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#Its been years since I published something if not I do not know

groenendaelfic · 2 days

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I have quite literally not stopped thinking about the basket baby snippet since you posted it! I'm happy to wait but can I be cheeky and ask for any more tidbits, how ever tiny, about the basket baby fic? Like baby name reveal, another snippet, chapter 2 outline...anything at all please I will give you my first born child! (I am amypond on ao3 btw - happy for you to publish this ask)

ah basket baby! Thank you for not forgetting, and of course you can always ask. I love basket baby. One day it will even be born. Why oh why can't I write fic full time, I would be so much more productive and efficient 😅

For a few very foolish seconds Simon considers naming the baby Wilhelm.

He loves Wilhelm and he misses him, can't imagine what he must have been going through this past year, alone safe for the very much not amused Royal Court, no doubt at some estate hidden away in the countryside, not even allowed the familiarity of his own rooms.

He also hates Wilhelm. For not finding a way to tell him, to have them be together, because surely, surely it can't be that impossible, can it?

Except of course it can. Simon's mom was accosted by Royal Court lawyers at work, and that was them being nice. It is exactly that impossible.

Tears spring to his eyes. He can't name the baby Wilhelm. It'd hurt to much. It'll hurt anyway, holding the baby in his arms, knowing it's the only part of Wilhelm he'll ever get to hold again.

He already loves the child more than his own life, and the more he looks at the tiny, scrunched up face getting ready to cry, the more he can see Wilhelm reflected in it.

He shifts his grip, pulls the baby closer and hums a melody he hopes is soothing. He can't name the baby Wilhelm. The baby is not Wilhelm, and it deserves better, deserves its own name. One which isn't a constant reminder of its unreachable parent.

Not that he'd be allowed. No matter how popular the name Wilhelm in all its forms has remained in Sweden ever since Wilhelm was born. The Royal Court would not allow it, and Simon can't risk angering them before the baby isn't officially his and he has the paperwork to prove it.

So not Wilhelm then, he thinks, as the baby bursts into tears. Simon would give anything to be able to cry along, to crumble and break, but he's a father now and his child comes first, even if he has no clue what to do.

He just put on a fresh diaper with the patient help of his mom and it can't be time for another bottle.

"He can sense that you're upset," his mom explains when he asks, and oh doesn't that suck.

He doesn't put the baby back in its basket however, nor does he hand it to his mom. Instead he cuddles it closer and starts humming again.

His precious, precious child. His and Wilhelm's.

A tear rolls down his face. He's hurt and angry and scared, hating the Royal Court and the world and everything for being so absolutely, thoroughly unfair.

Everything except his baby, who is innocent and beautiful and perfect.

It didn't ask to be born, and certainly not into a family like this, to a legacy like this. The monarchy is not its only legacy however, and suddenly Simon knows what he's going to call it.

Not a Swedish name. Nothing to tie it to the long line of ancestors who want nothing to do with it. Not Carl or Magnus or Gustav. Not Erik either, or at least not as a first name.

Something Spanish. Something to ensure his child will never consider itself an unwanted royal bastard too embarrassing to be acknowledged.

Something powerful. A reminder that he is also part Venezuelan, and that that is something to be proud of.

Yes. He'll name the baby after his maternal grandmother. There is no person living or dead he can think of who is stronger or more determined in the face of hardship than his abuela.

It will make her happy, it will make him happy, and if royals can do it, then he can do it, too. Only better and with less toxicity, less historical baggage to weigh it down.

He'll make sure no one will ever compare his precious baby boy to anyone. Will ensure he'll get to pave his own path however he wants. He loves his child, his and Wilhelm's, and whatever he can do to keep it safe he will.

"Alejandro," he tells his mother, and because he can't ignore Wilhelm's one single request adds, "Alejandro Erik Eriksson."

For a moment he considers using the Spanish version for Erik as well, if only out of spite, but that wouldn't be fair to Wilhelm. That, and it would remind him too much of his mom's favorite singer.

His mother bites her lip and nods.

It's the right choice. The only choice, and Simon can only hope little Alejandro will think so, too.

#basket baby #ask me anything #young royals #wilmon #fic snippet #young royals fic

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rainbows-fanfics · 9 months

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Also, an update for my Nightmare Before Christmas readers-

I promised to publish a rewrite of the Tokyopop comic series, Mirror Moon, but haven’t delivered on that. I wrote down some notes on how I’d like that story to go, and even started writing an introduction for its first chapter, but haven’t touched it since. I don’t know if I will continue with that project, since there is now another TNBC comic in the works(The Battle for Pumpkin King), and what I had in mind for my rewrite was a little...big. So, that story would require a lot of free time and constant motivation.. If I happen to have that in the future, I’ll tackle it! But for now, I have no plans on working on that project for awhile.

I have also promised another sequel in my line of TNBC works, to follow after Our Nightmare. THIS I definitely plan on writing, but, again -- when I have the time. I’ve been working on another story for a different fandom in the meantime, so when that one is done, I’ll look into properly plotting out my next Jack x Sally story in my series.

Since it’s been so long, I’ll tell you all what it’ll be about: Jack and Sally’s children. (Obviously.) I’ve never actually made proper OCs for their kids, so it will take some time to create and develop them, then longer to actually write the story. I’ll also be acknowledging a bit of my canon divergence in this particular fic, to circle back to the movie. It’ll be interesting. I also want to write all the family/domestic fluff I can of Jack/Sally and the kids -- so I promise to deliver on all that!

As for the Jack X Sally requests/prompts, I quickly lost motivation for them. I may have to scrap it for the time being. I’ve still kept all the prompts I’ve gotten, so if/when I ever want to write them, I have them! But don’t expect any new additions for that one, until I have the motivation....I apologize. :( It’s likely I’ll get in the mood, come September-ish, and the season is right. I might post something then.

Thank you all for the patience, and here’s hoping I can write...something...soon! Ahaha.

#update #writing for tnbc is a little hard since fics dont get much traction until the halloween season #kind of like the situation w fanart honestly #and so i dont want to publish something and get little following/feedback #i do not write for those things believe me but i had to end Our Nightmare because my feedback dropped considerably and it really deterred m #im afraid of that happening again #and i want to write another full fledged story with many chapters #so i want the timing to be more right if you know what i mean?#i would also love to make a story about lock shock and barrel since i had to cut it short with them in our nightmare #there's a lot of potential and things i want to dig into with them #and maybe a mirrorverse fic would be cool to do too #but ive no motivation to do any of these for now #i have many Ideas but life has been hard and its probably why i lost so much inspiration #my life will soon settle down again so hoping i pick up something at the end of the year #<:)

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emberwhite · 3 months

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Not everyone likes my book, and I'm OK with that. There are many classic children's books some people just don't like because of their message or how they portray it, but I love them because they offer something a little different.

I made something straight from the heart and took a big chance on it. It caters to no one and breaks many conventions you find in children's books. I wanted adults to be able to enjoy the story as well, so it's not afraid to get a little sad. There were a few children's book bloggers I had emailed who wouldn't review it because of that reason. And there were Read Aloud YouTube channels who wouldn't make a video on it because they didn't like the ending.

But there were also many people who absolutely loved the book. They got what I was trying to do, so I know there is an audience for this sort of thing. The more secluded you feel you are from society the better the chance you'll like it. This isn't the case for everyone but just a trend I noticed. Reviews on Amazon have been overwhelming positive, and hey, my mom liked it too. And the book has sold almost a 100 copies in its first month.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But then again, I also get these drive-by reviews from window shoppers. This is just the reality of trying to do something a bit different with a kid's book. People absolutely judge a book by it's cover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know how to write things that are guaranteed to sell and make money, but this ain't one of them. Doing what is guaranteed to work gets boring after a couple of years. It's too safe. It's fulfilling work to make a product that people need but also empty at the same time.

This was a complete gamble. I have been publishing on Amazon for the last 8 years now, and I haven't felt this excited since I released my first book. And thinking back on it, that first book was also a bold gamble as well. And it sold very well. Maybe then, that's just the secret to success.

Anyways, the book is on Amazon. You can also find the full story and illustrations on YouTube for free as well. If you would like to support the book, a quick rating on Amazon or Goodreads is one of the best ways to do so.

#books #childrens books #reading #creativity #deer #furry #illustration #artists on tumblr #queer #lgbtqia #art #therian #transgender

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ohcorny · 16 days

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so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

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hoeforhao · 9 months

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🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: heavy angst, fluff towards the end, mentions of childhood trauma, sort of arranged marriage? cheol and reader have a daughter together, lots of dad seungcheol content!!!

↷ summary: can trying to relive the childhood you never got to experience, through your daughter be the reason of your husband's irk?

↷ part: 1/4 pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.5k

↷ author's note: part 1 is here finally!! will try to post part 2 by the end of this week, and part 3 will be a bonus smut which will be published on cheol's birthday♡

If you want to be added to this fic's taglist, drop a comment under this post ; my ask box is open too♡

Motherhood was truly a blissful chapter of every woman's life. Seeing your child growing up in your arms, her little legs stomping through the grass to join her playmates, often tumbling down on her way, her father going completely nuts over the itty bitty scratches on his princess,made you feel a joy not even billion dollars could buy.

But that's definitely not something you believed in before getting married to seungcheol or even when you announced to all of your family, that you were about to birth a small little version of your husband and their son.

While his child swelled in your belly, his ignorance and indifference towards you, swelled in your heart. Although it would be downright selfish to say that seungcheol didn't take care of you during your pregnancy, but you surely weren't that naive to not understand it was all for the wellbeing of his daughter.

Well some people unlike others are just destined to go through life like a soldier, bound to only their duty without the luxury of enjoying worldly pleasures - that's what you've been telling yourself since your childhood, all throughout your marriage but now...now it's different.

As selfish as it may sound, your daughter Hana's childhood now gave you a newfound hope of reliving those years of your life that you never got to cherish....being as carefree and jolly like a two year old, sleeping every night with a teddy tucked under your arms without any thoughts about how to deal with this cruel world.

You were so consumed in your thoughts that you failed to notice the cinnamon pie set in the oven being slightly overcooked along its edges.

"Shit shit shit you cannot mess this up y/n!!! Cheol and Hana are crazy over your cinnamon pie and the last thing you wanna do is disappoint your daughter and his father" you mentally cuss at yourself while taking out the pie pot from the oven as quick as possible....mildly burning your fingers in the attempt.

A thud of the main door shitts your concentration from your burned fingers to your hall, which is now being adorned by Hana's giggles upon seeing her father.

"Dada is home princess! What has my girl been doing all day without her daddy huh" seungcheol literally throws his coat on the couch before hopping towards his beloved daughter, taking her up in his arms in one quick lift and peppering the little ball's mochi cheeks with kisses.

"I played a lot with momma today daddy, and you know you know we even threw a birthday party for Bella hehe" Hana started blabbering out her entire day's routine to her father, sitting on his lap, her head resting on his chest,as seungcheol kept on playing with his daughter's silken locks.

"That's why my cupcake is all dolled up right now huh, I see" seungcheol's arms wrap around Hana's waist tightly while patting her hair. "Do I look like a princess dwaddy?"

"When does my Hana doesn't look like a princess, baby! You're royalty, my little highness" you were watching such a dreamy cinematic sequence of a perfect loving family being played out infront of you, from behind the kitchen counter....the catch being you were just a part of this trio only for a show to others.

"Daddy daddy can we go to the park tomorrow pwease" your daughter surely knew that her puppy eyes was cheol's biggest weakness and that's what she used everytime to make her father tend to all the tantrums.

"Anything for my babygirl. But first you've to stop looking at me with those eyes or dadda's heart will burst from cuteness babie" hana's adorable beads were now paired with her dad's dimples making your heart swell at the view. Two of your cutest dumplings.

"Come on now enough talking you two! Who wants to have the first bite of the pie?" you break off your glare from the duo and bring out the piping hot plate of freshly baked crust from the kitchen and set it on the table before them.

"Me me me" "No me" "No daddy me. Won't you let your princess have the first bite" one pout from Hana and seungcheol melts into a puddle, stuffing her small cheeks with the first bite of the pie by himself. "Next time dadda will win for sure!!!" a small hmph leaves your 27 year old husband's lips.

"So when are we going out tomorrow?" you press your lips into a smile like an excited puppy, putting a halt to the father daughter's playtime...your eyes glistening up at the thought of the beautiful day ahead.

"We'll leave after breakfast" seungcheol's stern voice echoes around the hall, awaring you of the void of emotions he has dug out only for you, his wife and the mother of his child.

"Oh okay! Come on Hana it's bedtime bub." you swing her up into your arms, marking your steps towards her bedroom. "No mowmmy I wanna play more with daddy please"

"No baby. We gotta wake up early tomorrow for the park right? There you can play with dad all throughout the day. Okay love?" you plant a goodnight kiss to your daughter's temples before tucking her into her soft Cinderella sheets.

"My cute round munchkin" one last loving glance at Hana and you put off the lights of her room to let her drift into the happiest dream ever, without any tension of the cruelties of the outside world.

Changing into a soft satin robe and tying your hair up into a bun, you finally settle yourself under the duvet of your shared bedroom with seungcheol, your back facing him, wishing ever passing moment, that at least once he wraps you around his arms. But you know better, that he never will.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ・・・・☆・・・・

"YAH CHOI HANA WALK SLOW!" screaming at

that poodle of sunshine waddling away in utter haste, you try to match her pace, literally all breathless and panting.

After a fruitless attempt to follow your spawn of Satan going absolutely haywire about being in a park with her daddy, you curve up your back, sweating like a pig looking for some air ; a pair of cold petite hands lands on the crook of your neck.

"Who the fuc - oh my god Mr notepad ass what are you doing here!!" your face instantly harbors the biggest smile upon seeing your childhood bestfriend after literally months.

"Come on girl, you meet the heartthrob of the town, and this is how you greet him? Girls swoon over m - ah ouch y/n lord my future gen " hearing jeonghan blabber 'bout being a hot cake was downright torture for you, when the man literally had no cake to offer!!!

"Yeah yeah sure that's why you used to ask me to find you a girl, pheww!!" a big smug visible clear in your eyes.

"sigh Is this how you welcome your bestfriend after almost an year??!!" han knew that him giving you those angel eyes will make your composure melt in a matter of seconds and that's exactly what happened.

"Oh come on! I was joking! You know I love you, you little bunny" you instantly wrap your arms around han's waist tightly, while pouting like a puppy yourself, as he returns the gesture in a blink.

"Except the cake part tho, hehe!" a slight pinch lands on his butt as you free yourself from him to walk to the ride's counter, hand in hand. Your heart was fluttering like a flock of doves, because you could let your true self take control only when with jeonghan, from laughing like a five year old, being a naughty tease to smiling wide like the sun. Why so? Because apparently seeing you letting your inner child out in the open, irked your 'husband'.

"Oh the main question! Why are you here? That too at a theme park!!!" shooting an interrogative glare towards jeonghan you march away through the crowd like a happy squirrel.

"I'm here with Nabi, and my little bunbun Byul. She literally manipulated me into taking her to this park. ME! THE YOON JEONGHAN BEING MANIPULATED. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT! I guess she learnt it from her dad only" jeonghan blurted out almost an entire verse within seconds, and you felt nothing but sheer joy being reunited with the only who who cherished your presence, after so long.

"There they are" you look over the thick mass to see Seungcheol and Hana standing by the ride, her little pinky entwined with her father's dainty yet strong digits, while pulling onto jeonghan's arms to run towards your family.

Cheol's face turns slightly dark watching you beaming with joy being arm tied with another man, that was not him. He knew jeonghan was your bestfriend from the time your wedding bells rang but....there was this feeling in his heart against Han, that he could never justify.

"Hey Seungcheol. How you've been? Grown quite buff huh!" Jeonghan playfully slaps Cheol's muscles, earning a sort of irritated groan and a tight smile from him.

"Looks like someone's jealous!" you lean your body over jeonghan's shoulder, whispering into his ears which lands you into being tickled by him like crazy, in public.

"Okay okay I'm sorry, s-stop!" Han's devilish hands finally leaves your body, as yout chest heaves up and down, breathless from laughing an entire year's worth.

"Umm hmm" cheol clears his throat as he tries to break off the *not so desirable scene rolling out infront of him* "we should get Hana going on the ride now, she's growing quite impatient"

"Omg yes so sorry baby mom got distracted" you take Hana from her father's grip. "Cheol cheol let us get on the ride too na? Pls!!! Pls!!" pulling onto your husband's biceps, being in a trance of happiness and forgetting that he's Choi Seungcheol and not your buddy, Jeonghan -

"Stop behaving like a kid y/n! You're twenty seven and a mother to a two year old! Fuckin act like one" each and every word that left cheol's lips carved out a new wound in your heart. Though he's right anyways....you don't deserve to fool around like a happy child....you never did....

"I'll call Nabi and Byul too. Both of them can enjoy their visit that way then" jeonghan steps in to somewhat chase away the cloud that was near to pouring down over the four of you "and Byul is herself quite fond of her bestfriend Hana anyways. They would love this set up" Han's lips curl up into a forced smile as he walks off to fetch his own family.

"I i'm sorry" you let go off Hana's tiny fingers, as soon as jeonghan leaves,leading her to the ride's entrance. "Hold on tightly to the bars, okay? Mom will be right here" your soft sweaty hands cup her cheeks before she turns around to go get seated on her most awaited part of the day.

Seungcheol's face is painted with guilt and regret, as he watches over his small family - while her daughter is glaring brighter than the sun with soulful joy, his wife is standing all gloomy beside the long sheep haired guy he have always envied.

"Mommy the ride was amazing. You know Byul was scared hehe. She was holding onto my arms" your daughter waddles down the metal stairs, her bestfriend following soon after, both of their faces all sweaty and glinting from the little adventure.

"N-no i was not, i i just tried to k-keep Hana safe" the two year old blurts out, trying to protect her pride, while her dad scoops her up into his arms, drying off her face with his shirt.

"Yes you're my strong and brave bun, I know that baby" jeonghan places open mouth kisses on his daughter's face, shifting her to her mother's arms gently, placing a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead in the process.

Such a beautiful family. A word that would never fit your own -

"I - I'm taking the girls to have some ice cream" seungcheol breaks the silence that has now creeped up onto your face. "Wanna j-join us, y/n?" no matter how much he tries to act cool or indifferent, the words he threw at your merry face just few minutes back, refuses to leave his mind, engulfing his form in severe shame and agony.

"No I would like to stay back. You three go ahead" the change in your tone was clear enough for even a stranger to notice....and jeonghan has known you for twenty whole years.

"Nabi you accompany the girls and seungcheol. We two will be waiting for y'all by the carousel" surprising right? How jeonghan was the one having your back and not your husband!!!

"Seungcheol was being an absolute dick back there you know. A very annoying, lumpy and dumbass dick " han's hands curl up against your shoulder as he pulls your head to rest on his nape, while both of you were seated on a bench shining under the dreamiest luminaire.

"Hmm" you hum into his skin, warm salty drops slowly making their way down his silk shirt "or maybe he was actually right"

Pulling yourself up from Han's embrace, you focus your eyes onto your lap, while fidgeting with your fingers, when you feel a warm pair of hands cupping your cheek, fingers pushing off any drop of water that dared to pass by your supple skin.

"Just because someone doesn't appreciate your presence in their life and treat you as nothing but a person their daughter calls 'mom', doesn't mean that you are allowed to downgrade yourself" his hands traveling down your face to now engulf your palms into his, "You have every right to be yourself y/n. I know how you've been fighting all your life, how you never had anything what people call carefree childhood these days....don't let anyone murder the soulful kid within you. Understood, Ms Thumper Paws" jeonghan settles his speech with a finishing pinch on your dumpling cheeks.

"Aye aye sir! Noted!!" you finally flash him with the smile he has been trying to bring out since 'someone' decided to slash it.

To both of your oblivion, seungcheol was watching his wife, his partner being all giggly like a beaming ray of sunshine, her bunny teeth making its way out for the world to see, but-

not in his arms, not on his jokes, instead because of her bestfriend....the person he has always been jealous of, for making you smile so wide and bringing out the adorable kid in you!!!something only he wishes to do you for you.....

all this while the caramel ice cream he brought for you melting away in his hands, as he takes in the sight before him with gritted teeth and hurt eyes

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shinesurge · 3 months

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Webcomic rings run by people within the community are cool and you should support them

I've been loudly struggling a little bit with corporate webcomic Stuff lately so I want to mention something positive to balance it out: webrings run by small groups of creators earnestly trying to support each other are slowly making a comeback and I for one am delighted.

If you weren't around for them in the before times, webrings were just some folks who hang out a lot who feature each other on their websites. That's literally it lmao. There's generally no money involved and it only really functions the way it's supposed to if people have control over their own websites AND genuinely want to participate and get excited about other folks' work, which means the practice has pretty well fallen by the wayside over the years in webcomic culture given. Everything. In the rare event someone decides to do something like this it's usually in the form of a link list somewhere on their website; this doesn't usually indicate any sort of mutual support, it's just a list of what the creator is reading themselves.

A webring, though, is an official banner or hub that people gather under intentionally where each member is more or less on equal footing. It's essentially the concept of "a rising tide lifts all boats" put into practice, each creator brings their own audience to the table in a passive, opt-in sort of way that's different from working for a publisher since there isn't necessarily a Top Spot or a paycheck everyone's vying for, and individuals retain autonomy over both their own work and how (if) they promote each other. You're all at your own tables in an artist alley rather than fighting over the table in the front of the book store, essentially.

I have two rings and one collective for you today!

Webcomic Ring was brought to my attention AGES ago by Holly, one of the artists featured there, and I might have brought it up at some point but I'm doing it again lmao. This is exactly the kind of thing you ought to be looking for; a small group of enthusiastic folks having a good time making their weird little comics. You probably haven't heard of much in the catalog, that's PERFECT in the context of webcomics that's where the GOOD SHIT is. Finding something like this is A Gift go dig around in the longboxes for a while.

Then a few people have pointed me in the direction of the KNIFEBEETLE collective and that's neat too! Most of the comics there are already fairly well-known, but the vibes are excellent and I haven't seen a lot of talk about the collective /itself/ outside folks already in the know. I think it's important for this sort of thing to be more visible to folks who aren't terminally steeped in webcomic culture already so here I am telling you about it. You were probably reading several of these before I suggested it, but that's how a webring works! For it to do its job you should take those bigger creators' tacit recommendation of the less popular titles as a sign to go read something new and strange. Wild, I know these are practices held over from the old internet, but I think we should try and bring them back.

Lastly, I want to mention Spiderforest, which is a collective (slightly different from a webring) BUT still a very cool project readers starved for new stuff should pay attention to.

You've probably seen Spiderforest kicking around for a long time already; they're wonderful and have always been an overall positive force in the community in my experience. They really focus on building up a community, and especially welcoming newcomers and helping them get their feet under them. Full disclosure, I've been asked to apply by a few different folks over the years and the only reason I never did is I don't have the ability to participate in their forums and such as frequently as they want their creators to; it's a very good system (from my outside perspective) that might contribute to the community staying mostly healthy in ways that art communities usually don't and I appreciate it a lot!

ANYWAYS that's all I got for now, just trying to balance out some bad feelings I've been having by talking about some good stuff. Please go binge an archive this week.

#long post #contrary to what i say i do love webcomics so fucking much #there are Reasons i'm fucking angry all the time lmao

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

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✧ 𝐁𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 || luke hughes ♔

summary: when the depression strikes for no reason, luke is there as he always has been and always will be.

warnings: depression, parents fighting, family struggles

publish date: 02/07/24

notes: she strikes again! i literally don't know why i've been actually fucking grinding out fics but i don't know if anyone is really complaining about it. i hope you guys like this one. it's slightly based off of my life and also slightly based on this lyric from iris by the goo goo dolls "and i don't want the world to see me, 'cause i don't think that they'd understand". somewhat morbid but that's life (you guys asked for this) it's short, and there's a lot of story/world building and not a lot of luke but he's there, i promise. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

There was something about that time of year that caused her depression to hit its highest level. There were a lot of reasons that could’ve caused it, but there was none that she could say was right. It wasn’t seasonal depression, she had been asked that a plethora of times. It wasn’t a feeling of not being enough, she had been told that by multiple therapists.

She could say it was her parents fighting, her parents’ financial struggles, her brothers' snarky comments about how he couldn’t wait to move out and not deal with their crap anymore. She could say it was her family going to her for every little thing that went wrong, the amount of shit she gets from everyone in the family, the comparison of her to her brothers. It could’ve been a lot of things, but she wasn’t about to pin her depression on her family members, it didn’t seem right.

Every one of her friends and family knew she had depression, it wasn’t a secret. She felt as if as soon as her parents were told about her diagnosis they couldn’t wait to tell every single soul they knew. She felt like she was a story waiting to be told. She often thought that if she had a kid who acted the same way she did, she would know how to raise them better.

She hated critiquing her parents and her brothers, but they did it to her, didn’t they? She knew about the multitude of times her parents had gone to talk to her brothers about how she hadn’t been to class in a week, how she looked fine so there was no reason for her not to go. She felt like the little boy who cried wolf, however, for much different reasons.

She always said she was sick when she felt this feeling looming over her so her parents wouldn’t get worried, and they would let her stay home from school. But then, she would actually get sick and no one would believe her. She was stuck in an endless cycle.

Luke was worried. He had known about her tendencies to fall into this state of mind and not know what caused it. He knew about her family, the therapists, the psychologists, and the social workers. He knew about the multiple attempts everyone had made to get her to open up, about the amount of times she had screamed in her head at them that she didn’t know. He knew about everything.

It was easy for her to open up to Luke when they first met, he had this unmistakably calming and supportive aurora about him. He had bumped into her one day in freshman year, immediately apologizing for not looking where he was going. She had been on her way to the dining hall while he was on his way back, but he offered to take her there anyway.

Ever since then, they had been each other’s rock. Luke asked her out two months later and the two were practically inseparable. However, this was the first time he had experienced this side of her. He could tell it was happening just slightly, her face said it all. He wasn’t entirely sure of what to do, she had always told him it was nothing to worry about and it should be better in a couple of days. But it wasn’t.

She wasn’t the best at answering her texts, not wanting to face the fact that she was not doing well. She had been cooped up in her room for almost a week now, usually occupying herself with reading or playing a game on her phone. She wanted to go to class, she wanted to do her work, she wanted to do better but she just couldn’t.

She stared blankly at her phone as her podcast played through her earbuds. She had seen a text from Luke come through but she didn’t pay much attention to it. She felt bad for not answering, yet another part of her brain just accepted defeat and the fact that he might be mad at her. She had been able to get up and sit at her desk which was a step in the right direction, however she hadn’t done much since she got there.

She heard a knock on the door, ignoring it at first. When the knocking became more persistent, she sighed and got up. Her, Luke’s, hoodie fell from its original bunched-up place in her lap as she walked over to the door. Her eyes had dark circles around them, her hair was tied messily in the back. She opened it and looked at the person standing on the opposite side of the door.

“Hi.”

Usually, she would’ve been excited to see her boyfriend but at this point, that was what she dreaded most. Her face looked tired as she stared at Luke with blank eyes, “Hi.”

Luke nervously shifted his weight back and forth between his feet at the sound of her voice. It was hoarse from the lack of use, it had unfallen tears caught in it, and it had a hint of harshness laced in it. His mind flooded with thoughts as her voice reached his ears, he hadn’t been expecting it to sound that way.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something more but he didn’t. The lack of communication between the two caused them to stand in the doorway for three minutes. Luke’s nervousness and awkwardness were seeping into y/n’s body language as she toyed with her hair and stood with her left foot propped up behind her right leg.

When they made eye contact, the tension in her body went away and her eyes softened, “You wanna come in?”

He nodded and she stepped back so he could walk in. Instead of going back to where she was previously sitting, she went back and climbed into her bed. The feeling of being able to be vulnerable in Luke’s presence made her want to curl into herself, she didn’t want to be vulnerable right now. She pulled her comforter up to her chin, creating heat around her.

Luke shivered from the moment he stepped into her room, goosebumps rising all over his arms. He sighed when he saw his girlfriend revert to her original space, moving to sit at the edge of her bed. He placed his hand on her calf, the sheets creating a barrier from them touching, “Hi baby.”

Those were the only words that both of them could muster, an awkward tension forming between the two of them for no reason. She just stayed staring at the wall in front of her. He let out a soft sigh at the lack of response and turned his head away from her to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how to approach this, she had told him not to worry about her but he couldn’t help it.

“What can I do to help?”

She shrugged in response, not giving him her full attention. Luke slowly moved his thumb to start rubbing her calf in circles as a form of comfort. Another moment of silence passed again, and the two slowly started to become more comfortable with each other once again.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you lay with me?”

Luke all but jumped onto the opportunity she gave him, slipping his shoes off and climbing in behind her. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. It was a mere five seconds before y/n was turning over and burying her head into his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You haven’t done anything wrong, baby.”

“For not responding, and for being like this.”

Before he had shown up she had hoped he wouldn’t even think about coming over. She hated when people had to see her like this. It wasn’t because of the way she looked but rather the thought that nobody would understand how she felt, that everyone would just complain about her problems.

But Luke was absolutely, positively in love with her. From the moment they met, the way he had been able to make her laugh within two minutes, the way she was able to ramble on about random things to a stranger amazed him. She had him wrapped around her finger since the moment they bumped into each other and there was nothing that would change that.

He frowned at her words, “Don’t be sorry. You can’t control it.”

“I just wish it would stop sometimes. Move on from me.” He kissed her forehead and held her tighter, feeling angry at the world for doing this to his girl.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Her fingers went to tangle into his hair, her frowning at his apology. She played with one of the curls that had been sticking out amongst the rest due to its length. Luke calmed down at the feeling and gave her a small smile. It was hard for her to return the action, not having anything to smile about.

Luke knew that was all he needed to do, just be there for her even if she said she didn’t want him there. Remind her that he would be there to support her through everything, even the parts she didn’t want him to know about. Reassure her that those feelings were common even if he didn’t know what it felt like. Love her as if the world was gonna end tomorrow.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader

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msafterhours · 20 days

Text

Saccharine | Act Three

Male Reader x (G)I-DLE Yuqi

[Act 1] [Act 2] Act 3 (~16.5k words)

Note: this is not intended as a standalone story. If you haven’t already read Acts One & Two, I’d highly recommend doing so before reading further so that you don’t miss out on important context.

You sit there, alone, sipping on silence long after the bar closes. A little longer. You stay until the sunrise slips past the horizon, shining a light on your sins and reminding you of the responsibilities to come. With a stretch and a sigh, you stand and make your way to the elevator, internally debating whether or not you’d prefer her to be there. Even after you’ve exited the lift, walked down the hall, and turned the handle, you still haven’t come to a conclusion. Luckily, you don’t have to, as the ceaseless stillness of the room confirms your solitary status. A quick check of the bed informs you of her departure; a brief look at the clock tells you a bit more. It’s been seven hours since she arrived, six and a half since the new year began, and who knows how long since she awoke and fled?

It’s a question you don’t expect an answer to, so you do your best to move along, packing up your things and catching an early bus ride back to your apartment. The calendar’s kind enough to offer you an empty schedule and a well-timed weekend, so as soon as you lay your eyes on the beautiful sight of your very own bed, the rest of your body is quick to follow suit. Sleep is all too easy to find as you crash harder than you ever have before. Maybe a minute, maybe a millennium passes in that darkness—you’re far too tired to even try to tell. The first sight that greets you upon your awakening is a familiar one: a singular “four” at the front of the face of your alarm clock alongside those cursed letters “AM” at the end. Nearly an entire day lost—a price paid to the debt of fatigue you’d been so careless in accruing.

It is what it is. The second sight that greets you is a calendar event on your phone, reminding you of the upcoming deadline of your quintet interview piece in twenty hours. With a resigned sigh, you set about your routine, teeth grinding into your lower lip as the shower reminds you of your multitude of misdeeds. A bit of coffee and a metric fuckton of determination are all it takes you to get through the day, allowing you to submit your composition to your editor minutes before midnight.

With that out of the way, you return to your bed once more, mustering up some semblance of motivation to march onwards towards a new day. Almost immediately upon the morning’s dawn, you’re unnerved by just how irregular your everyday routine suddenly feels. There’s a sense of anxiety—anticipation?—in the air, as if you’re waiting for someone or something to burst through the door and denounce your wrongdoings. Ultimately, there’s basically no media coverage of the party, leaving you to post your piece and enjoy the peace granted by publishing your work. It receives mostly positive, complimentary feedback, primarily through proximity as love is heaped upon the idols, but that’s anything but a surprise. Considering the sensitive nature of the subject matter discussed, you make sure to keep it strictly vanilla: looking to the future without lamenting the losses of the past. Things really only get interesting when a remarkable message arrives in an inbox normally filled with unremarkable shlock:

A memorable account name? ✔

A multitude of comments and original posts across its very active existence? ✔

An unending array of likes and comments on every one of her posts, all of them singing her praises? ✔

Oh, and of course the message itself:

noodle.zip: Oh come on, you and I both know that the conversation wasn’t anywhere near that boring

Check.

This time, wanting to avoid any unnecessary heat, you respond directly:

inkingship: Maybe, but wasn’t this for the best? noodle.zip: I wouldn’t say so noodle.zip: In fact, I might even say you’re actively avoiding the most important parts inkingship: Are you judging me for being a professional? noodle.zip: Not exactly noodle.zip: I’m just saying you might have missed out on a chance for more fun for all parties involved noodle.zip: Or something like that inkingship: You’re definitely judging me noodle.zip: And if I am? inkingship: Then I might like you even more than I thought I did

And just like that, the new norm forms and what was once routine becomes forgotten. You continue your writing, covering comebacks from Changwon to Kwangya and conversing with your contacts, Miyeon chief among them as she compliments your recent work and you praise her performance on the Moonshine OST. All in all, it’s a calm, quiet time, especially compared to the cacophony that’s comprised the previous couple of months. But, as always, the perfect weather never lasts, and signs of the storm are swift to show themselves just beyond the horizon.

You know well ahead of time that their comeback is soon to be announced and as soon as the album is teased, you cut all contact—refusing to read or respond to any of Miyeon's messages. Part of you can't help but wonder if she's wondering why you ghosted her, but every fiber of your being knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would know exactly why. It’s made even worse when you see the concept teasers—see the way she looks over her shoulder, face framed in shadow as those piercing eyes stare down upon your paltry soul, and—fuck—the bare skin of her back, acting as an enticing invitation to all who've yet to witness her in full. Then the second teaser drops, and then the third—each communicating the slightest hint of how dangerous she can truly be. In your well-respected opinion, it’s the hottest she’s ever been, and it’s not close. She knows full well the things she does to you, and she’s daring you to do something, anything in response.

It drives you fucking insane.

As soon as you receive early access to the album, you give it a full listen. Even as your head sways in sync with the songs, you cast aside your compliments, instead choosing to pen your words with a different kind of ink—searing the page as paragraph by paragraph, you pick your poison. Once again, all five of the names atop the page should matter to you, but only one of them does. It’s not Miyeon’s. Word after word is penned and written with venom in your veins, delivering the hatred from your heart to the page. For once, you’re finished well before your deadline, giving you the rare chance to reflect and, more importantly, convince your editor to go along with the sudden change of direction. It’s a simple task for someone as attuned to the environment as you, simply necessitating a promise to write a favorable review for his girlfriend’s group’s next release. Granted, you were already likely going to, but there's no reason the truth can't get you what you want.

This time, you’ve elected to take the time to cover each of the members, giving high praise and harsh critiques of each of their contributions to the album. Your criticisms for the auxiliary trio range from their vocals to choreography to even their styling, but admittedly, they aren’t the stars of this story. For Miyeon, you bend the knee to your heart slightly, deciding to blame the utilization of her vocals outside her ideal range and general chosen image across her portrayal in the promotions—just about anything to avoid laying the fault directly at her feet.

Things get truly interesting when you arrive at the final member, as your review of her performance can fall anywhere between nuanced and dismissive, depending on perspective. “Yuqi, as always, provides her unique vocal color that contrasts against the other members and their performances. However, I can't help but wish that she had reached deeper, displaying more of herself and taking this opportunity to truly showcase her individuality.”

While there's no questioning your confidence in your abilities, it’s undeniable that this is the biggest risk you've ever taken. For the record, it's not even close. By putting yourself out there in this way, you're effectively stepping directly into the line of fire, all but taunting the legions of stans to take their best shot. Even with all that in mind, it's still a risk you're willing to take, one largely fueled by spite simmering inside you at the sight of her transgressions. She knows what she's done. Now it's time for you to respond in kind. Worst case scenario, everything you've ever worked for crumbles into ash; best case scenario, she fucking suffers. But no matter what happens, you both know that the other won’t go quietly into the night. If one of you burns, you'll burn together. All the more reason to add fuel to the fire.

Their first studio album and your first scathing critique hit the market in swift succession and initially receive a wildly different reception. The first wave of fan backlash is fucking brutal, but perspectives swiftly change, likely swayed by your masterful weaving of words that convey a tone of disappointment instead of hatred or vendetta. You watch on in glee as the narrative is quick to shift, especially once fans begin to passionately parrot your critiques as if they were gospel, slowing any surging momentum the album might have built. The snowball melts under the heat, and you see it reflected in the sales, the view milestones, and even the results of music shows as surefire victories turn into losses by the slimmest of margins. Videos of the members discussing their disappointment occasionally pop up on your timeline, threatening to tug at your threadbare heartstrings, especially as they discuss the stress they felt when returning as a five-member group for the first time on the biggest stage. You force yourself to cast those thoughts aside, too intrigued by the inconspicuous intentions of a certain someone. While four face the music, the last piece of the puzzle remains cloaked in shadow, broadcasting nothing but radio silence on the matter. In your mind, her lack of a statement speaks volumes—especially when considering the critical context of those titillating teasers.

Regardless, as you return to your routine responsibilities, you’re confident that your hand as the author will be largely invisible. To the average reader, the article simply seems like a bold, honest critique of a group you have high expectations for. But for your target audience—the only one with the cipher and context necessary to see below the surface—it's nothing but gloating. A statement of victory and a reminder of her failure. In another world, the song might have become a massive success, but in this one, the tale of “Tomboy” comes to an unexpectedly swift end. And the blame lies solely at a certain someone’s feet.

Man, does it feel fan-fucking-tastic to win like this, and the best part is, it doesn’t stop there. Shortly after, you’re contacted by a larger company and extended an offer to do more video-related content, allowing you a greater opportunity to grow your brand. You’re shown that your choice to take a risk and put out something this strong is viewed favorably by those in upper circles, and your just reward is a landing pad for your leap of faith. Not only do you accept their job offer, you even bring your editor along with you as you mutually agree to keep silent about the skeletons in each other’s closet.

You debut under this new company in spectacular fashion, writing a shining pair of favorable reviews for two groups on the fast track to superstardom, then doubling down on your newfound fearlessness by refusing to shy away from the flaws in another big group’s “experimental” title track. Somehow, you even manage to regain a bit of goodwill from the group’s fandom, Neverland, by penning some well-deserved praise for Miyeon’s debut mini album.

You get nothing from Miyeon.

From debuts to disbandments, you cover as much as you reasonably can, and then a bit more. Your coffee consumption skyrockets while your sleep schedule craters, but you convince yourself you’ll be fine. The most important piece is the present, and you’ll allow yourself to rest at the end—not in the middle. Too much progress is being made, and you’re finally reaping the rewards of all the seeds you’ve sown over what feels like a century. You’ve yet to experience the full ecstasy of celebrity—the celebrations and approbations. All of it and more, and it’s all for you. As it should be.

Which is why the email that arrives in your inbox in late September hits so fucking hard.

You get a better explanation later in the day via a face-to-face meeting, but the assignment still sends your mind into a spiral. A full suite of video content with the (G)I-DLE members shot across the two weeks before their comeback, with filming beginning two days after the last stop of their world tour. The selling point is tied to the EP’s title “I Love”, with the temporary tagline being “If these girls can make even him fall in love, what can’t they do?”. It’s sickening. You hide the worst of your feelings in your reaction, but show enough for them to note that your “history” with the group was a determining factor when pitching the idea. If only they knew.

You, of course, accept the project and promise to produce some initial ideas for the content and execution by tomorrow, then stumble out of the meeting room before collapsing into your chair. Your body capitalizes on this perfect moment to take a bit of petty revenge, slamming you with every ounce the fatigue you’ve taken on over the last few months. It’s a sobering thought, realizing that your selfish ambition didn’t actually lead you to success, just into the gaping maw of an even bigger fish. Truly an unfortunate roadblock to run into midway through your victory lap.

Considering this is your first major project at the new company, it’s something you desperately want to succeed at; considering it’s your first interaction with the two most impactful people in your life since you more or less ruined their hard work, it’s something you need to avoid failing at. So, you get to work. You fire up every synapse into a flurry of inspiration, fervently exploring every possibility you’ve ever seen or concepted. A straightforward series of video interviews? Too standard. A documentary style behind-the-scenes? Too impersonal. An all-out variety show style series of games and gifts? Too shallow. Your trash can quickly fills to the brim with page after page of mosaics of discarded inspirations. You decide almost immediately that if you have to stick your neck out like this, you’re going to make it personal, powerful, and a peek into the people behind the personas.

You do your due diligence, poring over hours of live performances, TV appearances, interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, and anything and everything in-between. Aside from their quirks as a collective, each member brings their own unique color to the table—something you want to showcase for fans old and new. You start with Minnie’s unending positive energy, note the dichotomy between Soyeon’s personal and professional interests, eagerly include Shuhua’s absolute refusal to give a fuck, and of course make room for Miyeon’s delicate princess personality and her chaotic character breaks. Then, you arrive at the exception. There are many sides to the enigma that’s eluded your understanding for far, far too long. She’s a contradiction—the brightest star outshining the spotlight while still a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the slightest hint of heat. It’s impossible to think of her without feeling her warmth on your skin, remember the fire in her eyes as you held her close; ironic, considering that your coffee grows cold while you struggle to plan around her professional side without letting your personal dynamic bleed into things. You ultimately decide to focus on the sentimentality hidden beneath the shamelessness, thinking it ideal to allow her the chance to show her best self.

You meet the next morning head-on without a minute of sleep to your name, fueled solely by the significance of the undertaking and a medically inadvisable amount of caffeine. Once it’s time for your meeting, you stride in with a self-assured swagger, presenting your bosses with an astounding arrangement of activities and ideas, as well as a pair of significant stipulations. Make sure the idols know ahead of time that the expectation is to shoot more than we need, and that both CUBE and I have veto power on any content we want cut. It’s a potentially perilous power play, but one you feel you need to make considering the circumstances of the engagement.

The surprising answer you receive is, for once, a pleasant one, as they approve the project with no further changes. With their blessings and their budget in mind, you walk out of the room and finalize the plan to descend into the lions’ den. The rest of the week flies by in an instant, leaving you winded yet wound up the night before shooting starts. The hardwood beneath your feet emanates an unending chill as you pace around your apartment long after the sun descends beneath the horizon, mind teetering on the precipice of insanity, as you rehash each detail of the project—every potential pitfall. In the empty silence of your apartment, your heart pounds like the beat of a drum, echoing in your ears and drowning out the quiet passage of city life outside your window. For the first time in forever, you stop by the aforementioned opening, peeking past the curtain and staring out across the twinkling cityscape below. The steel and glass structures glitter like stars against the darkness of the night, projecting a damned good recreation of the maze your thoughts are lost in. A long sigh escapes you, fogging up a small circle on the glass as anxiety gnaws at your gut like a rabid animal escaping its bindings. The constant ticking and tocking of the clock on the wall certainly doesn’t help your mentality, serving as an ever-present reminder of the sands of time’s flow and the speed at which the dawn approaches.

Somehow, someway, you make it back to your bed. In this space, with the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed entirely, your mind paints your thoughts across the darkened canvas—disordered and chaotic as an artist’s palette. The possibilities of what the future might hold in two weeks’ time are literally endless, but you swear to yourself that you’ll give everything to make sure the story doesn’t end here. So, for once, you deviate from your late-night norm, and force yourself to get some much-needed rest. You know you’ll need to be at your best when the consequences of your actions come calling, and the very next morning, they do exactly that.

-x-

On the other side of the sunrise, you stand amidst a larger production crew than you’ve ever been responsible for, discussing procedure with a production assistant when the universe calls “Action!”.

“I guess we can start with—”

Even under the unmarred sky of the sunny Seoul morning, it’s a crack of thunder that brings your sentence to an abrupt end. There’s a moment of shock before the ripples of pain spread and the realization hits your mind, but as everything clicks, there’s no stopping the twisted smile from spreading across your face. On your right cheek lies a freshly hand printed mark, perfectly mirroring a ghost of your past.

“Hey, you,” you call, nodding apologetically at the stunned production assistant before turning and confirming your suspicions.

“You didn’t say goodbye properly last time,” Miyeon grumbles, gritted teeth grimacing at the pain clearly radiating out of her hand. “I wanted to make sure you’re nice and awake today.”

“I get it, you’re extremely upset with me and it’s for all the right reasons,” you admit, wincing slightly as her words cut deeper than her hands ever could. “But we’re both professionals, right? Things will go much easier for everyone if we play nice, at least for the cameras.”

Miyeon pretends to contemplate your offer, but you can see in her eyes that it’s nothing she hasn’t already come to terms with. “I think I can manage that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. Sincerely. “You just do your best, and I’ll try my hardest to stop giving you reason to keep hating me.”

“Wow, you really don’t get it, do you?” she asks, laughing sardonically as she wears the type of smile that’ll never reach her eyes. You can’t help but freeze—uncharacteristically unsure of what she means—but you barely have to wait before you receive the answer that chills you to the bone. “I never even started.”

It’s somehow even more brutal when she walks away, leaving you speechless and in serious need of caffeine. After a brief excursion to the break room, you return with a steaming mug of caramel coffee, ready to face just about anything … anything except the person sitting atop the audio equipment before you. Her tired eyes tell quite the story, but between the lines you see the smolder, ready to alight at the slightest provocation. When her stare meets your own, you see her form tense, fists clenching in anxious anticipation as you close the distance. Both of you knew this was bound to happen; neither of you could have expected what comes next.

“Here,” you say, offering her your mug as a substitute olive branch.

Surprisingly, she takes it, her rich voice reverberating through your entirety as she asks, “Still no poison?”

Hints of a smile breach your defenses, adding a lightness to your tone that surprises even you as you respond, “Not today.”

“Good,” she grumbles, finally taking a sip and sighing in satisfaction. “This too.”

“Glad to hear it,” you say, leaning against the wall next to her as you look out across the sound stage. “Rough turnaround?”

“Quite.”

“Brutal.”

“...”

“Tight schedule,” she says, gesturing to the flurry of activity before you two.

“Very.”

“...”

“You ready?”

You see her glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you keep your stare locked in place, pointing solely towards the production crew that’s somehow become your responsibility. “Have to be. For them.”

“Yeah.”

“You?”

“Same.” This time, you let your eyes wander, following her stare until it rests upon the other members of (G)I-DLE, where Miyeon and Shuhua animatedly argue in a way your research has made you all too familiar with.

“For them,” you say once more, barely catching her movement out of the corner of your eye. It’s not much, but it’s a nod of gratitude. It’s enough.

You remain there in silence, side-by-side for a short while before someone calls for you, asking for a bit of clarification about something on the schedule. You walk away from her once again, spending the next hour or so in a flurry of activity that finally culminates in the start of the actual day. Just before the cameras roll, you quickly introduce yourself to the group, meeting the remaining members for the first time. It doesn’t take an empath to recognize the instinctive distrust, but over the course of the conversation, the combination of your earnest energy and Miyeon’s shining smile manages to thaw the ice. With that out of the way, you confirm everything with your production crew one last time, then call for the cameras to roll.

The moment the red light flickers on, a palpable shift takes place in the room. While not your first time on camera, it’s your first time doing so while juggling the needs of an entire group. After a deep sigh and an extended exhale, you begin, introducing yourself, the series concept, and finally, the girls themselves. One by one you go down the line, providing a stage upon which they can display their charms. Initially, their responses are brief, rehearsed—clearly favoring professionalism over genuine enthusiasm. Shuhua gushes about spending the holidays with Tzuyu but seems unsure of herself when asked about her aspirations for this comeback. Soyeon displays a rare moment of timidness when she can’t find the right words to describe Marilyn Monroe as the inspiration for the album’s concept, but instantly provides you with a ranked order of her favorite choices from the vast array of anime she watched during the lockdown. You can feel the progress you’re making, but you know you’re not quite there.

Things finally click midway through—when you get to Miyeon and lean on the rapport you’d been so quick to establish. Questions come to you far more easily, and you finally make some actual progress when you ask her about the differences between promoting as a soloist versus working as the host of M Countdown. You’re further elated as she elaborates, beginning to ramble about the ways she tries to be a good representative for the group while also shining as an individual. You can’t keep the smile on your face as she tells her tale, nodding in excitement as you finally get the first hints of the genuine introspection you want so badly to inspire in this series. From there it’s far too easy to foster a connection with Minnie—one built simply upon your shared passion for music as you find a profusion of shared loves among each of your lists of favorite artists.

You reach the end of the line. Inspiration strikes and you act before you can overthink it, shading your eyes from the bright lights bearing down from overhead as you pretend to search around the room for the final member.

“Oh, come on!” she pouts, playing her impromptu part perfectly. “Just because Minnie’s a giant doesn’t mean I’m that short. Soyeon’s literally right there!”

“Of course, I merely jest,” you say, smiling all too brightly as you stare into her eyes. “Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself to the unfortunate few who don’t know who you are?”

Yuqi does exactly that, deep voice carrying across the entire sound stage as she greets the camera. Her eyes meet yours once more and it’s almost concerning how familiar the conversation feels. You’re quick to reignite the conversation about corgis, complimenting her addition of paw prints to her tattoo as you grant her the platform to explain their significance. It’s barely any time at all before you’re just as enthralled as the rest of the audience, lost in the heartfelt retelling of her journey to Korea alone and the difficulty of working to achieve her dreams step by step. You can relate to the feeling all too well, and it nearly makes you question everything you’ve ever thought about her. But as her story finishes and she looks to you to continue, you package it up into the back of your mind, intending on returning to it later. Right now, you have a job to do.

You’re quick to move the topic forward, finding yourself pleasantly surprised as the six of you get into a comfortable rhythm, progressing from topic to topic with a surprisingly swift pace while keeping the number of mistakes reasonable. You’d be delusional to view it as anywhere near perfect, as there are plenty of instances of a joke not landing or a miscommunication or a moment of hesitation leading to an awkward pause that’ll have to be cut in post. But when the cameras cut and the conversation continues all throughout the lunch break, you finally allow yourself to relax, even if it’s only the slightest bit.

The first couple of days fly by in a dazzling blur of lights, camera, and action. One minute, you’re heading a hectic pre-production meeting, the next, you’re standing still amongst the silence of a scene about to roll. Confusingly, the most chaotic cacophonies can be found amidst the members themselves as they grow to trust you. Your initial fears are quickly quashed as the seemingly demure Shuhua quickly displays her unperturbed sense of humor, firing off jokes and threatening to peak out your audio equipment at the drop of a hat. The atmosphere further improves when you introduce a bit of competition into the mix, allowing Soyeon to showcase her leadership skills as the group’s superlative strategist. While admittedly a bit of a risk, your choice to lean into a shoulder-to-shoulder style of interviewing rather than the face-to-face norm ends up paying off, allowing the audience a rare opportunity to peek behind the curtain and watch the girls share their thoughts in a far more comfortable setting amidst the variety of challenges and contests. It’s quite the ideal arrangement, especially since it leaves you with the perfect seat to spectate everything they choose to share.

You’d readily admit your eyes are all but glued to Miyeon for much of the shooting schedule, which is potentially the only reason you catch on to the fact that she’s playing a game of her own. From a surface-level standpoint, she seems like a perfectly pretty professional—dancing from scene to scene with all the grace you’d expect of a self-proclaimed princess—but it takes only a bit of reading between the lines to unveil the true story. While you might not expect an angel to need a guardian, Miyeon seems absolutely shameless with how frequently she taps into your prior history of working together and plays the “favorite” card. She milks that status for all that it’s worth, hiding behind your leg at the slightest hint of adversity and being concerningly quick to jump ship when it comes time to separate into teams of two. To her credit, none of it crosses into unprofessional territory—only a brief wink in your direction or a playful nudge as she passes by—but it’s definitely blatant enough to raise an eyebrow or two.

To her credit, there’s no such subtlety with Minnie. Minnie remains a beacon of smiles and sincerity throughout the entire shooting process, happily gushing about her increased involvement in the production process alongside the ever-spectacular Soyeon and, of course, the final member of the main cast, Yuqi. Somewhat surprisingly, she does a phenomenal job of actually being the consummate professional Miyeon pretends to be, although she takes advantage of every opportunity to compete against you, acting as the mirror to Miyeon’s tendency to join your side whenever possible. Facing her from the opposite side of the battlefield—sometimes more literally than others—you’re grateful for the chance to observe her reactions. You see the subtle furrow of her brow every time your team claims victory, see the tightening of her smile whenever Miyeon’s quick to find you to celebrate with. Admittedly, you probably enjoy it more than you should. Even then, you’re shocked by the sides she’s willing to show, stunned by the sight of the quiet resilience in her eyes as she navigates each day of shooting while fighting back fatigue. It’s a painfully potent subversion of your expectations, leaving you utterly unsure about the truth in stories you’ve been told and the significance of the scenario burned into your mind so many years ago. But again, those questions can wait until you’re done finishing the shoot. Until then, you add a fourth item to your morning coffee runs.

-x-

After three days of filming, you finally get your first round of feedback from your higher-ups. Somehow, it’s simultaneously better than you could have hoped for while still sending a chill down your spine:

Great start so far, seems like the content is really starting to click and we are yet to receive any complaints from CUBE. One small suggestion: you should try to engage with Yuqi more. There haven’t been too many interactions between you two thus far, but every time it’s happened, the chemistry has been clear as day. Try focusing on her a bit more; you might end up liking what ends up happening.

Oh. Yeah. Sure. Fine. That’s a totally reasonable thing to ask of nearly anyone. Nearly.

It’s a damned shame, but it’s also literally your job to make this work. So, you fire off a quick email, thanking them for their feedback and promising to implement their suggestion in the upcoming shoots. For once, you stay true to your word, doing so the very next day. “The Thursday of Truths” shoot starts off strong, with candid conversations carrying out throughout the day at the idols’ behest instead of the demands of the script. Everything’s going absolutely great … until they steer the ship down a path you’d rather not follow.

Ultimately, you are the one to blame as you’re the one who asked, “Everybody always asks about your biggest dreams, but what about your weirdest ones? Any insane dreams recently that you couldn’t help but remember?” The first couple range from harmless to hilarious, the highlight of it all being Miyeon’s astoundingly detailed description of her fantastical life as a college student and its associated escapades. But once again—like they always do—things change when the spotlight shines on Yuqi.

“There’s no better way to describe it; it was an inferno,” she says, lowering her voice as she captivates the audience. “I was trapped, drawn in by a sort of magnetic pull towards the center. The weirdest part though was that even though I couldn’t get through the fire, I kept having this dream over and over and over again. Eventually, I gave up and tried to walk away, but then a figure—someone somehow familiar even though they were completely featureless—dragged me back in. It’s probably been a couple of years since I’ve had the dream, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

With her final statement made, ten eyes turn to you, only to find your own unfocused pair staring into the distance. Once again, it’s the specificity of her words that’s affecting you so deeply, stunning you into inaction as you desperately scramble for the right words to continue the conversation. “It must have been a year ago now?” you say, pretending to wonder as if the memory hadn’t been seared into your mind. “I woke up on a beach and heard a voice, kind of like a mermaid or something. And the way it sang, it was oddly familiar but like nothing I’d ever heard before. I couldn’t help but walk out into the ocean to follow it.”

“And?” Minnie asks, eyes bright with wonder. “Did you find out what it was?”

Your eyes drift, searching for a solution and finding anything but as you make the mistake of meeting Yuqi’s eyes. “I don’t know,” you respond, uncharacteristically unsure if you’re telling the truth. “But I’d give anything to figure it out.”

From there, filming continues fairly normally, but anyone with the slightest semblance of sense can see that both you and Yuqi are clearly unsettled. Giving credit where it’s due, both of you are fine when you’re not directly interacting, but things change when your dialogue becomes direct. You try to crack a joke you’re sure she’ll smile at, but the laugh you get in response is performative at best, and even that’s grading on a curve. When she later asks you a question, you do your best to remain unaffected, but aiming for a casual response results in you missing by a mile.

The sighs of relief echo throughout the sound stage as shooting wraps and you bid the group farewell, wishing them the best as tomorrow’s Friday of filming will be spent not with you, but on their latest music video. With a warm smile sent especially Miyeon’s way, you take your leave and depart into the oncoming night. As you navigate the streets of Seoul, the ever-present endless lights and symphony of sounds fade into white noise as they speed past you. Your body remains on-edge the entire way, wracked with tension as whispered words and murmured melodies dance across the forefront of your mind.

For once, you find the expectant silence of your apartment foreign and unsettling. While normally you crave the uninterrupted train of thought, tonight you wish for something, anything, to derail it. You spend the evening attempting to distance yourself from the day’s events, distracting yourself with the everyday chore of eating and even turning on the TV until that too joins the white noise framing the canvas for your ceaseless contemplation. One uncharacteristically good decision later, you find yourself in your bedroom, cradled by your comforter as the darkness beckons you. Once more, as you close your eyes and allow your consciousness to roam, you give in to delusion, hoping that your dreams might grant you an answer to the questions haunting your mind, and as you drift off into the soft embrace of sweet oblivion, you can’t help but wonder if someone somewhere wishes the same.

As it turns out, you may never know the answer to any of your questions as you awaken the following morning after a night of total darkness and unending silence. After a scream or seventeen, you force yourself to get up and prepare for a day of further research and revisions to your planning for the following week. You’re lucky enough to fall into a rhythm, allowing your mind to narrow in on work and work alone all the way through the day and into the afternoon. The monotony is mercifully broken as the sky darkens into a tapestry of stars, upset by an unexpected notification flashing across your screen.

ASong4You: I never thought I’d enjoy hating someone so much

Somehow, the message makes more sense than it should. You can’t help but chuckle at the fact that even now, you’re still chatting through the burners. Even after all this time, you’re both still resolutely clinging onto something—a secret neither of you is willing to give up so easily.

TurnThePage: Hate’s a strong word, don’t you think? ASong4You: I didn’t hate you before ASong4You: Things changed pretty quickly TurnThePage: They always seem to TurnThePage: Maybe we both have a knack for stirring up trouble ASong4You: It certainly seems to follow wherever I go

Once again, you barely have to read between the lines to catch the sadness simmering beneath the sarcasm embellishing her words. It reminds you of the smile you’ve seen her wear on stage, the one where she doesn’t have to think—only feel. Unfortunately, the flip side of feeling so intently is what happens when her heart is filled with hatred instead of happiness. It’s a compelling thread to pull, but with no tangible benefit for doing so, you choose to toss it into the pile of unresolved issues you’re sure to find time to address later.

TurnThePage: Careful now TurnThePage: Someone might make the mistake of thinking you enjoy it

A brief pause.

ASong4You: And what if I do?

Another.

TurnThePage: Then I might like you even more than I thought I did ASong4You: Careful now ASong4You: We don’t want things getting too hot next week ASong4You: Especially with your special someone around

Some twisted middle ground between a grimace and a grin graces your visage, shining on the screen as you compose your response.

TurnThePage: I thought you were the one trying to keep her from getting involved ASong4You: Well it’s not my fault that the pretty little powder keg jumped into the open flame TurnThePage: Your words, not mine ASong4You: Maybe, but you were thinking the same TurnThePage: How would you know? ASong4You: Dude, I just do ASong4You: Ask Minnie or something, she’s the one into zodiac signs and shit TurnThePage: Yeah, that tracks ASong4You: How would you know? TurnThePage: I literally write about you maniacs for a living TurnThePage: It’s my job to know random shit like that ASong4You: Oh yeah? ASong4You: Then what do you know about me? TurnThePage: Way too fucking much

You hesitate for a moment, but your heart supersedes your mind once more and sends one more message.

TurnThePage: And nowhere near enough

The conversation lapses into an uncomfortable silence, leaving you staring at the screen as you wonder whether you’ve crossed a line. In the moment just before turmoil overtakes you, you force yourself to step away, going into the kitchen and grabbing some water before returning to a newly received response.

ASong4You: Says the guy interviewing us on camera for four days straight TurnThePage: Fair TurnThePage: Maybe after I’m done farming you for content, I’ll give you the chance to bridge the gap ASong4You: That’s cute ASong4You: I’m supposed to be pretty busy this month TurnThePage: So am I ASong4You: And? TurnThePage: I can make time TurnThePage: I’m willing to bet you can too ASong4You: You willing to go all in on that bet? TurnThePage: Maybe once all the cards are revealed TurnThePage: Deal? ASong4You: Deal

The conversation continues well into the weekend as you banter back and forth, firing shots and sharing thoughts as each of you prepares for what’s to come. She shares snippets of the behind-the-scenes chaos that is the last week of comeback preparations, and you respond by keeping her up to date with the shooting plans as weather related complications appear upon the horizon.

-x-

Sunday's open schedule allows you a rare moment of reflection, one you spend entirely on the previous week and how so much can change in so little time. Without even realizing it, you realize you're wearing a smile—the rare type that's spawned organically rather than painted on for the day's performance. It puzzles you for a moment, just long enough for you to realize how much fun you're having. Somehow, some way, the project you'd feared might ruin your life has been fun. It's fun brainstorming ideas with Soyeon in between takes. It's fun getting Shuhua to begrudgingly admit she's having a great time. It's fun seeing Minnie’s smile shine that much brighter every time music plays. It’s fun watching Miyeon panic and hide behind your leg for safety. And believe it or not, it's fun getting to compete with Yuqi in a lower stakes environment. It's a fun project that gets you into bed early so you can be energized for the next morning of shooting.

Which makes it such a damned shame when that all goes away one sweltering morning when the sun lights a long-forgotten fuse. In the aftermath of Monday’s outdoor shoot being canceled because of the rain and Tuesday’s shoot ending early thanks to audio issues, Wednesday’s atmosphere is restless at best as everyone suffers the stress of the time crunch. The residual humidity fuels the frustrations, and by the time an early lunch break is called, everyone seems grateful for the chance for tempers to settle. Your focus waxes and wanes as you dip in and out of conversation, indulging each and every one of your crew’s curiosities rather than getting a bite to eat. Amid one of those low points, your eyes dart over to a situation brewing in your peripheral vision. It’s her.

She’s arguing with one of the lighting techs, and from each of their respective postures, you harbor a guess that she’s blaming him for something. What might appear like a mostly harmless altercation to some instead sounds the warning bells in your mind, as you immediately recognize the danger lurking in the way her muscles tense and her hand balls into a fist, arm shaking as if she’s barely holding back the urge to strike. Barely. You see her self-restraint slipping.

But you cross the line before she gets the chance to.

“Yuqi.” Your voice echoes throughout the enclosed space, reaching the ears of all and resonating up the spine of your intended recipient, clearly shaking her to her core as you speak her name aloud for the first time. “I wanted to get your thoughts on the next shooting block. Do you have a moment?”

Immediately, suspicion overtakes her visage, but she retains enough sense to recognize the out you’ve given her and begrudgingly follows you. You lead her into one of the break rooms—one of the few places you can have some semblance of privacy—then turn to face her, but she speaks before you get the chance to.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I just—”

“No, not fucking now! You are going to shut the fuck up for once and listen,” she grows, still clearly seething. “I still don’t understand what you want from me, and you know what? Fuck it. I might never figure it out. But that’s just fucking fine. You can try to harm or help me, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t fucking need you. If I want to ruin someone’s life, I can. And there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it, okay? I …” Her voice trails off, mind finally catching up with her heart as she realizes what she just said.

“Okay,” you say, voice straining as you keep your response painfully monotone. “I get it.”

“I—”

“One more day,” you interject, each word piercing another self-inflicted wound into your seeping heart. “One. More. Day. For them. That’s all I ask. Let’s finish this filming, then I’ll fuck off out of your life like you’ve wanted all along. Deal?”

“I …” she tries again, voice failing her as she looks away. “Yeah. Deal.”

“...”

The silence stretches between you two, merciless even in the face of your misery.

“You go out first,” you say, offering a sad attempt at a smile. The type that’ll never reach your eyes. “Wouldn’t want people to get the right idea about us, would you?”

A lone finger is all you receive in response, a simple thumbs up as she walks away. Not for the first time. Maybe for the last. Something aches within you, grasping at the sense of superiority you should be feeling. Because you won. You were right about her all along.

So why does everything feel so wrong?

Your train of thought is derailed by the insistent buzzing against your leg, your alarm warning you it’s time to get back to filming. With a heavy sigh, you step back out, running on fumes and struggling to stay afloat throughout the rest of the day. The humidity becomes the least of your concerns as the atmosphere turns icy over the last day and a half of shooting, leaving you with plenty of painful content that your editor can hopefully make palatable in post. But hey, that's his problem. This Thursday's been terrible enough without you trying to make it worse.

That afternoon, you say your goodbyes, wishing them well as you swear—under a debatable amount of duress—to write the glowing review their comeback deserves. You shoot three of them smiles in farewell and offer the same to another, but before you know it, you're pulled into a hug—one you're painfully hesitant to return. Fighting your instincts, you hold Miyeon tight, whispering all your kindest compliments into her ear before pulling away. Last, you offer her a nod—perhaps one of thanks for the professional courtesy, maybe one of regret; undeniably, it's one of a far from fond farewell. You tell her goodbye. And then you walk away.

That evening, you reflect—honestly, earnestly—for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. About how far you’ve come. About where the fuck you’re going. The tranquility of your apartment masks the turmoil within, amplifying your inner monologue as you cast your mind back to that fateful day a half decade ago. A grimace graces your visage as you think back to your heart of stone and see how the pressure it’s withstood; how it’s produced not diamonds, but despair. At the center of it all, what image graces you? Far be it from the eye of the storm, no, what awaits you is the heart of the tempest. Images of her scowling, temper flaring as her fists clench in anticipation flash through your mind like a litany of lightning bolts. But maybe that’s just part of her appeal. She’s all thorns and no roses, yet you’re swept up by her all the same.

You’ve covered idols before, been on sets and seen the different parts they play … but the way she wields words sharper than any knife, you know she’s different. You know from experience that when she’s backed into a corner, she’s quick to let the claws come out and flash her fangs, so maybe that’s where you went so wrong. By authoring the article, you lost what little you could hold over her. You lost your leverage—the invaluable currency that drives the entire industry; you realize the threat of telling stories of her misdeeds falls flat when she seems so eager to write many more. So, what are you supposed to do now? Maybe you’re meant to play the long game—rely on patience and wait for her to make the first mistake. She’s done it once before, literally walking through your door when the opportunity to walk away was less than an hour away. You have no reason to believe she won’t come running back once again.

You also have no reason to believe she will.

So maybe the play is to reach out first, take a risk like you did when writing the article. Maybe the play is to take that chance, even if there’s a possibility you’ll get burned. Because there’s a chance you won’t. Because there’s a chance you forge something beautiful in the heat you two seem to ignite so easily. But in a rare moment of wisdom, you decide to sleep on it. You know better than to risk such a message getting lost in the darkest hours of the day; the universe has convinced you nothing good ever happens after midnight.

That night, you dream. Unlike in previous outings, there are no beaches or blazes in sight. Instead, a heavy darkness obscures everything in the vicinity. All you can see are the jagged planks laid atop your body, each with a name of an idol you’d forgotten or a friend you’d discarded scrawled across the wood; all you can feel is the chill of the chains wrapped around your limbs, shackling you in place as your sins are literally held against you. The soft sound of a spark steals your attention, and you lift your eyes to see a single match illuminating the darkness. Behind it stands a familiar figure—the one that’s haunted your dreams for years—staring at your unmoving form. Your breath catches, but they remain motionless, ever vigilant as you strain against your bonds.

“Do it!” you challenge. “I know you want nothing more than to watch me burn, so just fucking do it. Put an end to this. If you’re not the one with the key to what’s holding me down, the least you can do is set me free. Isn’t that what we both want?”

From the blank canvas of her countenance, her first feature forms as her lips appear for the briefest of moments. Just long enough to blow out the flame, plunging you into darkness. As you thrash against your bonds, a faint hint of cherry wafts past you and sends your mind into a spiral. An eternity or eleven pass and you find yourself hating the silence, yet surprisingly finding a familiar solace in the darkness you'd feared you'd lost. You may not know what the future holds, but at least here, where you’re most comfortable, you’re willing to face it.

-x-

That Friday, a message is sent … and read. It has only a single line of text: an address. That Saturday, its recipient follows the directions, its desires, and definitely not its mind as it drives down the bustling streets that so closely resemble the veins of the nation's beating heart. Their pulse pounds with a similar rhythm, thumping against their chest faster and faster as the remaining distance grows ever smaller. They make a stop, desperate to delay the inevitable. Sooner than they’d like, they arrive, reaching the base of the building. From within the cabin, they look up and see the profusion of floors staring back. Watching. Waiting. They step out into the night.

-x-

You close the door behind you, a pair of steaming hot coffee cups in hand as you navigate towards the address you'd been given. After a brief conversation with the doorman, you enter the elevator and let the door close behind you, allowing it to lift you into the endless night. The soft melody reverberating throughout the enclosed space provides a nice rhythm for your bouncing foot to harmonize with, anxiety rearing its ugly head at the worst of times as the intended floor grows ever closer. You can’t help but shake your head in disbelief at the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in once again. Somehow, she’s convinced you to walk headfirst into the lion’s den, and you’re the one bringing her a gift in thanks. But then again, you think to yourself as you hear the bell’s chimes and doors open. It’s probably more about practicality than pleasantries if we’re being honest. It’s going to be a long night.

A step forward, and then another. More, enough to bring you to an intersection where you make the right choice. You continue forward step by step until the door in question appears on your left. As soon as you stand before it, your body goes rigid, frozen into inaction. A million unknowns await behind that door, but you can always choose to walk away now. The one known option lies back at the base of the building. Maybe she's right—maybe trouble really does shadow her wherever she goes. Maybe that means you shouldn't follow in its wake.

Maybe it means you should.

In this split second of hesitation, you’re suddenly reminded of an old quote you've always liked: Opportunity knocks softly at your door; temptation leans against the doorbell. Even here, on the steps of her home away from home, you have the opportunity to leave. You check your phone, desperate for any excuse to continue stalling, and note your time of arrival: 1:57AM. Just enough time to do the responsible thing of wishing her farewell and leaving; just enough time to—lean in.

Moments later—as if she knew to expect you—she opens the door, wearing the most casual clothes you’ve ever seen her in and staring up at you with tired eyes before flicking them down to the cups in your hand and smirking slightly.

“Whichever one you got for me,” she says, smile barely reaching her eyes as she steps aside. “I want the other one.”

“Damn, and I really thought I'd get you with the poison this time,” you reply, smiling slightly as you step inside and remove your shoes. “Any particular reason why?”

“Wanted to try something new. Seems like that kind of night,” she says, shrugging as she shuts and locks the door behind you.

“Maybe it is,” you murmur, extending both cups to her and allowing her to take her pick. “Is this your home?”

She pauses for a moment, then takes the drink from your left hand. “I guess it is,” she responds, smiling softly as she takes a sip. “It’s weird to say considering how many of my relatives are in China, but … yeah. I guess a lot of my family’s here, too.”

“That’s cute,” you say, smiling as sweet as the honey you sip from your cup. “Are you all ready for your comeback?”

“Wasn’t I the one supposed to be asking the questions once we finished filming?” she asks, earning a shrug from you in response before continuing. “But yeah, I think so. As long as nothing unexpected comes up this time.”

You’re grateful for the lid blocking her view of your smug smirk as you ask, “Are you saying you didn’t expect me to keep my word?”

“I was hoping you’d had a change of heart,” she corrects you. “But as soon as Miyeon asked if I knew why you ghosted her, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

“You didn’t tell her why.”

“Of course not!” she exclaims, laughing ruefully. “I pulled a page out of your book and lied to cover my ass. And guess what? It worked … until it didn’t. It worked all the way until I had to hold her as she cried in frustration at the negative reception.”

“Good for you,” you say, somehow keeping your voice steady even as you struggle to smother the swell of emotion. “It was the right thing to do, especially since you caused it.”

“I had to!” she fires back, flashes of fury flaring in her flaming eyes. “You were just as much to blame, but everyone knew that there was no chance of you caring for anyone other than yourself!”

“You’re partially right, but also so, so very wrong,” you say, pausing as you finish your drink. “Unfortunately, it really was all your fault.”

The silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before her whispered words float over to you. “Why are you like this? I don’t understand.”

Her shift of demeanor is so sudden, it shakes you to your core. You know full well she has a tendency to get loud, especially when frustrated, but as her voice dips and her eyes darken, it tells an entirely different tale.

“What do you mean?” you ask, volume rising as she puts you on the defensive. “You knew damned well exactly what you were doing when you walked into my room that night.”

“No, what I don’t understand is why you act like I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you when I haven’t fucking done anything!” she yells back.

“Wow, you really don’t get it, do you?” you respond, dropping your voice back to a dull quiet and laughing emptily as you wear a familiar sad type of smile—the one that dies before ever reaching your eyes. “You are. And the worst part is that I can’t even escape you if I try.”

This time, your words are the ones that chill her to the bone, leaving her unsteady as she asks, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve had them too, right? The dreams about the inferno? The ocean? The others?” You wait for a response and receive nothing in return, but in the absence of a no, you continue on. “Somehow, you’ve gotten into my head, so deep that I can’t even escape into my dreams without being reminded of you. Don’t lie to us both and say you aren’t the same.”

“No,” she declares, shaking her head. “Fuck that. I’m nothing like you. And I never will be.”

Her words are stuttered, dipping into whispers, voice shaky as she spits them at you. She must be furious, unable to control her hatred as she refuses to match your stare, shoulders heaving as her eyes tremble and search for solace in any direction other than yours. You’ve never seen her like this, never seen her so open … so openly inviting you in so that she can pounce on your overreach and capitalize on your vulnerability. Every thought you’ve desperately clung to over the years surges back to the forefront of your mind, reminding you of the truths you’d gleaned long before you’d ever met her. It’s a dangerous game you two are playing, and it’s one you’d rather lose than allow her to win.

But before you can cut in, she continues. “I matter. I mean something to the people who mean so much to me. And I know that you don’t.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

Her words finally cut deep enough, sparks igniting a fire far more ferocious than any fury you’ve felt before. You. Fucking. Snap. “You’re right, we’re not alike,” you agree, voice deep and dangerous as you take your first step forward. “That’s the difference between us. I have something to lose. You have someone to lose. Multiple someones, in fact.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but another thunderous step silences her as you continue. “And that’s the worst fucking thing about you, isn’t it? That you’ve found a home—a family—here in a foreign country, but you keep risking it all because you can’t keep your fucking temper in check.”

Another step, another crack of thunder reverberating off the walls of the room. “But you just can’t do it. You want so desperately to be kind, to be someone who deserves all the love and support you've been given, don't you? But you can't, because it's too hard to break the habit, isn't it?”

One more step and you find yourself in front of her, staring down into her hate-filled eyes as hints of tears threaten to spill from the corners. Once again, you see her muscles tense and her arm rise, but this time, you stop her, snatching her wrist out of the air before the slap can connect. This time, you’re the one who lights the spark.

“Let. Me. Go.” Her growl grates against your ears as she makes a token attempt to pull away, but your grip holds firm, even as the pounding of her pulse pummels your inner palm; even as the heat rises.

“What, so you can try to slap me again?” you retort, snatching her other wrist. Continuing to fan the flames. “Fucking look at us. How many times have we found ourselves here, screaming and at each other's throats?"

A quick flash of fury flickers in her stare, but it’s quickly replaced by something far more potent. Desire. “One too few,” she responds, smirk as lopsided as the tilt of her head as her wild eyes stare back at you and further proof of arousal pokes through the soft fabric of her oversized shirt.

"I agree," you say, smiling wide before latching your lips onto the base of her newly exposed neck.

Her growl gives way to a gasp, goosebumps swiftly spreading over her skin as you suck at the sensitive spot you’ve come to claim as your own. Her nails dig into the soft flesh of your wrists, threatening to draw the blood from your veins as you rip the whimpers from deep within. You can feel their hum reverberating across her chest, demanding more from you with each pass across the base of her neck. Her pulse quickens under your lips, hammering in sync with your pounding heart as her legs shake under the weight of ecstasy.

Just like always, her very existence burns away any inhibitions, causing you to crave even more of her even as you’re granted unrestricted access. Your earlier exposure to her has been a series of microdoses—either interrupted or forced to end earlier than intended—but with all those excuses lost to the flame, you’re forced to admit the truth. You’re addicted to her. Everything about her, from her smile to her scent to her taste to the way she clings to you when you make her quiver, all of it's intoxicating and quickly becoming a fix you can't live without. The only consolation you find amidst this revelation is found when you pull away the slightest bit and stare into her eyes, the only place you find your feelings mirrored, like some fucked up representation of reciprocal craving.

Even this tiniest bit of distance proves to be too much for you both, as you meet in the middle and crash your lips together. The kiss is harsh, messy, maybe a bit brutal, sure to leave bruises that’ll have to be explained away somehow. It’s unbelievable really—she's so much smaller than you, so much more delicate, yet her mouth is so demanding on yours. Your gift has left her tasting like caramel and coffee—your favorite combination—but even then, there’s a hint of the cherry flavor you know so well. Leverage becomes the least of your concerns as you release her wrists, hands instead sliding up her body until they’re tangled into the golden strands flowing down her shoulders, gripping her hair with intent as your tongues clash. Her newly freed fingers find a home atop your chest, forming fists in your shirt’s fabric as she pulls you even closer. Somewhere hidden below the cloud nine you’re on, you’re sure that your malnourished conscience is crying out at the hypocrisy of showing such vulnerability to the root of all your problems. It might even be right, but honestly, who could blame you for getting hooked when the very sight of her was your gateway drug?

So yeah, you’ll admit to yourself. Maybe I’m just another one of her victims, unique only in the words they’ll write on my tombstone. But if the way her body melts into yours is any indication, you can find solace in the fact that while she might have you wrapped around her finger, at least the feeling’s mutual. Unfortunately, the need for an entirely different chemical—that pesky “oxygen” thing—deprives you of the dopamine high you’re both riding, demanding a moment of pause amidst the pleasure. You’re the first to speak up, laughing softly as you comment, “This is too familiar for my tastes; I thought we were supposed to be trying something new tonight.”

"I agree. Which means the real question is: are you such a man that you want to fuck me right into this table—fuck me so hard that we break through it—or are you going to be gentle," she sneers, "and take me upstairs and romantically fuck me on my bed?"

"Neither," you say as you roughly push her back, protecting everything but her from harm as she stumbles backwards and you follow closely behind. "I'm gonna pin you against this fucking wall and see how many noise complaints your neighbors file. How's that sound, darling?"

She responds, but her words are shaky, shortened as she catches the breath taken by the impact of her crash against the wall. "That - that doesn't sound - like a very gentlemanly thing to do at all."

"Maybe not. But you don't seem like the type who deserves a knight in shining armor, do you? Princess."

"Fuck you," she spits, eyes reignited as your words pierce through her faux composure.

"Oh baby," you drawl, blissfully unbothered by her venomous words and burning stare, "When you beg so nicely, how could I not give you everything you've ever wanted?"

"I—" A single syllable is all that escapes before you have your knee between her legs, grinding against her sopping heat and eliciting the foulest of symphonies from deep within, yet even as you cup her breasts, even as she writhes under your touch, you both know you’re standing safe in the storm’s eye. So, when hers finally open and stare daggers into your own, you decide to take the leap.

You drop to your knees, nothing but the worst of intentions in mind as you tear open the button on her sorry excuse for a pair of shorts. Your fingertips are quick to hook into the fabric and harshly pull them past her knees, exposing her glistening sex to you like a gourmet dish. From there, it’s all too easy to tease her with an appetizer of what’s to come, licking at the outer edges of her lips and the insides of her thighs as your breath delivers hints of heat onto her core. Even without looking, you can feel the fire in her eyes as her heated stare threatens to bore holes into your head, though the fingers gripping your hair pose a more immediate threat. You remain unphased as you continue your explorations, tracing intricate patterns up and down her smooth skin with the lightest of touches while your tongue continues its dance across all the places that deny her the satisfaction she so badly craves. It’s an exquisite form of torture, one you revel in and one she wants so desperately to despise, yet can’t help but delight in.

“Fuck you,” she growls, grasping at both strands of hair and metaphorical straws as her voice betrays her building sense of exasperation and ecstasy alike.

You chuckle, a deep laugh rumbling out from low in your throat as you rest your hands against her thighs, impeding her impatience as she attempts to squirm closer. “Is that a promise or a plea, princess?”

“It’s a fucking warning,” she tells you, though the threat’s hollow amid the lack of heat in her words. Instead, the note that rings in your ear is one of need, one of a near peak and a prayer that you’re willing to push her over that edge. Because here’s the thing you’ve learned about her: even though she’ll never admit it, she’s obsessed with the game. You know better than anyone that she loves being riled up as much as possible because it makes the drop that much more intense when she falls apart. So, when the muscles in her thighs finally start to tense and press against the sides of your head, you’re kind enough to give her the nudge she needs.

You dive in deep, tongue finally flicking against the hardened nub of her clit as you plunge a pair of fingers deep into her folds, finally freeing her hips to buck against your face. Raw ecstasy rings out from her very soul, enchanting your ears with her song of bliss and blessing your tongue with the lingering taste of ambrosia as you fully devote yourself to her desires. You remain relentless, keying in on her keening as you single out her most sensitive spots and sending her into a ruthless spiral of rhapsody and suffering.

“Nonononono, oh god—oh FUCK—oh please,” she whimpers between breaths, pleading for mercy even as her entire body begs you for more. Passion overflows from you both—a bit more literally in her case—as your movements harmonize, elevating both of your experiences in this hunt for euphoria. For once, she’s being so good, asking so nicely, and the best part is that none of it even matters, because when she looks and sounds and smells and tastes and feels like this, you’d give her everything—no questions asked.

All the signs suddenly start to show, and you know exactly what’s about to happen next. You wrap your free arm around the back of her thighs, holding her even closer as you heighten your pace just the slightest bit. In your embrace she is unmade, absolutely lost in the throes of paradise as her whimpering turns into wails of pure, unfiltered pleasure. Your sadistic side celebrates as you refuse to cease your assault, prolonging her peak until her legs threaten to give out from under her. While you're kind enough to keep her from falling, you're also cruel enough to progress without giving her any respite.

You pick her up, easily handling her small frame like putty in your hands as you lay her atop the table, garnering a gasp as her back makes contact with the cold glass. As she attempts to regain her senses, you free yourself from the confines of your clothing, finally stripping away the last barrier between you and the satisfaction you deserve. Before you she lies in a daze—somehow free of her shirt—still drunk off the sensation she’d sought so desperately and you’d delivered so skillfully. Now, with your inhibitions forgotten somewhere in the fog filling the periphery of your vision, you step up, rock hard shaft in one hand as you pull her closer with the other.

My fucking turn.

You push yourself inside of her, fighting the friction as your shared groans of ecstasy echo against the walls. Her fingernails drag against the glass as she claws for something, anything to hold on to, but is ultimately left wanting. The thrill of triumph rushes through your veins as you progress ever deeper, coating the entirety of your shaft with her wetness until you’re buried to the hilt. While your initial foray is necessarily slow, stretching seconds into eternities, you're quick to establish an unyielding pace, demanding the attention of every fiber of her being as you punish her with pleasure. With every reaction you rip from her—ceaseless blushes of red and continuous ragged breaths—you write another page in the tale of your magnum opus: your grand victory over her everburning heart. In this sonata, you're the sole composer and her body is the instrument you play so masterfully, perfecting your angles and amount of pressure on the fly. Every single time you thrust inside her, you seek only the sweetest song and are only satisfied as she sings her symphony of sighs and screams.

Even here, amongst the winces and whimpers of pleasure, her undying flame burns bright, reminding you that this duet demands a duo. Despite her shudders of satisfaction, she finds time to disrupt your rhythm and threaten to remix the melody entirely, mercilessly using your reactions against you. She’s quick to hook her ankles around your back, pulling you deeper inside of her right mid-inhale and sending a shock of surprise up your spine. It’s a push and pull, a battle back and forth that reignites you both, leading to a further escalation of an already brutal pace.

“Don't tell me you're burning out so quickly,” she taunts, twisted glee glimmering in her eyes. “I was expecting so much more from you.”

“Listen babe, I promise, I’m going to give you everything you need,” you promise her. “But first, I’m gonna take everything I want.”

With that vow made, you crank the dial all the way to eleven and then further still, the rough pad of your thumb finding her clit as your hips piston in perfect tempo with the pounding of your heart. The dual stimulation draws out high-pitched moans from her, exactly what you’re hunting for as you echo them with your own growls of satisfaction. Every time her breath hitches, every time a curse tumbles from her lips, it's music to your ears, reminding you that this idol to so many becomes your toy so easily.

Thrust after thrust, you explore her further, like a wanderer lost in a labyrinth of pleasure. Like the twists and turns of a maze, your bodies weave together in a performance of sin, feeding off each other as you bruise her skin and her clawed hands dig into your arms. It’s an overwhelming experience, unlike anything you’ve faced before, and somehow—somewhere amid this aurora of anticipation and the unthinkable tightness she grips you with—something trapped within the deepest parts of you slips out.

“You're mine,” you whisper, getting close enough that your words barely have to travel from your lips to the deepest depths of her soul. “At my beck and call, so fucking desperate for my touch”—you pair this with a drag of your nail against her clit, sending her into screams of pleasure—”that you can't muster the strength to walk away. Hell, when I'm done with you, it'll be days before you're able to walk at all.”

“You … you fucking w-wish,” she pants out between moans, jaw clenched as her lust-filled eyes still glint with that sense of stubbornness that makes her who she is. But even as she denies your words, the arching of her back and rolling of her hips tell a different story, one where you're the only one who can give her the happy ending she so desperately desires. Everything else around you fades into nothingness, suspending you both in an endless abyss of night where you can focus on the only thing that matters: each other. Every grunt you make is matched by one of her gaps; every roll of her hips is mirrored by a thrust of your own. She's relentless and so are you, but while you’ve perfected the performance of a lifetime, she’s lived hers being so unapologetically her. You’re different in so many ways yet you’re both here, together, and as you stare into her eyes, you’re left wondering whether you're looking into a mirror or a window to your future.

“What if I do?”

She’s slow to respond, lips parting in silent pleasure as another wave hits her. Your words hang in the air before you—taunting you with the impossibility of taking them back—but just as you're about to dismiss your question entirely, Yuqi finds the answer she's been looking for. “Then maybe that means you're mine, too.”

Immediately, the air shifts, sharpened somehow as every gasp, every shiver of pleasure becomes magnified a million times over. The peak of the precipice of pleasure you’d been ascending somehow seems so much nearer, barely seconds away as you feel weak in the knees. This demanding dance suddenly becomes much more dangerous as you both teeter on the edge, so close that a single push would send either of you spiraling over, yet you hold back, unwilling to break this spell just yet. Instead, you stay here, in this spectacular space where the line between pleasure and pain blurs into nothingness, focused solely on fulfilling your promise.

You give her everything she wants, bruising the creamy skin of her thighs with the slapping of your hips as you overwhelm her with simultaneous assaults on her breasts and clit. Her legs are the first to succumb to the shaking, going slack and releasing their hold around your waist as she’s sent soaring into bliss. With a herculean effort, you free yourself from the death grip she has on your arms, leaving behind trails of fire that’ll burn well into the night as you pull out of her. Her hard-earned abs act as the perfect canvas for you to paint white as your own orgasm overtakes you, dotting bits of black across your vision as pleasure overwhelms your senses.

Shot after shot fires out from you, each a unique brush stroke as they streak across her skin. All the way until you empty the magazine, you aim for her heart, shooting higher and higher until even her breasts are covered. Your heart pounds as you finally pull away, forcing your eyes shut for a moment as you arduously attempt to regain your breath. Once you reopen them, your attempt is proven futile as you’re met with the intensity of her stare, holding unwavering eye contact with you as she runs a pair of fingers all the way down to her messy little cunt before bringing them up to scoop your cum into her hand and let it drip into her mouth.

“Holy fuck …” you say, voice failing entirely as you stagger a step back, desperate to regain some semblance of balance as the very sight of her threatens to upend your entire existence. It’d require the performance of a litany of lifetimes to lie to her here, so instead putting your acting chops to the test, you let the truth slip again. “You’re insane. Incredible, but utterly fucking insane.”

She seems too preoccupied with her current focus to immediately respond, but once she does, her expression makes it blatantly clear that her recent consumption was nowhere near enough to satiate her appetite. “You’re looking at me like I’m the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.”

A laugh—one deep and genuine—rips itself from your throat, ringing out across the stillness of the silence as you’re caught somewhere between disbelief and delirium. “I won’t lie to you, Yuqi, it’s because you are.”

Once again, intentionally or otherwise, you cross the line, and the effect of your voice delivering her name to her eardrums hits in a way she’s utterly unprepared for. “Come here,” she calls, beckoning you over as she sits up on the edge of the table.

You’re quick to comply, stepping forward and beginning to formulate your response when she catches you completely off-guard, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close enough that you can feel the persistent pounding of her heart.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this,” Yuqi murmurs into your chest.

“I know,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around her as you pull her even closer.

“No, not the sex,” she quickly clarifies. “I mean this, the back and forth, push and pull shit we have going on right now. I literally just finished a twenty-one stop tour and immediately started preparing for our latest comeback, but this is still the most exhausting thing in my life … what I mean is—”

“Yuqi,” you say, cutting her off. “I know.”

She pauses, sitting in stunned silence for a moment before asking, “How? How would you know?”

All you offer is a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you, honestly. I just do.”

While it’s far from a perfect answer, it seems to suit Yuqi’s tastes just fine, allowing her to relax a bit—just enough to lean that little bit closer, hug you just that little bit tighter as you sink into each other’s embrace.

“You know, the responsible thing to do here would be to call it here, let you get some much-needed rest before your comeback tomorrow,” you offer, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face as she pulls away and scoffs in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah?” Yuqi fires back, quirking an eyebrow as a smirk appears to mirror your own. “And what’s the irresponsible thing?”

You shudder in mock horror as you answer, “Probably fucking in the kitchen; I’m kinda terrified by the thought of you with a knife.”

The laugh that rings out is crystal-clear and so quintessentially her that you’re left wanting for breath once more. “As you should be,” she says oh so sweetly, shaking her head slightly before meeting your eyes once more. “But you also don’t seem like the type to make the responsible choice two and a half hours after midnight.”

Under the weight of her intense gaze, the air in your chest feels uncharacteristically heavy, but you force it out of your lungs as you respond, “Maybe I’m not. And I’m guessing you aren’t either, so what would you suggest?”

You see the spark of inspiration you know and love glimmer in her eyes, joyous anticipation in each of her words as she suggests, “Maybe my bed wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you release your hold on her and reply, “Then lead the way.”

Yuqi is more than happy to do so, hopping off the table with ease as she captures your hand in her own, nearly dragging you across the room and up the stairs with her characteristically surprising strength. Step by step you follow, framed photos and memories passing by in a blur as she races forward. It’s only once she darts past the door that Yuqi lets you go, allowing you a moment to survey the fan gifts and hints of past experiences that create such a fitting mood, one you’d immediately associate with Yuqi.

Your eyes quickly drift back to her—as they always seem to do—and you’re met with the sight of her bent over the bed, shaking her cute little ass in the most unfair way as she looks back at you with invitation clear in her eyes.

“For the record, I’m not expecting anything romantic,” Yuqi clarifies as you close the distance.

“Good to know,” you respond, roughly grabbing a hip with one hand while the other hand positions your cock as inspiration strikes and you begin to tease both entrances. "So … exactly how many new things are we trying tonight?"

"Another time, I still need to be able to dance tomorrow,” Yuqi replies with the deepest of sighs, like she's even more disappointed than you are. “You've already got me wondering if I'm even going to be able to walk.”

“I understand,” you say, lining yourself up with the sopping heat of her pussy. “Maybe I’ll just leave you with a sore throat from all the screaming.”

You cut off her chance to reply with a thrust of your cock, penetrating her fully as you both shudder and shake at the sudden sensation. Her breath hitches at your entry, then is spent on a strangled moan as you pull out only to slam back into her. From the first note, you’re perfectly in sync, establishing a raw, primal rhythm as the sounds of collision fill the room. The heat of her body—the way she tenses, then relaxes only to tense in anticipation again—only serves to amplify the maddening desire pounding through your veins.

“God, the way you make me feel …” you rasp out, voice trailing off as the rhythm leaves you breathless.

“Stop being nice,” Yuqi admonishes, but the lack of bite in her tone tells you she’s not demanding an end to your words, only an escalation of your actions.

“Make me,” you retort, punctuating your point with a slap of her ass so hard that it leaves her desperately clinging to the bed frame for support. The curse she throws back is filthy, but the sight of Yuqi so beautifully undone sends your heart into a flutter. Because here’s the thing: there’s still obvious hints of reservation from each of you, both sides unwilling to reveal all your cards yet; but there’s also something sweet about the way she tries to stay aloof while creaming all over your cock, something endearing about the beginnings of a genuine laugh right before you cut the sound short with a thrust at the perfect angle. Of course, the obsession goes both ways, and every single time her eyes meet yours, you feel like you’re about to melt under the heat of her gaze, absolutely at her mercy even as you drive the air from her lungs and make her scream your name.

“I fucking love the sound of your voice,” you growl, voice heavy with lust. “Ever since I heard it live that night in China, I knew that one day I’d hear it screaming my name.”

Her eyes widen as yet another unanticipated admission slips past your lips, but once again she’s kind enough to spare you the shame of your confession, instead simply demanding, “Fucking do it then. Make me scream.”

The challenge hangs heavy in the air between you, like a curtain awaiting its inevitable fall. Her words contain no malice, but amidst the undercurrents of craving seeping through, there’s an element of expectation, like Yuqi knows what you can do to her and how badly you want to do exactly that. So, without an ounce of hesitation, you oblige.

Immediately, there’s a shift in the way you move against each other—a new level of determination as each of your bodies demands everything the other can give. This time, you’re the one to up the intensity with a hand wrapped around her throat as the other grabs a fistful of her hair. As your hold on both tightens, you feel the thrum of her pulse quicken and pound unceasingly against your fingers. With a harsh tug, you pull at her hair, forcing Yuqi to arch her back as you look into her shining eyes and find all the motivation you’ll ever need. There’s a level of desperation in the darkness of her irises that dares to exceed your own, driving you to the brink of insanity and threatening to send you careening into the abyss. You’re enraptured by the sight of those chocolate eyes fighting to stay open even through the tears threatening to form, begging you for more even as you overwhelm her in a way she’s never felt before.

Your world goes dark as you close your eyes and capture her lips with your own, allowing your other senses to overwhelm you as you cherish the way she moans into the kiss. And overwhelm you they shall: you feel the softness of her pillow lips against your own insistent pair, taste the hints of salt from the beads of sweat beginning to drip from her brow, smell the scent of the combination of her cherry lipstick and your caramel coffee, and hear the sound of slapping skin as you fuck away the silence normally accompanying these dark hours of the night.

“Faster … FUCK—I can’t, just please, please fuck me faster,” Yuqi hisses through gritted teeth, barely slipping her message through the pained gasps that escape in rhythm with your frantic thrusts.

“Of course,” you murmur, instinctually finding the curve of her ear and gently nibbling at it. “I’m gonna take good care of you, I promise. I just—god you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts—just need you to stop holding back and scream for me. You can do that, right babe?”

Your words are like a bolt of lightning down Yuqi’s spine, sending shockwaves throughout her entire body as the storm overtakes her and those threats of tears start raining down freely. As always, the crack of thunder is soon to follow, and it manifests in an ear-piercing wail as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure, screaming your name in the most intoxicating way—in a way that sends you to a high you know you’ll never be able to get enough of. With the help of that jump start, you crank things up to a new gear entirely, ratcheting up the intensity of both your thrusts and your hold on her body. Her cries go silent—stolen from her by the way you’re leaving her breathless—but if the price you’re paying makes her look like this, you’d sell your damned soul to have the sight of Yuqi seared into your mind one last time.

The signs of her unraveling are quick to follow, her body tensing and her quivering heat around your shaft clenching down even tighter. Your hold on her hair, neck, and heart never wavers as her cries reach a new octave and you lead Song Yuqi through the opening notes of a ballad of bliss. You slow your thrusts—partially intentionally and partially out of necessity—keeping up just enough stimulation to carry her through the strain but not enough to overwhelm her. In this moment of vulnerability—this culmination of desire—her raw self is radiant, stirring up something buried deep within as you ride her through the rhapsody.

It takes just about everything you have to keep from reaching your own crescendo, but with the knowledge that this isn’t the note you want to end the night on, you manage to pull out. With a far gentler grasp, you lift her unsteady body into the security of your embrace, holding her for a moment so you can throw aside the covers before placing her on the bed. You’re quick to climb atop it alongside her, laying an affectionate hand on her cheek as you turn her to face you. “Hey gorgeous, you alright?”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Her question catches you completely off-guard, sending you into a fit of laughter as she shakes her head in disbelief. “No, but like seriously, how are you still hard after that?”

“As if you don’t know why,” you scoff, punctuating your point with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “You just want me to call you beautiful again.”

A cheeky smile graces the face of Yuqi at your words and she responds, “You’re not wrong. But I don’t think I have the energy to go like that again.”

You nod in understanding, then pull her close against your chest before planting a far gentler kiss than usual atop her lips. “Then maybe we could try something new,” you offer.

“Like what?” Yuqi asks, attempting to play coy even as the intrigue in her eyes betrays her.

You allow your actions to be your response as you pull her atop you, placing her in the perfect position to rest her forehead against your own. “Let’s try taking it slow for once. Maybe not slow enough to be romantic,” you joke, nearly melting at the warmth of the smile that spreads across her face. “But slow enough to savor the moment.”

“Okay,” Yuqi whispers, nodding resolutely. “Let’s take things slow.”

With those loaded words placed securely at the forefront of your mind, you reach down, taking your hardened cock into your hands and teasing her soaked entrance. In a rare moment of consideration, you lock eyes with her, awaiting confirmation before crossing the threshold once more.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” Yuqi murmurs. “Like, so fucking much.”

“Yeah, we do,” you whisper back. “But for now, just let your body tell me everything I need to know.

With a final nod, Yuqi extends the invitation and you’re happy to accept, slipping inside her and groaning in ecstasy as her pristine body fits around you so perfectly. Slowly, steadily, you begin to thrust in and out of her, savoring the depths you reach as her breathy moans of pleasure cascade across your face.

“I want you to do something for me, Yuqi …” you whisper, words trailing off as you experience the euphoric effects of what you speaking her name aloud does to her. “I want you to tell me absolutely everything; I want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Even as she shudders, Yuqi still manages to wear a lopsided smirk so fucking well as she fires back, “Sure, but only because you asked so nicely. And only if you do too. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With declarations made and promises sworn, the experimentation begins in full. Even through her fatigue, she takes on the challenge in earnest, exploring every inch of your body and mentally noting the spots you react to most strongly. Of course, you’re just as active, refreshing your list of known sensitive spots—her ears, the base of her neck, and her inner thighs—creating a list of her least favorite spots—Yuqi stops entirely and literally threatens to punch you after you boop her on the nose—and create a whole new list of wholly unexpected favorites—apparently the skin between her breasts and at the bottom of the sides of her ribs. It’s an experience unlike any you’ve had before, though you’d admit the strength of your reactions is likely amplified because it’s Yuqi you’re holding in your arms.

“Look at me,” Yuqi says, voice low and smooth as satin. As you do, you’re met by her dreamy eyes as she stares right back, hair glowing in the dim light in such a striking way—almost like a halo. Instinctually, you wrap your arms around the small of her back and pull her body against yours again, pressing her breasts against your chest as your hearts beat in synchronized rhythm. Her hips leisurely rock against you, each movement calculated for maximum pleasure rather than desperate fulfillment as you match her pace to perfection. Even amidst this melody of movement and symphony of sin, the pleasure coursing through your veins seems to melt time itself away, leaving you lost in thought as you lose yourself in her eyes.

“Tell me,” she purrs, the typical fire in her eyes replaced by a warm glow, one shining a unique light that seems so uncharacteristically vulnerable as her soft hand caresses your face. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“Yuqi …” you start to say, eventually losing your words halfway through as the sight of her utterly derails your train of thought. After a second, you somehow piece something together, just enough to tell her, “I feel like I’m dreaming right now … but even my dreams can’t compare to you.”

Your words do the unthinkable: leaving the seemingly unsilenceable Yuqi utterly speechless. In a rare moment of shyness, her lips come down on yours, ensnaring them in an impossibly soft kiss. The heat is gentle at first, just enough for you to savor the sweet sensation, but it quickly grows in intensity, demand sparking and burning hotter with each passing second. In this shared space—one where every breath you take is filled with Yuqi, every sound you hear being entirely Yuqi—the best of intentions are quick to burn away. The smooth, steady pace you’d previously set is set aside as your bodies’ demand for release becomes more urgent and every repetition becomes even more impactful.

In each other’s arms, you each give everything you have left, culminating in a climax neither of you has ever even come close to. Her arousal coats your shaft and floods down your thighs as your orgasm shoots deep within her, finally satiating your urges. There’s a moment of near silence broken only by desperate panting as you both attempt to recover. With what little strength remains, you pull yourself out of her and gently lay her down beside you before laying on your back. As you stare up at the ceiling, attempting to catch your breath, you try to piece together the puzzle—try to figure out the perfect words to say—but you pause as you note the sudden quiet.

You turn over to look at her and see that she’s gone, drifted off to dreamland, taken by tranquility. The sight of her curled up like a kitten, facing you without fear leaves you short of what little breath you’d regained, blinding you with her beauty as her chest rises and falls in sync with the soft breaths drifting across your skin. As you pull the covers up over your bodies, worry strikes you, makes you wonder if your pounding heartbeat will wake her. You desperately try to slow its pace, even as your mind races through realizations, chief among them that you once viewed this sliver of divinity as the devil herself. It’s a shocking notion, one that’d hit much harder if it weren’t for the fact that a part of you still believes this angel fell long ago. For now, this seraph dreams. As the darkness clouds the corners of your vision, you know you’ll join her soon. You wonder if you’ll find her there, in a pocket of consciousness that you two seem to have shared for much, much longer than either of you could have possibly imagined. Answers may never come, but the dawn always will.

When Yuqi wakes, she’ll find you beside her. For the first time. Maybe the last. It’s one of many truths only tomorrow can tell. In another life, you might have left by now, might have played it safe, listened to your head instead of your heart. Maybe you might have even been the one to tell the tale of her misdeeds to the world; maybe she might have been the one to shine a light on your darkest wrongdoings. But here, now, in this moment? That’ll never happen. She’ll always be the sin you’ll never confess. You’ll always be the secret she’ll never let slip. No, today is best spent reveling in the heat found solely in the spark you ignite in each other, consequences be damned.

If you burn, at least you’ll burn together.

The End

(Thank you for reading my story. I know it was a significant investment of time and I couldn’t be more appreciative of your choice to spend it here. My final, sincerest bit of gratitude is dedicated solely to @majorblinks, this fic’s endless source of inspiration and infinite hype. If you haven’t already, go read “hard to break the habit” parts one & two (my primary reference when crafting Yuqi’s character) and if you’re still hungry for more, go read “for all the right reasons” parts one & two (home of the hottest clapback in human history). It’ll be a while before I attempt another project of this scale, but as a consolation prize, my next story is intended to arrive slightly sooner this time. See you in late May!)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #yuqi smut #yuqi fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #gidle yuqi #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi #slow burn #gidle miyeon #miyeon

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mxcottonsocks · 2 months

Text

Reading Like A Victorian

A while ago, I discovered the website 'Reading Like a Victorian', a digital humanities project from The Ohio State University and collaborators.

Since tumblr's been going through a bit of a serial-literature revival, I thought I would share...

Here are some extracts from the website's 'About Us':

RLV is an interactive timeline of the Victorian period. It focuses on serialized novels [...] and adds volume-format publications for context.

When we read Victorian novels today, we do not read them in the form in which they originally came out. Most Victorian novels appeared either as “triple deckers,” three volumes released at one time, or as serials published monthly or weekly in periodicals or in pamphlet form. Serialized novels’ regularly timed, intermittent appearance made for a reading experience resembling what we do when we are awaiting the next weekly episode of Game of Thrones, watching installments of other TV serials in the meantime. Whenever we pick up a Penguin or Oxford paperback of a Victorian novel today, we are engaged in the equivalent of binge-watching a series that has already reached its broadcast ending [and is] a very different experience from what Victorian audiences were doing with novels. Reading Like a Victorian reproduces the “serial moment” experienced by Victorian readers [...]

More info and screenshots and so on below the cut:

[...] if reading serial installments at their original pace is valuable, it is even more valuable to read them alongside parts of novels and of other kinds of texts that Victorian readers could have been following at the same time [...] [...] a reader who, in 1847, had been following the part issues of both Dickens’s Dombey and Son and Thackeray’s Vanity Fair and then picked up Jane Eyre, published in volume form in October of that year, might notice in Florence Dombey, Becky Sharp, and Jane Eyre a pattern of motherless or orphaned girls trying to negotiate a hostile world on their own. While this figure is well known to be a character type in Victorian fiction perfectly embodied by Jane Eyre and Florence Dombey, Becky Sharp does not often emerge among the heroines who fit that type; reading the novels simultaneously foregrounds parallels between Becky, Florence, and Jane that are not at all obvious if their storylines are experienced separately

I find that, for browsing, the website is easier to use on a computer or tablet than a phone, but it's ok on phone to search for something specific.

The timeline:

Here's what the timeline looks like:

It shows 12 months at a time, and using the left and right arrows will move you back or forward by a month. You can use the 'Jump To Date' function to navigate to a different twelve-month period. Or you can use the 'Author Search' function to navigate to particular works if you know the author's name.

In the above screenshot of the timeline, which shows the period January to December 1852, there are several works shown, including:

ongoing serialised works which had at least one installment published prior to 1852;

works which began serialisation during 1852;

works published in three-volume format during 1852;

other works published during 1852

Details about each work:

You can click on the bar that represents a book's publication to get a drop-down that provides information about that book, its publication, and links to help you read the relevant serial parts.

Here's what happens if you click on Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford:

On the left of the drop-down, there's some general information about the work, its publication history, and how to use the links.

On the right, there's information and links to help you experience the book in its serial parts: it separates out the parts, indicates the month and the year they were published, and what chapters of the work were published in that part. It also provides notes on each part where helpful. There is a scroll-bar at the right of the drop-down, so you can scroll down to the later installments of the work.

[I chose Cranford as an example as it helps demonstrate the value of the Reading Like a Victorian website... From what I understand, Gaskell initially wrote 'Our Society at Cranford' as a standalone piece of short fiction, but was encouraged to write more, so further pieces also set in the fictional town of Cranford were published intermittently in the same magazine over the next year or so. While a particularly dedicated Gaskell fan who wanted to 'read along' with Cranford following the original publication could probably search 1.5-years-worth of a weekly magazine to find the 9 issues which included the material which would later be published as Cranford, the Reading Like a Victorian website has already done that work for them... and also for anyone else who might be interested, but not quite that interested.]

The links

You can then click on an individual chapter to get links to various places to read it online:

When available / where possible, the website tends to include links to:

a facsimile copy of either the relevant serial part in the original publication, or in an 'annual' or similar volume collecting together the content of that publication, or a volume-form edition of that work if the work was not published serially or if facsimile copies of the original serialised publication are not available. [Most of the facsimiles are hosted by either the Internet Archive or the Hathi Trust Digital Library, but some are hosted as part of smaller, more specific collections, such as - in the case of Cranford - Dickens Journals Online which provides online access to the journals/magazines edited by Charles Dickens);

the text, usually on Project Gutenberg (this is usually the volume-form text, so the exact content and chapter breaks and so on may be different than originally published in serial parts; the Reading Like A Victorian website will generally explain when this is the case);

audio recordings, usually volunteer recordings from Librivox (again, the recordings are usually based on the volume-form text, so the exact content and chapter breaks and so on may be slightly different than originally published in the serial parts).

So yeah, I just thought it was a cool website and worth sharing. I believe the website is already used as a resource by some University courses and for academic research, but it can also be used by book clubs and to aid personal reading, etc. I'm using it to inform a personal reading project for 2024-26 where I follow along with six or seven novels serialised in 1864-66.

To save a scroll to the top, here's the link to the RLV website again: Reading Like A Victorian (osu.edu)

[If you want to join an already-planned read-along based on the original serialisation schedule, @dickensdaily will be doing Charles Dickens's historical novel Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty from mid-February 2024 to late-November 2024, to follow along with the original weekly publication of the novel in Master Humphreys Clock from February 1841 to November 1841. I personally found Barnaby Rudge a really engaging, thought-provoking read, and I'm really looking forward to reading it again. (Anyone with particular triggers or other reasons to be wary of the content or language used in older books may find it helpful to look up content warnings for the book before making a decision to read it.)]

#reading like a victorian #victorian literature #victorian era #serial reading #serialisation #digital humanities #tumblr book club

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eyeheartboobiez · 4 months

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-> 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽 𝗑 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

-> 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗎!

-> 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖺 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗂 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋😭

Jason Todd and ex girlfriend, Artemis Grace, spotted outside a club together just hours ago! May this old flame be finding its spark again? (8/20/2022 3:14 AM PT)

For months now, people have been buzzing after Gotham elite Jason Todd and singer Y/N Y/LN hinted at being in a relationship. Ever since this past March when they were initially spotted together, fans have done nothing short of obsessing over the two.

Artemis Grace, former girlfriend of Jason, had gotten into some hot water recently when insiders claimed that the singer had something to do with leaking Y/N’s unreleased track, Fantasize.

As mentioned in former articles, TMZ investigators came to the conclusion that Artemis was involved in publishing the song as a way of “getting her lick back”. Time logs show that the dubbed “rival” singer entered the same studio as Y/N not too long after she left for the night.

Many people online have been more than vocal about their love for the song, despite the fact that it was released without the artist’s consent.

While Artemis has yet issue a statement regarding the accusations, she seems to have plenty of time to be out partying with her ex.

Fast forward to last night, when just hours ago, Jason and Artemis were seen leaving a nightclub together and looking very close for comfort. Onlookers were not only shocked, but absolutely gagged when they saw the two hugging each other goodbye.

With their late night rendezvous breaking headlines, some fans are starting to question if Jason may have also played a part in helping Artemis, or if they ever really broke up at all!

The exes, who were romantically involved for almost two years, have a long history of being toxic towards each other. Their on-again-off-again relationship was notorious for its dysfunctionality, making it hard to keep up most of the time.

It wasn't until late last year when both Jason and Artemis officially called it quits by posting an announcement on their respective Instagram accounts (although many were skeptical to believe it).

Despite the initial shock of the situation, it begs the question: Where does Y/N stand in all of this?

Fans of the singer songwriter were quick to come to her support, majority of whom expressing their clear disappointment in Jason.

“I was really betting on these two,” says Twitter user @y/n’scoochiehairs. “I feel like a child of divorce…”. The fan account, while only just a few months old, grew exponentially due to their constant posts about the alleged couple.

Many sentiments like this have been circulating the internet once the pictures from last night began to surface. Y/N is notorious for putting her emotions into her songs, so at least we know she’ll be releasing new music soon, right?

— replies —

user1: oh she really aint playing...

user2: COOK HIM GOOD SIS!!

user3: girl this is a whole bar put this energy into a song or sumn😭

user4: sooo what im hearing is that ur single🤔

⤷ user5: ntm on my wife now..

user6: this next album bouta be BIBLICAL

user7: genuinely hope youre doing okay🥺🫶

user8: ily queen🩷

people you may know!

liked by b_zarro and 613,189 others

@artemisofmighdall: last night was a dream✨

View all 25,846 comments

user1: first you mess with her music then you mess with her man.. if bold was a person…

user2: the hell is she smiling so damn big for?? ain’t shit funny😐

user3: girl you betta PRAY i don’t catch you in these streets…

user4: “last night was a dream” yeah and you in for a rude awakening cuz wth💀

user5: these comments killing me😭

user6: you already going to hell for being a ginger now you just making it worse for yourself🤦‍♀️

— creator has turned off comments—

end notes: is jason involved or is he just being framed👀 lmk what you think!!

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rogueshadeaux · 8 days

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The show, the NCR, and me defending their timeline

If you know, you know. SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. Do not read if you haven't seen the show in its entirety. Stamped and immediately published so if you see spelling mistakes, no u don't

Now, the tv show did absolutely fuck up the fact that they didn't put a date under the blast, but you need to realize that Lucy and Maximus both lived in Shady Sands as children! The blast itself couldn't have been in 2277.

Especially when the show is set in 2296.

Now following this, in the show, Maximus/The show calls Shady Sands the first capitol of the NCR. I believe this correlates to the 'fall of Shady Sands' to say not that the NCR is irrelevant, but that something happened along the way for the NCR to essentially lose its hold on the city. The fall of an empire takes longer than a day. And events like that are labeled in hindsight! It wasn't the 'fall of Rome' to the Romans, it was a buildup to the world's shittiest Tuesday. We know it as the Fall of Rome.

The Vaulties know it as the Fall of Shady Sands.

The question is; what did the city fall to? Fact of the matter is that the NCR was already showing signs of being overtaxed with the First Battle of Hoover Dam. They lost a prison to some basic ass gang, and a good 100 men in the fight to reclaim it. They didn't pursue the Legion after the battle and could have done numbers to the faction. There's a very good chance that something happened very fast and very violently to make the NCR lose its hold on Shady Sands. They’re not retconning New Vegas, they’re giving us mapped out teasers to the truth! That’s why 'The Fall' starts in 2277. It begins with Hoover Dam.

New Vegas doesn't happen till 2281. Lucy and Maximus are both early 20s, and were at least 5 and at most 8 when Shady Sands was nuked. 15 years have passed since New Vegas and 19 since the alleged bomb! They would have to have been younger for the bomb to happen before the game. It's very plausible that the events happened post-game, and do not retcon NV at all.

In the end, we won't know the truth till next season, but I think there's a reason the writers both inserted Shady Sands and the NCR conversation into the story; its going to become very relevant, very quickly. House is in the show, for goodness sake, at that same round table Bud is. There's a reason Hank ran to NV. They're going to have to address the events, and we are going to get answers.

EDIT TO ADD: this is a tweet from Emil Pagliarulo, designer at Bethesda:

And Bethesda/Todd okayed or vetoed every choice and plot point in the television show as they’re also making another Fallout game, and have plans for the events in that. Todd wouldn’t have nuked their best selling game. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a statement from him sometime this week because of the blowback regarding the blackboard.

It’ll be fine.

#I'm going to die defending this goddamn show aren't I?#I love a good disillusionment arc #fallout #fallout tv show #fallout prime #fallout new vegas #new california republic

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thisismeracing · 1 year

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Ex | MS47

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Pairing: black!singer!reader (she/her) x mick schumacher

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, breakup, mention of food, pregnancy, it's not proofread, etc etc. Minors DNI!

summary: Y/n and Mick used to be the golden couple in the paddock, that's why the internet went wild when they announced their breakup. Imagine how they reacted when Y/n dropped a song about not wanting to be his ex. Would the couple have any hope in getting back together?

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | my taglist

yourusername

liked by dualipa, mercedesamgf1, and others

yourusername New song is out 🖤 Hope you guys like it!

view all 19,976 comments

schumicedes This feels like such a personal song, it gave me chills!

⤷ yn1990 It's like she recorded a voice message for him and then dropped it as a song.

f1sainzito I still can't believe they broke up, I'm still mourning their relationship

⤷ charleslechair1 I bet they will get back after this song lol

ynprincess I love her but this cover feels so...weird, idk, like it's rushed

⤷ mickeyn someone made a thread on twitter explaining it a bit, but it's basically a picture mick took of her, she wanted to make her message clear and that's why it's so artistically beautiful, it goes beyond the aesthetic

jorjasmith you’re so brave and pure, Ily!❤️❤️

winteryn Yn wanting to be friends with her ex, meanwhile I literally changed cities so I wouldn't see mine again

⤷ cruelsummer1 that's why I feel like they like gave themselves time, not really broke up fr, and now they realize it was not the best idea because they literally love each other.

dojacat Don't make me miss my ex, yn!!!! ☠️

woffantastic NOT THE MERCEDES ADMIN LIKING IT

mickschumacher

liked by georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, and others

mickschumacher ⛰️

comments on tihs post have been limited

ynandschumi I wanted to comment something but I just know it will be deleted, so I'm just gonna say: you guys look good, hope you enjoyed your hike!❤️ also Angie seems a bit sad without her mother doesn't she....................

⤷ mercedessummer bestie, you did not LMAO

lewishamilton Roscoe says he's mad he was not invited!

mickschum90 I love you, mick!

sunandstarsyn This does not give happiness vibe...

dailycelebsupdate

liked by wonderfulyn and others

dailycelebsupdate We woke up this morning to the leaking of Y/n Y/l/n’s baby shower. The singer spent a little over a year off the radar after her breakup with F1 star Mick Schumacher, only to show up now pregnant! Who are we betting on to be the baby daddy?

view all 10,467 comments

ynlove we aint betting a thing, and stop saying “only to show up” as if these pics were posted intently, they were LEAKED. Respect Y/n’s right to her privacy!

sainzsunny I hated the fact that the leaked something that she did not want people to know, but my bet would be that she and Mick are back together since that song release 🤐

mickeyf1 You guys are disgusting

swiftieyln She lookes so peaceful, glowing and everything 😭

⤷ ynhundreds that because she was being able to keep her private life to herself.

f1gossipupdates

liked by user90, and others

f1gossipupdates Is everyone thinking the same thing?

view all 9,789 comments

schumacher47 Is leaking season? Wtf the wrong, why cant celebs have their privacy??

⤷ f1khalid especially Mick, he’s really open about how he likes to have his personal life respected. 😔

ynstars BABY SCHUMACHER ON ITS WAY!!!

hockeyf1d They MARRIED???!!!

ynbrasil I just know Yn will be pissed when she open her socials to this shitshow

yourusername and mickschumacher

liked by mercedesamgf1, estebanocon, and others

yourusername It's been a long ride and we wanted to share with you guys in a different way, the circumstances, however, did not help, so we are sticking to the good ol' Instagram announcement. We got married last year and decided to keep living in our particular heaven, I hope you guys don't get this the wrong way because we love the love and support some of you give us, but Mick and I needed to bask in our own love without interruptions or assumptions. This love grew bigger than us and it will be walking around the world in a couple of months. We appreciate our friends' discretion, and our fans' love, we see you and we love you. We hope you guys can respect our privacy and our wishes on keeping some details to ourselves. Love, Mick and Yn Schumacher

view all 34,572 comments

ynweeknd SHE SIGNED AS YN SCHUMACHER OMGGGGG

schumickeyf1 "This love grew bigger than us and it will be walking around the world in a couple of months" PLEASE IM SO LONELY THIS IS A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF ROMANTIC

mickschumacher Forever, mrs. Schumacher ❤️

⤷ yourusername forever and some more, my love 💗

charles_leclerc omg thank goodness you guys told everyone, I was so scared I would let it slip

⤷ lechair16 Charles ☠️☠️ LMAO

lewishamilton you guys deserve all the happiness in this world 🤍

ynandmick I was right and nature is healing

twentyoneyns So let me get this clear, my ex gives me a reason to go to therapy, while Y/n's ex gives her a ring, then all the love and orgasms in the world, and then a baby??????????? God definitely has its favorites.

⤷ schumercedes not the orgasms 🗣🗣 HAHAHAHAHAH

ynandmickey MOTHER AND FATHER

⤷ popyn Literally

mercedesamgf1 We already have a spot for them 💜

sunnydaysyln Are we calling the baby schumini or minimacher? or baby schumi? or macherbaby?

⤷ yourusername HAHAHAHHA I love them all

********************

If you liked it, make sure to like and reblog <3 feel free to talk to me as well, my inbox is always open!

I will start a taglist on my posts, to be part of it you just gotta comment/send an ask saying so, and most important: have your age in your profile (I don’t interact with minors!). See you guys next story! <3

#singer!reader #black!reader #black!reader x f1 #mick schumacher imagines #f1 imagine #social media au f1 #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x black!reader #Spotify #dad!mick schumacher #ms47 #op: smau

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archerinventive · 1 year

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As another storm rolls towards the West Coast, I'm reminded of this shoot I had the pleasure of doing with Kindra Nikole back in 2016.

I remember a sense of deep serenity as I knelt in the woods, the sounds all muffled by a thick layer of snow, my breath damp in the air.

I remember the almost giddy chaos as we fled from that place, fingers too stiff to even remove the plate as we jumped in the car, a blizzard hot on our heels.

It's a memory I hope to hold for a lifetime, and yet there's also a dark side to this piece, for to this day this photo has been the most plagiarized, and copied without credit piece of artwork I've ever helped create.

Since its conception, I've seen people trace this image only to use it on the front cover of published books without consent. I've seen people create fake WIP videos trying to claim credit for the creation of my own face, and before this new year was even a week old it was brought to my attention that once again someone deemed it appropriate to replicate this image without ever giving credit to myself or the photographer for the inspiration.

In a world where the way of life for an artist is already being threatened by AI, there's an extra sting to seeing a person deliberately taking credit for work that isn't theirs, especially when they claim to be a supporter.

So with that I just wanted to say a huge THANK YOU to the true artists out there who persevere.

To those with decorum who know there is no shame in replicating or studying someone's works as long as the proper consent and credit are given.

To those who continue to create, knowing that they're up against AI programs and fellow humans that would steal their work, only to make them compete against their own talent and hard work in an already difficult field.

Thank you to those who go forward, because creating art is who they are, even with these threats, because to create is to breathe.

In the end I believe those who truly love art will know. They'll see past the mimics and the copies, and support those who create from the heart.

So Thank You all. Your bravery and unwavering perseverance is an inspiration, and something I hope to replicate in years to come.

If you'd like to see more of Kindras work I highly recommend checking out her website at http://www.kindranikole.com/

Thank you for staying with me on this long post.

Stay safe and warm this weekend. ❤️

#ice knight #snow knight #kindra Nikole #the dark side of art #women in armor #dame #dame archer #support your sword sisters #no to ai art #archer inventive

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snapscube · 2 months

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you don't have to publish this or whatever but I wanted to say, I'm right there with u on Projects That I Put On A Schedule And Then Couldn't Stick To That Schedule. it kinda sucks (especially, I imagine, if you have an audience asking about the things; being unknown has its pros and cons) but at the end of the day imo trying is the important thing and doing it infrequently is better than not at all. keep doing you and put out what you can and want, when you can and want, and people will enjoy it regardless of frequency or scheduling or whatever

hey i appreciate this a ton <3 admittedly i was very grumpy over the assumption that just because no shame was intended w/ asking me like that about projects i haven't updated in a while that it would mean no shame was caused LOL. it's actually, in a cruel twist of irony, something i have very specifically been insecure about over the past couple of days and i already wasn't having the best morning in general. whoops!

i think a lot of people assume by default i am a much more put-together person than i actually am just because i have some semblance of success haha. truth be told everything that i am able to put out is a god damn miracle in the sense that i am constantly fighting to do so against rampant fatigue and depression. i always always want to do more, and i have every intention to do so. i always assume i can if i just try hard enough since it seems easy enough for other folks, which is why i sometimes over-promise. but i'm still really trying to make things fit every day, and lately i have admittedly not had a lot of success. i have not given up yet tho! i think 2024 is gonna prove to be a year where i have to call on a bit of a hail mary approach because i KNOW there's a better way than what i've been doing. whether that's through a massive output change in terms of schedule, or whether that's a huge break, or whether it's sunsetting certain parts of my online output in the interest of focusing on things i'd rather be using that limited stamina for. feels like SOMETHING's gonna have to give.

anyway, i hope to never come across like i'm taking peoples patience for granted. it always legitimately sucks when people earnestly want to see something return, and i do too, but i have no better answer to where it is aside from just "i couldn't do it"

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separatist-apologist · 21 days

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Separatist-apologist lore beneath the cut

I dropped out of college when I was 19 and when I decided to go back, I had two kids. I was undeclared and I felt old despite still being in my 20s. I had a scholarship which required me to do daytime classes with all of the brand new 18 year olds and I felt wildly out of place. Before that, I'd been staying at home raising my kids while their dad worked and a lot of people thought wanting to return to the workforce was a mistake, so there was this immense pressure to succeed where I'd once failed.

The problem was not knowing what I wanted to do. All I really cared about was history and domestic violence and as far as I knew, there was no good career path that combined those things, and so I signed up for four random classes that had nothing to do with each other. One of them was called Serial Killers in America which was taught by a former police officer. Another was introduction to psychology, taught by a social worker.

I was sitting in the Serial Killer class one morning, way in the back where no one paid me any attention, when the professor (former cop, remember) began telling a story about being called to a house for domestic violence and I remember looking up at her as she said that too often, these things are a "he said, she said," and they're usually both lying.

And it just ignited something angry in my stomach. I was looking for an advisor since I'd been undeclared and I turned that day to the psych professor and asked if she'd fill out my form to be my advisor. As she was, I told her what the other professor said and how much it bothered me and she asked me what I wanted to do. So I told her, and she asked if I'd ever considered social work.

So began six years of perfectionism and the single-minded goal of getting my masters degree and working in the field as a licensed social worker. I remember my first day in orientation at grad school, someone asked if anyone knew where they wanted to be in 5 years. I was the only person who raised their hand. I knew where I wanted to be.

And for the last three years, I got to live that dream. The good, the bad, the horrible- all of it was mine. And today I pack up this office I've worked in for the last three years because its all over. The work was always good and I'm proud of what I've done. I've published papers, I've sat in state-wide commissions, I've talked to legislators, I've presented at conferences and I've trained a new generation of advocates who feel the same passion I do.

It's no secret that people who work in this field are typically survivors themselves. Something about surviving it turns people into advocates, whether they meant to be or not. And often they manage to make it out of the metaphorical burning building, turn around, and decide they need to go back inside to try and get others. The amount of people I've talked to who say, "I want other people to know they're not alone and they can get through this," is numerous. It makes you optimistic, it makes it impossible to ignore the good in humanity even when you're faced with some of the worst people/circumstances you'll ever encounter.

And despite all the petty office politics, a system designed (sometimes purposefully) to make leaving difficult, and state legislators who push back every inch of progress we ever made, I will miss it. The work was always good. I'm proud of the things I did individually for folks, of the amount of times I got to tell someone they did nothing wrong, that they deserved safety and respect.

These three years have been the best and worst of my life, but the work was always good. I will always be in it, will always be standing beside the ghost of my childhood self, offering her a hand and a voice and I think if I accomplished nothing else, at least I did that.

#maybe this is too personal but im feeling so sad today #packing up my office and staring at all these memories #its a new opportunity somewhere bigger and better funded with a higher level of responsibility #but right now it half feels like the death of a dream #separatist-apologist in real life

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