lot - he would love to make them laugh. It would make his heart flutter so much and genuinely fill him with joy because not only is he seeing his crush laugh, being able to see their beautiful smile and hearing them laugh, but he would feel so warm and proud of himself that he is the reason why his crush laughs. I don't have enough words to describe how happy that would make him, but it would be enough to make him joke around more often than usually. One of them being puns! "Do you like jay-pop? I do"

Shy but proud so if his crush compliments him I can see him blushing slightly being a bit shy about it but at the same time it would make him feel proud and boost his ego in a good way, his heart would beat faster and he might chuckle because shy, maybe even his hands would get a tiny bit sweaty in that moment but he would smile brightly and his eyes would lit up

More confident Jay is unfortunately someone who can be quite insecure about himself, even though he really is such a good person, but spending time with his crush, words of affirmation, quality time and other things he would receive from his crush (and also give! He isn't selfish at all!) All that would lead to him gaining more confidence

More healthy if his crush takes care of him while he is sick, or genuinely tells him they are worried about him - I think he would take that to his heart. "My crush and my friends and family care about me, I shouldn't worry them!" Which would lead to him trying to take better care of himself more often, even trying to get rid of bad habits that he might has (like for example overworking himself or perhaps eating too much junk food)

More happy and also more chill I think those are the most obvious so I won't expand too much on this but he would genuinely be much more happier, he would especially love it if he can rely on his crush and go to them to talk about God and the world for hours, he really enjoys deep conversations. He would also be a bit more carefree and easy going, usually he can get sulky or mad quite easily but I feel like if he spend time around his crush and then something none serious yet bad happens he wouldn't get mad or sulky rather just laugh over it, like even if there might be a small fight with a member he would rather try to make up than to add to the fight or get emotional over it you know?

Enough confident to take action so I think after a while, it depends a bit how close he is with his crush so it can be weeks but it can also be months, he would definitely want to confess. He would feel confident and comfortable enough to gather hod courage up and confess, instead of waiting for longer or wanting his crush to take action. I feel like he would definitely plan out a proper confession. Not just a "Hey I like you, do you want to go out with me?" And especially not through texts. He is the type to want to do it in person and also see his crush's real expression after his confession.

Romantic so we all know that jay is a hopeless romantic, who would he take it out on? His crush of course! Especially the confession would be super romantic. He would literally plan it out first. I can see a beautiful candle dinner outside maybe in an empty park or a empty beach, near/during the sunset and there probably being a bottle of wine, glasses, a wonderful (probably self made) dinner, beautiful flowers in a vase on the table and lots of rose petals on the ground and some on the table, also forming a heart. Let's Also not forget about the candles. I also feel like after he already prepared everything he would go and pick his crush up, lead them there but blindfold them shortly before they reach their destination. Boy would be so excited yet nervous. I almost forgot but he would definitely ask his crush to dance with him right there (with music, after their dinner) in a very close yet romantic way. After his confession and his crush saying yes he would give them some sort of jewelry, either a ring, bracelet or a necklace. I feel like it's the last option and he would help them put the necklace on.

Aside from all of this those are also all the things he would be towards/around his crush, even before the confession: loyal, kind, helpful, gentleman like, playful, generous, paying attention to detail, jealous, perhaps a tiny bit possesive but really nothing serious, lovely, caring, honest

Disclaimer: this was made with tarot, intuition and a bit of analysis, don't take anything too serious please, it's mostly for entertainment purposes! The divider isn't from us, credits to the right owner!

- Hun

[biaswreckme]

until the break of dawn | jongsan

San's touches to Jongho's shoulder in Wonderland (Symphony No.9 "From The Wonderland") into something more after Coachella.

Fandom: Ateez

Pairing: Jongho/San

Member: Jongho, San, mentions of the other members and relationships

Word count: 1500 words

Genre/Tropes: Canon compliant, Romance, Fluff, Smut

Rating: mature, 18+

Triggers/Warnings: smut, crying, mutual masturbation, no dialogue, implied polyamorous ateez, a little bit of hurt/comfort

You can read it on: AO3

Skinship was not something Jongho was ever incredibly fond of, but over the years living and working in close quarters with the other seven members made him aware of his limits and needs. He would frequently run or push the other boys away, but sometimes he craved and even initiated physical contact. 

When they first presented the new version of Wonderland, he was up on another level of the stage by himself, none of the others with him in the most nerve wracking moment of the song for him. As they continued to perform the Symphony 9 version on stages, they changed their positioning so he would walk out in front of the members to hit his high notes. It was subtle and he was confused the first time, but there was a comfort to the hand San pressed to his shoulder, almost a motivation for him to continue - it was an extra burst of strength and a signal that he was there for Jongjo.

So he started to yearn for this moment whenever the song was on their setlist, and they never talked about it, but it was a given that San would give him this encouragement. When they decided to include the song as the ending for their stage at Coachella, he knew he would be nervous, but he did not truly know the magnitude or the pressure he would feel when the moment arrived. They were all on the edge of their seats, knowing how much their performance would mean and how heavy their shoulders were.

When the time came that first weekend, he paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily so he could gather the most of his energy and calmness to avoid making any mistakes. He felt San’s hand pressing down on his shoulder, a little bit stronger than usual, but they were all slightly more intense with the performance, feeling like they had to prove themselves to the world. But it worked; the stronger pressure ground him enough for him to confidently sing his part.

So in his week off he went back to Los Angeles while some of the members stayed to enjoy the festival and other activities. He knew his members worried about him using his time to have singing lessons, to try and better himself, so they reassured him, even sending videos and articles of people who didn’t know them commenting on Jongho’s incredible voice. He was fine, it was just an opportunity he didn’t want to miss while in the city. 

And then the second week approached, faster than he would like, but there they were again in that stage, curiously enough named after the same desert they started their career in back in the day. There was something different in the air that second night. They were having more fun, sure, but in giving all of themselves to the performance, they were also more tired. The wind was strenuous, their energies feeding off each other, internal chaos trying to get through to the end. He was sure that later at the hotel they would go off with their closest pairs to recharge, to balance their emotions, and he was - and it hurt him to admit it - not really sure who would be there for him. Hongjoong and Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho, Wooyoung and San, and maybe Yeosang would join them, for he had seen the new developments between the two old friends.

He heard more than saw Seonghwa scream, shout out, giving himself that last burst of passion. And then it was his time, going to the front. He took his deep breath in and let it out, quickly closing and opening his eyes, bracing himself for the moment. San’s hand, San’s touch was even stronger this time around, almost searing hot through the layers he was wearing, as if he could feel the shape of the other man’s fingers. He could feel the great intensity of San’s gaze on him, indeed much stronger than the previous week. And then he did it. They all did it.

On the backstage and on the way back, as Jongho had predicted, there was tension thick enough to cut through with a knife, bodies shivering and teeth clenching with the remnants of the high emotions of that last stage. But not all of his predictions were correct. Hongjoong chose Seonghwa indeed, his touch so gentle against the older’s face, gathering his tears, pulling him towards the bedroom. Yunho, still with his fingers adorned with the silver claws, grabbed Mingi by the jacket, subtly touching the similar cross that hung heavy around the other’s neck and went to another of the bedrooms they had on the floor. Then came his surprise: Wooyoung entwined his fingers with Yeosang’s, a hypnotizing gaze on the transparency that the man was wearing, muscular chest for everyone to see, but only for him to enjoy that evening. And then there were two.

San extended his hand for him, a silent question in his face, an invitation, an open bedroom door. And Jongho took it. He knew once they crossed the threshold there would not be going back to the way things were before, but then again he was not sure he wanted everything to stay the same. He could feel his fingers were shaking - maybe his entire body was shaking - as San closed the door behind them. There was still silence. After all the emotions of the night, the loud music, the crowd, it was nice and comforting to not speak. San pulled him towards the bedroom, and once inside, started to slowly shed piece by piece of clothing; his own was easy and quick, but he took his time undressing Jongho, each item carefully folded on the fancy bathroom counter. 

There was a sense of easiness in the air now for a second, yet with both bare and not having anywhere or how to hide, Jongho soon could feel his eyes watering at San’s intensity, becoming overwhelmed by the attention. Before San could ask, though, Jongho took a deep breath and hugged the older, not minding the sweat and nakedness that usually bothered him. It both comforted and opened up the waterworks, his words spilling out uncontrollably the same as his tears. As he opened up his heart, San gently led him into the shower, turning the water on to a warm temperature, starting to wash away Jongho’s worries and insecurities, and in soaping him up, tried to instill with his words all he felt for the younger, his pride, his admiration, his love. They lost time, water starting to run cold.

Tomorrow morning or afternoon they would have time to discuss exactly what everything meant, the intricacies of this newfound passion between them - and what it would mean to the others now that Jongho was a part of it, but mostly to the two  members who were currently in the bedroom across from them, surely in the same state of undress. For tonight, they would focus on the moment. They finally turned off the cold water, goosebumps on their skins not only from the chill, a sliver of nervousness passing through both of them. It wasn’t like they were inexperienced, especially San in his - quite loud at times - relationship with Wooyoung, but it was always intense sharing a first with a lover, especially after such a powerful evening. 

The fluffy and warm towels barely met their bodies before they were falling into bed, a messy top lip kiss before they delved into a deeper and more sensual battle, legs entangling, getting even closer to one another. On their sides looking into each other’s eyes, breaths mingling with moans and shivers as spit-covered palms glided along their erections, feeling, discovering the familiar yet foreign skin. They were used to taking showers together, changing in front of the other members out of necessity but this was different. This was nakedness with intent; touch with intent of pleasure, of giving and taking. Of taking until their breaths were hitching, eyes closing and hands grabbing at each other at the sensations overcoming their bodies, reaching their peaks together.  

And now the air was light, soft giggles permeating the bedroom, trying to rile each other up to wash their hands and clean themselves again, rushing back to the bed. There was something about hotel rooms that made things easier, it was almost a limbo between the real world at home and this suspended romantic disbelief. They would rest under the soft lamps and white sheets until reality came knocking on their door. Jongho, however, no longer had any apprehension of becoming part of something bigger, of becoming more comfortable with the other’s constant touches, reaching for each other without even noticing. Even in his almost slumber, San was reaching for him, mumbling soft words that caressed his ears and his soul, and the ache so present in Jongho’s heart for so long was finally starting to be placated. 

[mr-rogers-blood-stained-sweater]

Not sure where i would even go to talk about this so im posting it here to my tumblr.

I have this laptop, a lenovo thinkpad t420 ive been customizing mostly because of the funny weed number, but as it turns out this laptop has a few neat features and can often be bought used for under 50 usd. My first change was to, of course, upgrade the dual core sandybridge cpu to a quad core, so i ordered a 2760qm for under 20$ from ebay. The performance was good and it ran the thinkpad a little hot but it was acceptable, especially since the heatsink is only rated for 35w and the 2760qm is 45w.

My second change was to improve the cooling and I had a few original ideas. I opened up the laptop, swapped the stock heatsink for one with a gpu heatpipe that came with some t420's (but not this one obv). As part of my original idea I decided to do my own version of the "copper tape" mod where I used thermal tape instead of copper tape (this mod aims to use copper tape to join the gpu heatpipe to the main heatpipe or heatpipes). My thought process is that copper tape is probablly better than nothing but the adhesive adds an insulating layer decreasing its effectiveness and copper tape isnt mesnt to be used like this so why not just use a tape made to move heat instead? Thermal tape should in theory be much better than copper tape since its actually designed for this kind of work, with the downside being it will eventually dry out like thermal pads and paste. I didnt just experiment with this new mod though I also tried adding thermal pads to the underside of the gpu heatpipe where it would contact the gpu, the idea here being thick folded thermal pads would fill the gap well and drain heat from around the cpu through the board. I figured it would at least be better than covering the whole gpu pipe with tape. Finally i drilled some holes beneath the fan for added airflow using a design printed on paper and taped to the inside of the case as a stencil. While I had the laptop dissasembled I figured i might as well swap the cpu out one more time since i noticed an elitebook I got had a 2860qm, the fastest 45w sandybridge laptop cpu. I also applied some thermal grizzle duronaut thermal paste since its added thickness should fill the slightly larger space between the cpu die and heatsink better.

And finally the results were astounding, I can stream 1080p 60 fps video and the fans hardly make a sound, the laptop is unbeleivably cool and quiet for a 14 year old cpu. Even the passmark scores were incredible, its multicore score in windows was 5268 and 5168 in linux vs the average of 4559, over 10% increase with just a cooling mod! Its singlecore scores were even better though with a 1717 in windows and an 1826 in linux vs the average of 1562 almost a 20% boost in performance with just a cooling mod, no overclocking OR underclocking! This 2860qm is besting the 2960xm by a large amount and its in spitting distance of the next generatioms best chip the 3940xm!

Im not sure if i lucked out and found a golden superperformimg 2860qm or if i discovered a new goated cooling mod for the t420/t430, i corebooted the laptop the other day and i have a 3940xm on its way from china so im gonna figure it out. Dont worry if the 3940xm is somehow too hot for my mod i have a w520 to put it in and a 3632qm on its way too, although if it is just a golden 2860qm i might keep using it since its scores are also much higher than the average 3632qm!

Theres other mods you can do, and im doing most of them. I already installed a modded bios to remove the wifi whitelist and ordered a wifi 7 compatible adapter, the modded bios also allows faster ram so i ordered 2 8gb 1866mhz ddr3l sticks. I got an express card to dual usb 3.0 adapter, I also bought a w520 charger and cut out the wedges so it woukd fit the t420. I threw in a 2tb msata ssd, found an xl slice battery for cheap on ebay (2, 9 cell batterys installed, i get over 10 hours of hd youtube streaming!) And lastly i ordered a 1080p ips panel and an adapter board for it. This is a lovely laptop with one of the best keyboard ive used ever, and its performance is astoundingly good.

For someone not wanting to go as far as me you could get a used t420 or t430 for under 50$ a 256gb ssd for 10$ a cheap quad core for 20$ or less and a charger for around 14$. Thats a sturdy, fast, reliable, and genuinly cool laptop for under 100$. It is luck of the draw if you get a good batt or not though, of the three I got 1 9 cell was in perfect health another 9 cell was worn but usable and the 6 cell was mostly used up, add 20$ if you get unlucky with the battery and another 10$ for an 8gb ram stick if yours comes with 4gb or less.