#I don’t have enough creative energy for anything concrete

[chopshajen]

Today is a daydreaming about the Trickster sort of day

[izvmimi]

cw: set in both past and present. goofy but a bit of fluff. reader has a specified quirk. suggestive near the end.

Concentrate. Stop being impatient. You’re applying too little power, you won’t heal anything like that; you’re applying too much power, you’ll kill them! Slow down. Move more quickly, the sick and injured will keep coming. 

You bite your lip and pull your backpack closer to yourself as you think back to today’s lesson, both mentally and physically exhausted from the day before you. These internships are meant to push the limits of your Quirks, and you can imagine that all of your classmates are just as tired as you, but it’s hard for you to reconcile the fact that an old lady who keeps candy in her purse and smooches indiscriminately to heal injuries should be such a hardass to you. 

The tips of your fingers still tingle with the aftermath of transferring so much electricity towards them. Today, she had you try to practice transferring all of your energy from your toes to the palms of your hand and back, consecutively, and you still feel wobbly on your feet as you make your way home. It’s dark now and you’re a little lonely walking home alone, but your thoughts will keep your company as you walk through the streets. 

Joining the hero class late, you simply have to work harder, that’s all there is to it, you think. You don’t have the flashy quirks your peers do, no extreme power without blowback, no endless ice or fire or weapons, no explosions or gravity manipulation, no animals to come to your aid or ability to disappear and slip away. 

You have to be creative with your Quirk as best you can if you want to be of any use. 

You’re about 15 minutes away from your home by now and check your cell phone. There are messages from Momo where she’s trying her hardest to convince you that there’s some utility in makeup commercials for the greatest good, and you try to placate her as best you can as the good friend you are. Your friend from the support course has also sent you a wide-eyed orange cat emoji with the aim to check in since you’ve been quiet and you smile and send a signal that you’re alive with a tongue out emoji. You look at your screen for a few more seconds and don’t get an immediate reply but smile to yourself anyway before slipping your phone in your pocket.

As you turn past an alleyway, the sudden crashing sound of trash cans and body weight against concrete startles you enough that you jump. You have a few seconds to decide if you want to see what’s happening before you convince yourself it’s an animal, but you hear a groan, and before you can make it around the alleyway, there’s yet another thud. 

When you turn the corner, you’re surprised to see Midoriya, face smashed into the wall, nearly ten feet in the air. He falls too fast for you to reach him to try to break his fall, but it’s broken by a load of bundled trash, possibly more than you’ve ever seen not disposed of in your entire life. Dumbfounded, you watch him frown but he doesn’t seem hurt too badly (at least, not as badly as you’ve seen him self-inflict before) and he barely even realizes you’re there, before he’s back to his feet again, staring at the wall pensively, eyebrows knit together as he’s lost in thought. 

He’s in his hero suit, and you wonder how long he’s been out here. Feet pressed against the pavement again, he bends his knees and you see sparks fly before he’s about to jump again, and before he can move…

“Uh… Midoriya? What are you doing?” you finally announce yourself and he freezes still like a statue.

The sparks stop immediately as he turns to you, and his face is redder than a strawberry, jaw slack.

“Oh! Oh my God! I.. uh…”

You blink. Midoriya is always somewhat skittish around you, and you do admit that it’s probably because you’ve been prone to mess with him and give him nicknames, but you’ve never harbored any ill will against it. In fact, there’s a sort of fondness you have towards him, ever since the sports festival. He always manages to surprise you with his resourcefulness even if he’s the polar opposite of you ability-wise - all power, no self preservation.

Still, this isn’t the type of surprise you anticipated. 

Midoriya is still staring at you, mouth agape as he tries to come up with an explanation, not having realized that you’re no longer interested in whatever strangeness he imparts to you as long as he’s okay. All you can think about now is the fact that your head has started to pound, so watching him smash his face into the wall a second time might be the least of your concerns.

But you have to be curious in some way if you’re still standing here at 9 pm on a weekday.

“I-I’m trying to figure out my Quirk…” Izuku says through nervous laughter. You nod slowly, looking at and around him.

“Looking for the light in a dark alley, I see,” you murmur. He doesn’t laugh, instead grimacing. You scrunch your nose a bit at the smell, inescapable, trying to be kind enough not to say a word about it. “It’s super late,” you murmur, then tilt your head. “Are you going to go home soon?”

Maybe walking home with a classmate might be nice, it occurs to you.

Izuku’s green eyes light up for just a moment, then he frowns. 

“I can’t-” he sees you pout before you even realize you are doing so, “-but I can next time! I just have to…” his voice falters as you shift your weight from one side to another then shrug your shoulders. 

“No big deal.”

You turn on your heels, a little slighted but fine. He’s nice to talk to sometimes but you could call your mom or another friend perhaps for company. Izuku is annoying anyway, he’ll probably find a way to aggravate you before you make it home and you’ll regret even running into him. Perhaps.

“I’ll see you around then,” you offer, waving impassively behind you as you walk away.

“B-be safe!” he calls out as you take your first steps away, and you keep walking, the sparks of electricity he generates again as he goes back to whatever desperate move he’s working out putting the hairs of your neck slightly on edge, light catching your peripheral vision.

You turn to him, and take the scene in again. The boy with the Quirk that grants incredible power with a blowback he still can’t withstand. Perhaps truly, he’s not the opposite of you, but complementary. 

He has a look of determination to him, you note, as he squats slightly, then leaps again, soaring high to the point that it’s almost graceful -  but then he hits the wall once more. He tumbles again into bagged trash, and you sigh. 

You’re exhausted but not so exhausted that you can’t help.

“Midoriya, don’t jump again.”

As his head snaps back in your direction, he seems shocked that you’re still there and you wonder how he has such singular focus. Before he can react to you, you end up palming his entire face, pulsing the rest of your energy reserves quickly into the bruised tissues before retracting your arm.

Izuku’s eyes are wide when he looks at you, but you can tell you’ve succeeded because the redness and tiny scrapes on his face have already started to disappear, even if you can’t do anything about his bleeding nose.

You should have thought about this, you think as you wipe your hands on the side of your pants.

“T-thank you,” he mutters. 

You offer him a smile. Either way it’s a form of training.

“Of course. See you around, dino nuggets.”

—

“You know, that was the first time you healed me, ever.”

Izuku remembers that night so many years ago slightly differently than you do, it seems. He remembers being less uninterested in your presence than you impart to him as you recount it, and tells you his heart thumped so fast with embarrassment the moment he saw you he might as well have been having a heart attack, and focusing on his goal of figuring out OFA was the only thing that kept him from dying of mortification on the spot. Your crush finding you crashing into a wall then garbage repeatedly at nighttime in a dark alley isn’t exactly a chivalrous look, and looking so pitiful he earned an unsolicited heal wasn’t exactly the way he tried to woo you.

But all’s well that ends well, no?

You giggle, letting small pulses of your bioelectricity relax the muscles in his back with pinpoint precision. Your fingertips continue to dance gently along his skin until the tension dissipates completely, and he lets out a satisfied sigh as they move gently to his neck, then tap gently at his scalp. 

“I probably could have been just a little more respectful of your dignity, but I think even back then I was trying very hard to suppress any positive feelings for you,” you admit. There’s no point in pretending now that your tender relationship is clearer than crystal, blatant for the world to see.

“And how did that work out for you?” he retorts as your hands run through his hair lovingly. 

You smile to yourself, letting your torso press gently against his back. Izuku’s laying on his belly and you were straddling him prior to this, having decided to bless him with a special back massage as a treat. Your husband always does his best, and doing his best has taken a lot out of him in the past few recent days, so this is the least you can offer him and you’re glad to do so. Both of you have grown stronger, smarter, and better at using your Quirks for yourselves, for society and for each other. It’s only natural that you’ve learned a trick or two.

“Terrible,” you answer.

You smile as your face presses against his upper back, letting your hands run along the length of his arms, more soft pulses of electricity passing through his skin. He shudders against your body and your heart practically sings with affection. 

“Terrible?” he tries to sound annoyed but his voice comes out higher than usual, riddled with relief.

“Yeah, I had no intention to fall in love with you. A huge fail on my part, actually.”

He chuckles.

“I guess it’s true that there’s a lot to gain from failure then.”

You hate and love that he’s always so good at redirecting and softening any of your playful resistance. Your hands tighten gently around his wrists.

“Are you mocking me, Izuku?”

His laughter rumbles through his larger body, the vibration running through all parts of you as you stay pressed together.

“Maybe,” he replies, coyly. 

“You know, in this position, I could make sure you never get up again,” you say in a honeyed voice. “You have a vested interest in being nice to me,” you tease.

Izuku moves a little too fast for you to keep up at times, and this is one of those times. Before you realize, your positions have switched, and now he’s on top of you, so close his forehead is pressed to yours.

He kisses just above your eyebrows, your eyes closing automatically.

“I’m always nice to you,” he reminds you, his voice soft.

You smile as they open again and you look at him. He’s far from the awkward try-hard boy he once was, and you’re far from the sometimes standoffish, other times overly yet hesitantly invested girl you once were.

You’re invested in him with full intention, just as he’s invested in you.

“You’re right. Thank you for being so good to me,” you reply softly.

And you’ll always be good to him.

[bettsfic]

Hi!

I know you said that you teach and as a teacher I wanted your advice. I’m a student, I’m not in a writing major, but I really want to write a book. School is very jam packed and I don’t really see a lot of people saying they write while in school. Is it possible to do so successfully? Do you have any tips for students who would like to but also deal with regular demands of school life?

Thanks for reading this!

this is a great question, anon. i've known hundreds of writers in my life and nearly all of them have a similar story: they wrote a lot when they were young, but around 16-18 they had to set it down, and they didn't pick it up again until their mid-20s or later. even creative writing majors seem to have a slump during these years, where maybe they're writing but that writing is boxed in by the expectations and restrictions of the program.

i think it's not just the busy schedule that keeps students away from writing, but the reading obligations too. you have hundreds of pages to read a week and don't have the time or energy to read for fun. and the kinds of things you're asked to read (and the way you're asked to read them) aren't conducive to creative inspiration.

in large part, an undergraduate education exists to teach you critical thinking skills. choosing a major isn't as big of a deal as it seems because you'll be able to apply just about anything you learn in college to any job you'll ever have. i have a science degree in psychology. my entire education revolved around building experiments. that means i learned how to see an outcome and develop concrete, measurable tasks to reach that outcome. do you know where else i use that skill? teaching. creating a lesson plan is the process of seeing an outcome and being able to work backward to create concrete, measurable tasks that would achieve it.

which is all to say, even if you're in a major as far away from creative writing as a person can be, the things you're learning will eventually be applied to your work. even if you're not getting down a word count, know that you're creating the material and subject matter that will eventually become your focus. it may not seem like it, but you're already writing a book.

i know it's hard to hear, but you don't have to be in a hurry to write. if you're really looking to get words down, i suggest getting a notebook specifically for notes and ideas about writing. the things you *would* write, or stuff you learn in classes that you may want to use later. it's good enough for now to see the world through the lens of writing.

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

Annon-Guy: What's your opinion on the Split Timeline thing introduced in XBLAZE Lost Memories? You know, the idea of the XBLAZE World and the Bloodedge Experience World being seperate from the BlazBlue World and each othe I mean.

This is actually a really fun question, and I’ve been procrastinating on answering it because I have a whole theory related to it but I don’t want to get into it without being able to cite my sources, you know??? Unfortunately today will STILL not be the day I really get into it, because I’ve been in and out of the hospital and still have not found those sources I wanted. Whoops.

But let’s at least get to an initial answer. Usually I hate split timelines in stories; I like consistency and I like making huge conspiracy boards full of connections I’ve noticed. A split timeline is a smart move for writers when a series gets too big; it alleviates the pressure for absolute consistency between different authors. It gives them room to be more creative, to explore more- it also gives them room to make minor mistakes. But like I said, I really really love my concrete consistency. Split timelines kind of take away narrative tension for me, too; I can’t get too excited about what xyz event means for the rest of the series, because it may not have even happened.

Interestingly, I actually really like BB’s split timeline set up. This is a unique case, and I originally didn’t like it, but then I saw a post on… I can’t remember if it was Reddit or Steam or what, I want to find it so I can link back to it and discuss it more in depth. Someone was positing the theory/interpretation that the three separate “timelines” (BB, XBlaze, Bloodedge) actually do occur in one reality.

Remember how at the end of CF, Terumi (and, like, everyone a little bit) was trying to kill Amaterasu to end this world, and create a new one???

Or how Sechs in XBlaze wanted to “return everything to the Seithr,” also ending his world???

In the west, when we hear a story has "multiple timelines" or a "multiverse," we think of stories like Marvel and Homestuck. In these stories, there are infinite worlds operating in their own, separate 'bubbles,' but existing effectively simultaneously.

The post posited that BlazBlue’s setting uses a different interpretation of “multiple timelines/universes,” more rooted in Asian culture. Like concepts of reincarnation or the Hindu Yuga Cycle. In these types of stories, there are many 'worlds'- generally far too many for the human mind to count, but still a finite number. And only one exists at a time. The next is born when the previous dies.

The idea here is that each separate BB-verse setting happens in a linear order, one at a time, going about its own business until the world is ‘ended'- that is, where it dissolves and "returns to the Seithr," the Boundary.

From this, it is recreated and begins again- or the next setting begins. After enough repetitions, certain events may end up drastically different- or someone may manipulate the recreation process to influence the ‘new world.’

This would be Susano'o's plan at the end of CF, and part of the promise that Izanami was selling to everyone during the fight for the Azure.

This would also be what the Origin did to start the C-series, using Amaterasu to influence the world’s next ‘rebirth,’ and then refusing to move on/let anything change.

I wish I could get deeper into this subject, and I hope I do at some point, because it completely changed how I interpret BlazBlue’s setting and several plot points and I really love it. I wish it was a more popular interpretation in the fandom. I’d also like to look deeper into the story to see if I can cite some points that give evidence to this theory.

At some point when I have more energy I'd love to revisit this topic, explaining it better and citing some sources from the BB series that I believe support this interpretation.

For now, what do you all think???

[princepestilence]

NYR: February in review

Post-February horoscope: i love constantly evolving into a cooler version of myself

Not advice so much as a mantra this time around! It’s been a full-on, kind of overwhelming month at work + in general, and I’ve been struggling a little to keep on top of it all. Definitely getting there now and starting to find a plateau, I think, but for a couple of weeks there it felt a lot like treading water and only just keeping above the surface (or, you know, sometimes not really keeping above the surface). But we survive and continue. This is all part of the journey and one day these mountains will look like hills in the way back distance.

Anyway! Here’s what’s been happening this month:

finished final thesis chapter! I’ve been on a break from my thesis for a couple of weeks now, which was excellent timing, because of the above work situation. Not as relaxing as I’d wanted, but I’ve been playing a lot of video games so there’s that. I have been having anxiety dreams about my supervisor sitting down with me in our upcoming meeting and telling me that the thesis is unsalvageably terrible and it all has to go in the bin, but that’s not going to happen. Probably.  

have fun with fashion. It’s been nice to 1. dress up nice and 2. have nice places to go to while dressed up nice. I am looking forward to more of this.

do some art. I didn’t do some art. Too drained for that. But I’ve been playing games, which has been creatively enriching and also fun. 

performance review. It was fine! I knew it would be and there wasn’t anything we discussed that was a surprise, which I think is ideal. 

In March, I will:

start up my thesis again. I don’t want to be ambitious with other goals because I think this one’s going to take a lot of focus and a lot of energy on basically all fronts. Once the thesis is done, I will be free. 

I don’t really want to set any other concrete goals this month. If I can keep on steady with work and get decent work done for edits / rewriting / restructure for the dissertation, that’s more than enough for now. 

[livfastdieyoung69]

Bones, Body, Soul.

(A Jeff Hardy Story - Ch.1)

Lemmy didn’t have a very hard time getting along with people backstage. Unless it was the one lightsguy that was still mad at them for tripping over a wire and unplugging it right before they went live. Sorry, Jake. Most enjoyed seeing the familiar face of the teenager, who was now training to be a wrestler alongside their father as soon as they turned the legal age.

The WWE’s roster picking team had known of Lemm quite some time, only picking them up as someone to wrestle for the company when Vince started showing interest. They had sent their ‘undercover scout’s’ out around the United States and one ended up in a small town’s gymnasium in North Carolina where the self proclaimed OMEGA wrestling promotion, ran by the group of teenagers in the ring, happened to often be. After noticing one of the two hidden behind a scary mask was Stone Cold’s damn kid, the word started to spread around staffing. Tapes of these gymnasium matches, even a couple in local fairs, started to spread backstage- not only at the talent of Lemmy, but a couple of the other boys. Eventually, the news traveled up to Vince who found himself watching the tape and soon enough was demanding for that Dallas Austin kid and whoever the hell those Hardy boys- whatever in the hell there names were- to get the hell in this damn company. (his words exaclty)

When more information on the boys was found, it became known that the younger one, Jeff had been lying about his age to wrestle with his older brother, Matt, and the both of them were sent to a trainer with WWF after seeing their potential. Lemmy had been put under a similar contract, but refused to sign until it was backed down to only a year. Things happen, they didn’t want to be stuck somewhere. As soon as Jeff was of age, they would be on the roster, along with Lemmy, who unfortunately had to wait about a year longer then them thanks to being a year younger.

The Hardy's and Lemmy clearly got along, a huge connection between them from all of their time together in OMEGA as well as just being great friends through a huge part of their teen years. All of their training sessions were together all the time, the three seemed to have much more energy and will when they were together. Although Matt and Lemmy were great friends, it was clear that Jeff and Lemm were attached at the hip and it was obvious as to why.

They had the same taste in music, clothes, humor, and were both a little dumb but made up for it in creativity, passion, and their abilites in the ring. They each even had a sweet southern drawl, Lemmy’s a bit heavier from their years in Texas, but Matt’s seemed to be fading slightly somehow. If you saw one, you saw the other.

There wasn’t anything they did alone. Even when Lemm’s father was in town, the boys went too see him with them. Plus, it meant they got to be backstage at WWF, and how cool was that? It wasn’t often their dad was in town and the rest of the company wasn’t. Lemmy had been taking Jeff and Matt backstage to watch their father and plently of other wrestling matches at shows that were nearby, but Matt had to take up a night shift so it was just Jeff, who only worked during the days thanks to his landscaping skills. As of now, Lemmy was dragging him by his hand as they ran through the hall in search of an empty locker room with a TV to watch the matches. Sometimes they were allowed to go out in the crowd, but the arena was sold out.

"So help me God, Dallas, what'd I tell you about that goddamn running!" The rough voice of Steve Austin echoed through the cold concrete halls of the arena. The pair slowed to a quick walk as Lemmy yelled back an apology. It held just about no sorrow, Steve loved that kid too much to even think about doing anything but scoffing and shaking his head.

“Who’s out tonight?” Jeff asked from their side. Lemm shrugged.

“Don’t know. Like it bein’ a suprise, but dad’s got HBK for the main event, thats all I know.” When they had first moved to North Carolina all the boys ever did was make fun of their silly talk. Always said they were straight from a bad western movie, but that just what you get when you spend your important years in your heavily southern grandparents home. Spend enough time out on that damn far with your grandpa, you start to sound like him. Thankfully, they were used to it by now. Also thankfully, it had started to fade a bit as they grew older to match their North Carolinian accents instead.

Lemmy tugged Jeff into a dingy locker room and began their search for the remote, hearing the ampitheatre shake with anticipation as the first theme song of the night hit. No matter how many times they ended up backstage, they would never get used to the feeling of the crowd’s joy.

After watching a few matches in the empty locker room, of which stunk of mothballs and a forever remaining stench of B.O., the two were off once again. They decided to walk this time so it took a little bit more time to get back to the gorilla.

"Hey, Shawn!" Lemmy yelled from halfway down the hall, gaining lots of unwanted attention along with Shawn's.

"What's goin' on kid, lookin' for Steve?" The man looked over at her, a childlike grin planted on his face as they jogged over to him with Jeff short on their tail.

Again, a lot people enjoyed having Lemmy backstage but one of the first people they were able to befriend was HBK. Vince had taken a liking to the young kid the second they entered the backstage of one of they many WWF arenas and thought it would be funny to get them to do commentary for a few matches. A few matches turned into one after they called Shawn a pussy. (Their father thought it was hilarious but had to explain to Shawn that Lemmy didn't actually think that, they just really liked the Undertaker.)

There were pictures from the night somewhere, before the crowd funneled in and Shawn was already in his gear, him smiling down at a tiny figure as they both did his silly flexing pose in the middle of the ring. There was another of Taker fooling around with them, eyes rolled back with a malicious grin but the kid hanging upside down in manical laughter, held up by their feet.

"Nah, lookin' for you. Just wanted to say you looked real cool kickin' my dad's ass." The explanation coughed up a laugh from Shawn and a few others as brought them into a short side hug. "Would you mind letting him know that me n’ Jeff are gonna head on home, though? I'm gonna sleep over at his so then we can all just head to training together.” Quick to try and deter from what they wanted, Lemmy started bombarding Shawn with questions about the nearest payphone and how they had to tell their uncle, whom they lived with, that they wouldn’t be home, only to be interrupted.

"Just cause I like you doesn't mean I'll lie for you, Lem."

"Oh, come on! We just wanted an ice cream, it won't take long! I'll buy you one if that's what it takes." While Lemmy tried to bribe him, Jeff groaned. Shawn grinned at the two of them, understanding how they felt but also understanding that he had to be atleast a little bit of an adult in the situation.

"You two have training bright and early, and if I tell Steve you're going home, it won't be a lie. I don't care who's house you go to as long as you get there in the next hour."

Finally giving up on convincing the man, Lemmy backs up and grabs Jeff by the arm again and they went on their way. As they continued to walk towards the door in defeat, Lemmy shouted over their shoulder at Shawn, "I take it back! You looked terrible kickin’ my dad's ass!" Just in time for Steve Austin to walk back from the locker room after getting ready for a segment.

"The hell're they talkin' about?" He watches them run off again, with nothing but a scoff and a shake of the head. Really, he couldn’t help it.

"Who knows, man. Lemm seems to get along with those Hardy’s pretty good though, huh?” They both watched as Lemmy and Jeff made their way down the hall, quite literally attached at the hip, with each an arm around the others shoulder and feet swaying as the tried to keep in pace with one another, loud laughter echoing each time one of them stumbles, seemingly over their icecream escapades.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘specially that Jeff kid, he’s real good to ‘em from what i’ve seen. They’re good kids. Glad Lemm’s finally got someone their age.”

Jeff and Lemmy successfully ended up at ‘The Hardy Compound’ as the boys called it, in under twenty minutes. After stopping through the McDonald's drive-through for a flurry, of course. Matt had just gotten back from work so they bought him one too, which he was thankful for, but it ended up melting on the coffee table of their living room with the other cheap Oreo creations. The three fell into a deep sleep in the middle of some poorly made thriller, the only thing worth watching on cable channels so late.

Lemmy slept dreamlessly and woke up to find Matt gone but could hear him mumbling into his phone in the kitchen. Seemed to be a friend- Shannon, maybe. He was in OMEGA too. They could hear the lawn mower going outside too, and assumed it was the boys’ father. Jeff started groaning in his sleep and turning over in an attempt to find more warmth- when Lemm got up the blanket had knocked off him. His eyes slowly opened with a groan and a stretch that made his lower stomach peak out from his tank top. Hearing an airy laugh he quickly looked over to find Lemmy looking down at him.

”Mornin’ Jeffro.” They gave his chest a clumsy pat with a yawn.

"Mornin', Lemm. Sleep good?" The sleep through both of their voices was heavy.

"Always do over here." A small silence cast over the room before Lemmy let out a sigh and toppled over on top of Jeff's chest. "Man, I don't wanna go to training." Jeff's hand moved to rub up and down their arm as they complained through their groans.

"I know, Lemms, you never do. C'mon, get up, we gotta go." He was given nothing but more groans as they moved to face away from him. Not that it created much of a distance, they were still on him. Jeff continued his coaxing and sweet words, finally managing to get Lemm off the couch and into different clothes of his - they had stolen Matt's shirt after spilling half of their McFlurry everywhere while trying to get Jeff in a headlock and eat it at the same time.

Matt quickly finished his phonecall and the three got ready- heading over to the small gym the WWE had staked out for training superstars as well as the usual roster when they were in the area. The trio dragged their way through the work-out portion, wanting nothing more than to skip straight to the ring work.

They weren't even halfway done with training and all three of them were already sweating their asses off, which meant it was a really bad day. Maybe the icecream wasn’t a good idea. There were also actual superstars at the gym considering they were in town for a couple more days so they couldn't mess around as much as usual. The boys would debut in not very long, finally getting away from being jobbers, valets, and every other thing Vince could think of, and it seemed like the days couldn't go by any slower. They were getting more hours added to training to make sure they were ready, which definitely didn't help.

A hand playfully shoved Lemmy's head making them stumble around the makeshift ring and causing them to quickly turn around to find the culprit. They were met with both the boys standing in one of the corners, leaning on the ropes. Matt was tipping his head towards his younger brother who was looking away and scratching the back of his neck.

"Real smooth, Jeff." The sarcasm in Lemmy's voice was overflowing.

"What? I didn't do anything, it was Matt!" His voice was raised in pitch, which gave him away even more. Matt shoved Jeff through the ropes and towards Lemmy, annoyed that he was being blamed. The two never fought seriously, but the sibling rivalry never stopped. "Lemm, it wasn't me, you know I'd never try to hurt you!"

"You tried to suplex me yesterday! Come on, fight me, stop being a pussy."

"Oh, we're gonna talk about yesterday? You remember what you did yesterda-" Before he could finish, Lemmy knocked the air out of him with a spear.

"What was that? What'd I do yesterday, tough guy?" Lemmy knew how to egg him on, and used it to their strategy. It proved to work when he scrambled to his feet. The pair moved against each other in a circle. Eventually, Jeff got fed up with Lemmy’s running mouth and tried to grab at them. Instead of that actually happening, the pair locked up. Jeff sent a swift kick to Lemmy's knee, sending them to the ground with a grunt.

"That's what happens when you run your mouth, Lemm. Maybe you should start learning to shut it once in a while." Jeff said with a smug smile from above her, hands smuggly locked on his hips. Hearing a laugh coming from over where Matt was, that definitely wasn’t Matt, Jeff looked over to see Adam and William, who often went by Jay, standing next to his older brother. Lemmy quickly used his distraction and sent them both to the ring floor with a very quick belly-to-belly suplex.

"If that's what happens when I run my mouth, then I think I'll keep doing it, Jeff."

After years of waiting, and getting beat to hell and back just about almost every Monday, Thursday, and Sunday, Matt and Jeff were finally debuting as actual wrestlers. So long jobbing! As happy as Lemmy was for them, they couldn't help but be jealous, having a year more to wait, but who wouldn't be?

They were driving to the stadium Monday Night Raw would be hosted in, thankfully only a state away from where Heat had been, so the drive wasn’t far from their last jobbing shift. With the two boys in the front and Lemmy crammed in the back with all of their luggage, they quickly settled into a comfortable silence as Matt seemed to contemplate his existence in the driver's seat.

"...You ok over there, bud?" Lemmy broke the silence from the backseat, noticing Matt's uneasiness.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm just nervous and overthinking everything." He laughed nervously as his hands rang against the steering wheel.

"Yeah, I get that. I promise, though, nothing will go wrong, and I'll be watching backstage anyway, so if something happens, I can just run out there and power bomb a few people, no big deal." Before Matt could even think of responding the car went over a huge pothole, and Jeff's head slammed against the window. The poor boy woke up with a loud groan and grabbed at the side of his head, the sounds of Matt and Lemmy laughing at him filling the car.

"Shut up, that hurt, man!" His attitude only made them laugh more. Jeff let out another groan, this time in embarrassment. “You guys are mean." He muttered under their breath and moved to put his head on the console instead of the window.

"Oh, poor baby, all we do is bully you, huh?" Their hand moved up to push the hair out of Jeff's face as they continued berating him, tone condescending but soft in a way that made it seem not too mean. He tangled their fingers together over his cheek as he grumbled.

Thankfully, besides Jeff's sore forehead they arrived at the arena safely and in one piece. They were even on time, which wasn’t something that happened often unless Matt drove, he did most of the time. Jeff was insanely blind and refused to wear glasses, and Lemm was (very) just a little reckless on the road.

"Hey, Lemm! What're you doin' here?" A feminine voice broke Lemmy out of their thoughts as they waited for the Hardys outside of the men’s locker room.

"Nothing much, it's the guys' first match on the roster so I came along. Just waitin’ for them and we'll prolly go to catering or something. What's goin' on with you, Chyna?" They asked back, happy to see the women. Chyna had been one of the women figures that was actually positive in their life, along with their grandmother and just about the rest of the women's roster.

There were pictures hidden away of Lemmy and Chyna too, both with Chyna kneeling down to their toddler-sized level, but one of them talking sweetly and another a soft, warming hug. Billy Gunn was in them too, right next to Chyna.

"Oh, nothing new, I love it though. Tell those boys of yours I said good luck for me, alright?" Lemmy let out a hum and a nod, their grin growing. God, Chyna was just the sweetest. None of those guys in the ‘new DX’ deserved her. Except Billy, he was great. "I gotta get going, I was looking for Shawn, you seen him?"

"Yeah, I was just talking to him, he went over to see Hunter I think." They pointed down the hallway in the direction the two had run off in.

”Alright, thanks! See you later, gorgeous!”

"Yeah, see you!" With no one else to talk to, Lemmy leaned back against the wall and waited, now with a loving smile. Chyna kinda had that effect on everyone. It didn't take too long for the door to open revealing the brothers in their ring attire.

"Well look at you two! Man, all the ladies are gonna love you, huh?" A small blush crawled up Jeff's face when Lemmy gave a tug at his belt loop, making him stumble over in their direction, their shoulders grazing as he leaned against the wall next to them. Matt gave out a laugh before speaking up.

"Adam said he would be over by the guerilla, I'm gonna go say hi real quick. Wanna come?" Matt had been complaining about being hungry since they left. He’d been too busy trying to figure out the way to the stadium to eat something. Jeff was too busy grumbling about being tired to help, and Lemmy was terrible with directions. Poor Matt, stuck with two delinquents.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay behind and try to get the sleep out of my system. Say hi for me though." They all got along super well with most of the tag-team roster that they had worked with, especially E&C, but sometimes Jeff just wanted a moment to himself. Or a moment with Lemm, they were comfortable enough together that it felt the same.

"I'll stay with you then, do some warmups or somethin'." Lemm spoke up, bumping their arm into Jeff’s.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it then, I guess. See you in a bit." Matt turned the corner, leaving the two by themselves, probably praying that they would be at the guerrilla on time. A moment of silence cast over them. That was something that seemed to happen a lot, yet it was never in a bad way, they were simply enjoying each other's presence.

"You excited?" Jeff's head whipped down to Lemmy at the sudden words. His eyebrows raised as he nodded his head, looking away again. Sometime in the quiet Lemms head had made its way to his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm real excited. Nervous as hell, but we'll be fine out there. We’ll do good.” His response brought a smile to their lips. “Real glad you came with us, Lemm.”

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, man. Y'know how much I love you. I mean, I love matt more but.." Jeff's offended look made them burst into laughter. Making them laugh had always been something Jeff loved, hearing Lemmy's loud cackle always brightened his day. Hell, his week, his month.

"Hey!" Jeff gave their shoulder a playful push before pulling them into a semi-rough hug. Soon enough the two returned back to silence as they remained hugging, now swaying back and forth. Lemm rubbed his back as they did so, something they always did as the two hugged. Feeling his warmth under their fingers brought them comfort.

"Love you too, Dal. So much." It wasn't common for anybody to use Dallas' first name, but they loved hearing it from Jeff. The way it rounded off his tongue was perfect in his accent. The two separated after a while and continued their hushed conversation, still shoulder-to-shoulder.

“How’s your head feeling?” They asked, through a yawn. It had been a long, early drive. ”Can’t have you with a concussion already.”

Jeff scoffed, gently bumping into their shoulder again as they pushed his hair back with one swift movement. When he jumps just a little at their touch, they pull their hand back and give it a playful kiss before softly placing it back on his temple.

“Better?” Jeff only hums through a huffed laugh, used to their antics. They look over at him in his laughter, eyes gleaming. If Lemmy couldn’t wrestle, they’d want to make Jeff laugh for their career. It was their favorite thing to do.

"Hey, I meant it when I said everyone's gonna be swooning over you. You look nice. Real nice." Lemmy's words made Jeff blush even more than earlier. They laughed at the boy's reaction, making him turn away. "Oh, don't get all shy on me now!”

”Stop making fun of me, man!” He laughed, dropping his head back.

"In what world am I making fun of you? I just said I loved you and that you're hot! C'mon man, let's warm up before you lose the rest of your brain."

[flickeringart]

Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

----

There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

[awheckery]

so. uh.

cut for frank discussion of chronic illness and the serious failures of the american healthcare system. tw for fatphobia and gaslighting.

Last July, I got sick. It wasn’t too bad at first: some fatigue, body aches and a slightly elevated temp, until suddenly it was bad and I wound up in the ER. It took three rounds of steroids, a round of antibiotics and a more powerful inhaler to get my feet back under me, but I never fully recovered.

I didn’t talk about it here, except for answering an ask in October and blaming my lack of creative output on depression. It really, really wasn’t depression; it was my health progressively collapsing, one system after another until the avalanche of symptoms that flattened me just after New Year’s.

For the last four months, I’ve spiked a fever over 100°F nearly every single day. My joints hurt. My knuckles are knobbly and swollen, and occasionally my fingers are so painful and weak I’ve had to literally tape my pen to my hand at work. I get rashes at random that itch so badly I claw myself bloody. I overheat and have hot flashes in temperate rooms. The skin on my face and neck and shoulders turns red and hot to the touch, like I’m burning for hours with no immediately discernible provocation.

Some days, I wake up and I don’t have the strength to get out of bed. Some days I can’t wake up at all. I’ve slept through deafening alarms for hours, long enough for my phone battery to run out and die. I can only stand up for ten minutes a day without being hobbled by the effort, and every extra minute beyond that I pay for in hours spent bedbound by exhaustion and pain.

I keep losing words. I’ll arrive at the middle of a sentence and stumble to a halt, because the word I need isn’t there. It’s not true aphasia, and it’s not all the time. I comprehend written and verbal communication perfectly well, but I can’t get my own thoughts out without tripping over them.

I am, to quote a friend attending school to be a nurse practitioner, “a textbook case for SLE,” and I agree, but somehow I can’t pay a doctor to treat me seriously.

In January, I was referred to a rheumatologist after the bloodwork my PCP ordered indicated I had autoimmune activity of some kind.

To date, that’s my only test for anything that’s come out definitively positive for any kind of disease state at all. Ever. I tested negative for celiac disease on a technicality nine years ago, despite how specifically and intensely sick gluten makes me, so I was dismayed but not too surprised when follow-up bloodwork for lupus came back just barely inside the range of “normal.” Despite that, I wasn’t prepared to be jerked around as much as I have been.

The first rheumatologist I saw, back at the end of January, had barely been in the exam room for thirty seconds when I could see he’d already made up his mind about me. He was dismissive and perfunctory and condescending when he told me that “plenty of perfectly healthy people have positive ANA results,” and he referred me back to my PCP for an exercise program and antidepressants to treat my “fibromyalgia.”

Putting aside that I’m not a “perfectly healthy person,” I’m a Fat Lady living in America, and I’ve experienced medical fatphobia for decades at this point. You learn the key words and phrases pretty quickly, and “exercise program” has never not been a euphemism for “weight loss.” (Which is heavily ironic in this particular situation, because before I was Fat, I walked 2-3 miles a day for funsies and spent 15-20 hours in the gym every week. I only stopped because I somehow shredded both my ACLs in one summer. I’d love to get back to that if a rheumatologist could help me figure out how to be active and uninjured at the same time.)

I was frustrated after that first appointment, enough to request a referral to one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Why not go to the best, right? There was a five month wait for an appointment, but I am stubborn, and I made use of the time by documenting every bullshit symptom my body threw at me. I have a daily symptom journal, full of subjective entries like my pain and fatigue levels, as well as objective entries like daily temperature changes and photos of my rashes and my burning face and my goddamn mouth ulcers.

I thought I had enough logged to be impossible to ignore, and then I saw the second rheumatologist three weeks ago, and the first sentence out of her mouth was the beginning of an interrogation on my blood pressure, and whether I was taking medication or if I was on a fucking exercise program for it. I tried to get the appointment back on track by sharing my symptom diary, and she turned back to my just-under-the-wire test results, and told me, “many healthy people have positive ANA results, it doesn’t mean anything without other positive test results for specific conditions.”

I said, “Healthy people don’t run a fever for months.”

And then she told me that a "fever is not associated with any of the conditions a rheumatologist treats." I was so startled by the confidence and authority with which she stated the lie that I was unable to speak to rouse a defense or contribute anything else for the rest of the appointment. After an insultingly brief examination, in which I never took my face mask off and she declined to look at any of my photos, she said that she “didn’t see anything that could be rheumatologically wrong with me.”

I asked her what she thought could be wrong with me, and she grudgingly admitted it’s possible, though rare to have an autoimmune disease and test negative for everything, so she would order more tests and refer me to appropriate specialists for my various symptoms. She ordered a referral to an infectious disease specialist for my fevers, and a referral to a dermatologist for my “rosacea” (that she’s assuming I have, because I would like to again note she did not see it, at no point did she actually look at my face or a photo of it), and a referral to an ENT for a salivary gland biopsy for my dry mouth, and a referral to a neurologist for my “stroke-like” memory and speech problems.

It was, all told, an unbearably shitty appointment. I cried in my car for an hour in the hospital parking garage so I wouldn’t do anything impulsive like lying down in traffic, and then I went home, cried some more, and went to bed for three days.

On the fourth day, I woke up enraged. It’s one thing to be blown off by a doctor when you’re just reporting symptoms without proof, it’s a wholly different thing for a doctor to ignore your proof and lie about diagnostic criteria to your face.

It’s hard enough not to think you’re crazy when your test results come back negative over and over; it’s that much harder after being told that your major concrete measurable symptom is diagnostically irrelevant, when it really, really isn’t.

(for the record, just going off the symptoms I can concretely prove I’ve experienced in the last week alone, I land a 16 on this chart, which is the most up-to-date, widely agreed-upon diagnostic criteria)

I have decided, for the moment, to play ball. I don’t have the energy to jump through all the hoops this rheumatologist wants, but I'm angry enough to drag myself through them. Tomorrow I’m supposed to see the infectious diseases specialist. On Wednesday I see the dermatologist. In two weeks I see the ENT, and I’ve got a neurology appointment tentatively scheduled for December.

I’m going to be blisteringly forthright with all of these doctors about why I’m there, and that I’m looking to exclude diagnoses other than the lupus I pretty obviously have. (Except with the ENT. Apparently they treat allergies, and I’d like to be able to go outside long enough to walk a dog, someday.)

I’m supposed to see this rheumatologist again at the end of November. Depending on how this week’s appointments go, I’m aiming to either move up my appointment with her when one becomes available, or just send a firm yet diplomatic email asking why the diagnostic criteria apply to everyone but me.

If anybody else has gotten through this fucking nightmare successfully, I’m open to suggestions, it’s not like it can get worse at this point.

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 3

One, Two, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Warmings: General Angst and Food Mention.

Word Count: 1,820

The smells of cooking food permeated the kitchen as Virgil nervously slunk into the kitchen, his eyes darted around, catching a glimpse of Roman’s foot tapping up and down as he bounced his leg. He could feel the anxiety pouring out of the creative side like a faucet about to overflow a sink, and ordinarily he would have snapped at Roman to reign it in with the last thing he wanted to deal with was yet another person’s anxieties… but not this time. This time he could understand Roman’s fears, as they aligned with much of his own. 

Moving over to the dining table, he perched himself on top, giving Roman more occasional glances. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, detesting the way that he felt himself softening at the heartbroken expression on Roman’s face. He had cared for sure… but he also hated the fact that he cared so much for this, if he had cared less then all of this would have hurt much less than it currently was. “How’s Pat?” 

Virgil felt his heart sink into his stomach at the sight of Roman’s expression breaking apart even further. 

He hated this so much. 

Roughly Roman ran his hand over his face, as if he was attempting to wipe away tears before they could even be seen. “I’m… not okay.” He honestly said, and looking towards the kitchen he couldn’t help but to add on. “And I don’t think Patton’s much better, I think he was crying all night...” A part of him couldn’t help but to be resentful towards Logan for all of this, but another part of him… the part of him that he was desperately trying to squish down before it could rise back up… actually felt oddly proud of Logan for doing this. 

It felt… right, almost. 

But it didn’t make it hurt any less, the distance that Logan was obviously trying to put between all of them. He had thought that they were closer than that, but then again… He wasn’t all that certain that he had even been acting like a friend lately, sure he had been focused on getting Thomas with the man of his dreams, and sure he had been neglecting the others a little. But he was certain that Logan would’ve been fine on his own for a little while, it was the entire reason that he had given Logan access to the imagination to begin with. So that if he needed to blow off some steam, or just relax he could easily do so without him needing to be there to make him relax. 

But… 

He’d been wrong. 

Again. 

Virgil huffed, dragging Roman’s attention away from himself and back to the anxious side sitting beside him. He looked… well honestly he looked okay-ish. There were tiny tell-tale signs that Virgil hadn’t slept as well as he was trying to portray, the caked on eyeshadow covering up dark circles and the even more caked on foundation was something that Roman could almost too easily see through. But he didn’t look like he’d be swept away, not like Patton did. And he didn’t look like he was about to break apart into a million pieces, at least not like Roman did. Virgil looked… weary but strong, like an old piece of rebar poking out of concrete that refused to be weathered down by anything. 

Roman felt more than a little jealous of Virgil's strength, or maybe it was just his denial that he wished he could fall back into...  

Either way, he could only sit silently as Patton came into the dining room sniffling as he carried the plates of food for them to eat. It was almost painful to watch him consider and then reconsider putting a plate out for Logan, just to immediately go back into the kitchen and grab a plate for the logical side even though he had yet to show up. 

“Just in case…” Patton softly mumbled, putting the plate down so carefully that one might have thought that it would break at the softest breeze. “You never know…” 

They didn’t know, there was no telling if Logan would even want to eat with them. They hadn’t heard anything from him since he’d sunk out, and they’d heard even less from him that night. When Virgil usually heard Logan going crazy on his various projects during the night, now he heard absolutely nothing. He had no idea if Logan had merely just gone to bed early, or if he just… wasn’t in his room at all. 

For a long moment, they all sat there. Their plates filled with the food that Patton had prepared for them, with one empty seat at the end of the table. And for that moment they sat there not touching a single thing on their plates, unsure if they should actually eat or not. 

Roman had picked up his fork, but just half-heartedly poked at his food. While Patton just morosely looked back at his food, a self-pitying look on his face as his hands laid limpy on the table not making a single movement to begin eating. Virgil taking one look around at the two sides he stuck with, only sighed wanting to do something to break the uneasy tension in everyone but not having nearly enough gusto to do so. That was something that would require energy from him, and that alone was something that he really didn’t have enough of right now. So he resigned himself to sit in silence, and to eat a meal that he wasn’t even sure that he wanted anymore. 

When he heard the footsteps. 

Patton’s head snapped up so fast Virgil was sure that he heard something crack, and a hopeful look blossomed across the moral side’s face. Like a flower seeing the light of the sun for the first time, a light flourished in his eyes that almost instinctively made Virgil want to look away or to playfully curl his lip at how damn happy Patton looked in that moment as Logan came down the stairs his eyes fixed onto a book he was reading. Maybe everything would be okay, if Logan was still willing to eat with them, then perhaps they could slowly fix things over with him. Perhaps all wasn’t lost, and-

And just like that the look of happiness was gone from Patton’s face. 

Logan had… Brought his own food.

With no more than a second of hope being dashed from them, the uneasy silence was back. Only this time, with Logan finally sitting amongst them, they all finally began to eat. 

The moment seemed to stretch on, even though they all knew that it really hadn’t been that long to begin with. 

 Logan hasn’t looked at them once, as he took quick bites from his sandwich while his eyes remained glued to the pages of his book. Every now and then, his phone buzzes and then and only then does Logan look away from his book, shifting his attention to his phone for short bursts of time. It was a timer, that much Virgil could glean from the screen of his phone reflected in Logan’s glasses, much more than that… it was a reminder set to go off every ten minutes for thirty minutes. Like.. like he was nothing more than some person at work who had a thirty minute break in between doing his work. 

Virgil had felt awfully betrayed when that realization had finally smacked him across the face, to the point where he was honestly unsure if he wanted to even tell the Roman or Patton. The both of them were taking Logan’s new… whatever this was, pretty hard. While he may have been annoyed with both Patton and Roman in the past, it truthfully hurt him an awful lot to see Patton crying as much as he was, and to see Roman blaming himself the way that he was. A part of him wanted to tell them that it wasn’t their fault, but he knew that they wouldn’t accept it. Not with Logan the way he was now, and especially with no end in sight. 

It certainly seemed like this was going to carry on for some time, and how long… Virgil didn’t know. 

He didn’t want to consider that this could possibly go on forever. 

Tearing his eyes away from Logan, he tried to drown himself in the food that he had on his plate. But even then, with the empty space that seemed to be Logan, the food felt like tasteless mush in his mouth. He could only stand a few more bites, before the texture of it forced him to put his fork down, calling it quits for this meal at least. 

Looking up he could see Patton and Roman glancing at one another, desperately trying to convey who exactly should try to talk to Logan while he was still here. But their useless glances, and suggested shoulder shrugs did less than nothing. 

It was almost painful to watch. 

It only became that much more painful as Logan stood up, clapping his book closed before dusting himself free from invisible crumbs. Not a single glance was given to them as Patton and Roman each tried to convey with their eyes who should be the one to talk to Logan, and as he took a quick glance to his watch Roman had opened his mouth. 

Looking at Logan’s face, and the professional detachment on it, Roman found himself faltering. There were no words to be had from him, or at least none that he could think that would help this problem in any kind of way. 

Logan sank down, without a word back to them and Roman’s mouth snapped shut. 

There wasn’t any anger to be thrown at him though, Patton himself felt largely the same way. What could he say? What could he do that would make Logan reconsider, let alone begin to trust them again? He could hardly even ask for such a thing, he’d hurt all of them more times than he cared to admit in the past couple of weeks. And whether he liked it or not, he had done something to obliterate Logan’s trust and his love for him. To the point where he couldn’t call Logan his own name to his face, he could only do so personally in his own head as if that would get the relationship they once had back.  

Perhaps he didn’t deserve it…

But it didn’t make him, or any of them any less concerned for Logan. 

Patton’s mouth felt as dry as the sand on a beach, “I…” He paused, as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “I don’t know what I can do to fix this…” He sorrowfully whispered, “I’m sorry…” 

Neither Virgil nor Roman could say anything in return.

They didn’t know how to fix it either. 

[worldsover]

Fermata ft. Chuu

length ✦ 5651

genres ✧ Dal Segno sequel; dirty talk; oral; makeup fetish; more subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You write to keep your concentration and disconnect you from your ever-changing concerns. For all your ideas, the true crux of putting a piece together is actually making something concrete. The self-control you require to be consistent, and consistently creative, is what makes music so hard to stay focused on. This album must be finished. This year. No written promises but you have to do right by her after all you've invested. You fucked Jiwoo in the mouth yesterday. Real right of you to do.

“Coming!” Jiwoo must be far from the front door with how her holler resounds the apartment. Where do you put your hands? Pockets are natural though they don't feel like it. Many but not enough footsteps grow in loudness but you expect a stampede anyway when the door opens. Instead, only Yerim and Sooyoung manifest in the opening hallway.

“Hello, oppa! Jiwoo unnie is just… Umm. Taking care of business.” Yerim playfully elbows you when she pulls you in but you stop her to take your shoes off. Sooyoung sends a brusque wave your way and not much else as she collects assorted effects and clothing around the living room. There isn’t nearly as much noise as you expect.

Look around in confusion. “Did I miss something? Is today a holiday?”

“Jiwoo isn’t the only one who’s got schedules, PD-nim,” Sooyoung says.

Yerim turns around. She also has some nicer pants on, and a loose-fitting red top. “Unnie, you’re just visiting your family.”

“And that’s a schedule.”

“Well oppa, I have a CF to film so, ha!” Yerim raises a hand, victorious she just won the conversation. High five. She’s satisfied but Sooyoung gives no regard, clearly looking for something.

“What about the other girls?” you ask.

“I’m not a manager. Just count yourself lucky the dorm is so empty.” Yerim says.

“Damn, we can even record some demos too. Good thing I brought the mic. Hold on, before you guys go, wanna listen to some of our songs?” you say.

“Finally!” Yerim says.

“Just play it out loud, I can hear it,” Sooyoung says. You offer your help with whatever she’s searching for though she brushes you off and insists she can do it herself.

Yerim brings out a bluetooth speaker from underneath the living room couch and coughs because of whatever dust she just procured.

Pull out your Macbook from your backpack and connect it to the speaker. You think about which track to play and pick the one that shows off Jiwoo’s voice the best so far, Jiwoo - Deeper.

Yerim immediately gets into the beat, bobbing her head and dancing. However, when the chorus hits, her ears perk up and she starts cheering at the notes that Jiwoo belts. Sooyoung also turns an ear towards the speaker in curiosity.

A vacuum interrupts the music. Jiwoo swoops in with the machine, scurrying her shapely legs with no heed to their bareness. She pushes up her fake circle glasses and says over the commotion, “I knew you needed this! Oppa, hello!”

“I’m trying to listen to the music here!” Yerim covers her ears.

Sooyoung looks down and pauses at the edge of the couch. “Oh hey, there’s my bracelet! Really nice music by the way!”

“Wow, you guys are so kind.” Jiwoo says, her voice piercing the screaming vacuum without effort. She turns it off realizing she's the only one can really do so. “You still like the music now?”

“No unnie, I mean it,” Yerim says.

“Why are you wearing just that big tracksuit sweater? Do you even have shorts on?” you interrupt the gushing. Jiwoo turns around and hugs herself as if she dropped a towel, even though her immodesty comes from her lower body. Good thing no one notices her sweater ride up for a moment to reveal white panties. Sooyoung looks at you confused while Yerim smirks to match yours. She wasn't even looking at Jiwoo but she could probably tell from your face. Damn, she’s too perceptive.

“Well, it looks like that’s my cue to go,” Yerim says.

“I’m so confused,” Sooyoung looks back and forth at you and the other two girls in the room. You shrug your shoulders, pretending to take solace in her ignorance of the situation.

“Come on unnie, we’ll go together. I’ll go out to get money and you go out to get your kisses from mommy and daddy.” Somehow that didn’t sound too offensive but Sooyoung punches Yerim anyway.

“Oppa, can you finish vacuuming for me?” You’re about to make a retort about labor laws but Jiwoo runs to the bathroom and immediately you hear Jiwoo practicing melodic runs. They’re definitely not the ones you taught her, unless moaning was part of the routine.

“So she has to get her vocal cords ready too huh? I’m suuure that’s all she’s doing in there.” Yerim keeps poking at your bicep with two fingers. You turn on the vacuum to try and hide her overt naughtiness but Yerim’s devilish look tells enough. For full measure, she winks at you as she drags Sooyoung out of the dorm. Mental note to deal with that can of worms for later.

Head to the big bedroom where Jiwoo’s still doing vocal exercises. Three bunk beds line the walls while pillows, blankets and bean bags litter the floor. As the centrepiece of the room sits a simple wooden table, short enough to rest on the polystyrene filled chairs while adequately comfortable to get work done. She stands proud on top of the table as she practices the actual runs you tell her to do.

“Oh, oh, ohhhhh, oh, ohhhhppa!” She jumps down from the table and nearly tackles you when she locks her legs around you in a hug. Take a second to balance yourself while holding her as tightly as possible.

“Jiwoo, you’re eager today.”

“Of course I am, oppa. I’m soooo excited to. Record. Of course.”

“Well if you are, please get off of me.”

“Oppa! You don’t like my hugs?” she says nearly falsetto. Her aegyo throws you off, so you throw her off. Onto a bean bag. “I guess that’s a no.”

“No, not no. I mean. We have to be focused, Jiwoo. Is there any rope or anything?”

“You just said we have to be focused, oppa.”

You wave your hands in denial. “What’d I say about acoustics?”

“Ohhh, like the foam at the studio?”

“Exactly. Especially with how big this room is, we’re going to have to need all the insulation we can get. Ahhh!” Your random shout rumbles throughout the room and startles the relaxing Jiwoo. 

She stands up. “I get it! Geez.”

“Oh yeah, I need a pop filter too.”

“A thin fabric right? For all the p-p-plosives.”

“Mhm.”

Inevitable. Jiwoo takes off her panties and you shake your head laughing in disapproval.

“Come on now, that’s just not sanitary,” you say.

“So you’re saying you don’t want them?”

“No, I’ll just confiscate them for your stupidity. Tsk. Find some pantyhose.“ She gets up. “Ahem. Not used.”

The panties have a tiny wet spot, and your nose takes a quick bask in its musk but Jiwoo immediately catches you.

“And I’m too horny,” Jiwoo says with characteristic sass. You put it in your pocket as she gets pantyhose from her drawer. After fashioning a stand for the pantyhose for her to sing into, you both get to work hanging up blankets from the bunk beds while clotheslines become pillow-lines. A makeshift room within a room, still centered by the table but now surrounding you with cushioning cloth instead of acoustically reflective drywall.

Barely enough space for jumping jacks but you start doing them anyway and it flummoxes Jiwoo for a moment. You don’t need to tell her to join in. Sit down to play an instrumental from the laptop and she pauses the exercise before you motion for her to continue. 

“I need you with the right energy for the beat.”

“Yeah, I figured. Synthwave is really popular now, huh?” Her bouncing to the rhythm rides her hoodie up again but now her cute slit and bare legs are plain to see. Your tongue dries your lips. She catches her breath before stretching one last time. Keep it together. “So are we recording?” 

You nod. Take out the microphone and two pairs of in ear monitors for listening, and connect all the devices to the computer. After setting everything up, Jiwoo gets up and you hold the microphone and filter for her.

Click. “Aaand, recording.”

Click. “One more.”

But that’s it. Two takes. You could not get a better sounding Jiwoo than that. Not a quick demo but the actual release vocal track, since even in such an imperfect recording environment, it sounds perfect to your ears. A little frustration since where was this Jiwoo in all the previous sessions? Maybe you’ll have to consider more visits for recording though you’re not sure if you could make another miracle happen to have everyone else out of the dorm at the same time.

“Jiwoo, that was a- Dammit, that was perfect,” you say.

“Of course, it was!” Not that there’s much room in the improvised recording studio but she ensures you feel even less of it when she gets closer. “Sooo. Wanna fuck my face?”

“That’s not the arrangement! You didn’t mess up.” 

“You definitely sound disappointed I did a good job,” Jiwoo says.

”Of course I’m not disappointed.” You sigh. Are we doing this again? A single flitter of her brows. “I’m not going to fuck your face this time, okay? You have to be able to take that dick all the way down yourself.”

No protests. She lowers her head once in gratitude. 

"Thank you for the meal!" Jiwoo says as she shows off her pearly whites in a big smile. She turns her head up to look at you lovingly as she cups your balls with her hands before she lowers her head again for a precursory smooch onto your cock. This time, she gives the same slow care to your shaft with her lips as she is to your balls with her hands. As if she wasn't going to ruin her makeup.

Restraining your panting and cries of ecstasy is arduous enough with Jiwoo engulfing you when-

“Kim Jiwoo!” Sooyoung’s voice reverberates from maybe the living room or the foyer.

Jiwoo side-eyes the study door. Her head does not stop its seesaw. Is this girl so entranced by your cock that she feels not an ounce of dread?

Sooyoung yells, “I forgot something! Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back later with dinner!”

“Okay! Thanks! We’re busy,” you choke on your words as Jiwoo does the same on your dick, “Uh, listening to the mix!”

Sooyoung, still shouting, but attempting to say lower, “Sorry! I’ll go now. Bye.”

Wait a few minutes before getting up, and of course Jiwoo’s lips are still wrapped around your cock as you walk towards the door. Dorm is empty. She must have performed magic taking off her shirt and underwear to play with herself because you can't remember if she's ever stopped sucking you off. The kinematics don't add up. More likely, you’re slightly faint from her perilous suction, making left and right difficult directions to parse from each other.

"Fuck you're already so good, Jiwoo." 

Pull her up and carry her to deposit onto the bottom bunk of the bed by the window.  She ends up belly diving onto the mattress’ surface and her buttcheeks recoil just the slightest bit.  Jiwoo notices and starts giggling when she plays around with her perky cheeks.

"You like my ass, oppa?" Nod.

“I said I wasn’t going to fuck your face today. Fuck. Maybe I’ll fuck you there instead,” you say in a low bass.

Her eyes turn into full moons at your suggestion. You laugh. 

”Naughty fucking girl. Next time, when you’re a good girl. Such a fun ass though.” Follow through with the compliment as you line up your cock to the prone girl’s mouth, arcing down to fondle her round buns. It's a miracle and also a bit embarrassing that your erection is soft after all that. Best guess is that it's had so much stimulation, but all of the masturbation after recalling your previous facefuck probably didn't help. Jiwoo takes her index and middle digits and raps them on your cock to a freeform beat.

“Aww oppa, your cock. I need to make it big and meaty again,” Jiwoo whines and her pout confesses that she's a little disheartened, however her eyes are more determined.

“Tell me all the ways you want me to use you." She raises her vivid eyebrows and lists her head a little forward. “Okay, miss ‘I won’t let go of this cock even when there’s others in the house’. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. Just relax and go on.”

“Hmph. Fine. Well, your dick is right here, sooo after I lick it up,” which she begins doing by inspecting your shaft with intent, before finding a spot she deems scrumptious enough to lap up. “You fuck this dirty mouth pussy clean while I play myself on my tummy just like this.”

Jiwoo sounds ridiculous talking with her tongue out but at the same time, her cheeky lisp fortifies your cock. Her hands wander underneath herself and she reels back, titillated by her own words. You watch the small woman fondling herself with both hands while your erection at half-mast presses against her face in suspense.

“I could flip myself over and I’d never let go of oppa’s cock, I promise, then you could see your bulge in my fuck hole.”

How could this girl talk so filthy? Her face doesn’t even look like it should utter the word darn, yet here she is giving a study of her throat’s distension from your dick.

Jiwoo continues, one hand rubbing her clit fervently, “Then, maybe. Maybe oppa could get on top of me and pretty please eat my little pussy out while he shoves his cock into me?”

You couldn’t just stand idly by, though it wouldn’t be the worst with how her mouth vibrates your cock harder as her tone gets more gravelly and hungry. When you reach down, you see her wet slit preoccupied with two fingers from her other hand. It doesn’t stop you from slipping one in the increasingly creamy hole.

“Then oppa, if you still wanna at least?” her voice shrinks, but then returns in volume as she crescendos, “You keep your mouth on my slit as you lift up my legs and your silly slut is upside down and she’s choking on your cock and Jiwoo can’t breath and all the blood rushing to her head and you cum and Jiwoo doesn’t let any of spill out cuz Jiwoo is a good slut for oppa, and oppa, oppa, please!”

You join in stroking and rubbing her squishy soaking pussy lips and she looks up from her haze.

“Kim Jiwoo.” Your voice is stern and it seems more than any physical stimulation that your deep beckon is what sends her past the edge. Her pussy swallows whole your finger still inside her, wetness replacing all sensation that the digit once had. She accompanies her whole body’s spasms with loud visceral moans. It takes more than a mere moment to close her eyes and restore her breathing. The bedroom smells a little salty from all the fluids leaking her mouth and slit.

“How much porn have you been watching?” you say.

“As much as you oppa.”

Swallow down a bit of spit. “Huh?”

“Remember our very first recording session, you forgot your laptop and I returned it to you?”

“Fuck,” you say. Jiwoo stretches and lay spread-eagle on the bed, a gooey strand connecting between her two thighs. She licks her fingers.

“You're lucky I found it. Oppa, it’s all your fault I’m like this. Plus all those fancams of me in the same folder. I wanted to confess sooner but I needed more opportunities to be with you.” She sucks her hand more earnestly.

“I didn’t think sucking dick counted as confessing.”

“Hey, I did say I like you. Did you already forget? Tsk. Typical boy.”

“Look at this dick.” You didn’t have to say that because she’s already drilling holes into it with her eyes. “Remember how I said I was basically recording for free? Make your own inferences.” The round shape of her mouth in understanding is perfect.  "Now, open wide."

"Yes! Mm..."

 It’s hard to say which position is your favorite.

Fucking her face is straightforward but you pay closer attention. You’re certainly not down that deep, as you can still feel her uvula recoil on your tip and react with thick gagged out spit. Nothing like your cum but she sucks and spits the liquid in and out anyway. She definitely enjoys playing around with fluids in her mouth.

Jiwoo pulls away when she upturns herself, as she coughs with whatever throat muscles you hit. Her head hanging upside down off the mattress would be the perfect perspective to see your cock’s imprint on her neck but she still can’t manage the depth. The angle certainly makes your pistoning easier as your balls slap against your nose in more forceful pushes, playing vulgar slapping noises that mix with her gagging.

Afterwards, you lean over and move her head to get the mattress’s support instead of dangling. Hunch down to her wetness and the taste of her nectar more than makes up for the difficulty of thrusting while on top of her. Already having difficulty breathing with a cock in her airways, you don’t want to crush her under your weight. Still, you spend the most time between her thighs, taking in the muskiness of her pussy and all that it releases. It explains Jiwoo’s long drawn breath through her nose if you have a similarly alluring scent. There’s also the possibility your length steals too much air from her wet, gagging mouth but in this position, it’s her choice to hold your shaft in her throat for that much time.

Pick her up by the ass and cup the top of Jiwoo’s cheeks. Well, now they’re the bottom as she’s upside down in this piledriver sixty-nine position, both of you sucking and licking as closely as possible. She’s definitely enjoying the scents and tastes. You could drop her on her head and she'd thank you if you kept your cock in her mouth. Maybe you heard her mumble something like “yummy”, but anything resembling consonants are far past the point of physiology and linguistics. If anything, holding Jiwoo upside down makes her look more like a used sex doll than the cute girl that she is. 

A whole lot of mess to clean up later. Cans of Febreeze, maybe some rags and a mop. New sheets, soaked with nearly every bodily fluid mouthfucking can provide. However, all that work pales to the pure torture you’ve put upon yourself to not cum.  It helps with how often you pull out of her mouth as for all her prodigal gagging, she also looks thankful when you give her moments to rest her jaw and lips. Somehow you're in control the entire time yet you have not an ounce of it, avoiding your inevitable fate. Finally, you can rest. Now you’re thankful you jerked off many times before this to last as long as you have. 

Of course, resting did mean you were on an office chair and she was on her knees, but still. It’s a break from all the exercise.

“You know oppa,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” mumbling as she often does on your erection.

“Jiwoo-ah! Wear lip gloss.” How she manages to get that out so adorably with a cock in her mouth, you will never know.

“But I figured,” bobbing down, “I was sucking you off so sloppily,” and up, “It’d be such a waste of makeup.”

The girl made a point though you say, “I’d still like to see it one time. Alright? I don’t wanna have to ask either.”

“Okayyyy.” She says as she purrs on your dick. The little devil knows how weak you are when she talks with a full mouth. You still aren’t going to succumb this time. Pulling out of her mouth is as difficult as last time but you snap your head back and you snap your head away. 

"Nooo." A familiar cry. What if she didn't even like the taste of cum? No time for questions as your body falls apart in the clashing brass and woodwinds. The obnoxious dissonance making you pulse and pulse. You aim below her neck to allow the cum to drip down her collarbones and petite tits. Rub her nipples, sticky with your load and she lets out a little squeal when you tweak them.

"Pwetty pwease oppa. Your cumdump Chuu-ah really wants your cum." She puts her pointer on her swollen cheek. God, she's too much for one man but that’s the situation you put yourself in. 

Plop. 

Plop.

"Jiwoo, please. It's so sensitive," you whimper as she keeps sucking the tip.

"You get to do whatever you want oppa."

"Fuck.” Pull Jiwoo off of you. “Maybe I will."

You collect your load from her tits as an impressive volume drips down.

"Ahh," Jiwoo says but you push her down one last time with your unstained hand and your other uses a finger to penetrate her little pussy, providing it with the semen that she desperately wants.

"I hope this is good enough for now." Her squeaks in time with each finger on your sticky hand exploring her insides confirm that it is indeed.

A step closer and your rehardening cock finds her labia, small but inviting. She gasps and shudders as you tease her pussy lips in a familiar way. It’s just as sensitive for her as it is for you with how much she sweats and writhes from the shaft The friction of the pussyjob is unbearable and instead of juices dripping from within her, a heavy volume of watery liquid squirts out. 

“I’m so, I’m so sorry oppa.”

“It’s okay, Jiwoo.” You put the tip in. “Doesn’t that feel so good.”

“Yes! Thank you. Awwww,” She says when you pop it out. In another world, that tip pushes past and you ravage her. But at this point, you have standards to uphold.

“Be a good girl for me and you can have more, okay?” Give her a rainbow dildo to practice with.

"Oh I already have one, oppa. This looks like it fits better though. Well I guess worse considering how much bigger it is. Just like. Yours. Fuck."

Despite all her orgasms, she looks ready to masturbate yet another time.

"We can't just cum all day Jiwoo," you say. She sighs and nods in understanding.

“Where am I gonna hide this? It really stands out.”

“Just keep it inside you.” Her eyes light up. “No wait.”

Jiwoo giggles. “C’mon oppa, they should be back any time soon.”

You finish up some final touches in your recording. There’s definitely more hitches when it comes to dealing with vocal recordings in such an improvised setting but it’s certainly not as much of a problem as looking at any of the other members in the eyes as you stay for dinner.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

tYou tend to get in a rush when you procrastinate as much as you do. It’s her first album, there’s no reason to rush her first album. Besides, the strength of any artist’s work is in their sophomore album, since they’ve had forever to work on that first one and now people are expecting the second. In either case, you really have time, but you don’t let yourself feel that. Instead, mixing and recording, once a job you enjoyed doing, has turned into a series of stressors in your life.

Jiwoo’s in a rush too. Why is she in such a rush?

“Hello. Oppa. I. Uh. Heard you got into a fender bender.” Every word sounds laborious as she opens the door to the studio. You step out into the hallway then look left and right. Nothing out of place.

“Yeah, just some scratches. You okay, Jiwoo?”

Her lips tuck in when she walks forward even a step. “Yep, doing juust fine. We gonna get to recording or what?”

“I mean if you say so.”

Each step towards the booth has her hitch her breath just a little, but she looks focused as ever so you waste no time and hit record. Should you text another member and ask if anything's off about Jiwoo today? Her singing is fine, maybe a little more vocal fry in her voice than usual, but it fits the sultry ballad.

You text Chaewon as Jiwoo keeps trying out different intonations for the pre-chorus.

Chaewon: "she was all flirty and weird today"

You: "lmao aight, tell something idk"

"yeah yeah, but this is different" 

"different how? she's always like that"

Jiwoo sees you typing and stops her singing to ask if anything's wrong. You shake your head and wave your free hand, gesturing for her to continue.

"i guess less wordy and more touchy today? good luck, lmk if you figure it out"

"i will. see ya later" 

Curious. You set your phone down and inspect Jiwoo's eyes and her crinkled nose. Hmm. 

A few hours later, you’re still recording. For how well the session at the dorm went, it feels like you’re back to square one with all of her mistakes today. She had such a good first takes too but her vocal quality is definitely receding, and in a different way than usual.

“I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back,” you say into the microphone.

You go quickly to relieve yourself. A lot of water today. Needed it looking at Jiwoo in whatever weird state she's in. For some godforsaken reason you have an urge to take her mouth right now and completely ruin her. This album is never coming out.

Slowly creak the door to the studio open. No need for surprise anymore. Jiwoo pulls out a dildo from her sobbing vagina in the vocal booth and drags it up her body. Her eyes are closed, her focus clearly on the sensation of the dildo finally removed for her. She really went through with your suggestion. Must've been in there for a while considering Chaewon noticed something off earlier today. The dildo meets Jiwoo's lips, both wet from her desire and she shoves it in as deep as she can in the first try. 

Walk towards the Macbook and notice that it's recording. Shit, how much space did you have left on it? Hopefully, not going to have to clean it up later.

Finally, her eyes open and she smiles looking at you while she touches herself with one hand and deepthroats herself with the other using the toy you gave her.  She pauses her masturbation for a moment, tapping her ear. A new audio clip in Ableton, so put on your headphones.

“Come here oppa. I did a bad job today, didn’t I?”

The only words she needs for you to drop everything and walk into the booth. 

“You did,” you say as you unbuckle.

In a single stroke, she swallows your cock, matching the reinsertion of the dildo into her pussy. Jiwoo makes a tight vacuum seal with her luscious lips and shows off how well she manages her breath. Air squeezes through in her nose as you rarely unfastened yourself from her suction, and as she rarely allowed you to. Her lips are a good cock ring, her mouth a fleshlight. At the very least, this gave you much patience with her recording, knowing you were allowed to use your frustrations to turn the talented young lady into an object to use.

It’s incredible how little she has to touch herself to achieve orgasm when your cock is in her mouth. To be fair, keeping the dildo as long as she has inside of her must be a feat of its own.

“Jiwoo. Did you have this in you all day? I bet you’d prefer it were the real thing, huh?”

“Mmmhm. Mmmm!" She convulses at once. The toy squeezes in and out of her while she moans and spills saliva all over your cock. “Fuck, I wanted to cum all day but I had to wait. It’s your turn now, right?”

Jiwoo pulls out the soaked dildo and with her little fingers teases the skin of your dick before maintaining a tight grip. Her hand’s perfect rhythm and all the sucking she’s done so far today gets you right there and over the edge as quickly as she did. You unload all over the colorful sex toy and Jiwoo doesn’t let you have time to think as she puts the cum-covered toy back inside her.

You suck in some air. ”Who said you could have that cum? Lie down on the couch.” No pretense. Is there love between you two? Pull down her spotted top before mounting her modest but perky tits. It’s been barely a minute yet you’re already ready and solid once again. She tries to lean her head forward to retrieve her oral punishment-

“Thank you!”

Reward. Now that you think about it, maybe this isn’t working. The supine girl beneath you flitters her lashes, curious as to why you haven’t yet thrust into her mouth.

“You know much I love to see you work for it. Go on.”

As your cock is standing upwards at attention, she struggles raising her head to match yours, gently poking her tongue out to lick the frenulum.

“Ahh. No fair! I can’t reach. Ppfh.” She spits on it in frustration. “Ppptt. Let me have it.”

Her tongue wiggles around fruitlessly. Spit on her face in retort and you both laugh looking at the mess you’ve made. Yet at last, after playing with her food for what feels like an eternity, Jiwoo manages to wrangle your head with her tongue, guiding it to her eager lips.

“Now I better not feel that barrier, okay? Track 1.” And slowly force your way into her throat. You feigned frustration with her inability to fully take you down, but this was heaven. Regardless, stopped by her cursed reflex, you say: 

“Not good enough.” You’d almost feel bad about this.

“Again.” If it didn’t feel so good.

“One more.” Another submersion into her sopping mouth, the friction of her soft lips and tongue opposes all the lubricating slop from her throat. 

Unsheathe. “Oppa, oppa wait. Let me get something. You’ll like it.” You concede, getting off of her, and she pulls from her purse bright red lip gloss. “Watch me stain your cock!”

In a rush, Jiwoo vandalizes her lips red. Her makeup artist would be embarrassed. Of course, that makeup artist would be outright scandalized if they could see the precious idol with her back hunched over the arm of the couch, her upside down face inviting you.

You walk up and give her a good view of your balls. Tickle her neck and she leans forward to plant a pure kiss. On your cock head. “You know we haven’t kissed once yet? You haven’t even said anything about how you feel about me!”

“Neither did you.” Move your hands from Jiwoo’s neck to her bare chest and play with her stiffening nipples.

“Well, let me show you.” She plants another smooch on your shaft. And another. Yet another, until it’s turned into a full-on makeout session with your penis. The upended Jiwoo has to twist herself to leave the entirety of your flesh marked with lipstick stains. However, her best work is her french kiss where takes your dick in and plays around with her tongue, as if the mindless beast could kiss back. She leans her head back out one more time to receive you.

A sharp push and her tiny tits respond with the subtlest jiggle. 

All but an inch of your shaft covered red. “I’m so close,” she pouts.

“Well, so am I.” You keep thrusting and feel your orgasm get closer. You’re on the edge.

“Mwah.” Her lips’ release leaves your blank head even emptier.  “Mwah mwah, mwah.” She fixes her top back and wipes around her lips.

She takes wet wipes then a mask from her purse while you stand dumbfounded. There are four walls in the room. Wires spill from your laptop. One, two, three, four. You are one beat away from orgasm.

Her voice snaps your focus back. “Oppa, that was a good recording session, but you know. Ha Rin unnie has to pick me up. Bye!” Jiwoo scampers away, wiping at her face.

You might actually explode next time, in more ways than one. Guess you deserve this one though.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Just wanted to get one more thing done before the new year so I chose this since like I said, this was originally written as one part. In fact, this is actually the very first smut I wrote. However, I kept getting stuck and adding more, so a trilogy it is then. That’s right, one last one coming up!

[sallertiafabrica]

💖, ✏️,🌙, 🌈(Tricky AU), 💋 (talk about your Tricky AU? I’ve seen a lot of your art but I haven’t been able to read the fic yet and I’m really curious about it!)

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

Something I really like about my writing process (and creative work, in general) is how intuitive it is to me. It’s a bit hard to explain it, but it’s like– when I visualize a scene, I keep in mind the main “object” (doesn’t need to be something concrete) within it and just stream words onto paper related to it. It’s something that I was always able to do and that helped me a lot when I first started, it helps keeping the scene focused and makes them fun? In my opinion?

Like, an early example– there’s a scene in Trickster where Marinette’s ranting to Félix about Alya; it’s from before they consider each other anything more than classmates and Félix’s a new student, he has no fucking clue what she’s talking about but can put together she needs to vent. The scene object is “puzzle”. While Marinette is ranting in the dialogue section, the narration (Félix’s thoughts) is focused on the puzzle of what the hell is going on. And this is what makes the scene engaging, fun, and a good show of the character’s personality and mental state, imho.

Another examples: Symphony of Lights’ main objects throughout the whole fic is “music” and “lights” (pretty on the nose, I know, but by this point, I was already aware of my writing habits and went all out on them); Brandish the Needle object is a less concrete one, more of a warm vibe of relief and grainy film tape (for the flashbacks) I kept throughout the oneshot. (I could prolly keep going but I’ll stop here). And ye, I really like this about my writing, the way I can pick a tone/vibe/“object”/whatever and keep to it.

✏️ Do you write every day?

Sometimes I do get a creative rush that’ll give me energy to write for days on end — and when it happens, it can last a while — but although those are quite frequent, all things considered, for my mental health’s sake and to avoid frustration and burnout, I don’t hold those moments as my standard of productivity. Usually, when I start writing a piece, I can keep going till the end of it (and be done in a day, that’s why when I share a snippet of writing in the server I post the whole thing later in the same day, lol), but I might need a few days without writing after it.

🌙 What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

Afternoon. It’s after my lunch, so I already had time to get ready for the day, the house is probably empty (which means quiet), and, as I mentioned above, when I start something, I keep going till it’s done, so I also have time left to write it all if I can.

🌈 + 💋 What inspired you to write Trickster + your freeform question

Already talked a bit about what inspired Tricky to Lynn’s ask, but to add to that (since there I only said what inspired the fox!Félix brain worms, I realized): Other saltfics with the “Félix joins Dupont in the middle of the Lila drama” premise. I had become obsessed with them for a while, and I thought it was a great way to introduce Félix’s character to an ML setting that already has an established dynamic + ready story threads to unravel (in short, I didn’t want to go through the trouble of starting from season 1 so I borrowed the usual Lila saltfic set up and went from there).

Fun fact: Trickster’s original premise was that Marinette would be the one to give Félix the Fox necklace when he showed himself to be a trustworthy friend and possible teammate, but I didn’t have the patience nor the skill for this longer set up, so I just went, “FUCK IT! She’ll just drop it and it’ll fall on Félix’s head” (note: it didn’t actually fall on Félix’s head). And funnily enough, the alternative I went with for the sake of getting into the good stuff already, turned out to be the better one for this story’s themes and the characters’ arcs.

I could talk about this fic for hours on end (and will if enabled), but basically, it’s a timeline where Lila turned everyone against Marinette so she’s already withdrawn at the start of the fic and incredibly stressed with Ladybug duties, and after a particularly draining fight, ends up losing the Fox Miraculous only for it to appear again three days later around the neck of an unfamiliar hero (“unfamiliar hero,” Sal says, knowing fully well who everyone associates them with).

[kominum]

semoto (corpse x fem!reader)

4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions 

pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context. 

basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:

sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life. 

sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while 

sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.  

sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.

fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension. 

1. “Whaddup, baby?” 

Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack. 

Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let’s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off, 

About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.

The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.

You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t. 

“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”

“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”

“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.” 

You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.

2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.

You’re so tired.

Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver. 

But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls. 

The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.” 

“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony. 

“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”

“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”

“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”

“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Not your baby, piss off!”

3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”

It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.

Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”

There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis. 

“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine. 

“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”

Warmth. Strength. Oblivion. 

“I know. Thank you.”

4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.” 

“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly. 

“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”

“I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way. 

The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name. 

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”

“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.” 

“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”

“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”

“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately. 

“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night. 

And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.

That you have no one else but Corpse. 

5. “He was never yours.”

There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times. 

This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak. 

You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech. 

“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”

Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition. 

“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void. 

“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all. 

“Are they talking about Corpse?”

“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”

“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”

“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind. 

“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here. 

“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.

“Is this a fucking test--”

Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be. 

“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”

It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”

“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”

Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?

And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee. 

“Do I have to give you an answer?”

“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”

They what? This was certainly news to you. 

“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively. 

Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--

“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”

You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more. 

“You have 10 seconds.” 

You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long. 

The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage. 

They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”

It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run. 

You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.

And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve. 

But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--

Forever out of reach. 

[barlupiins]

on passion / 16.05.22

I am currently working on this mammoth fic as the clock strikes 00:00, sitting underneath two living room lights and forbidding myself from sleep. Recently, I have been pondering over my craft - whether it would be worth it in the end of all of nights and spending my holidays on bleeding over paper, perhaps even taxing my sleep and sanity over it. A quote that I hold dear to my heart is that “writing is a lonely art” - because of all my experiences being a writer since I sparked an interest after doing my first vent piece in year 6 for a writing examination (and getting a good grade, I believe) to now, having fanfiction my creative outlet to the extent that I am here, writing has always been a lonely path.  So, here in my words document with the word count 15,035 and still a long, long road blazing up before me, I pause on this tumblr blog and contemplate. Just an hour ago, I finished watching a brilliant film Citizen X, and yes, it may seem completely devoid from where this ramble is streaming towards, but a conversation struck me in the correct places. Col. Mikhail Fetisov and Lt. Viktor Burakov are nearly inching towards the end of the case, and they’re stranded underneath the canopy of a remote train station, and Fetisov makes a comment about how his heart is beating quickly, and he doesn’t know what this feeling is. Burakov, soaked from head to toe, simply responds, “Passion”. And although I am no detective who has been in constant mental strain over something as harrowing as the contexts of the movie, I can resonate in his comment on passion.  I have nothing to offer here other than my thoughts and my current mental state. I don’t even know if this fanfiction piece will be worth it, or if the narrative I have in store is any much engaging enough. But I suppose it is passion, and sometimes that passion is my demise - and I do question it, really. How I should probably be directing this energy towards creating something beautiful from concrete - not something like fanfiction which for one, may not even receive much attention. But I turn towards philosophies in Your Lie in April, where they mention why we are so insecure and afraid of putting an extension of ourselves out there - whether it is performing the piano, or me, creating this little silly possibly will be 20k+ fanfic due in a month and a half, or so. We are afraid because we pour ourselves into it, and once it is out to the world it seems to determine you, because really, a persons craft is an extension of themselves. And just as much as - I don’t know - getting turned down for a hangout or job application: Rejection is rejection. Unfortunately, rejection translates to anything outside of relationships and human connections.  All I can say is that at the moment, I am uncertain. Regardless, I am still going to write. I don’t have a choice to not, anyway. If no one is going to read it at the end of the day, I will at least have entertained myself - leave myself something to reread and reread over and over again, and be satisfied. 

[charmingpplincardigans]

Setting intentions

I made a thread on twitter of ten things I’m proud I accomplished in 2021, but here in this slightly less transient (or at least more searchable) place I’d like to make a list of the things I want to do in 2022. I’m not making any resolutions or setting any goals. I’ve put too much pressure on myself my whole life and this last year of my 30s seems like a good time to let up on the gas a bit. All of the life is the scenic route, but I think I’d like to make this year more scenic than most. So: 

I want to make cool things with my friends! I’ve already lined up one of them to start a podcast with and another to write some monster comics with. It would be cool to make a split chapbook or something too. Or anything else! This is bubbling within me that wants to make beautiful things and connect more with beautiful people and this feels like the perfect way to do it. 

I want to continue to work to feel more comfortable in my skin. This means many things. I want to move my body more. I want to keep up with therapy. I want to take a good long look at my wardrobe. I want approx a hundred new tattoos but well, we’ll save that for when I have money again. ;) I want to spend more time outside. There are so many ways one can love themselves and I just need to pick one and start there.

I want to learn to cook more meatless meals. Partially for the planet, and partially for my cholesterol, but also because I enjoy cooking and I enjoy mixing things creative and I really enjoyed that chickpea salad roasted sweet potato thing I made last year. More of that!

In relation to that, I want to try and hone in on the things that I crave and the things that I actually enjoy and sort out the difference between those things and see if I can’t shift my thinking toward what will make me actually happier in the long run. A big part of this is that I have a habit of craving fast casual meals, but then eating them and realize that I didn’t really enjoy it or that it’s actively making me feel bad. I don’t know how much time I have left, but I don’t want to spend any more of it feeling shame over subpar burgers or like, chicken tenders that give me heartburn. 

In related news, I want to spend less money on frivolous things!!! Especially since I’m going to need that money to move in six months, and especially especially because I don’t need more things to move in six months! I am allowing myself experiences with the people and time I have left hear, but everything else will have to wait. 

I’m just gonna straight up read more poetry. I read 76 books this year and not nearly enough of them were poetry.

I’M MOVING TO BOSTOOOOOONNNNNN!!!!!!!

With the pressure taken off from feeling like I have to uphold some imaginary way of being a Real Writer, I’m going to dabble in art more. I’ll keep collaging, but I’m also going to try and learn some basics of water paints and acrylics. I have spent decades bemoaning the fact that I can’t make the kind of art I’d like to and really, that’s no one’s fault but my own. It’s time to do some learning. 

And then, some bonus WILD things that would just be neat:

I’ve wanted to do an Artist’s Telephone project with friends for more than a literal decade and I’ve just never felt like I was a good enough writer or artist to be the one to start it. But you know what? You can just make things! Whenever you want!! Without anyone giving you permission!!! So I might look at doing that as a sort of Zine at some point and ask some of my visual artist/poetry/micro fic friends to contribute.

I decided this year that I am definitely going back to school for my Masters. Will I be able to do it this year? Only money will tell, but I can at least make some concrete steps in the meantime. 

Hey, wouldn’t it be wild if I could like, fall in love this year? With someone who loved me back??? I know that’s not a thing I can plan, but wow am I gonna put that energy into the world with all my heart. SOMEBODY KISS ME!!!

[svtwritess]

Chapter 2

➫ word count: 11.6k (this got away from me to say the least </3) ➫ pairings: wonwoo x female reader, mingyu x female reader ➫ genre: fluff, smut, angst ➫ college!au, vampire!au ➫ warnings: sexual content, alcohol, food

“So are you gonna explain who that guy was?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to seem disinterested as he gripped the steering wheel of the moving truck tightly. 

“His name is Mingyu,” you said defensively as you tried to hide your smile, “and he was just helping me move everything inside that’s all.” you shrugged as you looked out of the window. 

It hadn’t been long since you parted from Mingyu, but you couldn’t get him out of your head. How did someone so tall, attractive, strong, and seemingly very sweet just… magically appear the exact second that you needed someone who was all of those things?  

“Yeah, I’m sure that was it.” Wonwoo scoffed disapprovingly. 

You whipped your head around to look at him, a frown evident on your features. He looked over at you and raised his eyebrow before returning his eyes to the road in front of him. 

“What? You think he had some sort of ulterior motive?” you questioned, slightly offended. 

“Um, yeah. Anyone with a brain would be able to figure that out.” Wonwoo said matter-of-factly, your jaw dropping at his words. 

“Wh-“ 

“Just tell me this,” Wonwoo started again, “Did he or did he not say or do something flirtatious at some point in time?” he asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer. 

Your instinct was to reply defensively and say no, but you quickly realized that you couldn’t. Very obviously checking you out when he first met you and asking you to promise that he’d see you again doesn’t exactly fall under the category of friendly. 

“I- That doesn’t matter.” you said and crossed your arms. Even though he was flirting, it was harmless and there’s no reason for Wonwoo to be so judgmental about it. It was probably because the whole Joshua incident had literally just passed, so him being upset was understandable, but it’s not like Mingyu was feeling you up in front of him or something. 

“Of course it doesn’t.” he chuckled lightly, clearly not believing you. 

You rolled your eyes. “And you care so much about this why?” you asked, a tinge of annoyance in your voice. 

“Cause I don’t trust him.”

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘it’s not like anything will come from it anyway’. Knowing your history with any guy that wasn’t Joshua, there was an extremely small chance that your relationship with Mingyu would amount to anything other than an acquaintanceship. You’d only spent around 2 hours with the guy, but even so, it was clear that he’s wildly attractive and that he has an insane effect on you. You hoped you’d see him again, really, you just didn’t know when or how.

Wonwoo pulled into a parking spot at the moving truck company. You unbuckled your seatbelt with a sigh, hopped out of the truck, and went inside. 

The bright lights caused you to squint as they were a great contrast to the darkness outside, and the harsh air conditioning caused a shiver to run down your spine. The building was essentially empty except for a few lone employees. 

You walked over to the help desk and told them you were returning a truck. You grabbed the key from Wonwoo, signed a form saying you returned the vehicle, and went right back outside to order an Uber home. Your parents offered the two of you one of their cars to take to college, but anywhere that you would need to go on a daily basis was walking distance. The walk could sometimes be further than you’d like depending on where you were going, but not far enough to work up a sweat, so it was something that you and Wonwoo were both thankful for. 

You ordered the Uber and told Wonwoo it would arrive in 3 minutes. He just nodded and leaned against the concrete wall of the building. 

“What’s your schedule like for this semester?” you asked, kicking around a small rock that was on the ground.

“Two classes on Monday and two on Tuesday, you?” he asked, arms crossed and giving you a curious stare.

“That seems like a lot,” you told him, but he just shrugged. “I have one in the morning everyday except Friday.” 

“Eh, I’d rather just get them over with,” he reasoned, “Is your Monday morning class the one about Shakespeare too?” he asked and you nodded. You were going into creative writing and he was going into literature, so a few of your classes were the same. 

“How did we not plan that?” you laughed, and he shrugged with a chuckle, not knowing the answer to your question either. 

The Uber pulled up in front of you and you both climbed inside. You checked to make sure the driver was the same as the person on the app and after confirming that it was, you sat back in your seat and anticipated getting back to your apartment so you could finally sleep.

It was finally the first day of classes and you were the utmost excited. With a content smile on your face, you put the last of your necessities in your bag and threw it over your shoulder. After looking in the mirror and running a brush through your hair one last time, you headed into your living room. 

Wonwoo was slumped down on the couch with his phone in his hand. He had a small pout on his face and looked more tired than you would have expected him to. 

“Good morning!” you said happily, sitting down next to him. 

He chuckled at your perkiness. “Well good morning. Why are you so excited?” he locked his phone and put it on his lap, looking up at you. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it’s the first day of classes, isn’t that always kind of exciting?” you asked curiously.

“Eh,” he said as he sat up straight, “it’s just school.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He was right, it was just more school, but you were in college now, and everything was different, at least in your eyes.

“Well, would getting breakfast before class make it any better?” you inquired, and his face immediately perked up at your words. He nodded his head avidly and you smiled at his enthusiasm. “Okay, but we have to go now.”

Wonwoo stood up immediately and grabbed his grey bag that was sitting on the kitchen counter. He opened your front door and used his arm to motion outside. 

“Then let’s go now!” he said, a new found energy in his voice. You laughed and stood up, exiting your new apartment with your best friend in tow. You took the key out of your bag, locking the door and setting off toward your breakfast destination. 

You knew there was a coffee shop right by the campus as you had seen in when you toured the college almost a year ago, so you decided to go there. You and Wonwoo made small talk as you walked, Wonwoo still seeming too lethargic to discuss anything more than the basics. 

You arrived at the small shop, the air conditioning cool and the walls a calming blue color. There were a few other people your age scattered around the cafe, presumably other students. They all seemed happy, which was a good sign from a place that served food. 

You and Wonwoo approached the counter and a girl with a half up-half down hairstyle with a black apron on walked up to the counter to serve you. 

“Hi guys! What can I get for you?” she asked, her voice cheerful and her smile almost overwhelmingly large. Wonwoo got a coffee and a muffin and the girl punched in his order as she spoke. 

“O-okay,” she blushed, “anything else?” 

You placed your order, which was very similar to Wonwoo’s, and pulled your card out to pay. However, you realized that she hadn’t punched anything into the cash register the entire time you were talking. She was staring off into space, or rather, staring way too intently at Wonwoo. You moved forward a little to try and catch her attention, and she was shaken out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, uh, what was that?” she asked, her blush worse than before. You repeated your order, admittedly a bit irritated, and moved to pay again. As you went to insert your card into the machine in front of you, Wonwoo stopped you. 

“Here,” he said, reaching forward and inserting his card instead, “I got it.” 

He paid for your order and the girl handed you a number card to put on your table, shyly telling you that your order would be right out. You walked over to a small table in the corner of the shop and sat down, placing the number card at the edge of the table. 

“So she was obviously into you.” you stated, rather annoyed, and Wonwoo chuckled. 

“Was she? I didn’t notice.” he smirked, “Why do you sound so bothered, huh? Got something you wanna confess?” he joked. You laughed loudly. 

“Please,” you scoffed, “no. She just didn’t need to be so obvious about checking you out, that’s all.” 

The same girl that took your order came over to your table with a tray in her hand. She set your coffees and muffins down on the table before standing there for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.” you said as nicely as possibly, attempting to make it obvious that she no longer needed to be standing there.

“Oh,” she said, clearly surprised, “yeah, sorry. Just let me know if you need anything.” she gave Wonwoo one last look before heading back to her position at the front counter. 

“Well?” you asked Wonwoo, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. “Do you need anything?” 

He chuckled at your bitterness. “Yeah, I need to eat.” he picked up his muffin and took a large bite. You, too, were feeling rather famished, so you began working on yours as well. You ate and drank in silence, hunger consuming the both of you. You also wanted to leave as soon as possible so that you weren’t late for your first class.

You watched as Wonwoo chugged the last of his coffee and set the cup down on the table. 

“Ready?” he asked, but all you could do was stare, as you had muffin threatening to fall out of your mouth. With ¾ of your coffee left and half a muffin in your hand, you shrugged and nodded. You could eat on the way and you’d hoped you’d be able to finish your beverage in class. You stood up from the table and pushed the chair in, making your way out the door. 

Wonwoo pulled out his class schedule and found the class you were headed to. 

“A-203,” he said under his breath, you assumed he was saying the building and room number.

You walked for a few more minutes, and soon your school’s campus came into view. It was the first time you were seeing the place in a few months and you could feel your heartbeat increase. You weren’t sure if it was because of excitement or pure anxiety, but either way, you were hoping for a good first day. 

You approached the large sign with your school’s name on it as you took the last bite of your muffin, throwing the wrapper in a trash can that you happened to walk by. You took another sip of your coffee as Wonwoo spotted the building your class was located in and pointed in that direction. You checked the time on your phone as you walked and thankfully you still had 10 minutes to spare. 

You approached the building and went inside. For some reason it was extremely cold, so you held onto your coffee hoping it would bring you some form of warmth. You climbed the stairs slowly, the feeling of the muffin that hadn’t yet digested weighing you down. 

When you reached the top of the stairs and began walking down the hallway, Wonwoo read the room numbers out loud. But of course, the very first room was number 219, which meant that your classroom was at the very end of the hall. 

You walked and walked until finally a sign with a big “203” on it was right in front of you. You entered the classroom, and wow was it big. Much larger than any high school classroom you’d ever been in. There were at least 10 rows of seats and the further back they went the higher up they were elevated. It all felt very… classy.

You and Wonwoo picked seats in one of the middle rows and sat on the very end. Wonwoo always liked being close to the door for some reason. 

“Think the professor will be on time?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“Probably not.” you replied as you took your things out of your bags. You both pulled out your laptops, yours in a rather busy plastic case with stickers in some places and his completely bare, looking as if it had just come out of the box. Even when it came to your possessions, it was clear who the more organized friend was. 

You checked your phone and there was now 1 minute until class was set to start, yet still no sign of your professor. Though as if the universe could read your mind, the door burst open and a middle-aged woman with grey hair entered the room. Her clothes screamed 70’s hippy movement and her glasses were about as thick as a bulletproof window, but she was pretty. She was slender and on the taller side, she definitely fit the stereotype of a professor who teaches Shakespeare. 

“Hello all!” she said in a perky voice. “Now today we’re gonna be jumping right into the material, we’ve got a lot to cover. So take out whatever you’re using to take notes and let’s get started!” 

You opened a fresh page, set the font and size to your preference and began typing. She started with Romeo and Juliet, which makes sense as it’s arguably Shakespeare’s most famous work. 

As she rambled you typed, trying to digest the surprisingly interesting information she was relaying to you. Wonwoo looked just as immersed in his notes as you did, which is probably why he didn’t notice the girl further down the row staring at him. She was leaning forward to look past you with a dazed look in her eyes. Did he give out love potions to random girls at some point and not tell you about it? 

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to think about how many more girls would fawn over your best friend this semester, and continued typing. 

The 2-hour lecture went by fast, as your professor had a way with words and knew how to make even the most boring of facts interesting. You felt lucky for that, as you knew how much a bad teacher could affect a learning experience. 

“Did you like it?” you asked Wonwoo as you put your laptop back in your bag.

“Yeah, I did actually. She’s a good teacher.” you nodded in agreement as you stood up, Wonwoo soon following suit. The girl down the row from you who was gawking at your apparently extremely attractive best friend walked past the two of you, giving Wonwoo an unmistakably flirtatious look before she exited the classroom.

“That’s the second one today.” you observed as you made your way toward the door. 

“Oh you act like you don’t give guys looks like that when you’re into them.” he teased, but you shook your head.

“Maybe at a party or something where a look like that is appropriate, but not in broad daylight!” you stated as you descended the stairs together. “Girls didn’t look at you like that in high school, what’s different?” 

“I don’t have Joshua next to me all the time.” he said in a low voice and shrugged. Sadly, you knew he was right. Joshua always got way more attention than Wonwoo in high school for some reason, even before his gigantic growth spurt. You felt your heart pang as you realized sleeping with Joshua probably didn’t make Wonwoo feel any better about himself at that time, but sadly, there wasn’t anything you could do about it now. 

“Well then I would say it’s time to get some, wouldn’t you?” you suggested as you stood in the lobby of the first floor.

Wonwoo just laughed. “Yeah, sure…” he trailed off, itching the back of his neck. “My next class is just down the hall, see you when I get home?” 

You nodded and wished him luck before heading back to your lovely, yet average, college apartment.

When you were walking home earlier, you saw a grocery store on your path and thought ‘why not?’ 

You went inside and grabbed the ingredients to make your favorite kind of pasta, as sort of a celebration that you and Wonwoo had successfully completed your first day of college. 

The ingredients were cheaper than you thought they’d be, and on an even brighter note, the guy at the register was cute. He was tall and slender with fluffy hair and a cute little beauty mark by his lip, though the way you felt when he looked at you was nowhere near as intense as when Mingyu did. Even though you’d only met him once, any time you saw a guy you thought was even remotely cute, you started comparing them to him. For some reason, your heart seemed to be dead set in seeing him again. 

When you got home, you took some time to get changed and relax. You threw on one of your favorite oversized t-shirts and a pair of shorts and realized that you were happy to feel so comfortable in your new home so soon.

You started cooking the pasta so that it would be done at roughly the same time Wonwoo was supposed to be home. You must have timed it perfectly, because low and behold, Wonwoo came through the door just as you were pouring the sauce over the noodles. 

“Hey! How was your second class?” you asked excitedly. 

“Not nearly as good as the first one,” he said, clearly exasperated as he fell back onto the couch, “and what’s that smell?” 

“I maaaaay have made first day of class pasta.” you told him as you grabbed the only two bowls you had bought so far and a pair of tongs, using them to dish both you and Wonwoo some noodles. You got some utensils from out of one of the drawers and placed them in the bowls before walking over to Wonwoo and handing him one. As you sat down next to him, he immediately started eating. 

“Wah,” he groaned, “this is amazing!” it was hard to understand him with his mouth full, but you appreciated the compliment nonetheless. “Thanks y/n.” he said sincerely. 

Happily you nodded, a content smile on your face. “You’re welcome,” you replied as you began eating as well, the savory flavor meeting your tongue. Wonwoo was right, it was pretty amazing. 

“Oh guess what! That girl from the cafe this morning? She was in my other class.” he said, slightly mumbling due to the overflow of pasta in his mouth. 

You just sat there, looking at him blankly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you could hear that he was smiling, “We sat next to each other. I, uh… got her number.” 

Noodles almost fell out of your mouth when he said that. 

“You did? Like you initiated the asking of the phone number?” you asked, extremely surprised.

“Yeah!” he laughed, “Why do you sound so shocked?” 

“Because it usually takes a girl making it extremely obvious that she likes you over a long period of time for you to do anything about it.” you stated as if it was obvious.

“Well I was feeling confident today, sue me.” he shrugged, continuing to eat. You said nothing else and focused on your noodles. You weren’t sure if it was because you weren’t used to Wonwoo getting female attention or because you didn’t want anyone stealing any of your time with your best friend, but you didn’t like it. Though of course you weren’t going to tell him that, you knew that he deserved it. “Anyway, how were your 2 hours without me?” 

You were just going to tell him that you only took a nap and made the food, but then you remembered something.

“I saw a cute guy at the store today. He was the cashier. Tall, nice hair.” 

“Did you flirt with him?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, just admired.” 

“Ah, so he wasn’t as cute as Mingyu?” he teased and you whipped your head in his direction. 

“What makes you think that?” you asked defensively and he laughed at your new disposition. 

“Cause it seemed like you were pretty eager to flirt with him.” you glared at your best friend for a moment, but decided to do nothing but roll your eyes. 

You quickly finished the rest of your pasta, anger slowly rising up in you. You didn’t tease him about the cafe girl, so why did he feel the need to tease you about Mingyu? Admittedly, it had been very easy for your mind to wander to thoughts of the tall and handsome stranger that you’d sadly only crossed paths with once, and you didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability very much at all. As much as you wanted to see him again, you were scared that the more you spent time with him, the weaker for him you’d become. It was cheesy, that you knew, but even after spending time with him on just a singular occasion, you were already smitten, and along with that, desperate to see him again. 

You woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly well rested. You had gone to bed relatively early, mostly because Wonwoo went to take a nap at around 7pm and never woke up. When you checked your phone, it was already 9:00, so you only had half an hour to get ready and head out the door, as your class started at 9:45 and the walk took about 10 minutes. 

You rolled out of bed and started getting ready for the day. After brushing your hair and teeth, applying some deodorant, and washing your face, you walked over to your closet and opened the door. 

You stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping against the carpeted floor of your bedroom. You were in a good mood and you wanted to show it, but the question was, how would you do so? You looked through everything on hangers and everything in drawers, and after way too long of a time, you finally decided on an outfit. 

You pulled a yellow dress with small flowers on it off of its hanger and grabbed a pair of white sneakers to match. It was a bit dressier than you were used to, but it called out to you for some reason. You put the dress on along with some socks and your shoes before grabbing your bag and exiting your room. 

Wonwoo was sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in his hands, his pajamas still on and his hair still messy from his slumber. 

“Don’t you have class this morning too?” you asked suspiciously as you grabbed a cup from one of your cabinets, as well as the juice from the refrigerator, and poured yourself a drink.

“Yeah, not until 12 though. Then right after that one ends I have another one.” he said. You could practically hear the future exhaustion in his voice.

“That’s what you get for taking two classes in a row.” you shrugged. “When will you be home?” 

“Probably around 3, you?” 

“Right after class, so I guess around noon.” you told him and he simply nodded, his eyes drooping slightly. “You should try and get some more sleep before class, okay?” 

You ruffled his hair with one hand and chugged the rest of your juice with the other, your gesture causing him to smile sweetly. After setting your empty glass in the sink, you headed out the door. 

The sun was shining and the breeze was the perfect speed. Your hair was blowing in the wind, but it was in the luxurious movie type way, not the messy way, so you were okay with it. 

Your English class this morning was in the same building as your class yesterday, but luckily it was downstairs. Sadly, downstairs was just as cold as upstairs and you had completely forgotten to bring a sweater. You sighed at your mistake, knowing the cold wouldn’t be easy to endure, as you approached your classroom and opened the door. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the size of it as it was about twice as big as the classroom you were in yesterday. 

You wandered in, wide eyed and curious. As you scanned the room, you recognized a tall, tan, and perfectly built male figure. When he turned around, your heart dropped.

Mingyu. 

As you were completely awestruck by Mingyu’s presence, you were totally unaware of the fact that he had seen you as well and was heading right toward you. 

“Y/n!” he said happily, snapping you out of your daze. 

“M-Mingyu! Hi...” you blushed, trying hard to maintain eye contact. His intimidating stare made you want to cower in fear and look away, but you didn’t want to appear as affected as you actually were. 

“I see you decided to keep your promise.” he smirked and you let out a light, mostly nervous laugh.

“Yeah,” you quickly debated what to say next, “I guess you could say I was eager to see you again.” you genuinely couldn’t believe that you got the words out without stuttering, but that being said, you were very proud of yourself.

He crossed his arms and licked his lips, a smug, confident look plastered on his face. “Well in that case,” he stepped closer, “would you sit with me?” 

You didn’t trust your voice any longer, so you nodded, probably a little too excitedly. He cocked his head as to say “follow me” and began walking up the stairs with you following closely behind.

He brought you to the 3rd row from the back, away from everyone else. It definitely confused you, but in an intriguing sort of way. When he sat down, you realized he didn’t have anything with him. No bag, no notebook. It seemed like he just had the clothes on his back. 

“Where’s your stuff?” you questioned, sitting down next to him, the material of the chair feeling cool against your thighs, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

“Eh, don’t need any.” he said casually as he leaned back in his chair, his glorious thighs on display. You swallowed anxiously and tried not to stare at them.

“Why not?” you took out your laptop and turned it on, trying not to worry about Mingyu seeing and potentially judging the stickers you had put on it. 

“I have a good memory.” he shrugged. You didn’t believe it was possible that someone could pass a class without taking notes, but maybe he only brought nothing because it was the first day of class and there probably wouldn’t be much work to do anyway. 

Your professor walked in a few minutes after class was scheduled to start, but considering you made small talk with Mingyu while waiting for him, you didn’t mind. He was a short man with thick black hair and round glasses. A curious character, but he seemed interesting. 

He ran through the syllabus rather quickly and jumped right into the material, which Mingyu did not seem to be happy about. He kept raising his hand and asking questions in an attempt to stall, but the professor seemed to know the game Mingyu was trying to play and was not having it, so he answered all of his questions with a mere sentence and moved on.

Mingyu was clearly confident, and was probably pretty popular as well. With those things considered, why was he opting to sit with you? He was talking to people when you came in and had apparently just abandoned them for you. You blushed at the thought of him prioritizing you over his friends, but you also felt a pang of guilt. It was only his second time meeting you so… maybe he was just as enchanted by you as you were by him? 

Throughout class, you found yourself fascinated by every point your professor made. His perspective on literature was one you had never heard before and you were the utmost intrigued, attempting to type every word that came out of his mouth. 

Sometimes, Mingyu would lean forward and ask you a question or make a clever remark, but even you were surprised at how you brushed him off. As much as you enjoyed listening to Mingyu’s voice, you were surprisingly enjoying the content of the lesson just as much. He seemed to notice your intense focus after a few of his comments and decided to lay off. He simply admired the way you would unconsciously nod along with the professor’s words with a smile on his face instead.  

Your two-hour lecture was over far sooner than you would have liked, but you knew anything longer than 2 hours would probably kill most other students. You sighed contently and turned off your laptop before putting it back into your bag and facing Mingyu.

“So,” you smirked, “how much of the lesson do you remember?” you leaned on the edge of your desk and looked into his eyes.

He chuckled and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on top of his desk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I would, that’s why I asked.” you said smugly. 

“Well it usually takes a little while for the information to sink in,” he said and all you could do was roll your eyes. 

“I’m sure it does.” you said sarcastically and stood up, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Mingyu got up as well and walked over to stand right in front of you.

“I’ll even prove it to you, go to a party with me this weekend.” he proposed, catching you completely off guard. 

“A-a party? What does that have to do with English?” you weren’t exactly sure why you were questioning him, but you decided to blame it on your nerves. 

“Well we’ll be speaking won’t we?” he smiled as he stepped a little closer. You nodded and looked up into his eyes, which was a huge mistake. They were perfectly shaped and incredibly inviting, so it was definitely not going to be easy to say no. “Come? Please?” he asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Okay.” you said. You sounded more anxious than anything, but inside you were screaming like a little kid.

“Good,” he laughed, “I’ll text you the address later.” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and opened the contacts app before handing it to you. Your hands shook slightly as you put in your number and handed the phone back to him. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asked in a gentlemanly fashion, and again you nodded before you exited the classroom together. 

Mingyu offered to carry your bag for you, but you insisted that you could handle it yourself. You made small talk once more as you walked, simply enjoying his company. That being said, you were rather upset when you reached your front door.

“Thanks for walking me home.” you said, taking your key out of your bag.

“Don’t mention it,” he said sweetly. 

You opened the door to an empty apartment, and that was when you remembered Wonwoo was still in class. 

“Do you, uh… wanna come in?” you asked boldly, Mingyu simply smiling and nodding in response. You loved how much he smiled. 

“Your friend isn’t here is he?” he inquired, almost sounding nervous as he entered your apartment. 

“No,” you chuckled as you shut the door behind the pair of you. “Why, are you scared or something?” you teased, but he merely scoffed and sat down on your couch. 

“Of course not. We just didn’t hit it off very well last time.” he stated, eyes on the ground in front of him. It definitely seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t fond of your new, handsome acquaintance, but it wasn’t your place to speak for him, so you decided to change the subject. 

“Are you hungry?” you walked into your kitchen, “I can make you something.” you suggested.

“Hmm…” he pondered, “Whatcha got?” 

You looked in your refrigerator and in all of your cabinets and could only find one thing that was even remotely suitable for a proper meal.

“Uhh, ramen?” 

Mingyu looked at you for a moment before laughing and standing up. As he walked toward you, you wondered if you had somehow offended him by your offer.

“If anyone here is making ramen,” he placed his hands on your shoulders, “it’s me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment as he walked past you, searching high and low for the proper size pot. Once he found it in one of your lower cabinets, he filled it with water and turned an eye of the stove on high before gently placing the pot on top of it. He then opened the cabinet in front of him, took out two packs of ramen, and put them next to the stove. He turned around and leaned against the counter next to the oven. “I’m kind of great at cooking. No big deal though.” he shrugged. You couldn’t help but laugh at his borderline cockiness. 

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” you said in a sly voice as you stood directly in front of him. Your kitchen was on the small side and with Mingyu being as tall and broad as he was, you felt like the two of you were closer than you ever had been.

Admiration swarmed his brown orbs as he looked down at you. They were dangerously inviting. Subconsciously, you moved closer and closer to each other, until…

The water started boiling over the pot and spilling onto the stovetop. 

Mingyu heard it and immediately turned around, moving the pot off of the eye and turning the temperature down a few notches. Once the water had settled, he returned the pot to the eye that it was cooking on. 

“Guess that means it’s ready,” he mumbled before opening both packages of ramen and putting both blocks into the pot. “Sorry…” he said almost inaudibly. You didn’t know if he was talking about the ramen or the two of you almost kissing, but you decided you didn’t really want to find out and changed the subject. 

“So where did you learn how to make such amazing ramen?” you attempted to tease, though you were still on edge. 

“Well…”

Mingyu then proceeded to tell you (more like brag) about how he’d always had a knack for cooking, along with the fact that his taste buds were, in a word, immaculate. You simply nodded along and let him talk, finding joy in how passionate he seemed to be about culinary arts. It’s hard to think of merely making ramen as any type of art, but he had convinced you that he had mastered the art of making all types of dishes. You told him you’d believe it when you saw it as he added the flavor packets into the ramen and split the noodles into two bowls. He handed one to you and you thanked him before grabbing two pairs of chopsticks from a drawer and heading over to your couch. 

You sat down next to each other and ate in a comfortable silence. You didn’t want to tell him and feed his ego, but the ramen he made was easily the best you’d ever had. Once the two of you had finished eating, you leaned back against your couch and looked at each other. 

“What do we do now?” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t know for sure, but it seemed like there was an underlying playfulness in his voice, like he was hinting at something. Your mind went back to barely 10 minutes ago, when you could have sworn you were about to kiss, and your cheeks instantly turned a bright red color. You broke eye contact and stared at the ceiling nervously.

“We could, uh… watch a movie I guess? Unless you have somewhere to be...” you played with the hem of your shirt, anxiously awaiting his answer.

“Y/n?” he said sweetly, causing you to return your eyes to his. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now.” his body was turned toward you and his head was resting on top of a couch cushion, making his cheek look extra squeezable. You blushed even harder and tried not to smile as widely as you felt you could; how was he so smooth? Usually someone being so blatant about their feelings for you, especially so early on into knowing you, would be a total turn off for you. It was just something about the way Mingyu carried himself that made you swoon so easily. He’s confident without being cocky, knows how to flirt with you in a way that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, and was just extremely enjoyable and easy to be around. You knew someone this great was bound to have some hidden baggage, toxicity, or secret that would eventually come to light, but you tucked that thought into the back of your mind and decided to enjoy the happy times while you still had them. 

“Here,” you handed him your TV remote, “pick whatever you want.” you took his bowl and yours and set them on the coffee table in front of you. When you sat up straight again, Mingyu had his arm over the back of the couch He ended up choosing something animated that kind of seemed like it could be a kid’s movie, but it looked entertaining, so you had no complaints. 

The plot of the movie actually seemed to be really good, but you were missing some parts of it because you were drifting in and out of sleep the entire time. It was probably because Mingyu was so warm and comfortable along with the fact that actively listening and taking diligent notes in class wore you out, despite getting a good night’s sleep. 

By the end of the movie, you had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He was unsure of what to do as you looked so peaceful. He decided he would take a few moments to admire you before waking you up as gently as possible. 

He took the time to really look at your features, almost studying you. He noticed the way your top lip curved, the height of your cheekbones, the complexion of your skin. In all his years of living, even after having known thousands of women, you were easily one of the most beautiful. You also intrigued him, and though it was only his second time meeting you, he’d been alive long enough to know when someone was worth his time. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, shaking your body slightly.

You awoke in a startle, immediately sitting up and trying to remember what was happening when you fell asleep. 

“Oh god,” you put your face in your hands in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” you told him when you remembered that you completely knocked out during what was supposed to be ~quality time~. 

“It’s fine, really. I should probably go anyway.” he said. You felt bad, as you didn’t want him to feel like he was boring or easy to fall asleep around, but when you checked the time, you saw that Wonwoo would be coming home soon. You really didn’t feel like trying to endure or get rid of that level of tension, especially in your tired state. 

“Yeah, my roommate will be home soon…” you didn’t want to finish your sentence in fear of sounding rude, but Mingyu understood exactly what you meant. 

“He doesn’t exactly like me, does he?” he chuckled as he stood up, offering his hand to you. You smiled and took it, getting up from the couch. 

“You’re just… new. He doesn’t really do well with new.” you shrugged as you walked him over to the door. “Sorry again for falling asleep, I promise it had nothing to do with you.” you reassured him.

“Don’t worry about it. I had a really nice time.” he told you and you smiled up at him.

“Me too.”

“See you this weekend?” he asked hopefully as he reached for the door handle. 

“See you this weekend.” 

“A party? No.” Wonwoo said, immediately shutting down your idea. You had invited him to attend this weekend’s party with you, but it was a shot in the dark in the first place.

“Come on!” you whined, sitting down next to him on his bed. “I don’t usually like going to them either, but this one could be fun…” you tried to reason with him.

“Yeah? Why is that?” he paused the video game he was playing and looked over at you. You looked down at his comforter, twiddling your fingers in fear of his response. 

“Because Mingyu invited me.” you said in the quietest voice possible. 

“Mingyu? Seriously?” he said defensively, a rather disgusted look on his face. You simply nodded, then proceeded to give him the purest puppy dog eye look known to man. He let out a long sigh. “You’re gonna go whether I’m with you or not aren’t you?” you nodded again, smiling innocently at him, despite the not-so-innocent situation. Another sigh left his lips, this one more exasperated than the first. “Fine, I’ll go. But only because I don’t trust him.” he pointed his finger at you and resumed his game, which told you the conversation was over. 

“Thank youuuu!” you said, very content with how surprisingly easy it was to get him to agree. You didn’t particularly like making him do something he didn’t want to do, but you also knew he’d drive himself crazy sitting at home wondering what you could be doing or why you weren’t answering your phone. You were also hoping he would make a friend that wasn’t coffee shop girl. Preferably someone who wasn’t interested in him sexually or romantically. 

It was around 10 o’clock now, you had already showered and were in your pajamas, so you felt like there was nothing keeping you from going to bed. You shouted a “goodnight” to Wonwoo and headed into your room. 

You fell onto your bed with an ‘oof’ before rolling over to where your nightstand was. You turned off your lamp, grabbed your phone, and rolled over to your other side. As soon as you began scrolling through one of your SNS accounts, you got a phone call.

From Mingyu.

Assuming that him calling meant that something was extremely wrong, you answered with no hesitation.

“Hello?” you said, worry evident in your voice. 

“Hey y/n, you okay?” he asked you, sounding way more calm than you expected him to.

“Yeah, are you okay?” you were now sitting up on your elbow in utter confusion in terms of his reason for calling. 

“Yeah. I just, uh, wanted to talk… is that weird?” he half-laughed at the end. You bit your lip in excitement. 

“No, not really. I guess I’m just surprised.” you said, feeling at peace enough to lay back down. 

“And why is that?” he questioned smugly.

“Well for one, no one really calls anymore.” you teased, even though you were more than okay with talking to him, despite the fact that you’d seen him earlier today.

“Let’s just say I’m old fashioned.” he reasoned.

“Alright, I’m okay with that.” you replied, smiling for a reason you couldn’t seem to point out. He’s really just that charming.

“Good. Soooo what’s your favorite color?” 

During your 2-hour phone call, Mingyu asked you all types of get-to-know questions. He wanted to know your favorite animal, subject, food, favorite place to be, along with things like places you wanted to travel, where you wanted to settle down and live someday, and even if you wanted kids. You would ask him the same questions in return, and you both insisted that you explained your answers. Though the questions were pretty surface level, you felt like you knew a lot more about Mingyu and felt a lot closer to him. 

Every night leading up to Saturday was filled with Mingyu’s phone calls as well. Only with each passing night, the questions became more revealing. Sometimes they’d be ethical, political, or even questions about your previous relationships. You only really had Joshua to tell about, and Mingyu didn’t seem to have much to tell about either, though it kind of felt like he was holding back when it came to the romance topic. Even though you were curious, you didn’t push it.

You were nervous to see Mingyu after getting to know him almost entirely over the phone, but at the same time, your heart skipped beats at the thought of being with him again. 

You woke up on Saturday morning, anxiety along with pure adrenaline coursing through your veins as you thought about what would happen later that day. You knew you would be seeing Mingyu and you knew it would be at a party, so alcohol could easily be involved, and you were nearly jumping out of your skin thinking about what else could potentially happen. You weren’t necessarily expecting anything wild or super memorable to happen, but you definitely felt like there was a possibility for it. You got out of bed begrudgingly, knowing that your mind would be filled with nothing but thoughts of seeing Mingyu for the entire day. 

When you stumbled into the living room, you found Wonwoo asleep on the couch. You let out a quiet laugh and rolled your eyes. You didn’t even want to know how he went from sleeping in his bed to sleeping on the couch, but you tried to be as quiet as possible nonetheless. 

You got a pan from the cabinet and a carton of eggs from your sad, nearly empty refrigerator. Upon putting the pan on the stovetop and turning it on, you heard your best friend stirring on the couch. You turned to look at him and he was sitting up, his face confused and his hair a mess. 

“Well good morning, did you sleep walk out here?” you asked as he stood up slowly made his way toward you.

“You know, it’s very possible, but I have no idea.” he replied, causing you to chuckle. He sat on the counter next to the stove and noticed that you were making breakfast. “Make me some?” you simply nodded in response and cracked four eggs into the pan, scrambling them as they cooked. Wonwoo made himself useful and grabbed two plates from the cabinet behind his head and placed them next to him by the stove. Once the eggs were done, you separated them onto the two plates evenly, turned off the stovetop, and walked over to your couch, breakfast and utensils in hand. 

“Don’t you think we should get a table at some point?” Wonwoo asked as the two of you sat down. 

“I mean technically we have a table,” you said as you motioned to the small, low-rising coffee table in front of you. “Is our twenty dollar, secondhand, barely holding itself together coffee table not good enough for you? Has college changed you?” you teased as you started eating. 

“No, I just feel like most grown ups have a table you can actually dine at.” he shrugged. You gave him a weird look, as you didn’t really know why it mattered to him so much, and continued with your eggs. 

“Are you excited for the party tonight?” you asked after a few minutes of egg-eating filled silence. You knew the answer was most likely no, but you were mostly asking because you weren’t sure if he even remembered that he agreed to go. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, “that’s tonight?” he looked at you in distaste. You replied with a simple nod and he threw his head back in defeat. “Why did I agree to go again?” 

“Because you loooove me.” you said playfully, smiling as you took the last bite of your breakfast. You watched your best friend turn beet red and avoid your eyes before you stood up and walked over to the sink, putting your plate inside of it. 

You then went into your room to grab your phone. When you picked it up, you felt your heart flutter at one of the notifications. 

Mingyu had texted you. 

You ignored everything else on the screen and opened his message. 

From: Mingyu

“phi kappa alpha house

10pm 

don’t be late ;)”

For mystery purposes, you decided not to respond, but you clutched your phone in extreme excitement, a smile on your face. The party was still half a day away and you honestly had no idea how you were going to pass the time. You thought about going shopping, but now that you were an unemployed, full-time college student you were officially saving any money you could get your hands on. Though thankfully, you lived with your best friend, and hanging out with him would surely help the time go quickly. After all, time flies when you’re having fun!

You exited your room and sat back down next to Wonwoo on the couch. 

“What should we do today?” you asked him. He merely shrugged, his eyes locked on his phone. “We could watch movies, or a TV show, or we could play video games…” you rambled, Wonwoo’s head suddenly whipping in your direction. 

“You wanna play a video game?” surprise was evident in his voice, but you just shrugged. 

“I honestly have nothing better to do.”

Wonwoo was not about to pass up the opportunity to play video games with you. It was one of his favorite activities and something that you basically never showed interest in, so with that being said, the two of you went into his room and played virtually every game Wonwoo owned. You ended up liking League of Legends a lot more than you were expecting to, which made your best friend extraordinarily happy. 

You spent the most time playing that one, Wonwoo refusing to admit that he let you win a couple of times. Around 2pm your stomach started growling, so Wonwoo basically forced you to stop playing and eat something. You didn’t want to, but you knew he was in the right for making sure you ate. 

After that, you played for about one more hour before you got bored. However, you were comfortably situated in Wonwoo’s bed and did not by any means feel like moving, so Wonwoo simply put on a movie for the two of you to watch. And then another one. And then you watched a few episodes of a TV show until finally, the moment had arrived. It was time to get ready. 

You excitedly jumped out of Wonwoo’s bed and ran into your room, shouting at him to get ready as well before closing your door.

You picked up your phone and shuffled your playlist, wanting to add to the anticipation with some music. After that, you opened your closet and stood in front of it. You looked through all of your drawers, but found nothing even remotely appropriate for a party. You then looked through all of the clothes that you kept on hangers, and right when you were about to give up hope, you saw it. The little black dress. 

You had bought it in high school, specifically for partying purposes, but you hadn’t gotten much use out of it since you purchased it. You only really went to parties when it was a friend’s birthday or graduation party, so needless to say it had likely been worn less than 10 times. You felt like it was an extremely cliché outfit to wear, but it was the most fitting outfit for the event you were about to attend. 

You took it out of the deepest part of your closet and gave it a look of distaste. It wasn’t ugly, it was just not the way you were used to dressing. You figured you could have dressed like normal, but you didn’t want to stand out in an underwhelming sort of way, so you decided that since it was your first college party, you would dress the part. 

You changed into the small, black article of clothing and immediately felt uncomfortable. Luckily, you had a little under an hour to get used to it before you had to leave. 

You grabbed your makeup bag off of your dresser and laid everything you needed out in front of you. A full face of makeup was another thing you didn’t wear very often, but you had to admit that you really enjoyed doing it. Seeing the finished product also gave you a decently sized boost of confidence most of the time. 

You took more time than usual, as you actually had a decent amount of time to do it, and you wanted it to look as good as possible. As for your hair, you figured you’d just run a straightener through it a few times right before you left and hope for the best. 

As you got ready, you wondered why Mingyu hadn’t reached out to you at all today except for when he told you the information about the party. On one hand, you didn’t respond, so maybe he took that as you not wanting to talk? Which wasn’t by any means true, you weren’t really sure why you didn’t respond, you just knew that no matter the reason, the suspense you were feeling would make seeing Mingyu again much more exciting.

You applied your foundation diligently and followed up with some bronzer, blush, and highlighter before finishing off with some eyeshadow and mascara. It was a pretty basic look, but still more intense than normal. You grabbed your hair straightener from the bathroom and plugged it in by your mirror, slipping your socks and shoes on while you waited for it to heat up. While you were willing to sacrifice your normal clothing, you weren’t so keen on replacing your usual tennis shoes with heels, so you paired your dress with a pair of Converse instead. 

You quickly checked the time on your phone and it read 9:58, which meant you’d be a little late, but you were hoping it seemed more fashionable than forgetful. You straightened your hair as quickly as possible and looked in the mirror one last time. “Wow,” you thought, “you did good y/n.” Giving yourself a mental pat on the back, you unplugged your straightener, grabbed your phone, and exited your room. 

Wonwoo was standing in the kitchen with his back to you. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he looked good. Like good good. He had chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that fit him perfectly. Okay it was a super basic outfit, but the way he made it look so good, and from the back of all angles, was the impressive part. 

“You ready?” you asked, grabbing your house key off of the coffee table. 

“I’ve been ready for like 40 minutes.” he laughed under his breath as he turned around to face you. When his eyes landed on you, they widened to twice their size. “Woah…” he walked toward you. “What is this?!” he exclaimed, using his hand to motion the length of your body.

“Uh, party clothes?” 

He looked at you and you couldn’t tell if he was impressed or judging you. You gave him a look that said something along the lines of “stop looking at me like that” and eventually, he shook himself out of it. 

“Do I look bad or something?” you asked, a hint of anxiety in your voice as you handed him the key and headed toward the door. He shook his head no as he opened the door, motioning for you to exit first.

“No,” he said as he closed the door behind you, “it’s just… weird.” 

He locked the door and began leading the way, considering he knew where the frat house was for some reason. 

“So it’s weird when I look good now? Thanks, rock bottom feels great.” you joked as you walked, arms crossed partially because you were cold and partially because you were feeling self-conscious now that you’d left the house.

“Shut up, you always look good. You just look different.” he said sternly, tucking the key into his pocket. You felt yourself starting to blush, but you knew he meant it platonically. He didn’t like it when you talked down on yourself. You didn’t like it when he spoke poorly of himself either, but luckily he did it way less often than you. Wonwoo was confident, but he was also very humble, and you thought that was a huge part of his appeal. 

You walked in silence, taking in the nighttime sights of your university town. It was quite pretty, but you often didn’t notice as you were rushing to class or scrolling through your phone most of the time. It was a smaller town, but you preferred it that way anyway. 

After about 10 minutes or so, you approached a house with very few lights on that had music blasting through the walls. It had some discarded red cups and a sign with Greek letters in the front lawn, and though you couldn’t read them, it was safe to assume that this was the house you were supposed to be at.

As you and Wonwoo approached the house, you noticed that there was a gaggle of people on the front porch. When you got up to the door, Wonwoo stopped to say hi to one of them. He was on the shorter side with high cheekbones and a cute smile. Before Wonwoo could introduce you, he spoke up. 

“Who’s this?” he asked, motioning to you with the hand that had a drink in it. 

“I’m y/n,” you replied. Normally when meeting someone Wonwoo knew, you would want him to introduce you, but this guy had an inviting way about him.

“Y/n? That’s pretty, I’m Seungkwan.” he said kindly and you simply nodded in response. “Oh Wonwoo, you know Jina’s here right?” the shorter male said before sending your best friend a knowing smirk. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jina? You figured that must be coffee shop girl. Gross.

“Oh really? Thanks.” he said, excitement lacking in his voice. He began walking inside, so you followed suit. 

“See you later! Nice to meet you y/n!” Seungkwan yelled after you. You waved at him with a smile and entered the large, testosterone-filled house. It was crowded with college students and was way more packed than any party you’d ever been to. 

Your anxiety suddenly spiked at the thought of finally seeing Mingyu. The whole frat party scene was one you weren’t used to, so that wasn’t making you feel any better. Your hands started sweating and your heart was beating much faster than normal. You played with your fingers as you scanned the room for Mingyu’s tall figure. 

“You okay?” Wonwoo yelled over the music, clearly taking note of your shift in mood. You simply nodded and continued looking for Mingyu, hoping that finally seeing him would relieve most, if not all, of your anxiety. It also could make it worse, you thought, but you decided to wait and see. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” 

“No, it’s okay,” you yelled in response, “I think I’m gonna look for Mingyu.” 

Though it was clear in his facial expression that he disapproved, he nodded and wandered into the kitchen while you made your way into the sea of college kids. 

Since you couldn’t see Mingyu standing up, you assumed he either hadn’t arrived yet or was sitting down somewhere. There was a clump of couches by the stairs, so you decided to check there first. After weaving your way through the maze of sweaty college kids, you finally approached them, and low and behold, Mingyu was sitting on the loveseat against the wall. Though he was surrounded by people, he was only talking to the significantly smaller male that was sitting next to him.

You wormed your way through another mob of people to get near him, and the moment he saw you, he flashed you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen. The butterflies in your stomach swarmed worse than ever before as he stood up to greet you. 

“Hi.” he said in a sultry voice, a small smile still present on his face. 

“Hi.” you beamed. 

“Wanna go somewhere quiet?” he asked as he gently caressed your arm before taking your hand in his. You nodded without a second thought. 

He started walking toward the back of the house in which there was a large sliding glass door. When you reached them, he slid one open and stepped outside with you. There were still people out there, but not nearly as many. 

He took you over to a large white cooler that was against the wall of the house and opened it. Though you couldn’t really see its contents due to the darkness, you reached in and grabbed 2 of whatever your hand landed on. He had chosen a beer for himself, which didn’t really surprise you. 

Finally, he walked you to a wooden staircase that led to the roof of the house. You climbed up behind him and once you reached the top, you were amazed to see that there was no one else up there. 

“Do people not know they can come up here or something?” you asked, sitting on the lone wooden bench that was sitting in the middle of the roof.

“I think they do, but most people that go to parties actually want to be surrounded by other people, you know.” he joked as he sat next down next to you. You smiled at his playfulness and looked over at him.

The moonlight accentuated his already perfect features, making your heart skip a beat. He took a sip of his drink and looked over at you, smirking when he realized that you were staring. 

“See something you like?” he teased, running his hand through his hair for added dramatic effect. 

“Yeah,” you admitted shamelessly, “I do.” 

You didn’t try to hide your face, shy away, or even blush. The night was making you feel bold, though you weren’t exactly sure why. Your relationship with Mingyu already felt so easy, you were extremely comfortable with him. After all, you’d basically told him everything about your life up until this point, and his responses to your experiences were wise beyond his years. Whenever you’d thought you’d done something bad or wrong, Mingyu always came up with a reason as to why what you did made sense. The way he never once judged you for anything you told him, even when it came to your more shameful moments, made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t want to let yourself think too much. Though you were already saying things that were out of the ordinary for you, you didn’t want to let your thoughts leave your head, at least not right now. That being decided, you made the choice to open one of the cans in your hand and down it in one go, because getting drunk totally wouldn’t put you in the position to say exactly what you’re thinking, right?

When you downed the last sip of bitter alcohol, you moved the can away from your face and brought it down into your lap. Mingyu was looking at you like you had two heads, but his expression only made you laugh.

“What? Impressed?” you looked at him teasingly, but he just shook his head in disbelief. 

“More like terrified. Please tell me you’ve eaten today?” he whined, concern lace in his voice. You could only smile in response. 

“Not since lunchtime!” you said perkily, setting the empty can down by your feet and picking up the full one. You knew drinking on a stomach wasn’t the smartest idea, but you figured you’d need a decent amount in your system if you wanted to do anything more with Mingyu than talk. And honestly, you wanted to. 

When you sat back up, Mingyu had his arm stretched out on top of the bench, giving you a spot to cuddle up next to him. You leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder, his scent filling your senses. His presence was familiar and comforting, and that’s when something suddenly dawned on you. 

“Doesn’t this all feel a little… fast to you?” you asked, looking up into his soft brown orbs. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Maybe it’s just me,” you sat up straight so you could look at him head-on, “but I really like you. Like really like you, but it’s only what, the third time I’ve seen you in person? I feel like it’s weird...” you asked mostly because if he felt the same way then you would feel way less strange about having caught feelings for him so fast. The only person you had ever really had feelings for was Joshua, and you didn’t even know if that situation really fell under the “crush” category. 

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Really?” you took a long sip of your drink.

“No. If someone’s right for you then they’re right for you,” he smiled reassuringly at you. “And if liking someone so quickly is weird, then I guess we’re both pretty odd.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up and your stomach begin to do flips at his words. You smiled at him, clearly smitten, and getting lost in his eyes as you leaned closer to him without even realizing what you were doing. You stopped when you could feel his breath on your skin. 

“Have you been drinking?” he asked sarcastically, booping your nose lightly.

“Yes,” you giggled, “but you’re the most intoxicating thing here.” 

All traces of playfulness disappeared when you looked down at his lips. They were the most enticing shade of pink, along with being the perfect size and shape to send you spiraling.  

“Y/n, we don’t-“

“Shhh, shut up.” you dropped the can behind you before grabbing his face and slamming his lips onto yours. They were just as soft as they looked and felt heavenly against yours. You kissed him passionately, saying everything you couldn’t say with words. 

Mingyu’s hand moved to your waist as your lips moved in sync, squeezing lightly as a low groan left his mouth. The sound went straight to your core, a whimper leaving your lips as you swung your leg over his body. You moved your hands to the back of his neck, kissing him even deeper.

His hands immediately moved to your ass, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. His tongue slid into your mouth and it took everything in you to suppress the sounds your body so desperately wanted to make. You ran your fingers through his hair, a light sweat making its way onto your skin. 

You pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily, and kept your hands in Mingyu’s hair. You looked into his eyes before he buried his face in your neck. Then strangely, he had stopped all activity. You tried moving his lips closer to your neck, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Mingyu?” you looked down at him. His eyes were glued to the place where your bodies met, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Mingyu what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to make eye contact, but completely failing. 

“We should stop.” he said sternly, removing his hands from your body. 

Your heart dropped. Did you do something wrong? Did he all of a sudden change his mind about you? You were finally feeling the alcohol in your veins, which wasn’t by any means helping the situation. 

“D-did I do something w-”

“No, no it’s not you. I just think I should go inside.” he avoided eye contact and attempted to move your body off of his, but you felt you were entitled to a slightly more descriptive explanation. 

“Wait, can you just tell me why-” 

“Y/n please-” he wrestled you off of his lap as gently as he could until you were standing. He tried to head for the stairs, but you grabbed his wrist before he could get there. 

“Mingyu what is going on?!” you exclaimed, and Mingyu whipped around in response. Only he looked different. Much different. His irises were almost completely black, his eyes rimmed with red.

And in his mouth were two long, sharp fangs.

a/n: so,,,,,,,,,,,,, long, filler chapter, and FANGS!!!!!!!!!! i’m sure u saw it coming but .. now u know :D i’m not super proud of this but i hope you all like it :( i’ll have the next chapter up as soon as possible but i did just start classes again so i’m not sure when that will be </3 i’ll try to make it uuuuh not super long sskdkdks

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 35

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Previous

Next

~~~

She let Robin turn in the criminal for two different reasons. The main one was the fact that her suit was falling apart by the second and the only reason it hadn’t disappeared already was she was pouring her own energy into maintaining it. The other reason was that the sight of the man made her feel sick; she couldn’t look at him without remembering exactly what she’d done, how he’d looked, and how it made her feel in the moment.

She clenched her fists tightly, letting her nails dig into her gloves as she ducked into an alley.

She brought her hand to her ear.

“Me and Robin are leaving patrols for the night,” she said. Her voice was much harsher than she’d intended. Maybe that was why no one argued.

“Robin and I,” corrected Nightwing.

She took a deep breath, ready to curse him out despite the apparent rule against cursing, but Robin cut her off before she could say anything: “Not the time, Nightwing.”

“Definitely not. I’m behind the building, come find me.”

“What happ --,” began Red Hood, but she turned off her comm.

She let her costume drop.

Tikki fell from her earrings and Marinette had to dive across concrete to catch her. Her elbows and knees were scratched and bleeding, but she couldn’t care as she examined the kwami.

Tikki wasn’t moving.

She felt tears well in the corners of her eyes and she forced them back. Robin would be there soon. She didn’t have the right to cry when he had just --.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to see him.

She sniffled and gently set Tikki in her bag. She pushed herself to her feet and took him by the arm, dragging him through the streets.

It was a bad idea to go out like this. No one knew who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, but from the amount of people snapping pictures of her she would be pretty well-known by the end of the week. She found she couldn’t care less.

“What’re we doing?” He asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” she muttered, her grip tightening on his arm.

He didn’t respond, just allowed her to pull him along.

She got to her apartment and practically tossed him inside, slamming the door behind them.

Plagg was sitting on the bed and she rolled her eyes at his disapproving look. The kwami opened his mouth but she beat him to it: “Don’t. Not right now. Just get the ring.”

Robin eyed the god and Marinette, as if he wasn’t yet sure which one he was supposed to be more wary of. She didn’t know if she wanted to take that as a compliment or an insult.

The kwami dropped the ring in her hand and it pulsed with power. A blinding green light emanated from the tiny ring, and both humans had to shield their eyes a little.

She forced it into Robin’s hand before it could mess with her. Having both the ladybug and cat miraculi on hand at the same time was known to corrupt event the most pleasant and mentally stable people. She already had committed a murder. Who knows what she would do.

He frowned as he toyed with the ring. As they watched, the white plastic ring morphed into what looked to be industrial steel.

Marinette smiled tensely. “Congrats, ‘Robin’, you’re now the owner of the cat miraculous.”

Robin tipped his head to the side as he considered it, then shook his head slightly. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” she said. Oh, there was that harsh tone again.

He winced.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What you did was absolutely stupid and reckless and, unfortunately, that seems to be the main two necessities for getting the cat miraculous.”

Robin raised his eyebrows and set the ring down. “Marinette, I know --.”

“Don’t ‘Marinette’ me! You were dead!”

“And why do you care? I thought you hated me!”

She groaned. “So did I, really. But apparently not! I never react like that! Apparently I care about you, who knew?”

He frowned. “React like what?”

Right. He hadn’t been alive to see what she’d done. She swallowed thickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but she didn’t let him get a word in.

“What does matter is that you’re doing stupid things that are getting you dangerously hurt -- for no real reason, mind you -- and if you’re going to do that then I may as well make sure you’re protected.”

“It’s fine, your yoyo brings everything back to status quo at the end anyways --.”

“Not anymore it doesn’t!”

His eyes widened.

“I need an active cat to maintain balance, and since I’ve been using Tikki for a month now without one, I’m pretty weak. I wasn’t even sure if I could...” She sighed. “I didn’t know if I could do it this time, and now...”

She pulled Tikki from her bag and let him see the kwami, who was still completely immobile.

Plagg darted to the other kwami and took him from Marinette’s grip, sending his guardian a glare as he carried her to the fridge to try and force Tikki to eat.

“But you shouldn’t have been relying on my ability to fix it anyways. It only fixes physical damages, but mental and emotional ones can’t just be taken away.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I figured that one out for myself, thanks.”

She winced. Not at what he’d said, but at how he’d said it. The slight tremble of his voice, the way his eyes finally looked away from hers for the first time that night, the clenching of his fists. She walked over and, hesitantly, wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed up. “Um...?”

“Just let me have this, please,” she mumbled.

Robin nodded slightly and rested his arms around her.

She concentrated on her breathing. She had a lot of experience dodging negative emotions from her years of fighting Hawkmoth in Paris, she knew strategies to keep them in check. Usually this meant that all she had to do was distract herself. This would be fine.

Or, at least, it would have been if she hadn’t felt Robin bury his face in her hair.

A sob built in her throat as she tugged him closer. She blinked rapidly in an attempt to push her tears back. He was the one in trouble, he was the one who needed help, he...

Was crying.

Her own tears forced themselves to be known. She pressed her face into his chest, bunching up his costume in her hands.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that; leaning into each other, sobbing over their shared experience, holding onto each other like their lives depended on it. But, eventually, she ran out of tears. Eventually, she felt him relax into her and begin to sleep.

Marinette gently detached herself and set him in her bed. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and went to drink some water. After a bit of considering it, she walked over and set some stuff out on the nightstand and wrote a note.

She sat down at the bedside, leaning against it and closing her eyes.

~

She opened her eyes to shifting behind her and looked over blearily.

Damian was crying silently, his hands covering his mouth to stifle the noise.

She hesitated, unsure if he’d want her help. Still, she reached up and rested her hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He stiffened slightly, then relaxed a bit. They sat there in silence for a while. Him crying, her staring off as she tried her hardest to push the events of the previous night from her mind.

“Marinette?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“No,” she mumbled sarcastically.

He gave a laugh, broken and sad as it was. “Right... I’m going to head home.”

“You sure? You don’t want me here to help?”

He rested his hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “I have a dog. Besides, this is your bed.”

She didn’t bother to argue. She knew he was scrambling for an excuse to leave, and she wasn’t going to keep him. You can’t force someone to open up to others, it’ll only make them clam up more. So, she pushed herself to her feet and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Okay. Give them a pet for me.”

He gave her a small smile before heading out.

~

Damian smiled awkwardly at her, waving.

The bags under his eyes were extremely prominent and she frowned at the sight of them. Marinette was used to getting only a few hours, but Damian (for the most part) seemed to find time to sleep.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” he murmured. “And you?”

She winced at the lie on her lips and forced her mouth closed before she could dismiss the question like she wanted to. He seemed to understand anyways.

He reached over and gave her arm a small squeeze.

She looked away. “Does your family...?”

“No, they don’t know. And they won’t. Ever.”

Marinette didn’t know whether this was a good thing. Despite how much she hated it, she knew they should be leaning on others after what had happened the previous night. Still, the idea of telling someone what she’d seen, what she’d done, so soon was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

She nodded to say she understood and changed the subject: “So, did Plagg explain everything to you?”

"Yep.”

“And?”

He seemed hesitant. “I think I’ll try it. It’s coming time for a new Robin, anyways.”

She nodded and reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring. She’d wrapped it in layer after layer of fabric to make sure she wasn’t tempted, but now it was going to be hard to get it out.

After a bit of digging, Marinette handed over the ring.

He slipped it on his finger.

“Plagg, claws out.”

With a bright flash of light he stood in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at the costume, which was exactly the same as his normal Robin one but this time in black.

“Creative.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, giving her shoulder a shove.

She grinned. “Right, I’m explaining everything to you myself, because Chat Noir had no clue first day even when Plagg tried to help.”

She was going to get lectured about that when Plagg got out, but until then she smiled and tapped the wall of the building.

“This is an abandoned warehouse. I checked to make sure there wasn’t any kids or Rogues, it’s completely empty. Cataclysm it.”

He looked at her like she was insane.

She sighed. “Listen, you’re too powerful right now, especially for a newbie.” She motioned to his costume. “I couldn’t get details in my outfit for about a year, and yet yours is pretty much fully-formed.”

“I’m powerful, so what?”

“It’s not good. If you used cataclysm on something small who knows what would happen. I’d prefer to stop that disaster before it happened.”

He frowned slightly. “But, if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be teaching me to control my powers?”

“We can when you’ve gotten most of the extra stuff out. Right now we’re avoiding a disaster. Sound good?”

He hesitated, his eyes finding their way to the building. “Who does this belong to?”

“It’s completely abandoned, said to be haunted because a guy died there. Legal fees made it shut down, and the people who owned it have been trying to sell it since. If you really care we can reimburse them however much they offered, but really it’s whatever.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re acting different.”

“Shocker!”

He winced and looked away.

“Sorry. I’m trying, it’s just...” She clenched her fists. “Yesterday was a lot. Doesn’t mean I can take it out on people. Especially not you.”

He nodded softly and raised a hand. “Cataclysm.”

She stepped away from the building to make sure she’d be fine and he pressed his hand to it.

It was gone in seconds. There was no gradual rusting, no time for it to spread. It simply collapsed into dust.

She looked at Damian and smiled faintly at the sight of his costume. It was fading rapidly, until it was back to the suit Cat Noir had used originally.

“Good. Now, we should get you used to your weapon...”

~~~

You know the last chapter was actually supposed to be just fluff of Marinette and Damian bonding but then I thought ‘naaah ive written too much fluff recently’

so like

my bad guys

~

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