#Black cat called ‘Behemoth’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

growthhyp · 1 month ago

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The Garage Sale III

Aiden stumbled through the bustling college quad, his oversized backpack digging into his bony shoulders. His eyes remained glued to the screen of his phone, navigating the digital labyrinth of his latest coding assignment. The mid-afternoon sun cast a stark contrast on the concrete jungle around him, highlighting the stark difference between the vibrant life of the school and his own monochrome existence. He was a creature of solitude, a black-haired, bespectacled ghost weaving through the throngs of chattering students and athletes. His skin, a rich, deep brown, almost seemed to absorb the light, making him even more invisible amidst the sea of faces.

As he approached the library, Aiden felt the familiar knot in his stomach tighten. It was the same feeling he got every time he knew Abe was nearby. The ginger behemoth was a constant thorn in his side, a living embodiment of everything Aiden was not: brawny, brash, and basking in the adoration of his peers. The jock's laughter, booming and obnoxious, echoed through the air like a siren's call, and Aiden's heart quickened as he tried to stealthily navigate past the group of muscle-bound football players. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Hey, look what the cat dragged in!" Abe's voice sliced through the din, and a wall of testosterone parted to reveal him. He towered over Aiden, his bulging biceps stretching the fabric of his crimson jersey. Aiden felt his cheeks flush as he looked up into the jock's piercing blue eyes. A cruel smirk played on Abe's lips as he stepped closer, casting a shadow over the smaller man.

"What's up, geek?" Abe sneered, his breath hot and minty against Aiden's cheek. "Still playing on that little toy of yours?" He snatched the phone from Aiden's trembling hand, glancing at the screen with feigned interest before tossing it back with a chuckle. "You should come watch me practice sometime. Maybe you'll learn how to be a man."

Aiden's stomach churned, but he clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "I've got better things to do," he muttered, trying to regain his composure. The phone screen cracked slightly when it hit the ground, and Aiden winced. That was a new low, even for Abe. He bent down to retrieve it, his heart racing.

"What's the matter, Aiden?" Abe's smirk grew wider. "You don't like watching real men at work?" His friends, a pack of equally burly athletes, roared with laughter. Aiden's cheeks burned with humiliation. He had to get out of here, now. He straightened up and looked Abe in the eye, his voice quivering. "I've got a class to get to."

Abe stepped aside, feigned disappointment etched on his face. "Too bad," he said, slapping Aiden's back hard enough to make him stumble. "Some other time, I guess." The group of jocks jeered as Aiden scurried away, the echo of their laughter following him into the library's welcoming silence.

Once inside, Aiden found refuge in the quiet embrace of the computer lab, his sanctuary from the world outside. He slumped into his chair, his heart still pounding in his chest. Being Abe's roommate was a living nightmare. They had been randomly paired by the school's housing system, and the irony wasn't lost on Aiden. The jock's boisterous energy and alpha-male posturing clashed violently with his own introverted nature, leaving him feeling like a caged animal in his own room. Aiden's only solace was his computer, the digital world his escape from the relentless barrage of insults and pranks that Abe subjected him to.

But even as the jock's cruelty replayed in his mind, Aiden couldn't help but feel his body react in an unexpected way. Abe's muscular physique was like a siren's call to his hidden desires. Every time Abe flexed his biceps, every time he saw the way his abs rippled when he took off his shirt, Aiden felt a twinge of arousal. It was confusing and humiliating, but he couldn't deny the attraction. He tried to shake the images from his mind, focusing on the cold, lifeless screen in front of him. But as he typed away, his thoughts kept drifting back to Abe's body.

The memory of their first encounter in the dorm room washed over him. Aiden had been unpacking his bags when Abe strutted in, all confidence and bravado. His ginger hair was a fiery crown atop his broad shoulders, and his skin was the color of a perfectly roasted sweet potato. Aiden had felt his cock stiffen in his pants as Abe threw his duffel bag onto the bed and flexed his arms, the veins in his forearms popping as he claimed the top bunk. It was like watching a living, breathing Greek statue come to life, and Aiden had been utterly captivated.

In the weeks that followed, the bullying had only intensified, but so had Aiden's infatuation. He found himself sneaking glances at Abe whenever he could, his eyes lingering on the way the jock's muscles moved beneath his skin like a living tapestry. He would lie in his bed at night, listening to the sound of Abe's deep, even breathing, and imagine what it would be like to trace his fingers over those powerful contours. He knew it was wrong, that he should despise the very thought of Abe's touch, but his body had a mind of its own.

One fateful afternoon, the breaking point came. Aiden had had enough. As Abe loomed over him in the dorm, poking fun at his latest coding project, Aiden felt a surge of anger unlike anything he had ever experienced. He shoved Abe's hand away, knocking over the half-empty protein shake that had been perched on the edge of his desk. The sticky, sweet liquid spattered across the floor, and the room fell silent.

Abe's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading to a snarl. "You little shit," he growled, his fists clenching. "You're going to pay for that."

Without a second thought, Aiden bolted. His skinny legs, usually reserved for carrying his slender frame from one class to another, found a newfound speed as he dashed through the dorm's hallways. The chorus of Abe's outraged curses and his heavy footsteps grew louder behind him. Adrenaline coursed through Aiden's veins, turning his fear into a wild, untamed beast that propelled him forward.

He sped past the open doors of the dorms, ignoring the stunned stares of his peers. His heart thumped in his chest like a drum, each beat a reminder of the danger that lurked just steps away. Aiden knew he couldn't outrun Abe forever, but every second he managed to stay ahead was a victory in its own right.

As the sound of Abe's footsteps grew closer, Aiden's eyes scanned the area for an escape. His gaze fell upon a house with a garage sale sign hanging askew from the doorframe. Without a moment's hesitation, he dashed down the driveway and ducked into the open garage, panting heavily.

The owner of the garage sale was Jack, a towering figure of masculine power that stood out even in the sea of muscular jocks at the college. His straight, tall body was sculpted by rigorous bodybuilding routines, and his attire was as enigmatic as the house behind him. He wore a vibrant blue tank top that clung to his broad chest and bulging biceps, hinting at the strength beneath. Skin-tight black shorts accentuated his powerful legs, and white sneakers with tight laces completed the look. The silver necklace with a gothic cross around his neck shimmered in the sunlight, adding an unexpected touch of elegance to his intimidating presence.

The ancient-looking house with ivy climbing up the walls loomed in the background, whispering secrets of its mystical heritage. The garage was a treasure trove of vibrant garments, a stark contrast to the well-maintained lawns and quaint neighborhood. Aiden, panting and trembling, stumbled into this whimsical scene, his eyes wide with fear as he searched for a place to hide from Abe's wrath.

Jack, the owner of the garage sale, looked up from his perch atop a sturdy wooden chair, his silver necklace glinting in the sunlight. He took in the sight of the panic-stricken college student with a knowing smile. The garments around him fluttered in the gentle breeze, their colors popping against the dark, mysterious aura of the house.

"Looks like you're in a bit of a hurry, friend," Jack drawled, his deep voice rumbling through the garage like distant thunder.

Aiden's eyes darted around the space, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Please, I… I just need to hide for a moment," he stammered, his gaze landing on the towering figure before him.

Jack's smile grew, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "From what?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. The garments around them fluttered, as if eager to hear Aiden's response.

"Abe," Aiden managed to croak out, his voice trembling. "He's… he's been bullying me since we became roommates." He paused, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. "He just… he's a jock, and he doesn't like that I'm… that I'm different."

Jack's expression grew serious, his eyes scanning Aiden with a newfound intensity. "Ah," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble. "A classic case of the lion and the lamb." He stood up, his muscles rippling as he towered over the trembling student. "Don't worry, little one. You're safe here."

With a wave of his hand, Jack indicated the racks of clothes surrounding them. "Why don't you pick something out?" he suggested, his voice a low purr. "A change of attire might just be what you need to throw that oaf off your scent."

Aiden's eyes widened at the prospect. He had never thought of using clothing as a disguise before. The idea was ludicrous, but at the same time, it was strangely appealing. He shuffled through the racks, his trembling hands brushing against the fabric of shirts that screamed confidence and colors that shouted rebellion. The garments were a stark departure from his usual plain t-shirts and baggy pants, a silent manifesto of self-expression that he had never allowed himself to indulge in before.

Jack watched him with a knowing smile, his powerful arms folded across his chest. "Take your time," he said, his voice a comforting bass. "Find something that makes you feel… seen."

Aiden's eyes fell upon a faded black hoodie and matching jogger pants that looked as if they had been worn by someone of Jack's size. They were simple, yet exuded a strange power, as if they had been imbued with the confidence of a hundred fiery comebacks and the resilience of a thousand unspoken truths. The fabric was soft to the touch, and Aiden could almost feel the warmth of the garments wrapping around him, shielding him from the world's cruel eyes. He looked up at Jack, hope flickering in his gaze.

"Those?" Aiden's voice was barely a whisper.

Jack nodded, his smile widening. "They're perfect for you," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "They're my old clothes, from back when I was your age. They've got a bit of history, a bit of fight in them. I can see it in your eyes, you want to fight back. But remember, not every battle is won with fists."

Aiden swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "Can… can I change here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's smile grew even wider, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Of course," he said, gesturing towards a makeshift changing room in the corner of the garage. It was nothing more than a large, velvet curtain that had seen better days, but to Aiden, it was a beacon of hope. "Take your time. The clothes will fit you like a glove, I promise."

With trembling hands, Aiden stepped behind the curtain, the fabric swishing around him like a dark cloak. He peeled off his own shirt and pants, his skin sticking to the fabric with a cold sweat. As he slipped on the black hoodie and jogger pants, they felt strange on his body—like a second skin that whispered promises of strength and protection. He looked at his reflection in a dusty mirror that leaned precariously against the garage wall, and for a moment, he didn't recognize himself. The clothes were indeed too big for him, hanging off his skeletal frame like a child playing dress-up in his father's oversized attire. Yet, there was something about them that made him feel… different.

As the fabric settled into place, a warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and radiating down to his toes. He could feel the magic of the garments coursing through him, and with it, a strange sensation grew in his groin. Aiden's eyes widened as he looked down to see his cock stiffening and growing, pushing against the fabric of the jogger pants. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he could feel his cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. The hoodie's fabric grew taut around his shoulders, stretching and morphing as his body began to change, filling out the garments in a way that seemed impossible for his lanky frame.

A soft moan of pleasure slipped from his lips as he felt his muscles swell. His biceps bulged, pushing the sleeves of the hoodie to their limits, and his chest grew broad and firm, the fabric of the shirt straining to contain the newfound power beneath it. His abs rippled as they formed, each one defined and strong. The sensation was overwhelming, and he reached up to touch the new contours of his body, his fingers tracing the lines of his pecs in amazement. His once-concave stomach had transformed into a washboard of power that begged to be admired.

His shoulders broadened, the seams of the hoodie giving way to reveal the beginnings of a pair of broad, powerful shoulders that could carry the weight of the world—or at least the burden of his heavy backpack with ease. The fabric of the garments grew taut across his back, highlighting the growth of his muscles as they expanded to fill the space. Aiden felt his heart race as the transformation continued, the blood pulsing through his veins like a symphony of strength.

The sensation grew more intense, his spine straightening and lengthening as muscles he had never felt before began to take shape. His back grew wider, the bones of his ribcage stretching and popping as they made room for the newfound bulk of his torso. He couldn't help but let out a low moan of pleasure and surprise, his breath hitching as his body continued to change before his very eyes. The feeling of power surging through him was intoxicating, a heady mix of arousal and adrenaline that made his knees weak.

Aiden looked down at his legs and gasped. They were no longer the spindly sticks that had carried him from one class to the next; they were thick, powerful pillars that could support the weight of his newfound strength. His calves bulged with each step he took, the muscles flexing and moving beneath his skin like living art. His feet grew larger, filling the space in his sneakers Jack had handed him with a satisfying snugness. The fabric of the jogger pants stretched tightly over his newly sculpted thighs, the seams straining against the unyielding pressure of his growth.

And his cock… it was massive, thick and heavy, demanding attention. It was as if the garments had brought to life every fantasy he had ever dared to think about Abe. The fabric of the jogger pants struggled to contain the monstrous length and girth that now filled his vision. The pressure was unbearable, and Aiden couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he reached down to adjust himself. His hand wrapped around his shaft, and the sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before—his skin was sensitive, electrified, begging for touch.

With trembling fingers, Aiden pulled down his pants, his cock springing free like a caged animal released into the wild. The sight of it was almost too much to handle, and he couldn't resist the urge to stroke himself. The feeling was indescribable—each stroke sent a bolt of pleasure through his body, making his knees weak and his toes curl. The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, mixing with the faint scent of the garage's dust and the musky aroma of the leather jackets that hung nearby. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he leaned against the mirror for support, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

As he came back to reality, Aiden realized the extent of the transformation. The once-shy college student was now a confident, dominant force, his mind ablaze with a hunger for male submission. The very thought of dominating a man, of feeling his cock buried deep inside someone else, filled him with a sense of power that was both terrifying and exhilarating. His interests had shifted in an instant—gone were the nights spent coding and playing video games. Now, all Aiden could think about was the rush of adrenaline from the football field, the feel of a tight end around his thick, swollen cock. His former love for comics and computers had been replaced by a ravenous appetite for physical conquest and the thrill of the chase.

But with this newfound confidence came a sharp decline in his intellect. His thoughts had become as thick and murky as the fog that rolled in off the ocean, clouding his once-sharp mind. His IQ had plummeted to a mere 70, leaving him struggling to grasp the complex concepts he had once found so easy. It was as if the garments had stolen his intelligence in exchange for his newfound strength and bravado. The very idea of his previous life—his studies, his quiet solitude—now seemed like a distant memory, a fading dream from a life he no longer knew.

The transformation wasn't just physical; it was a complete shift in his essence. The clothes had imbued him with a raw, primal power that was undeniable, and it was all he could think about. His once-shy persona had been swallowed whole by this new, alpha-male identity, leaving Aiden to grapple with his newfound desires.

As the first wave of pleasure crashed over him, Aiden's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural groan that echoed through the garage. His body convulsed as he came, the warmth of his cum spilling out over his fist and down his thighs. The scent of his arousal filled the small space, mingling with the dust and the faint smell of motor oil. The garments around him seemed to pulse with excitement, as if feeding off his sexual energy.

Jack's eyes widened slightly from outside the curtain, the sound of Aiden's pleasure music to his ears. He knew that the transformation was complete, that the magic of the garments had taken hold. He had seen it before, the way they could change someone so fundamentally, so completely. It was a heady power, one that he reveled in.

As Aiden's breathing evened out, he felt it—the beginnings of a new arousal, his cock swelling once more. He looked down in shock, his hand still sticky with cum, as the fabric of the jogger pants stretched and strained against his burgeoning erection. The magic of the garments was potent, and having worn two of them at once had amplified the effect.

The warmth grew stronger, spreading from his groin and enveloping his entire body. It was a warmth unlike any he had ever felt—it didn't just feel good, it felt… right. It was a warmth that filled him with a deep, primal urge to conquer, to claim what was his. His heart raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and confusion.

Jack's voice broke through the haze, a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in Aiden's very bones. "How do you feel, my friend?" he called out, a hint of excitement in his tone.

Aiden's eyes snapped open, his breathing ragged. "Jack… what… what have you done to me?" His voice was deeper, more assertive than he had ever heard it.

Jack stepped closer to the curtain, his own heart racing with excitement. "It's all part of the transformation," he said, his voice soothing. "The clothes, they… they have a way of bringing out the true you."

Aiden's hand stilled on his cock, the pleasure subsiding to a dull throb. He looked at the mirror again, his eyes widening as he took in his new image. He was no longer the skinny nerd that Abe could push around. Now, he was something else entirely—powerful, dominant, a creature of pure masculine desire. The warmth grew stronger, and he felt his body swell with each pulse of blood in his veins. His skin grew tight and hot, the garments clinging to him like a second skin.

The grey hoodie groaned in protest as Aiden's shoulders bulged, tearing the fabric with the ease of a lion shaking off a wet coat. The material split along the seams, revealing the swell of his biceps and the sharp lines of his triceps. The cotton fibers struggled to contain the explosion of muscles that had overtaken his body. His chest ballooned, the fabric of the shirt straining and popping as his abs grew more defined, each one a ridge of power beneath the surface. The neckline gave way, the fabric no match for the newfound bulk that was Aiden's shoulders.

Aiden looked down at his legs, his calves now bulging and thick, the once-flimsy jogger pants now nothing but shreds around his ankles. His feet had grown to size 16, the sneakers Jack had provided now a sad, discarded memory. His toes wiggled in the cool garage air, and he marveled at the sight of them, strong and powerful. The briefs, once a snug fit, now clung to his hips like a lover's embrace, the elastic stretched to its limits by the monstrous cock that jutted out obscenely before him.

The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, and Aiden couldn't resist. He wrapped his hand around his shaft, feeling the warmth and weight of it, the fabric of his briefs doing little to hide his newfound size. His strokes grew more vigorous as the warmth in his groin spread, his moans filling the garage like a siren's call. His hips bucked involuntarily, his body moving with a mind of its own, seeking release from the intense pleasure that was building.

Jack's smile grew wider as he watched through the crack in the curtain. He had seen this transformation before, the way the garments could strip away the layers of a man's identity and leave him a creature of pure, unbridled desire. He knew that once Aiden emerged from that changing room, there would be no going back. The transformation was complete.

As the warmth grew to a crescendo, Aiden's thoughts grew more primal. He no longer cared about his studies, his coding projects, or the quiet life he had once known. His mind was a raging sea of muscular men, their powerful bodies writhing in a tapestry of passion and submission. He was the captain of this ship, the master of this domain, and he would conquer them all.

Aiden felt his cock throb with anticipation, and with a roar of pleasure, he came again. His seed spurted forth, painting the dusty mirror before him in a display of dominance. The room filled with the scent of his release, a potent aphrodisiac that seemed to thicken the very air. The garments around him quivered with excitement, as if in response to his newfound power. His orgasm was a declaration of war against the weakness that had once defined him.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Aiden's eyelids grew heavy. The exertion of his transformation had left him drained, and the warmth of the garments lulled him into a deep, satisfied sleep. He slumped against the mirror, his muscular form heaving with each ragged breath. The sticky mess of his cum was a testament to the intensity of the change, a reminder of the power that now surged through his veins.

Jack watched him from the shadows, his smile never wavering. He knew that once Aiden awoke, his world would be forever changed. The magic of the garments had done its work, turning the shy, introverted college student into a creature of unbridled desire and physical prowess. The sleeping giant was now a force to be reckoned with, and Jack couldn't wait to see the havoc he would wreak upon the unsuspecting college campus.

#muscle growth stories #jockification #male transformation #personality change #jock tf #nerd to jock #roided muscle #ai generated

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jifloulette · 3 months ago

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it was foolish enough that you fell for his trap, but now you know how to play the game — no way were you going to let him win.

what ? . . . hcs of blue lock men reacting to what you did the second you found out about their hidden affairs. who ? . . . shidou ryusei, reo mikage, itoshi sae warnings ? . . . swear words, reader is a diva, toxic men, cheating

SHIDOU RYUSEI !

The second you found out he cheated on you through a call he had with his so called “manager” when he was stepping out of your shared house, saying things like “don’t worry, babe.. y/n’s dumb as fuck. they’ll never know.” — you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop but when you heard him mentioning your name it got you curious. And like what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

It was safe to say you had your fair share of cries and screaming that night. Not because you were sad — well you might’ve been but it was mostly due to anger. Why couldn't you stop the tears flowing down your face and your eyes from going blurry when you knew this was always going to happen? He just dated you for clout. Swarms and swarms of fans came flocking to him so in order for them to stop, he chose to love one of them. You were just an easy victim.

You were oblivious to his plan to keep you with him for his own good at first but his actions inside and outside of the home you two shared showed that he really couldn’t care less about you.

You went from always asking him if he ate, packing him lunch, “i love you” messages daily to barely doing the bare minimum in a relationship.

You weren’t lying if you said that you did want Ryusei to notice about the change in your behavior recently — to reassure you that he genuinely loved you. Adding that it was a honest mistake and he’d try to change.

It was a stupid thought really. How delusional did you have to be to think that? Looking at the man who you once loved so sickly makes your blood boil knowing about his true intention about being with you was.

So when an article blows up about Ryusei getting caught by paparazzi making out another with another woman in a soccer event of his, you could only laugh bitterly.

You immediately packed your things, a medium-sized white luggage and a black duffel bag ready to go. You didn’t pack all of them, some of your trinkets and clothes were things he gave to you because of how “special” you were to him. It irked you knowing that he only gave it to you out in public, never in private.

So imagine his surprise when he sees you with your things on the way to your car, immediately running towards you so he could stop you.

He hugged you tightly, it really disgusted you knowing that this man who was holding you in his arms like his life depended on it had touched countless of women too.

You could only do so much to push the behemoth of a man off you before laughing hysterically at how he looked so pathetic.

You told him to drop the act because you already knew what you meant to him. You were nothing more than someone who he used for his own comfort and privileges. You were a backburner, a rebound, a temporary person in his life full of fame and soccer.

He pleaded for you to hear him out so you let him, at least wanting to hear what this pitiful excuse the man in front of you had.

“Please don’t leave, y/n..! It was just a small mistake, she came onto me! I was drunk, I couldn’t do anything.. please I can’t live without you. You know everything I need, you know what to say and what to do. You’re everything I have besides soccer, I’ll be damned if you leave me.”

You could almost feel like cussing the man out in front of you. I mean, the audacity? Saying that you were the love of his life, that he can’t live without you? It’s almost as if he never did anything to you, he was making you seem like the culprit!

You applaud his acting before giving him a nice, good slap to bring him back to his senses. You weren’t stupid, you know more than this feeble man could ever know in his entire life.

Before leaving, you say something that leaves him speechless.

“You know? Be glad you chose soccer as your career because you could never cut out for acting. Plus, shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving you? You can fuck around all the girls and guys you’d like! Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll expose you or anything, oh wait! The public already knows.. boohoo”

REO MIKAGE !

You and Reo loved each other more than the two of you could ever know. Everyone knew that. You, Reo, and Nagi were the dynamic trio in your school, everyone saw that. You loved Reo because you just did, not for his popularity, his looks, and his money.

Well maybe you were considering that last part ever since you discovered that he was fucking around some random girl in your class.

You really only found out when Nagi told you about it after 2 weeks of your boyfriend’s secret affair. Nagi really only knew after he eavesdropped the conversation the girl Reo was cheating on you with, saying that the girl said she was using him for clout and for his money. Something you’d never do to him.

To say you were angry was an understatement, you were fuming. The audacity of this man who you considered to be your first and last to do something as cruel and shitty as this?

So, you did what you had to do. Use his own fears and insecurities against him, being used. You knew it was brutal doing something like this, but was it really that bad compared to what he did to you?

You started off slow, asking him for a few hundred bucks before spending it on your heart’s desires. Reo noticed how most of your conversations was just you blatantly asking him for money before kissing him goodbye. To be honest, he was scared. Not because there was a chance of you using him but because you might’ve known about what he was doing behind your back and you were doing this as revenge.

Then, you started doing something bigger. He gave you free will of his credit card, saying that you deserved to treat yourself because you were his so called “love of his life”. You bought designer brands, buying jewelry that god knows you can’t afford, treating your friends for days and days. You had no thought behind your eyes but to just hurt the taro-haired boy for whatever he's worth.

And when he noticed the fatal drop in his savings, he finally confronted you. You could only really laugh at him for now only noticing your intentions recently.

He became disheartened — but really, who has he to be disappointed in what you did when he had done something much more evil? So when you told him that you knew about his little act, he could feel his heart drop.

He tried telling you that the girl who he supposedly “fucked” was just a bitch who could only create fake rumors but you’re not dumb, he knows that.

Shortly after, he became mad. He was screaming at you as if you started all of this. Victimizing himself, saying that if you really loved him, you would confront and talk to him about it like a normal person.

“You know what y/n?! Fuck you and your shit! If you really loved me, you would’ve done everything you could to keep me by your side! But not, you had to be a cunt about it and hit me with this mess! You know how insecure I am about all of this so w-why..?”

You were flabbergasted at his sudden breakdown — to be honest, you had more right to be mad at him than he was to you! I mean, who cheated in the first place? His father was a billionaire, so why did he care so much?

Likewise, you screamed at him. Telling the teared up boy in front of you that no one could ever love him like you did, adding that everyone who has ever had a crush on him were only after his status and fame.

“Okay, who the fuck are you to talk about shit like this again? The last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who cheated, huh?! So why do you care so much about what I do with your money? You did say that I deserved to treat myself so here I am! Go fuck that litte cunt all your life because all she’ll really love is your money, nothing else. Can you really call yourself a man? It’s funny how you make yourself the victim when I have more right to be mad at you?!”

Not to mention, you and Nagi also had something going on the second you found out about what he did. You told that to him as well, saying that even if Nagi was sloth-like, he took much more care of you than he ever could.

Oh and, the girl he was cheating with you on left him shortly after, her reason being that she had enough money to leave him, lol.

ITOSHI SAE !

People would view your relationship with Sae as destiny, i mean it certainly had to be fate, right? The light pink-haired man really didn’t let anyone in his life except for you. The two of you were happy in the world that you had created for yourselves! Or so you thought.

It turns out that Sae actually never loved you that much, you were just a replacement for his ex. You knew how harsh his past relationship with this girl was and boy, it frustrated you because how did he manage to play with your heart for two whole years?

Your efforts to make him love you didn’t go to waste, right? He did say he “loved” kissing you, making sure to cuddle you every now and then. But who were you kidding, you could see right through his ice cold heart.

He never loved you for you, you were just an easy target, prey in other words. He knew you couldn’t deny his irresistible charms and fuck, was he right.

You fell for him the second he held your hand that one night in the club. It was a dangerous game to play, the relationship you two had was like russian roulette, except Sae knew where the bullet was. He made sure to let the bullet hit you.

How did you found out a bit, you ask? Well, when the two of you were on the couch, cuddling. He was whispering sweet nothings in your ear. unbeknownst to him, he had accidentally said the name of his ex. He didn’t notice he said it and as the lovestruck person you are, you didn’t say anything. You couldn't afford to confront him and have the possibility of him leaving you.

It happened a little 5-6 times before you really knew that it wasn’t you that was on his mind whenever he was with you, it was his ex. It was always going to be his ex.

You’ve had cries and screams the moment you created that conclusion. It seemed as if you were pierced through the heart yet you still remained alive.

So, what better way to get revenge than letting him get a taste of his own medicine? Let him think you were cheating on him? Why not make him think you had something going on with his brother?

You had met up with Rin a few times before, but was only usually because he wanted help with something outside of soccer. Sae had seen you with his little brother enough times to know that your intentions to him were good. Even if they aren’t in good terms, he still has to care about him.

You started doing in minimally — only doing it every now and then. But now, it seemed as if you couldn't stop saying his little brother's name, it was like the man holding you as he was caressing your hair was no other than Rin. You wanted him to get hurt, it was the only reason you could think of as why you were still with him.

It's only when Sae had enough that he blew up on you, for the first time in years has he showed true emotions and anger. He was scary when mad, but you were terrifying. How dare he say that you were a bitch for supposedly cheating on him with his little brother?!

But really, you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. A spoonful of what he was doing to you. If he's doing it to you, it's okay — but when it's you doing the same, you're suddenly the antagonist, the villain?! How narcissistic can someone be?

He was screaming all sorts of swears at you, adding that the only reason he was with you this long was only because you were a mere duplicate of his ex. A mirrored version of her, except you already knew that. It was a useless attack in order for you to get hurt.

"What the actual fuck, y/n? How the hell are you here cuddled up with me when the only person you could think of is my little fucking brother? What?! Did that bastard treat you as good as I did? You know, be glad I'm still here with you because you're nothing more than an exact replica of my ex. Yeah! That's the only reason I'm with you! You're just nothing but a gullible bitch!

To say you were revolted was an understatement, no words could describe the burning hatred you felt towards the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you.

You obviously would never back down from an argument. I mean, you had more reasons to be mad at him than he was to you. As much as you wanted to scream at him back, shout words that would be too harsh to say again, you just stayed quiet. He was throwing whatever was on the bed at you — blankets, pillows, even his own jacket.

You waited for him to cool down before saying your own side of the story. You were never the villain after all, he had to know that.

"I didn't even do shit with Rin, I was only doing the same thing you were doing to me! You think I don't know that your ex was on your mind just right now as we were cuddling? You think I don't know the reason why you're still with me?! I knew at least 2 months ago, the audacity you have to say all sorts of words at me as if I did something wrong? It's no wonder your ex was such a bitch to you!"

Then, you left his house shortly after. but of course, you wanted the public to know as well. Your ig bio had Sae's username tagged in it, which you removed. As well as any posts you had with him on all of your socials.

Let him clean up this mess he had created, let him put the fire he started out. Let the public and paparazzi attack him, asking for questions as to why you did all those actions which seemed as if the two of you were over. You were done with him after all, everyone clearly knew. You had made him do all the 'clearing up', it was his fault after all — why should you have to clean up after him?

©🇯🇮🇫🇱🇴🇺🇱🇪🇹🇹🇪, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

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blood-orange-juice · 2 months ago

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There's already Fantasy Russia doomposting, let's have Fantasy Russia wishes too!

We have Balkan and Greek references in the game, so no need to restrict yourself to Russian Empire. Go ham. I'll start.

Name change. Please. It's so cringe currently.

A world quest chain based on Bazhov's tales (miners' folklore mixed with Ural and Slavic fae stories). Non-negotiable.

Trains and trams. Do I even need to say it?

TRDLO. Look at it. Look at it. We can have Western Slavs too and if there's no trdlo I'll riot:

(for the US people reading this: it's a sweet pastry cooked on metal rods over coals, popular street food in Prague, although it was originality Hungarian. eating it on a cold day is an Experience)

Frozen lake sounds, they sound a bit like whalesong.

Sami people. Finnish references in general.

Childe's family's side of his story.

A tired playwright bullied by censors.

Sirin and Alkonost birds! Half-birds half-humans who could put you to sleep or kill you with a song.

A black cat called Behemoth. iykyk.

Pulcinella as an Alexander II reference ("ruling Snezhnaya is not hard but it's pointless").

A giant bridge over a harbour.

Greenhouses. Just giant greenhouses.

Some steppes. A girl can hope.

Bog.

A springtime area near the sea with rhododendrons in bloom.

Space program. If Natlan can be modern then Snezhnaya can have space program. We are going to the moon to poke at a dead goddess (now where have I seen that... hm).

Cyberpunk and medical horror.

Pantalone's Ayn Rand era.

Atonal music.

Linguists.

An ice skating mechanic.

I'm assuming that Soviet adaptation of The Snow Queen (one of the things that inspired Miyazaki to draw) is a given, so here's an obligatory mention.

And, the last but not the least, 6 nations coalition army entering Snezhnaya for humanitarian help after the country falls apart on its own.

Hoyo, please. Allow us to have nice things at least sometimes.

#there's also a bunch of 20th century literature that only russians would recognise #it will do nothing for the foreigners so I didn't add it to the post #I'm low-key hoping to see some passing mentions in world quests #hoyo sometimes do dig that deep #genshin #fatui #snezhnaya #ew #the name is still cringe #I hate it here #can I tag it with childe?#it's his homeland after all #childe

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jamiesfootball · 1 year ago

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please do tell me more about the brilliant “isaac mcadoo gets a one-eyed bunny” pearl you dropped on me last week i am so. I AM SO !!!!!! ABOUT IT.

Loosely based off of this and this and this and a few other posts about giving the Richmond lads pets

“What’s her name?” “A Good Samaritan brought her in, so we’re not sure. People don’t really microchip rabbits. We’ve just been calling her Bun-Bun.” “Then that’s her name,” said Isaac.

First Jamie with his monster cat, a true beast dressed up all fancy in an embroidered cravat, the two of them clogging up Isaac’s Twitter feed. (Isaac heard him out when he said he was trying to be better, but Isaac believed him when he saw him with the cat. The best-est cat in the world, he’d tell anyone, with a cheek-splitting grin on his face that rendered him almost unrecognizable from the man Isaac knew a year ago.) Then Dani with Jude of the forlorn eyes. A sweet dog, a real good boy, the both of them. (Isaac did not tear up when Dani showed him how to avoid petting the gnarled scar across his neck, from where a crueler owner left carelessness like a brand.) Then Dani had mentioned the other animals at the shelter, and well. It was a field trip now, wasn’t it? “This is Remy,” Moe explained as he cradled a small rat in his hand. “He used to be an explosives expert. Found land mines.” Jan scoffed. “That is not what the card on the cage said." “Doesn't matter what the card said, man. Just look at his eyes.”

Isaac ignored them, orbiting closer to Sam. The young man looked even younger than usual, his eyes wide with wonder as he peered through the glass. “You thinking about it?” Isaac asked. “I know nothing about snakes,” Sam whispered. Two orange shoelaces entwined together on a sandy rock. “I should let someone else find them. Someone who will know how to care for him.” Sam didn't sound like he believed a word he said. Isaac clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy.

Isaac wasn't looking for a critter to take home. Nah, he had enough on his plate. He was being smart about it. All the others, they could take on the weight and the care and the responsibility for a living breathing thing. Isaac had enough of those in his life: twenty-four of them in the locker room alone. At least if the whole team got pets, then he'd always have a good excuse to check in on them. Could say he was just in the mood to pet some dogs, or look at some fish, or perish under the weight of Jamie's massive behemoth of a cat. He could not imagine ever looking Moe in the eye and saying the words 'please let me hold your pet rat,' but he'd say them if it meant being a good captain.

The problem, he knew, with Moe and the rat was that once you named the thing you wanted, it made it impossible to want it any less.

Isaac hadn't know he wanted to be captain before Roy handed him that armband, and now it was all he wanted.

But he hadn't thought it would take so much work. Roy made that shit look easy. Even before Roy woke up from whatever coma he'd been in and started putting in the effort, the lads always followed in his wake. It wasn't like that with Isaac. He could command a room, sure, but did they listen? He could speak to them, but he couldn't move them. He couldn't remake their world the way Lasso rallied the team with his speeches.

He wanted to be the tides that could buoy hearts back to shore. It wasn't enough to have them listen if they didn't take his words to heart.

The team was a commitment that left no room for fuzzy little critters.

In a cage on the ground was a tiny bunny.

Isaac froze.

The bunny froze.

The enclosure was makeshift, nothing more than a cage on the ground with cardboard peaking out the sides. Hay tickled around the sides, and a tipped-over packing supply box made for a hidey-hole. Isaac towered in the bunny's sky. Far away on the ground the bunny huddled into a shivering ball no bigger than Isaac's shoe, a small black hole on the distant horizon.

One of the shelter's volunteers caught him staring and shimmered into existence at his side. "If you're interested in rabbits, that's our only one right now. Would you like to hold her?"

"Would I?" Isaac repeated.

The volunteer took that as a 'yes.'

The fur under his hands was immaculately shiny, a sort of brownish-black that parted under his hands like waves in a sea. She shivered. Isaac cradled her in his palms, following the volunteer's instructions to support her legs and back. Pressed next to his bicep, she looked like an afterthought.

Growing up Isaac had known with childish certainty that it was the feet of rabbits that went thump-thump-thump. As he held the small creature against his chest he felt the reality of its tiny heart singing thump-thump-thump.

"What happened to the ear?" he asked.

"It's a bit gruesome," the volunteer warned delicately. "But it sometimes happens after the mother gives birth--she gets a little carried away in the cleaning up. It worries some people off adopting, but the bunny is fine! Completely healthy, this one. so long as you don't mind a little imperfection."

The volunteer made it sound so easy. When Roy had handed over the armband, that had sounded easy too. That was how they got you. They dangled a carrot in front of you, and sometimes the carrot looked like respect or captain, and sometimes the carrot looked like a tribble and shivered in your hands, daring you to hold too tight.

Isaac did not need a pet. He had responsibilities, a weight upon his shoulders he'd never planned for.

Held aloft in the sky, the rabbit weighed hardly more than a feather.

"What's her name?"

#the greater Richmond pet acquisition #isaac mcadoo #ted lasso #ask box is always open #i'm not entirely happy with how this came out but frankly i needed to write something to counteract the recent bout of pirate brainrot #(the clown one not the gay one)#(the gay one is coming later tho)

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celestiall0tus · 1 year ago

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Amaranthine - Chapter 1 - Another Day

Beginning || Previous || Next

“Paris was once again saved by its valiant defenders, Midnight and Carmine. They once again stopped the mysterious Adonis’s monster from rampaging and destroying the city,” Nadja Chamack of the news announced.

Marinette peeked over from her kitchen in the living room. Longg sat on the couch as a woman with olive skin and long, wavy black hair. Marinette sighed and shook her head at the sight.

“Longg, I need your help with this brew,” Marinette called.

“Just a moment. This is my favorite part.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she watched the TV. The broadcast showed a clip of the battle earlier that day with a behemoth creature. Midnight and Carmine, the heroes of the black cat and the ladybug, worked at getting to the monster’s weak spot. In the background were shimmers of brilliant gold as they darted about. The gold entity didn’t come into focus until the end of the battle. It revealed itself to be a woman in golden armor, her face obscured with a draconic mask, and a pair of massive wings on her back.

Marinette stopped preparing her potion to watch the rest of the broadcast. The dragon warrior used her powers as vines and trees sprouted beneath the monster and ensnared it. It fought against the restraints but couldn’t break free before Midnight destroyed the weak point, a black crystal on its chest. A horrific butterfly flew from the crystal that was caught in Carmine’s yo-yo and purified into energy. Through the combined powers of Midnight and Carmine, they were able to restore the damages the monster had done. The broadcast went back to Nadja as Midnight and Carmine dealt with the press and the dragon left.

“While we continue to give our thanks to Midnight and Carmine, we cannot express our gratitude enough to the mysterious golden dragon. Thanks to their efforts, the casualties from these attacks have reduced tenfold. I think I can speak for all of Paris in the expression of our thanks for keeping us safe.”

“But their villain remains at large,” Nadja’s anchor partner commented.

“True. Though it has been a long year, we must have faith in our heroes. We’ve seen only they can stop these bizarre creatures and the true monster behind them. I believe they will bring this Adonis down and finally liberate us. We just-.”

Longg turned off the TV as she threw a pillow up in celebration. “Another job well done! Don’t you think so, ‘mysterious golden dragon?’”

Marinette sighed. “You know, that other news anchor had a point. Our enemy is still at large.”

“I mean, technically Midnight and Carmine’s enemy. You’re just the hero of the people.”

“Maybe so, but so long as he puts the people in danger, then he is my enemy too.”

“Oh, please. You can pretend to be all noble, Mari, but I know the truth. Don’t try to fool yourself now.”

Marinette puffed out her cheeks. “Does this not match up? Didn’t I see myself as a hero back then? A hero of the people?”

“Well, yeah, you did, but not like this. You had no enemies. You just helped to help people. You just couldn’t do what you wanted until you had me. Though I believe Sass would have been better for you, but I found you first.”

“Regardless, I know this will help me find him. The one from my dream. My soulmate.”

Longg snickered. “You mean your prosecutor.”

“Will you stop calling him that? He saved me back then. You even said so yourself.”

“Along with saving his own skin. Though I suppose having to drag your soulmate to the pyre is punishment enough. Though it did feel nice to set those flames myself. The surprise on his, and everyone’s, faces had me roaring. It was great. Oh! Minus you dying.”

Marinette gave a dry laugh. “Always doing things on my terms, no?”

“And how. That’s just how you were. How you still are. Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t lose that trait. Hence why we’re in this predicament.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t be if you helped a little more with finding him.”

“Hey! I’m helping where I can, but do I look like Psyche to you? I can’t just read people’s souls and tell who are and aren’t connected. That isn’t my concept. Besides, I’m helping you in other places that are my concept.”

Marinette sighed. “I know. I just… I don’t know.”

Longg stood and approached Marinette. “Hey, I know. You aren’t the first mortal I’ve met that longed for their soulmates. Just don’t forget that it’s never a guarantee that you’ll meet them again.”

“I know, but that’s why I do all this. I know if I just repeat the initial conditions, I will meet him.”

“And I’ll repeat what I’ve said before. If you wish to repeat your history, you will be doomed to repeat your downfall.”

“I know, but I can also learn from my history and take steps to avoid it. That’s the point, no? We’ll be doomed to repeat history regardless unless we also learn and be better.”

Longg smiled. “If only there were more humans like yourself. Maybe then we wouldn’t see so many of the same mistakes made. At least in this era you don’t have to worry about being burned at the stake for being a witch.”

“That is unless the fires are yours.”

“Only on a bad day. Or a bad meal. Don’t forget about those gas station tacos.”

Marinette frowned. “I still want to know what possessed you to eat those awful things.”

“Look, you know what your kind says. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.”

“In a roar of flames like a phoenix.”

Longg grinned.

Marinette shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when there was a knock on the door. She answered it as Longg moved to the kitchen. She smiled seeing Juleka and gestured for her to come inside.

“Hey, Jules. How’re you this evening?”

“I’m… actually fantastic. I just got some amazing news before I headed over here.”

Marinette beamed. “Oh, do share. Oh! I should get some tea. Let me just-.”

“Already started!” Longg called.

“Well, alright. Let’s take a seat on the couch.”

Juleka nodded and sat down with Marinette. “So, I’m not sure which to start with first.”

“Is there any bad news?”

“No. Just good and great news.”

“Oh! Start with the great news then.”

“Ok. Well. Rose and I are expecting.”

Marinette squealed and bounced. “That’s amazing news! How is she?”

“She’s doing well. Over the moon actually. She actually wanted to come along and tell you, but I wasn’t sure she’d be able to tolerate the odor of all the herbs. I know when I was pregnant I got sick easy from just normal smells. Not to say she’ll be the same, but you know.”

“Well, not personally, but I have a hunch from all that I’ve heard. Regardless, that is fantastic. How far along is she? How did the twins take the news?”

“She’s about five weeks along now. And Freye was ecstatic while Diana wasn’t too thrilled. Though she’s just worried Freye will love the new baby more over her. Classic siblings, I suppose.”

“If Alya is any proof of that, then yeah, I’d say so.”

Juleka chuckled. “I don’t know how Alya dealt with it. It’s one thing to have just one sibling. But to have three others must have been a lot.”

Marinette furrowed her brow. “You have a sibling?”

“Huh? Oh, right. You were never told. I have my own twin. His name is Luka.”

“Really? How come you never mentioned him or introduced us?”

Juleka grimaced. “Well, it’s a little complicated. See, when Rose introduced us, Luka was on tour with our blood father, Jagged Stone. He made a deal with us that he’d help us with tuition for university, but he wanted Luka to join him for some tours. I really think he just wanted to use Luka to save his dying music brand, but Luka agreed all the same. So, I was able to get my Associate’s to become a mortician while he’s finishing up tour with Jagged.”

“Sounds like he’s scum of the Earth,” Longg remarked.

Marinette shot a glare at Longg as Longg set a tray on the coffee table for tea.

“What? Tell me I’m wrong,” Longg challenged.

“You’re not. He… he wasn’t there for us. Didn’t really care until Luka expressed interest in music therapy. Well, more the music part than the therapy. But it’ll be all over soon and he’ll be back,” Juleka explained.

“Really? That’s incredible. Though you will have to introduce us now,” Marinette teased.

“Don’t worry, I will. He’s actually interested in meeting you.”

“Wait, really? How? Why?”

“Well, Rose might have mentioned you a few times. Which, yeah, a curiosity. But when I mentioned you and that you were teaching me about herbs and other witchcraft, he wanted to meet you. I think just to make sure you weren’t scamming me.”

Marinette smirked. “Then perhaps I should prepare a special hex just for him. See him doubt me after that.”

Juleka laughed, then sighed. “If only it were possible to cast such spells. It��d be like a dream come true.”

“Well, maybe not like the glorified magic in media, but I do have my own brand of magic. And it’s what you are here for today, my older grasshopper.”

Juleka snorted. “I’m only a few years old than you.”

“I know. But let’s get started. I don’t want to keep you away all night when Rose and the girls will need you.”

“Oh! Right. Let’s get started.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #au #miraculous au #alternate universe #mlb fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #soulmate au #amaranthine au #amaranthine #juleka couffaine #longg #mlb longg

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ofdeference · 1 year ago

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Anonymous asked: As soon as it caught sight of the Turk, the cat began to follow him, its green eyes fixed on his every move. As dark as the void, its sleek body moved gracefully, almost as if it were dancing to a silent melody. The regal demeanor and striking appearance were reminiscent of its newfound master. It is often said that a cat chooses its owner; he could only acquiesce to the terms that the cat had set.

The dreaded grocery day. The period in which he hadn't expected to be on furlough so long he'd need groceries to supplement the empty spaces of his refrigerator (of which there is a vast overstock). In essence he is staring down the few bags he's carrying as a waste as, inevitably, he will be called away for longer than it takes the perishables to perish.

Yet starving oneself in wait of an assignment seemed madness and when faced with the conundrum, the decision to take the potential loss was the more favorable. Performance on the job would suffer if all he could think about was the next meal.

On his journey home, the feeling of being followed settles over him, drawing his hand to his pocket where it rests for the duration. Halfway there, don't try it. He's not in the mood.

A few blocks more. Persistent? Very well, the keys won't rust if he cleans them after. They draw, clutched in his hands like a knife and he half turns to greet his soon-to-be assailant with a half hearted sigh.

There's no one there.

A black shadow languidly sidling along the ground catches his attention and he tilts his head to get a better look. Vivid green eyes peer up at him from the dark corner where the street light doesn't touch and he blinks.

"You? Well, no wonder I couldn't hear a single footstep. I'd thought it was-" Well, it wasn't. They wouldn't dare come into the city. Not this far in. The Turk kneels, bags dragging along small rivulets of water stagnant and stale.

"You don't have a home, do you?" Sleek and a coat well maintained, it was hard to believe. Thin enough it was a certainty. A wanderer, perhaps? He hadn't seen the creature since moving in.

"Are you hungry? I was going to cook a Behemoth steak if you're interested. Wait right there. Won't take long." Only the insane cook fine slices of meat like this longer than it takes to sear the outside and so it isn't very long at all that he returns to the cat with two plates. Each with their own pile of steak strips, one smaller cut than the other. And as they eat he finds himself talking.

To a cat.

"I wouldn't make a good home for you. You'd never see me. Trapped inside all day, running out of food every time I leave the house. I'd get you killed. Whereas you seem to be fairing better out here. Begging any and every poor lonely sap for a meal and-" He sets his fork on his plate and stares into the absence of space for some time.

"I'd like it if you lived nearby..." Maybe he does need a companion.

#Anonymous #Tseng dealing with existentialism and the fact that #he'll eventually die alone if he doesn't change anything?#All because of a cat?#More likely than I thought.

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autumnslance · 2 years ago

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(@driftward) And while I am at it, turnabout is fair play. YOUR choice of our OC blorbo combinations.

((BUT I DIDN'T EVEN REBLOG--OK. OK, fine, let's do this. I was going to try to write up a response to the cool one you did of Karasawa and Aeryn but then my needy cat woke up from a nap so you get this instead.))

Hungry hungry hungry always hungry.

She roved the halls and hunted through the rooms. Massive clawed feet left gouges in the wood and tile. Her breath was loud in the still and dark.

The halls seemed to stretch forever, the rooms endless black chambers but she didn’t need to see into them. Not when she could hear terrified shaky breathing, smell the stench of fear-sweat, taste nervous magicks.

There.

She bellowed, the walls rattling, the screams of fear a heady delight.

She was the apex predator, and her prey was near.

A cry of defiance only made her blood run hotter, as a tall broad figure in armor charged out of the darkness, sword blazing, shield up, bathed in a fairy’s glow.

She roared in response, charging forward, through halls that swelled like her lungs as the figure flew forward, shouting response. She reared onto her hind legs as they finally clashed. She met the challenger with fire called from above, with the weight of her front claws knocking aside the sword and shield, cracking the armor.

As she dipped her maw into the torn-open ribcage, she looked up into the elezen’s face, frozen in surprise—

—

—And woke with a squeal.

Violet jittered a frantic circle around the bed, but there was no broken elezen nearby. Everything was the proper size and shape, she was the proper size and shape, but the memory of hot blood and organs still filled her mouth, her own heart thudding in her ears.

Oretta was spending the night in the dragoon’s room again, leaving Violet alone and the big pink heart-shaped bed to herself, though now the pillows and stuffed animals were all knocked to the floor, the previously smooth covers rumpled.

That was a problem for Morning Violet.

Getting out of the room wasn’t terribly difficult, just annoying without actual thumbs or a miqo’te. Violet toddled down the halls and up the stairs and to the staticky cool light of the lab.

Zoissette was sitting at a desk, ignoring her own yawns as she worked. Violet heaved a sigh of relief and flumped at the elezen’s feet. All in one piece; that was good.

“Oh, hello Violet. I—oh is that the time—”

Violet whined and nuzzled harder against the woman’s legs.

Zoissette sighed. And then scritched in just the perfect spot between Violet’s horns. She had once tested to figure out the best scritching spot, and always remembered it once she found it. “All right; cuddle break it is, and then I think it’ll be time for both of us to go to bed.”

That was all right, Violet thought. She probably wouldn’t have the hungry dreams again, since that was all they were. Her elezen friend was here and giving her scritches. That was real, and all the little behemoth needed to know.

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #guildmates #dreams #violence #behemoth #Gage Acquisitions #Zoissette Vauban #Violet

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goatboard · 10 months ago

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hate when authors point blank explain what theyre writing abour wheres the nuance wheres the mystique wheres the black cat who drinks vodka with mushrooms, Behemoth i know i might be a lesbian but if you ever come to Poland to do your entire helping people by being evil thing straight from Faust im like totally down ok, call me

#kitxt #this post is about master and margaret and this fic im currently reading that kinda lowkey sucks

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wwpia · 1 year ago

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Well if this isn’t the quickest character ref I ever dun shat out. I want to do a better one including the werewolf form buuuut…. I got bitten by a cat and it fucking hurts. No drawing. Boo.

Commence long af Character info dump, quite a long spiel because he is one of the two primary characters.

NAME: Faustus Chandran

AGE: 33

GENDER: Trans man

RACE: Werewolf - technically now a chimera Werewolf/Dragonborn because of unauthorised monoclonal antibody therapy. He doesn’t really have any ‘benefits’ to this previous therapy, other than maybe being a bit more heat proof than the average person. He actually has much worse sense hearing and smell than the average werewolf… but it’s still a whole lot better than a human’s.

He isn’t able to change during a full moon - he used to have a ‘normal’ werewolf form before the therapy which highly resembled a black German shepherd puppy, all floppy ears, gangly limbs and big paws. He was considered to be quite runty though.

His post-therapy ‘werewolf’ form is quite simply just a complete behemoth - about 40 feet in length, 15 feet high and a mouth gape of about 7 foot. So cute. Like a fluffy T-Rex.

HEIGHT: 5’6”

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: United Kingdom, Yorkshire. (Mother also born in Yorkshire, grandmother born in South India.)

ACCENT: Yorkshire accent, he’ll slow down if someone isn’t able to understand his - at times, extremely fast speaking rate. In all seriousness, his gob outruns his brain. Knows how to speak Hindu fairly well but not quite fluently.

OCCUPATION: World Wide Paranormal Intelligence Agent - junior/mid level. He has only been working at the WWPIA for about 3 years (UK branch). No formal education beyond high school/college. Had a lot of various jobs since the age of 16, mostly muscle for hire, bouncer, etc. The only odd job was when he got a job in a bakery and absolutely loved it. He got fired because a customer lied about finding ‘werewolf hair’ in the buns.

FAVOURITE FOOD: He honestly will eat just about anything and probably enjoy it. He has an obscenely voracious appetite at all times, and can get really, really, REALLY hangry. Like a lot of werewolves - meat is probably at the top on preference but he doesn’t go insane over it or something. Much like humans he ponders/wonders the ethical implications or eating meat. Unfortunately like a lot of humans, going veggie just isn’t economically viable for him… especially with his weirdly fast metabolism. He isn’t that confident in cooking and tends to grab anything when hunger strikes.

FAVOURITE MUSIC: Hard rock, AC/DC, the Darkness, Guns N Roses.

FAVOURITE MEMORY: Running around woods/Yorkshire dales. Building treehouses, playing hide and seek. Just being generally a carefree child.

BIGGEST SECRET: See werewolf form, if it could be called that anymore. Deep down he kind of blames himself for what he considers a true ‘monster’ of an alternate form. That he somehow deserves not being able to join other werewolves on a full moon. It sounds not that big of a ‘big deal’ but for werewolves its absolutely a huge detriment. Werewolves actually extremely in tune with nature, the moon cycles - the full moon phase is like a renewal of the soul. A time of true freedom. The closest he really gets to that is being with his family, and even then he has to be a bit careful because… well wolves be wolves.

BIGGEST FEAR: Needles, doctors, being strapped down, solitary confinement. Getting ‘stuck’ in his monstrous form.

SCARS/TATTOOS/OTHER PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: Most prominently thick white bands around his wrists, ankles and neck. Unlike most scars they’re pretty perfectly even without much if any jagged edges. That’s because they’re from silver restraints during his antibody therapy. The long term exposure and stress at that time means they will never truly ‘heal’.

He always wears some form of neck/wrist covering, usually spiked collars.

He has various other faint, normal scars all over his body that mostly healed or healing. Same with top surgery scars, of which he actually is proud of. TIDDIES BE GONE.

STRENGTHS: Excellent sense of humour, generally level headed, honest to a fault. Generally sweet natured and positive. A very gud boi.

WEAKNESSES: Motor mouth, gets bored extremely quickly. Not ‘dumb’ but regally not hugely academically minded. Acts before he thinks… way way too much. Can be very petulant sometimes. Don’t ever ‘dare’ him to do something because he will totally do it.

FAMILY RELATIONSHIP: Father deceased. Mother is an absolute angel and is such an Indian mum.

Faustus is actually the second oldest child out of SIX. (Yep, six!)

His older brother is kind of a judgemental prick and he clashed a lot with Faustus - they don’t really speak to each other now.

His younger brother is an avid scientist and does a lot of oversees research, Faustus loves him a lot but.. doesn’t really get him sometimes. He’ll just nod and act fascinated when the brother rants about… quantum entanglement, quarks and bosons.

Next are his twin sisters who are satan incarnate, kind of the youngest child without actually being the youngest child. Mother dotes on them and they get away with everything. They run a mystery/oddity gallery and swindle absolutely everyone. Especially their siblings.

Youngest is just about 18 and just the embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. He is possibly the sweetest werewolf to roam the planet. He actually is part of a very effective search and rescue team designed to aid those lost on the Yorkshire dales and moors, His sense of smell of hearing are unrivalled. Looking forward to potentially going to university in France. He also would often stay with Faustus on a full moon as opposed to running off in the dales, thereby giving Faustus a lot of comfort. These two have an extremely close bond.

SEXUALITY: Pansexual.

KINKS(ooh la la!): Genuine praise.

#Faustus things #oc character #nanowrimo 2023 #character intro #monsters #fantasy monsters #Nanowrimo #writing #modern fantasy #lgbtqia+#paranormal #supernatural #fiction

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shartlock-holmes · 2 years ago

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Not one of you behemoths will every understand the terror and cringe of having your teacher call himself a “golden retriever boyfriend” when talking about his “black cat” girlfriend……😕😕😕😕

#shitpost #teachers #cringe #golden retriever boyfriend #i love women #real #what #bitches be like #what the hell

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intrusive-thoughtz · 2 years ago

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rant number2

I've been very very lonely very lonely. I don't see my friends enough I don't even really feel like anyone actually likes me I feel like I'm a problem in the world. I also broke up with my boyfriend 8 months ago because he made some racist comments for getting that he sticks his dick in a black and brown girl. And that made me really sad because that always seems to be the issue with the reasons why I break up with most of my boyfriends because they're low-key racist.

I'd like to think I have a fantastic personality my brain is filled with lots of knowledge skills and facts and movies and shows and books but no one finds me interesting. People tell me that I'm intimidating wow what a fucking great compliment that makes me feel fantastic. I am a woman and I just want to be treated as a woman I want to be told that I'm beautiful I want somebody to be like hey babe I was thinking about you I bought you flowers hey there's this really cool restaurant would you like to go check it out hey I saw this today and I thought you would like it I bought it for you. Hey I know you like to just go sit on the beach and paddle board so I rented a some paddle boards. But no I am single I have no prospects no one finds me interesting and it comes to a point where you start questioning your own existence.

I have body dysmorphia so the first thing I question is oh my God I'm fat and disgusting ew look at the stretch marks on my belly that came out of nowhere I never even have children it's kind of embarrassing. Oh maybe because I don't shave my arms and I look like a hairy beast oh maybe it's my nose I'm not your your your eurocentric kind of looking girl. And I know that most people don't care about that shit that's just shit that's in my head from growing up in the early 2000s in a shitty world. And the only man who are attracted to me are either over 60 who think I'm going to be there perfect little pretty house wife that keeps my mouth shut or they're 25 years old and makes me feel like an old behemoth in my thirties who can't find anyone in her age group to date because they all have that early 2000s mentality where they have this like perfect girl in their minds that's like their mom with the worst expectations in women and I can't even deal with having a conversation with them. I'm Literally in fucking limbo.

my worst fear is having a relationship with someone who's exactly like my dad who's literally the worst human being I have ever met and I've met some shitty ones in my time. I would rather die old and single although it would be wonderful to have someone to do things with while all my friends around me are getting married having kids moving in with boyfriends making milestones and I'm like a kid still living with my parents in my thirties with four cats. I'm a fucking stereotype. I'm feeling defective like there's something wrong with me. I'm really pushed for my two friends to start dating and now I'm just a fucking fart in the wind no one calls me they act like I live this extremely busy life when really I just go to work and come home but the both of them are consistently texting smelling each other's farts live together but they can't go out to dinner with me and their other roommate who were all friends with great job. My friend also won't go to the beach with us anymore or water parks or adventures go with their boyfriend and leave the rest of us home. In fact They went to the Renaissance Fair and didn't even tell me so I could request off and go and I've never been a little really have the worst people in my life

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thebrokenrubber · 1 year ago

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Alec smiled, standing up and walking over to the fireplace, grabbing a small, brown, leather journal wrapped with black cord. The leather was weathered and worn, the cord frayed, but holding strong. Alec sat back down beside Rocky and opened it, turning it around to show the cat.

The first page was a quote, written in calligraphy and as ornate as could be, put there by hand with gold-colored ink that stood out against the pale orange parchment.

"Memory manifested, importance inked, devotion declared." - Benjamin Draw

"This was my grandfather's notebook. He was a soldier, K.I.A, but..." the equine trailed off as he flipped the pages, revealing the second and third pages bore sketches of two horses, behemoths like Alec. A male on the right, the name "Benjamin Draw" written above his image, and a female on the left, the name "Anna Draw" written above hers. The sketches were highly detailed, every strand of fur visible in the graphite lines of pencilwork.

A second flip, two horses, similar to the first pair, this time named Nathan Draw and Melissa Draw. As skillfully drawn as the first two.

Another flip of the page, and the left page was adorned by an image of a young horse, barely a man yet, crudely drawn, the name above it being Alec's very own, while the right bore an equally crude image of a peacock girl roughly the same age named "Theresa Enway".

Page after page, Alec flipped through, faces and names on each, the artistry improving drastically with each new turn, eventually skipping ahead nearly a hundred pages, showing a blank page next to a sketched one. The sketch was that of an Okapi, as intricate and detailed as the first two in the book, and bore the name Lenora Fenian.

"...This was my last client. I nearly hate to call her that. To call anyone that. I sketch them all, once they've left. Manifesting the memory onto the page, inking the importance of the act we've shared. Declaring my devotion for them. I have a responsibility to them."

He smiled softly, closing the book and setting it aside.

"I sketch, to answer your question. That's the art I make. I sketch everyone I've ever had in this room. A reminder to be there, and be what they need, if they ever need me again."

Rocky couldn't help but find Alec's ear flick adorable, blushing beneath his fur at all the attention he was receiving from the horse. It had been a while since someone had been this dedicated to a conversation with him.

Rocky tapped his chin at the question. "Hm. Probably my music. I play the violin, and it's sweet melodies always puts my heart at ease." Rocky mimed playing one with a satisfied smile. "How about you? Do you make art, and even if you don't, what's your favorite art to observe?"

Rocky leaned forward to show his own interest, finding Alec and him were more alike than he realized. He was expecting a more cold, though entertaining arrangement when he ordered this service, not that he was complaining about how things turned out in the least! He was practically grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't worry, I don't mind answering questions at all! To be honest, it's been a while since anyone has asked me any," Rocky said with a shy glance away.

#rp response #alecd

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n3onguts · 2 years ago

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pride and prejudice (07): happy together.

summary — if loneliness hits in waves, then you’re drowning in the middle of this party.

genre&tags — written chapter, approx. 3k words, angst, sunghoon being a lil sus, y/n being a mopey loser, allusions to social anxiety, general uni student debauchery, an abundance of wong kar-wai praise, and a rejected apology

warning(s) — swearing, alcohol consumption

a/n — this is so all over the place but idc anymore bc i’m so sick of staring at google docs

“Acceptable, Hoon?” In the lobby of your building, this glass-and-marble behemoth, you twirl for your friend, all dolled-up in a tiny, stringy halter and your cleanest pair of Doc Martens. Scrubbed of your battlescars from this past hellish week of exams, the process devoured almost 4 hours of your Saturday, left your room ravaged with crumpled piles of clothing haphazardly thrown on the floor — but you’ve come out looking more-than-decent and that’s still a win in your book.

Towering over you, Sunghoon is quiet, car keys hanging from his hand and eyes raking over your figure. Then, a little winded in a low murmur, “Are you wearing lip gloss? You never wear lip gloss.”

Shrugging, sheepish, you grin something cheeky, “I mean, why not, right? It’s a party. Not like we go to these kinds of things often.”

“Right.” A sharp nod. He’s still got on that murky stare. “It is and we don’t.”

In the distant background, Wonyoung honks an interruption, impatient in the passenger’s seat of her twin’s reliable ol’ Jag. Its engine purrs, steady and solid, from the vintage vehicle’s parked spot on the curb. The first blizzard of the winter season has ceased, settling into a calm night, lampposts lighting the icy asphalt street outside. “Oppa’s not done primping, but he should be down soon. In the meantime — what do you think?”

“I think…” Lips pursed, the boy offers zero flattery. “You should take my jacket. It’s bound to get freezing in that scrap of black cloth you call a top.”

“Wow. Can’t even fake a you-look-nice?”

“Just take it.” Sunghoon presses, tone clipped, thrusting the bulky leather thing into your hands.

You sigh — “Fine. Whatever.” — and accept, sliding into the oversized garment. “Too big. My outfit’s not seen anymore.”

Flicking your forehead, he says, dry and expectant, “That’s kind of the point, princess.”

A half-hour’s worth of Doja Cat later (courtesy of Sunghoon) and your tight-knit group pulls up to the snow-sunk driveway of the Beta Thi Sigma frat. There’s some 90’s RnB spilling out from the booming structure, its Grecian columns lit by the red-and-green of several, suspended Christmas lights. Sloshed students — wrapped up in their coats, sporting an array of Santa hats and antler headbands — teeter up-and-down the steps to the front door. They part, however, somewhat lucid, at the sight of your brother rushing through with his corduroy cover-up and hair swept back. He’s got an agenda, it seems, and it goes by the name of Kai.

The twins, meanwhile, take their time, undeterred by the horde of curious eyes following their every move. Wonyoung struts ahead in a knit Chanel number, glistening from the attention, as Sunghoon shuts the car door behind him, all cool and casual with his hand secure on your back. Inside, the atmosphere is sticky with heat and vice. It’s sensory overload for someone like yourself — bodies packed together, draped in tinsel but awash in tints of wine, swaying in slow-motion to the beat of the music. Wonyoung in the lead, your little trio passes by mistletoed corners in search of cleaner air.

The twins end up camped out near the house’s fireplace, marking it as their territory, and you follow suit. Poised and nonchalant, they keep to themselves yet are still, somehow, magnets for returning rounds of strangers. It’s disconcerting, mostly because you were wholly unaware of how in-demand the Parks had apparently become, even as freshmen — and stuck-up ones at that. A 2-for-1 package of popularity, you fourth-wheel all their conversations: your hands are empty when they’re greeted with Asahis from some senior named Jeon Jungkook and you get gawked at by Yu Karina, who sits behind you in English, when she reports the latest goss to the pair like their self-appointed secretary. There’s nothing lonelier than being demoted to mere audience member, so much so that it almost makes you laugh, like you’re a ghost in your own life.

Somewhere, concealed in your heart but pulsating through your body, is the anxious urge to escape to what’s familiar — to Uber home, dig out your rattiest Champion sweater, and drown in the embrace of a piping-hot bowl of wagyu ram-don — but it’s lambasted by the disapproving tone of Taehyun’s voice, ringing through your head like he’s your goddamned conscience and telling you that you need to ‘put yourself out there’. He’s right — of course, he is — and you hate him for that, but, God, you still can’t help but wish he were here now, not on some G650 jet out to the Amalfi Coast but stationed beside you through it all.

Sunghoon’s hand loosening from its spot on your side and Wonyoung occupied by whatever inane rumor Karina’s intent on spreading hot-off-the-press, you make your exit with a pitiful lack of notice. Through the red maze of rooms, you find yourself lost, disoriented. Your grip tight on your cell, you type out an agitated text to your missing brother, send the distress signal rapid-fire. But with no end destination in sight and nobody to cling onto for saving, everything’s suddenly too much, too loud, all happening in chaotic blurs. It takes you back to that night at the Bulldog, and you’re reminded of why you never attend these sort of things.

Really, you want to be fun and you want to be perky, the kind of girl who’s so goddamned painless to be around, no question — just easy and laid-back and enjoying the mess as if all’s good and well in the world. The kind who knocks down beers like it’s no one’s business, always knows what to say plus when to say it, leaves her heart out on her sleeve and gets rewarded for it. A cool girl, an effortless one. Instead — you’re difficult and you’re harsh and you’re dull. You’ve lived like this forever now, inside your little cage, built out of self-preservation. And you’re safe, it’s true, but disappear and it’d make no difference.

So, in an empty bathroom off the back porch, you take shelter, pathetically sober. Sat on the lid of the toilet, you rest your head between your knees, check for a response from Soobin only to be met with nothing. Probably still busy with Kai, you surmise, sighing. Footsteps come and go as your breathing slows to a more measured rate. From here, locked away from everyone, the party is muffled like it’s universes away. Then, a voice, thick but low, resonates through the noise, the wall, to you: “Most people turn away at the sight of subtitles, so it’s hard to recommend, but I’m telling you — it’s hauntingly perfect. Wong Kar-Wai’s best, in my opinion.” You recognize him immediately, would know that baritone anywhere and have found it here. Reflexively, without much thought, you slam the door open, bumping into the boy stationed right outside on the damp wooden deck.

“Hey!” Beomgyu cries before turning flat and faltering. “Oh.”

Flushed and self-conscious, you stagger back, examine the scene. Steel eyes, mouth in a wary line — a stark difference from your first impression of him, annoyingly open and terrifyingly carefree. Now, Beomgyu’s a mirror image of you and it’s enough to make you shrink. Is this how you looked when you two met? Stood next to him, a girl with sharp, feline features. You place her face as another of Kai’s bandmates, Yeji. She’s less stiff but still has her arms crossed, like you’ve slighted her without your knowledge.

“Hi.” You begin, a little breathless. It comes out uncertain.

Yeji stares at Beomgyu, then you. She takes his silence as her cue, “Y/N. Hi. If you’re looking for your brother, pretty sure he’s upstairs with Kai right now.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wasn’t—” You look over at him, tight-lipped and staring at his muddy Converse, his clenched hands, the black abyss of the night sky. Everything, it seems, but you. Softer than intended, you attempt an explanation, “I just needed a breather.”

An awkward silence ensues. It makes sense, you think to yourself, because you’ve conditioned people to expect cruelty in your presence, inadvertently taught them how to treat you. This is your comeuppance.

Yeji takes pity on you, sensing your discomfort, but sighs like she really doesn't want to, “Would you want to hang back with us then? Gyu was just telling me about some arthouse director he’s big on.”

“I don’t want to intrude—”

“Who cares? It’s just more of his pretentious babbling. I was only half-listening anyway.”

At this, Beomgyu gasps in mock-hurt. “Wong Kar-Wai deserves better. Don’t be such a philistine, Ji.”

Snorting, Yeji turns to you, unconcerned, “Ever heard of that guy, Y/N?”

“Well, yes, actually — ‘Happy Together’ is my comfort movie.” There’s no tell-tale signs on Beomgyu’s face that he’s listening, yet you find yourself hoping that he is.

“There we go then. That’s literally what he was just raving about.” Yeji cocks her head, rolls her eyes. “Ugh. You cinephiles are all the same.”

You look over at Beomgyu, consider him, suddenly curious. “Oh. So what do you think of it?”

“Like I was saying before being interrupted,” Stare averted, he speaks mostly towards Yeji. “Arguably, ‘Happy Together’ is Wong’s true magnum opus. It’s got all of his signature tropes, from the over-saturation to the dizzying camera work to the unconventional narrative — but it’s distinct for the sole reason that the heartache depicted isn’t muted. Instead, it burns.”

Growing frenzied and gaining momentum, hands flitting about like birds eager to get away, he continues, “Like, that sense of yearning that he’s known for, that longing for a love that keeps slipping out of your grasp, it’s there, undeniably, just much, much uglier. In the film, Ho and Lai are rotten to each other, and they shouldn’t be together, and they both know that — but they’re stuck in a perverse cycle, in this kind of horrible purgatory, that forces them to slingshot back to one another even once they escape. When they’re with each other, it hurts, yet when they’re apart, it hurts even more. The cruelest irony of the film is the title, because Ho and Lai can never be that — can never be ‘Happy Together’. It’s fucking devasting. And that’s what makes it so good.”

It’s quiet for a moment as the entirety of Beomgyu’s manic little spiel settles into the air. Then, Yeji laughs, amused at her friend, “Okay, Jesus, I’ll watch it. How long have you been holding all of that in?”

The boy shrugs, rubs the nape of his neck, going timid. People have this sad tendency to recoil into their shells after letting their passion leak out, you realize, like it’s shameful to care this much about anything. And you try not to gawk, try not to let your gaze linger, but it stuns you — the accuracy with which Beomgyu’s vocalized your very thoughts about the film, all of which have been ruminating inside of you since your first watch. There’s an impulse to nod profusely, to shout, all ecstatic from the matchbox sparks in your stomach, “Yes, yes! Finally someone gets it.” But, instead, you tamp it down, let the words die upon your tongue. You could call it serendipity, say it’s a kind of happy accident to stumble upon someone who shares your same fondness for cinema, but he’s a film major, of course, so what do you expect?

Cutting through the moment is a persistent racket vibrating from Yeji’s pocket. Fishing her phone out, exasperated, she groans, “Fuck — it’s my dad. I’ll be back, just a sec.” Trudging into the backyard, wading through the sheet of snow-caked grass, her intonation and inflection reconstructs itself into something guttural, more provincial, as she talks into the receiver and fades into the distance.

Secluded out here, amidst the numbing breeze of winter, the population of people dwindle about, more subdued. And so, you’re left with Beomgyu, left to fend for yourself against him and his explicit dislike for you. Juxtaposed by the faint, flickering lights of the porch, he’s locked stubbornly behind layers of clothing, black hair sat stiff underneath his beanie. Grasping for something to say, you murmur, something bland enough for you to survive if he ignores it, “Cold night, huh?”

At this, Beomgyu finally faces you, pivoting to put your smaller self in his direct line of vision. You see him clearly for the first time since meeting him two weeks ago: rendered in angles only God could draw, acrid like he’s a home remedy. “Seriously?” He laughs, all spite. “With the fucking small talk?” It’s a role reversal, a karmic punishment; you know it and so does he.

“Right. You’re right. Look…” You say, cautious but deliberate, enunciating each word with the weight of your remorse. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry — sorry for, well, y’know, acting like a dick when we met. I was worn-out that night and it was so goddamned dank inside the bar and the enormity of the crowd was putting me on edge and, fuck, I know those aren’t excuses, but you still bore the brunt of all of it so I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it, especially because you were so nice to me. And if you hate me, I get it, whatever, I understand — still, regardless, I just hope you know how much I regret everything.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” He tilts his head, eyebrow quirked and visibly unimpressed.

You don’t waver. “It’s fine if you don’t forgive me. We don’t need to be friends or anything — I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“So, basically, what you’re saying is…” A disdainful pause. “You just want to be rid of your wrongdoing. Wash it off like it’s just another stain on your designer jeans.”

“Well, no—”

“Here’s a reality check, Saint Y/N: that icky feeling you get for being a shitty person? It’s warranted because you are. You were a douchebag to me, and you were a douchebag to my friends. I was nice to you, yes, but people don’t have to be for you to treat them with decency. It’s not fucking hard.” He hacks away at your character, drills down on your flaws until he tears at your Achilles heel. You remain quiet throughout, blank-faced, digesting his vilification of you and absorbing the verbal onslaught. You’re on trial, it’s clear, and you’re all ears. “And also? I couldn’t care less if you’ve, quote, seen better, because frankly I’d rather gouge my eyes out than date someone with an unearned superiority complex. So, y’know, thanks, appreciate the apology, but seriously — get over yourself.”

Finished with his tirade, you’re forced to sit and simmer together in Beomgyu’s hostility, visceral and true, piercing through the air between you two. In place of a response, all you can do is nod mechanically, let the guilt turn over in your stomach, settle, then mushroom. “Okay.” It comes out a mere whisper.

“Okay?”

You exhale, blink away the fatigue that’s suddenly washed over you. Then, firm and understanding, “Okay. I get it. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Good.”

As you turn away to make a beeline back indoors, you’re confronted by the timely reappearance of Yeji, frost-nipped and leaving a puddle of snow where she’s planted. She scans you over, leans to look at her friend, “Everything cool here?”

“Yeah. I’m just going now. Sorry to bother you guys.” Brushing past her, your hands find their home in your pockets. Yeji calls your name, shouts something or other, but it’s all just background noise to you at this point.

When you reach the kitchen, you’re swallowed in by the swarm of sweaty bodies you’d tried so hard to flee from. Now, however, you’re too drained to give a flying fuck. No more fighting, you decide. From somewhere indiscernible, a drink is pushed into your palm, this lemony concoction that hisses on its surface but glides down your throat. You accept the evening for what it is — a glorified shitshow — and the rest of it washes over you with less struggle.

Through the miniature glow of his phone, Beomgyu notes the time: 5 AM. He clicks the device off, chucks it to the side of his lumpy mattress. Snoring from the other side of their shared room is Kai, placid and passed out in last night’s clothes, sure as shit dreaming up an unperturbed life with his dimpled boytoy. Outside, the world is still dark, readying for the new day.

Swaddled by his comforter, safe against the biting cold, Beomgyu is plagued by the thought of you. Ogling at him as he rhapsodized about a film close to his heart, spouting a red-nosed and glossy-eyed apology. What a fucking weirdo. Pint-sized in that jacket, glimpses of skin shining through. Much softer than when he’d first met you. Seriously — so fucking weird. He sighs, prays for sleep to come quick. And too fucking pretty.

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