#also i was legit not expecting these replies to be this long

[bxtsence]

“Focal impaired awareness seizures aren’t as recognized unfortunately. Look them up if you get a chance!” Zee said this all in a matter-of-fact manner, yet in a cheerful tone at the same time. It was as if she were that teacher or friend who clearly cared, yet never wasted time beating around the bush. “If it’s more than five minutes, get her to the hospital with however you got here so dang quickly earlier, but I think she’ll be coming around soon.”

“Oh! Like the Beatles’ song? Cute!” The stand placed both of its metallic neon green hands to its cheek in a gasping motion at the mention of the name. “I’ll be sure to tell Vi later whenever she gets all settled and calmed down. She’s going to be so confused and upset when she wakes up, poor thing.”

As if Viridian listened to that last bit of the conversation, she began to stir, like she was beginning to awaken from a long nap. It was subtle, but noticeable enough when her lashes fluttered, and her breathing began to quicken. This didn’t stop Zydrate Anatomy from continuing on filling Hikari in with her explanation.

“Stone Mask? We haven’t heard about any stone masks but if that’s one way they’re made or something, there’s other ways that a human can be turned into one. I should know— Vi’s brother told her about it multiple times.”

Zee put a finger to its lips, finally putting a genuinely serious expression on its face as it continued. “When his pregnant mommy was close to dying, the vampire who was involved in the accident that nearly caused her death offered his blood to revive her. That’s how her stepbrother was born and became a half vampire."

Now the stand was speaking quickly, as if it were trying to say as much as it objectively could before its user could add to the conversation. "There’s actually a lot more of those guys than you might realize. There’s a coven somewhere with them, and their leader is trying to kill Rowan for being “a half breed” or whatever you want to call it. They definitely do have stands, and the thing about the leader is that his stand has no combat ability whatsoever, but he makes up for it in other ways. The first time he came around, it was actually their friend Nik who killed the guy with his own stand. Put him in the sunlight and everything and he crumbled into itty bits of dust, but then a couple of weeks later—“

“God, my head hurts…” Viridian mumbled, taking in a big breath and placing a hand to her head.

“Oh! Sweet pea…” Zydrate Anatomy didn’t hesitate to turn to Viridian, placing its hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay… I was just talking to Hikari here.”

“Hikari….?” Viridian looked confused, slowly lifting her eyes to gaze at her surroundings. “Wait, what happened? Why are you talking to her…?”

“You were having another seizure. I’m sorry, but you’re okay now…” Zee began rubbing concentric circles along Viridian’s back, glancing up at Hikari as if waiting for her to say something.

"Ah, my-- hah, thank y' very much." Hikari's face was flush with embarassment, the disembodied arm of her Stand waving politely before disappearing like it never existed at all. She wasn't used to getting flirted with by strangers-- that was typically reserved for her joking friends at work. The attention wasn't something she was used to, so the confident agent in front of Zee merely demurely averted her eyes.

She slowly stepped over to the couch as Zee lead Viridian along, eyeing her balance carefully. "I've seen grand mal seizures before, but not ones like hers. I'm glad she's gonna be fine, but... if she takes a nosedive, jus' let me know an' I'll get her t'a hospital real quick, alright?" And for good measure, Hikari minimized her stopwatch app and pulled up a photo of the closest hospital and analyzed it, storing the information in her mind's eye. "Y'already know m'name from yer User, but m'Stand's name is Mother Nature's Son. MNS is fine too, if that's a mouthful. She don't care either way."

Part of her was glad she wasn't concious enough to recall a traumatic incident. Hikari was aware she didn't have the full picture yet-- but she didn't expect to be filled in by a Stand. Then the vampire thing was brought up again, and the warmth in Hikari's cheeks faded away to deathly seriousness. "I work alongside vampires, and I've fought against vampires. I've never once heard've a vampire carin' 'bout either their offspring'r another-- prolly 'cause there ain't many vampires about in the first place. Every recorded Stone Mask has either been destroyed, researched, or placed in the Foundation's hands t'keep safe..."

Unless there was another Mask cache out there. Unless there were more vampires originally thought. Maybe that's how LaBrie got his mask in prison... which sets a very dangerous precedent. People would kill for that immortality and power-- and historically, they have.

"Do they have Stands? That's a really important tidbit I hafta know before I fight 'em. Vampiric Stands are constantly developin' their powers-- t'near infinity. Their power is near limitless, an' Stands reflect that. Fightin' a vampire with a Stand ain't impossible, no matter how strong they are, but it sets the stage fer what I'm gonna be dealin' with once I start takin' care've yer... problem."

[readbyred]

may i request how the dps boys would react to realising they have a severe crush on a, preferably shy, reader! tysm <\3

Oh, I've been waiting for dps requests! Sorry for my late replies everybody, I got demotivated again because tumblr deleted a few of my x reader posts (and a few others). But I'll try to not let that happen again if I can even help it

I think Knox would have such a silly time trying to approach you. Because we all know he’s awkward, but determined at best and, well… pushy at worst. I'm trying to go with the version I saw in a play, because thankfully they cut out the party scene which means he’s still delightfully insufferable but not awful. Anyways, he would jump on every occasion to talk to you. And then just. Stand there. He’d try to give you flowers and poems, everything really. But he loses brain cells every time he’s around you. At least you’re both equally stressed about social interactions. He gets a little braver when you give him a smile or any other sign you like him. Not less awkward, but a bit more motivated to go for it. His main problem is that he can't read you well and despite being big on feelings and all, he still has a hard time actually talking to you. Clumsily, he showers you with over the top things, that most would find cringey but you think of as endearing. And if he thinks there's a chance he’ll lose you, he’ll confess right away. I think he is brave and pretty open about feelings. Just stressed out

With Neil, it's not an issue at all that you're shy. He’s more so taken aback by his own strong feelings. Because he wasn't expecting to fall this hard. But give him like five work days to process and he’ll be all in. I feel like he would take his time to confess but he’d make it known that he cares about you. He’d be checking up on you every time he can, bringing you coffee, asking to practice lines together, go to the movies in town. Even before you two start dating you just wake up and half of his sweatshirts are in your drawer (he likes to borrow you his clothes if you’re cold) and your desk is littered with poems he shared with you. He’s a gentle lover, but he knows what he wants and when the time is right Neil has no problem confessing

It's much funnier with Cameron because this boy is in panic mode 24/7. At first he legit thought he was sick because he always felt dizzy and distracted around you. And he’s a traditionalist. Everything has to be perfect when you’re around. Like he beats himself up about every little mistake he made around you. But also makes a point to treat you RIGHT. If you’re shy he might not know how to approach you at first, because he’s not sure if you’re even interested. And how to make you like him. After much teasing (mainly from Charlie, of course) he gets fed up with his friends and decides to make a move. It might not be the most romantic when he does, but it's sweet and genuine

Another one that would take time to confess is Meeks. He’s pretty quick to accept that he’s crushing on you. He’s like, yeah obviously they are amazing, now what do I do with that? He tries to give you things. Small things. Like maybe he could borrow you a book that you’ve wanted to read for a long time of buy you a coffee/tea if you’re out in the town. He doesn't explicitly say that he liked you but it's easy to tell and he’s not one to be shy about it either. So when you guys do get together, you already know his more… romantic side

On the contrary, Charlie takes time to process his feelings. He had crushes before, but real feelings (strong ones at that) aren't the norm for him. Sometimes he catches himself losing his cool around you and it messes with him so bad. He would probably ask Knox for advice. Which is a bad move. But he figures that at least his friend is more familiar with having those sorts of feelings. Nothing much comes of it because I can't imagine Knox giving him any good advice on the subject, but after he was able to talk about liking you, he decides to just go for it. Well, in small steps. Primarily because he’s just not an intense guy, but also because he’s surprisingly mature when it comes to respecting your levels of comfort. Doesn't mean it gets boring though, it's Charlie we’re talking about. Once you get together there's not a one dull moment with him by your side

With Todd, it might be difficult at first. He’s overwhelmed by fis feelings and has a tendency to talk himself out of making any sorts of moves. Why would you like somebody like him? He tells himself he doesn't have a chance, surely. It only confirms his suspicions when you don't take initiative. It's only after he’s been moping around for a few days that Neil approaches him about it and proceeds to give him shit for not doing anything to let you know his feelings. He’s like, bro, so you care about them so much that you’d rather not have them in your life because you want them in your life so much??? Make it make sense. So with Neil's encouragement, he tries to at least talk to you and see where it goes from there. Still shocked when you end up returning his feelings. You’re in his poems now, even if it's not very obvious (he's not as straightforward as Knox, so it's not ‘i love (yn) and I want them to be mine’ kind of deal). This is the only one where I'm sure you might have to make some sort of a move. Todd’s like a spider - he’s more scared than you are and if he could, he would just silently hang out in the corner of the room you’re in. But he gets a little braver after he starts feeling more secure

Lastly, Pitts is not as bad as Todd, but still takes his time. He’s comfortable with liking you and he knows what he likes, but he’s not in any rush to make things official. So any time he has any chance to talk to you, he does and just wants to see how things go from there. He jokes around with you, asks to come study together, tries to be close. He does care, just in a more chill way than some of the other poets would. If you two have been talking for some time, he would have no problem asking you to go out with him, doesn't make you feel pressured or anything. If the others are cool with it he will do his best to have you come to their meetings at night as well. So you do not only get an awesome boyfriend out of it, but also a great friend group

[ginxyy]

Becoming a family

(Ok kinda a long one. Legit just pure fluff. I would make this man a dad immediately if i could!)

The snow began to fall softly as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, relishing the gentle bite of winter air on my cheeks. Seoul transformed overnight into a whimsical winter wonderland, a magical blanket of white covering the bustling streets and twinkling lights that draped the city like a fairytale. I glanced sideways at Mingyu, my heart fluttering at the sight of him. He was bundled up in a navy blue parka, his dark hair tousled in the wind, yet every now and then, a few strands managed to fall across his forehead, making him look all the more charming.

We had decided on this late-night walk not just to embrace the beauty of the first snowfall, but also because it felt like the last chapter of an unspoken story one that had begun weeks ago amidst stolen glances and tender, whispered conversations. As we strolled hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Gangnam, illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps, I felt as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in our own bubble of happiness.

“Do you think this is too cliché?” Mingyu joked, his warm breath visible in the cold air as he turned to face me. His eyes sparkled like the stars scattered across the night sky, and I could feel myself blushing, a quiet smile playing on my lips.

“Maybe, but it’s our cliché,” I replied playfully, tightening my grip on his hand. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

For a moment, we walked in comfortable silence, the sound of crunching snow beneath our feet accompanying the distant melodies of street performers welcoming the holiday season. With each step, I felt more alive, more at ease in his presence. Mixing the fresh, crisp air with the thrill of being with Mingyu, I had never felt so free.

The snowfall intensified, swirling around us like little shimmering dancers, and I couldn’t help but laugh as a few flakes landed on Mingyu’s nose. “Look!” I exclaimed, pointing the tiny ice crystals. “You have snow on your face!”

He mockingly pouted, wiping at the snow like a child, and I laughed even harder. The sound filled the air, punctuated by the occasional twinkle of distant bells, and I knew then that I never wanted this moment to end. Just as I was about to lean in for a quick kiss, the sound of excited chatter nearby jolted me back to reality.

A throng of fans had appeared out of nowhere, their delighted gasps filling the air, eyes wide with disbelief and joy. “Mingyu! Is that you?” one girl shouted, pointing at us.

Suddenly, we were at the center of attention. Mingyu paused, his brows furrowed as the realization of being spotted settled around us like a dark cloud. For a brief moment, I felt a spark of anxiety. Would the reality of us being seen change everything? But as I looked into his warm brown eyes, filled with the same mix of surprise and excitement, I couldn’t bring myself to feel afraid.

“Yes, it’s me!” he called out, his voice echoing with a charming zest that made my heart sing. There was something mesmerizing about how he embraced his fans, how he beamed with pride and love for them. It was what endeared him to so many, and it only deepened my feelings for him. I felt a serene joy knowing that even in our unexpected moment of vulnerability, Mingyu was still the same genuine person I had come to adore.

As the girls screamed and took pictures, I stood slightly behind him, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. I never expected to be part of his world, and now, suddenly, I was at the very center of it. Whispers cascaded around us, the energy electrifying. Scrolling through the social media site later, I’d find countless posts speculating about our relationship the seventeen heartthrob was officially off the market.

Mingyu turned back to me, brushing his thumb gently across my hand as the crowd began to disperse, realizing they may have interrupted a precious moment. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, attempting to shake off the nervousness of the sudden press of attention. “Yeah, just a little overwhelming.”

“You know they’re gonna talk,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sure they’ll concoct some wild stories,” I retorted, grinning back.

That night, we walked longer than intended, navigating through beautifully lit parks and over quiet bridges until the world seemed to relax around us. We talked about everything and nothing our hopes, dreams, and silly little things we loved about each other. Despite the chaotic interruption, there was an undeniable connection that wrapped around us, stronger than the chill of the winter air.

When I returned home later that evening, my heart was still fluttering, dreamlike and impossibly buoyant. The glow of the lights around Seoul lingered in my mind, reminding me of our unforgettable walk. I drifted to sleep that night, imagining the happiness woven into our moments together.

Then everything changed. The next morning, something felt off. Dizziness washed over me as I prepared breakfast, and a deep-seated sense of anxiety settled in the pit of my stomach. I brushed it off as post-excitement jitters from my late outing with Mingyu, but something urged me to take a test.

As I stared at the small window revealing those stark two lines, everything came crashing down my heart raced, and for a brief moment, I felt time freeze. I was pregnant. Tears welled in my eyes, a mix of joy, fear, and confusion flooding my senses. How do I even begin to tell Mingyu something so monumental, so life-altering?

I could already envision how his eyes would light up with disbelief and then pure joy; he had always said that family mattered most to him. But everything felt so sudden, so unexpected.

The beautiful night we shared now felt like the beginning of an entirely new chapter. I knew there would be challenges ahead, but as I held that realization close to my heart, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. This wasn’t just a romance that blossomed amidst secrets; it was a love story paving the way for an adventure, one I hoped Mingyu and I would navigate together.

That morning, I could barely hold my phone without my hands trembling, but I knew I had to tell Mingyu. My mind raced with a thousand ways to break the news, but none of them seemed right. How do you casually tell someone that their entire life is about to change? That our lives were about to change forever.

I decided to keep it simple and heartfelt. Mingyu had always loved silly, sentimental moments, so I leaned into that. I grabbed a plain white mug from my kitchen cabinet and a black sharpie, my heart beating fast as I began scribbling across the ceramic surface.

On one side, I wrote, Best Boyfriend Ever, and on the other side, World’s Best Dad.

I grinned as I imagined his reaction. It was cheesy, but it felt perfect for us. I also added a little doodle of a baby on the bottom, just for an extra touch of fun. With the mug in hand, I paced the kitchen for what felt like hours, waiting for him to arrive. I had texted him earlier, asking if he could stop by, playing it off like I just wanted to see him.

When he finally knocked on the door, I felt like I might faint. My heart leapt in my chest as I opened it, and there he was, looking as handsome as ever with his familiar, boyish grin, bundled up in a grey sweater that made his broad frame look even cozier.

“Hey you,” he said, stepping inside and pulling me into a tight hug. I breathed him in, letting his warmth melt away the nervousness that had been building all morning.

“Hey,” I whispered, my face buried in his chest.

“You okay? You seem… different,” he said, pulling back to look at me, his eyes searching my face. “Everything alright?”

I forced a smile, trying to contain my excitement and nerves. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just well, I made you something.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and followed me into the kitchen. I handed him the mug, watching closely as he turned it over in his hands, his eyes lighting up as he saw the first side: Best Boyfriend Ever.

He chuckled, giving me a teasing glance. “This is sweet, but I already knew that.”

“Turn it over,” I urged, my voice shaky with anticipation.

He turned the mug around, and I saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened as he stared at the words, World’s Best Dad, then his gaze shot back to me. For a second, he was frozen, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form words but couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“No way,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, tears already welling up in my eyes. “Mingyu, I’m pregnant.”

For a split second, I worried about how he would react would he freak out? Would he be scared? But all my fears dissolved when his face broke into the brightest, most beautiful smile I had ever seen. His eyes shimmered with tears, and before I could even say anything else, he pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

I nodded against his chest, tears spilling over as I laughed through my sobs. “Yeah, we’re gonna have a baby.”

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as his thumbs wiped away my tears. “This is… I can’t believe it. I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I could see the love, the joy, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes, and it made my heart swell. He kissed me softly, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough, and I melted into him, feeling a warmth and a peace I had never known before.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted. He pulled back and gave me a serious look, his hands dropping to my belly as if he were already protecting the life growing inside me.

“Are you okay? Have you been feeling sick? You need to rest more,” he said, suddenly serious. “Do you need anything? We should go to the doctor—no, wait, I’ll make you tea first. Sit down, you shouldn’t be standing too much.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he shifted into overprotective mode. “Mingyu, I’m fine. Really. It’s early, and I’ve been taking care of myself.”

But he was already bustling around the kitchen, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around me before insisting I sit. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are safe,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I know, and I love you for it,” I replied, smiling as he fussed over me. “But there’s something else we need to talk about.”

He paused, looking at me with wide eyes. “What? What is it?”

I grinned, feeling a mischievous excitement bubbling up. “We need to tell the rest of the band.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened again, but this time with excitement. “Oh my god. How do you think they’ll react?”

“I think they’ll be thrilled, but we need to tell them in a fun way. You know, something memorable,” I said, already brainstorming ideas.

Mingyu lit up at the thought. “Yes! Let’s do it! We can tell them all differently.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon we were coming up with a plan.

For Seungkwan, we decided to get him a shirt that said Uncle Boo in big, bold letters. Mingyu figured he’d be so caught off guard he might actually cry.

For Jeonghan, the plan was to wrap a baby pacifier in a fancy box and give it to him, saying it was a “VIP gift” for him. I could already imagine the look of confusion that would spread across his face before he put the pieces together.

For Joshua, we planned to take him out for coffee, casually dropping the news in between sips like it was no big deal, just to see how long it would take him to process.

We spent the rest of the afternoon planning every detail, laughing and crying in equal measure as we imagined their reactions. Each moment felt like a new step toward something incredible, something bigger than either of us had ever dreamed.

By the time Mingyu left that evening, his protective instincts had kicked into full gear. He made me promise to call if I needed anything, even if it was the middle of the night. I watched him leave with a heart so full it felt like it might burst, already counting the minutes until I could see him again.

That night, I lay in bed, my hand resting on my stomach, imagining what the future would hold. It was still overwhelming, still terrifying at times, but with Mingyu by my side, I knew we could handle whatever came our way. This was the start of our greatest adventure yet, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would take us.

A few days later, Mingyu and I put our plan into action. The anticipation had been building ever since we decided how we’d break the news to the rest of the band. I could tell Mingyu was beyond excited, though he tried to play it cool, his nervous energy spilling over as we prepared for each of the reveals.

The first to arrive was Seungkwan. He burst through the door, as usual, full of energy and his signature dramatic flair. “I’ve brought snacks!” he announced, holding up a bag of chips and candy. He tossed them on the counter, then plopped down on the couch without missing a beat. “So, what’s the big deal? Mingyu said I had to come over, but he’s been all cryptic about it.”

I exchanged a glance with Mingyu, and he grinned. He handed Seungkwan the gift bag we had prepped earlier a simple white bag with Uncle Boo written across the front. Seungkwan furrowed his brow as he took it, peering inside with curiosity. When he pulled out the shirt and read the words, it took a moment for the realization to hit.

“Uncle Boo?” Seungkwan muttered, confused. He looked up at Mingyu and then at me, still not piecing it together. “What is this supposed to mean?”

Mingyu could barely contain himself, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Think about it, Boo.”

I watched as Seungkwan’s eyes flickered from confusion to shock, and then, in one swift moment, everything clicked. His jaw dropped. “Wait… no… Are you serious?!” His voice pitched higher than I’d ever heard, and he scrambled to his feet, his hands flying to his face. “You’re pregnant?!”

I nodded, tears already threatening to spill as Seungkwan’s eyes filled with emotion. He rushed over and hugged me so tightly I almost lost my balance. “Oh my God! You’re having a baby! I’m going to be an uncle!” He stepped back, staring at me like I had just given him the most precious news in the world. “I’m going to spoil this baby rotten! You two have no idea what you’ve done. I’m going to be the best uncle ever!”

Mingyu laughed, pulling Seungkwan into a hug as well. “We know, Boo. You’re going to be the most extra uncle, and we love you for it.”

As Seungkwan wiped away tears, I could already sense his protective side kicking in. “You need to sit down. Do you need water? I’ll get you some water.” He hurried off to the kitchen, his voice trailing behind him. “And no more stress! From now on, you’re not lifting a finger, do you hear me?”

Mingyu and I exchanged a look, laughing softly. “One down,” he whispered, and I nodded, already feeling the wave of emotions that were sure to follow.

Next, Jeonghan arrived. Mingyu greeted him with a casual, “We got you a VIP gift, hyung,” and handed him the fancy box. I watched as Jeonghan slowly untied the ribbon, his face full of suspicion.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” Jeonghan asked, smirking as he pulled off the lid. When he saw the baby pacifier, his expression shifted from amused to completely baffled. He picked it up, dangling it between two fingers, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“A pacifier? You guys are weird,” he said, shaking his head.

Mingyu just crossed his arms, trying to suppress his laughter. “Why do you think we gave you that?”

Jeonghan blinked a few times, his eyes darting between the pacifier, me, and Mingyu. Then, his eyes widened with realization. “Wait… No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, grinning through the tears that had started to form again. “Yeah, Jeonghan. I’m pregnant.”

His face softened immediately, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. “No way,” he whispered, stepping forward to give me the most tender hug. “You’re going to be a mum?” His voice cracked, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I’m so happy for you.”

For the next few minutes, Jeonghan just stood by me, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, as if he were already taking on the role of the older brother. “You guys better take it easy. She needs to rest, and I don’t want to hear about you doing anything crazy.” His protective instincts kicked in faster than I expected, and I had to smile.

Soon after, Joshua showed up for coffee. Mingyu and I sat across from him at a quiet little café, where the Christmas lights twinkled in the windows. Mingyu casually dropped the news while Joshua was mid-sip, and I watched in amusement as Joshua froze, the mug hovering just inches from his lips. He stared at us, processing the information in complete silence for a solid ten seconds.

“You’re… having a baby?” he finally asked, his voice soft and reverent. When we nodded, Joshua set his coffee down and gave me a gentle smile. “That’s incredible. You’re going to be amazing parents.” His words were so full of warmth and sincerity that I felt my heart swell. Joshua, ever the calm and collected one, didn’t react with the same fanfare as Seungkwan, but the deep emotion in his eyes told me everything. “Whatever you need, I’m here,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to hold my hand. “This is going to be such a special journey.”

As the days went on, we broke the news to the rest of the band, each moment filled with more joy and more emotion than I ever imagined. Vernon’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement, and he immediately asked if he could be the “cool uncle,” while Woozi’s face turned bright red as he offered us a quiet congratulations, though I could see the pride in his eyes.

Hoshi, of course, made it his mission to outdo everyone else with his excitement. He nearly tackled me in a hug, lifting me off the ground, despite my protests that he shouldn’t be so rough. “I’m going to teach the baby all the best dances!” he declared, already imagining how he would choreograph future performances with our little one.

But it was when Seungcheol found out that I completely broke down. He had always been the leader, the protector of the group, and when we told him the news, his reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled me into a long, tight hug, his chin resting on top of my head. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “You’re going to be an amazing mum. You know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the tears that flowed freely now. “I hope so.”

Seungcheol pulled back, wiping at his own eyes before smiling at me. “We’re all going to take care of you,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “From now on, you’re family, and we protect our family.”

It wasn’t long before the entire group had fully embraced their new roles as overprotective “uncles.” Everywhere I went, at least one of them was by my side, whether it was Seungkwan insisting I eat more or Seungcheol making sure I didn’t carry anything heavier than a glass of water. Mingyu, of course, had taken his protective instincts to a whole new level, constantly checking in on me, making sure I was comfortable, and catering to my every need.

There were days when the attention was overwhelming, when I felt like I couldn’t breathe without someone asking if I was okay. But through it all, there was an overwhelming sense of love, of support, of family. Each of them had wrapped me and the baby in a cocoon of care, and I knew without a doubt that this child would grow up surrounded by more love than I could have ever imagined.

As I lay in bed that night, Mingyu’s arms wrapped around me, I thought about how lucky I was. This baby hadn’t even arrived yet, and already, they had so many people who loved them so many people who would be there, every step of the way.

“I think this is going to be the best adventure yet,” I whispered, my hand resting on my stomach.

Mingyu kissed the top of my head, his voice soft and full of wonder. “I know it will be.”

Nine months passed in a whirlwind, and true to their word, the entire band treated me like an absolute princess. Each day brought a new wave of attention and affection, whether it was Seungkwan bringing me homemade snacks, Woozi composing lullabies for the baby, or Seungcheol taking on the role of personal chauffeur, insisting I didn’t exert myself too much. Even the most mundane activities were taken over by one of the boys—they handled everything with a mix of humor, seriousness, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

Mingyu, of course, had been the most attentive of all. He doted on me constantly, running out in the middle of the night to satisfy every odd craving, massaging my feet, and making sure every appointment with the doctor went smoothly. But underneath his excitement, I could tell he was nervous. The thought of becoming a dad thrilled him, but the weight of it all made him anxious too.

We were down to the final stretch, and the nursery was ready, the baby clothes neatly folded, and all the hospital bags packed. Everything was set, and yet nothing could have prepared us for that moment.

It was late at night well past midnight when I woke up to a sharp, twisting pain in my lower abdomen. At first, I tried to dismiss it as Braxton Hicks, something I’d grown used to over the last few weeks, but when the pain came back stronger and more intense, I knew something was happening. My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me.

I nudged Mingyu, who was snoring softly beside me. “Mingyu, wake up.”

He stirred, groggy and confused. “Hmm? What is it?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“I think it’s time,” I whispered, my voice shaking with both excitement and fear. “The baby’s coming.”

Those words hit him like a shockwave. He shot out of bed, his eyes wide with panic. “Wait, what? Now? Are you sure? Oh my god okay, okay, okay what do we do first? The hospital! Right! We need to get to the hospital!”

I watched in amusement as he stumbled around the room, trying to pull his pants on while simultaneously grabbing the hospital bag and his phone. He was muttering to himself the entire time, his usual composed demeanor completely gone in the chaos. “Where are my keys? What about the car seat? Do we have snacks? What if we forgot something?”

“Mingyu, breathe,” I said, trying to keep myself calm despite the increasingly sharp contractions. “We have everything ready. Just get me to the car.”

He nodded frantically, still fumbling with his phone. “Right, right. The car! Let’s go.”

As soon as we were in the car, he began speeding through the quiet streets of Seoul, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Every few minutes, he would glance over at me, his eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? Oh my god, you’re so strong. We’re almost there, okay? Just hang on.”

Between contractions, I managed a weak smile. “Mingyu, calm down. I’m okay… just focus on driving.”

By the time we reached the hospital, Mingyu was practically vibrating with energy. He jumped out of the car, running to my side to help me out, though his hands were shaking so badly that I had to reassure him again. “I’m fine, really. We’re going to be okay.”

Once inside, the nurses quickly got me settled into a room, and Mingyu, who was still visibly freaked out, finally stopped pacing long enough to sit beside me. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly as I breathed through another contraction. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “We’re about to meet our baby.”

It was in that moment despite the chaos, the pain, and the panic that a sense of calm washed over me. This was it. We were about to start the next chapter of our lives, and I couldn’t have asked for a better partner by my side.

But just as I was beginning to settle into the rhythm of labor, Mingyu’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced down, his eyes widening. “Oh no. I forgot to tell the guys!”

He quickly answered, and I could hear Seungkwan’s voice on the other end, frantic and high-pitched. “WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR NEWS!”

Mingyu fumbled with his words, trying to explain the situation between checking on me and answering the nurses’ questions. “Uh, yeah, we’re at the hospital. She’s in labor. It’s happening now.”

Apparently, that was all Seungkwan needed to hear, because within minutes, the entire band was blowing up Mingyu’s phone with messages and calls. They wanted updates, details, everything. And then, of course, they all announced that they were on their way to the hospital.

“What? No! You don’t need to come wait, okay, fine!” Mingyu blurted out, clearly overwhelmed by the chaos already erupting on the other end of the line.

Sure enough, not even an hour later, I heard the telltale sound of commotion in the hallway. The boys had arrived, and from the sounds of it, they had caused quite the stir at the nurses’ station. Voices carried through the corridor as Seungkwan tried to charm his way into the delivery room, while Seungcheol attempted to explain to a nurse why they needed to be there right now.

When the door finally swung open, the chaos came spilling in with it. Seungkwan, Hoshi, Seungcheol, and Vernon all burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed, each of them talking over the other in a rush to see how I was doing.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting something catastrophic to be happening. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to sing to calm you down?”

Hoshi, ever the performer, chimed in. “I brought a playlist of relaxing songs! We can play it while you give birth.”

Vernon looked genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed as he glanced between me and Mingyu. “Do you need water? I’ll go get some water.”

Seungcheol, of course, was the only one trying to maintain some semblance of order. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Give them some space,” he said, though his own voice was strained with emotion. “This is a big moment.”

I couldn’t help but laugh through the pain, grateful for their chaotic love and concern. “Guys, I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered as another contraction hit. “It’s just… a lot right now.”

Mingyu, who had been pacing again, stopped and came to my side. His face was flushed, and his eyes filled with both awe and terror. “She’s doing amazing,” he said, as much to the guys as to me. “But… maybe you should all wait outside until it’s time.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though not without promises to be right there the moment the baby arrived. “We’ll be in the waiting room,” Seungcheol assured me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just yell if you need anything.”

As they left, the room grew quieter, and I turned to Mingyu, who was now holding my hand with both of his, his gaze locked on my face. “You’re so strong,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I can’t believe we’re about to meet our baby.”

The hours blurred together in a mixture of pain, anticipation, and excitement, but through it all, Mingyu never left my side. His hand was a constant source of comfort, his words of encouragement carrying me through the toughest contractions.

And then, finally, the moment came. After what felt like an eternity, the cries of our baby filled the room, and everything stopped. Time seemed to freeze as the nurses placed the tiny, squirming bundle in my arms. I stared down at our baby, tears streaming down my face, unable to comprehend the depth of love I felt in that moment.

Mingyu was beside me, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the baby’s tiny fingers. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re parents.”

As I looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, I knew that no matter how chaotic, how overwhelming this journey had been, it was all worth it. We had created something beautiful something that connected us in a way that nothing else ever could.

In the hallway, I could hear the muffled cheers of the band as they celebrated the baby’s arrival. Even though they weren’t in the room with us, I knew they were part of this moment, part of this family we had built together.

We were a family now a chaotic, loving, overwhelming family. And as I held our baby in my arms, surrounded by Mingyu’s love and the band’s excitement just outside, I knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.

It’s hard to believe how much time has passed. Our little Lia, once so tiny and delicate in my arms, is now a walking, talking whirlwind of energy and sass. At three years old, she’s already mastered the art of wrapping everyone around her tiny fingers, especially her dad and the rest of the Seventeen boys.

Lia has them all under her spell, and she knows it.

“Mingyu-ya!” her little voice calls from the living room one morning, her pronunciation still adorably toddler-like but clear enough to demand attention.

Mingyu, who had been washing dishes in the kitchen, immediately drops everything at the sound of her voice, sprinting toward her as if his life depended on it. “Yes, princess?” he asks, kneeling down in front of her with a grin that shows just how much he adores her.

She scrunches up her face in mock seriousness, crossing her arms over her chest. “Daddy, why is my elephant not dancing?” She points to the stuffed toy on the floor with a pout.

I stifle a laugh from the doorway, watching as Mingyu immediately picks up the plush elephant and starts doing a ridiculous dance routine with it, making exaggerated noises as if it’s singing along. Lia bursts into giggles, her laughter infectious as she claps her hands in delight.

“See, I told you! Daddy can make the elephant dance,” she declares proudly, as if she had orchestrated the whole performance. And, in a way, she had.

It’s not just Mingyu she has wrapped around her little finger, though. The entire band falls over themselves for her.

There was the time we visited the studio and Hoshi had come running over with wide eyes after Lia demanded he help her “roar like a tiger” while she was playing with some animal toys. Hoshi, ever the dramatic performer, immediately crouched down and gave her the loudest, most exaggerated roar. The two of them then spent the next hour roaring back and forth at each other, while the rest of the band just watched in amusement.

“Hyung, you’re seriously getting schooled by a toddler,” Vernon had teased, but even he wasn’t immune to Lia’s charms. Within minutes, he’d been roped into playing “jungle” with them, crawling around on all fours while Lia rode on his back, giggling uncontrollably.

The best part? Lia’s bossy, sassy side was almost always on full display, especially when she felt things weren’t going her way. One day, she had the audacity to sit Seungcheol—the Seungcheol—down and tell him very seriously, “No, no, Uncle Cheol, that’s not how you build a castle. You’re doing it all wrong. Watch me.”

Seungcheol had looked utterly baffled but also completely charmed. “Oh, really? I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” he asked, genuinely listening as she showed him how to properly stack the blocks.

“I think I need some lessons,” he muttered to Mingyu later, laughing at how Lia had taken control of the playtime.

Even Woozi, usually so serious and focused in the studio, couldn’t resist Lia’s pull. Whenever we visited, Lia would inevitably waltz in, head held high, demanding to sit on his lap while he worked. Woozi, who didn’t like being interrupted during his creative process, was a complete pushover when it came to her. He’d let her press a few keys on the piano, giving her an approving nod as if she had composed a symphony, while she smiled up at him proudly.

“You’re my assistant now,” he’d say in his deadpan tone, but there was always a glint of affection in his eyes as Lia “helped” him with his work.

And of course, there’s Mingyu, who has turned into the most doting dad I could have ever imagined. He’s completely smitten with Lia he’s always been loving and protective, but when it comes to his daughter, he’s on another level. I often catch him watching her with the softest expression, like he can’t quite believe she’s real.

One night, after Lia had been particularly bossy during bath time (“No, Daddy, you’re not washing my hair right! Use more bubbles!”), I found Mingyu sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair gently as she fell asleep. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and whispered, “I love you, my little princess.”

It’s moments like these that make my heart swell. Seeing him so in love with our little family it’s everything I could have hoped for.

There was also the infamous “band meeting” Lia had hosted when she decided she wanted to put on a fashion show with her princess dresses. She marched into the living room, hands on her hips, and announced to the guys, “Everyone, listen up! I need you to watch me. Sit here!” She pointed to the couch, directing them as if they were her loyal subjects.

Mingyu, Jeonghan, and Joshua sat dutifully, clapping every time Lia twirled around in one of her dresses, their cheers loud enough to rival an actual concert. At one point, Joshua even got up and pretended to be a fashion show announcer, describing each of her outfits in detail, much to her delight.

Seungkwan had tried to outdo him by grabbing a feather boa and twirling it around as Lia’s “assistant.” “You’ve created a monster,” he’d joked to Mingyu, but the proud dad just shrugged, grinning ear to ear.

“She’s perfect,” Mingyu would always say, his voice filled with pure adoration. And I couldn’t agree more.

One of the funniest moments came just a few weeks ago. Lia had overheard me talking to Mingyu about a show Seventeen was preparing for, and in typical Lia fashion, she decided that she needed to be involved too.

“Dad, I need to be on stage!” she said with a serious expression, tugging on her dad’s shirt.

Mingyu, ever the indulgent father, crouched down to her level. “Oh yeah? What would you do on stage, princess?”

She looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll sing! And dance! And you can dance behind me.”

At the next rehearsal, true to her word, Lia showed up in a sparkly dress, marched right onto the stage where the guys were practicing, and demanded to have her moment in the spotlight. The band had stopped everything to let her perform her own little routine, complete with a very enthusiastic rendition of the ABCs and a dance that mostly involved spinning in circles. The guys cheered like she was performing in front of thousands, and Mingyu’s eyes shone with pride the entire time.

Every day with Lia is filled with moments like these moments where she’s the center of attention, where she commands the room with her sass, her bossiness, and her irresistible charm.

And through it all, Mingyu and the rest of the band are completely wrapped around her finger, never hesitating to indulge her every whim.

I love watching them together the way Mingyu’s face lights up every time Lia walks into a room, how the guys drop everything when she demands their attention, and the way our little girl has filled our lives with so much joy and laughter.

As I sit back and watch Mingyu helping Lia color outside on the balcony, her little legs swinging from the chair, I realize how blessed we are to have this family. Mingyu is in love with every moment of fatherhood, and I can see it in the way he looks at her his world revolves around her and, by extension, around us. The band, too, has become more than just uncles to Lia.

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: this time we're bringing the trauma folks, im not sorry at all hehe >.< also this is dedicated to vaish and gigi, truly my biggest cheerleaders.

a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 2

Someone yells as soon as I enter the restaurant, and I almost turn back on my heels and walk out of there. The culture desk is huddled around a large table, and judging from the empty bottles, half of them were well on their way to drunkenness already. I can spot Seungkwan at the end of the table, being the newbie, he must have been plied with alcohol by the rest of us. His entire face is slowly going red, and if I hadn’t been consumed with hatred over Jihoon being a weirdo, I would feel sorry for him too. But, he’s Jihoon’s friend, and any friend of Jihoon is an enemy of mine.

“The Associate Editor is here!” someone shouts, and I look on, horrified, as my editor, the boring, staid old man who wears the same style of suits five days in a row, waves and giggles at me, holding up a new glass of soju, “my, I thought you would never arrive. We’re all having a party without you!”

“Yes, I can see that,” I accept the offered glass, “sorry, the interview went on for much longer than I expected it to be, and the bus was stuck in traffic for a long time.”

“Just say that you didn’t want to come hang out with us,” the Assistant Editor, a woman in her forties, giggles, “we missed you so much!”

My breath is almost knocked out by the way she hugs me right after that statement, “no, I can assure you I wanted to come here. If not nothing, then just to congratulate the maknae on joining.”

“Huh?” the Editor blinks around, “oh yes, there’s Seungkwan!”

“Haven’t you given him too much to drink?” I ask, standing up to pour Seungkwan another glass, “Seungkwan, have fun in this department, okay?”

Seungkwan, drunk as he is, only mumbles something unintelligible, by way of a reply. Still, he accepts the drink and knocks it back, while the person next to him, Haewon, smiles drunkenly at me, “sunbae,” she says, “won’t you give me a drink?”

Haewon, unfortunately, has the habit of getting cutesy when she drinks, so I wordlessly extend the bottle to pour her another one. The Editor and the Assistant Editor are boisterous, singing a drinking song off-key.

“Can I get another bottle of soju here?” I call, and the surly-looking part-timer slams a bottle. He doesn’t even offer me a smile. Jerk.

“Drink up, drink up,” the Editor smiles happily, addressing the whole table, “did you know, she’s the only one who Mr Hong does an interview with?”

“Really?” Seungkwan perks up at that, “isn’t he famous for not giving any interviews?”

“He is, but she’s the only person who can get an interview with him.”

“Whoa, sunbae,” Seungkwan is all starry-eyed, which means he is definitely drunk, “I’ve always heard praises about you from the hyungs, but it’s all true! You’re legit.” And to drive home the point of my legitimacy, he hugs me, planting a huge, wet kiss on my cheek, “you’re my inspiration, sunbae.”

“Seungkwan, maybe the inspiration is a bit too much,” I reply, pouring myself a tall glass, “but I’ll accept it either way.”

“Wait, wait,” the Editor is suddenly interested in whatever Seungkwan is saying, “who are these people you’re talking about?”

“Oh, the hyungs?” Seungkwan is talkative even when he is not drunk, but alcohol has made him into one of the most loose-lipped people I’ve ever seen, “Jihoon-hyung, and Joshua-hyung. They’ve been friends since university, you know. They still hang out together.”

“Really?” Haewon looks interested, “are any of them the person you had lunch with this afternoon?”

“You had lunch with Joshua-hyung?”

“No, it was Jihoon,” I correct Seungkwan even though I don’t really need to, but it’s the alcohol, “Joshua doesn’t like the same things that I do.”

“Oh, is he your boyfriend?” Haewon giggles, and I sputter, “was that why he walked you to the company door?”

“No, Haewon, he isn’t my boyfriend, please drink some water.”

“No, no, I’m interested,” it’s a testament to how jobless we all are at the culture desk, because the Editor suddenly turns to Seungkwan with barely hidden glee in his eyes, “Jihoon, that’s his name?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan, who normally is the most tight-lipped out of all my acquaintances, is surprisingly talkative when drunk, “yes, Lee Jihoon. He’s the closest with her, out of all his friends. They even hang out all the time.”

I pour out some soju in a shot glass, then rethink it, drinking the rest of the bottle in one go. If this dinner goes on for any moment longer, they’re going to start speculating on my dating life. And based on what I’ve seen from the diner owner this afternoon, they’re going to assume that Jihoon and I are dating.

“Ah, so he’s the man you used to skip company dinners for,” the Associate editor says, “bring him around sometime! We’d all have fun!”

I’d rather stick my head in a vat of boiling acid than bring Jihoon to any place even remotely associated with my work, so I just nod and smile. Seungkwan, however, perks right up at this, saying, “do you want to see a picture of them?”

Enthusiastic cheers follow, from everyone at the table. I drink another half-bottle of soju.

“There you go!” does Seungkwan have all these pictures at the ready, or was he planning to make my life hell before participating in this dinner? Because the photo he’s pulled up is from the final year of university, when Jihoon and I were working on both our senior theses, and we’d spend a fair amount of that time huddled in between the stacks at the library, or over at each other’s apartments. The picture Seungkwan is brandishing around is from one of those days, and I would die before I admitted it to Jihoon, but I had a printout of it stuck on my wall. It’s a simple picture: Jihoon and I have our arms around each other, wide smiles on our faces, something that comes only after successfully finishing a gruelling paper, or from consuming too many snacks. Our cheeks are touching, and my free hand is thrown up in a victory sign.

“Ah, so you guys dated,” Haewon nods sagely, “that’s not a picture one takes with their friend.”

“No, this is—this is a very friendly picture,” I sputter, drinking more alcohol in an effort to dull the embarrassment that’s running through my veins, “we’re just friends.”

“I’ve seen couples who have less skinship than this.” The Assistant Editor says, “you both look very cute, I must say.”

On and on it goes, until both my ears have gone red, and still they go on, fuelled entirely by Seungkwan, who’s apparently a savant when it comes to remembering embarrassing incidents from university. Seungkwan. I’m gripped by a desire to commit murder, and it plainly shows on my face, but he goes on, unfazed by the looks I’m giving him, “they used to be practically inseparable during their university days! You could never see her without Jihoon-hyung, and if she wasn’t around, he would be irritable and angry all the time.”

“He’s still irritable and angry,” I murmur, senses highly dulled by the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve consumed. What’s my limit? One? Two bottles? I’ve drunk far more than that. My vision is swimming in front of my eyes, and everyone else’s words are coming slowly to my ears, as though filtered through sand. Is this how it feels to hear underwater? “he’s never—he’s never once been nice to me, you know that?”

“Really? He always takes care of you, though.” Seungkwan isn’t one to back down from an argument when its beginning, “I’ve always seen hyung take such good care of you.”

“Well, he doesn’t anymore!” I say, waving for another bottle, “He’s a little shit nowadays, have I told you that?”

“No, you haven’t. you don’t talk a lot.”

“That’s true.”

The third bottle (or is this the fourth) goes down far easier than the rest, and before I know, I’m stumbling out of the restaurant with the others, bundling the Editor into his car and the Assistant Editor into a taxi.

“Do all of you have money to go back home?” I ask the rest of them, but they’re already making plans to go on to the next spot. My watch says its midnight, but for people younger than me, it must be easier.

“Sunbae, do you want me to call you a taxi?” Seungkwan asks, but he’s tottering on unsteady feet, and I can see the longing looks he’s throwing the group of people who’ve started to move on without him.

“Go on, Seungkwan, I’m going to be fine by myself.” I wave a hand across my face, “it takes me ten minutes to walk back home, I’ll manage.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Seungkwan doesn’t need much convincing, and trots off to his colleagues. I sit there on the sidewalk for a long while, as the night sky swirls around me. I want to ask myself, why do I have to put myself through these situations? Why couldn’t I, like every other person, be normal about finding love and romance and relationships, and have a perfectly average life?

I dial the first number that comes on my screen, and a few moments later, Jihoon’s scratchy voice comes through, “you’re calling awfully late.”

“I’m bored.” I say, settling back onto the sidewalk, “Seungkwan and the others went for round two of the company dinner.”

“And they left you all alone?” Jihoon sounds irritated, “shit, he should have at least called you a cab.”

“I’m old enough to get home on my own, Lee Jihoon, and besides, I’m also sensible enough to not come in between the affairs of my juniors.”

“You’re slurring, I bet you can’t even stand up properly.” Jihoon says, “hey, give me your address.”

“I can stand up!” I protest, “why would I give you, my address?”

“So that, I can go pick you up.”

“Why are you suddenly doing this? It isn’t as though I’ve never gone home drunk from a dinner before.”

“Yes, but you’ve also never called me before, so, I’m going to pick you up.” I can hear other people talking in the background, “hey, wait there, I got the location from Seungkwan. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Seriously, Jihoon, you don’t have to.”

“Well, thank goodness I don’t listen to you very much.”

And he’s gone. All at once, I feel terribly alone. Why didn’t I go along with Seungkwan and the others? Why did I have to be a good senior and leave the youngsters alone? All that I can do now, is to sit alone, and contemplate.

When I was in school, and studying for the college entrance exams, all I could think about was how to get into university. When I got into university, all I could think about was how to get a job. Now that I have a job, all I can think about are the banal, everyday details of my everyday life, what to eat for dinner, what clothes to wear, whether I’m getting a promotion or not.

“You look like a drowned cat.”

I look up. Jihoon is dressed for the studio, wearing a comfortable jacket over comfortable pants and plush slippers on his feet. Its evident he’s rushed over here from the company. I want to feel sorry for him, but all I can think about is how much he looks like a steamed dumpling, all cozied up in his studio clothes.

“I look nice.” I say feebly, looking at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt and trousers, and a coat that I haphazardly threw on before leaving my home; he’s right.

“Get up.”

“No.”

Jihoon doesn’t waste any time, he leans down, forcing me to stand. “The car is right there,” he says, hauling me towards the direction of his new car, “if you vomit, I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“I don’t vomit after I drink. That’s on you.”

“That was once,” he sighs, as though he’s some long-suffering saint, “please wear your seatbelt. I’m not about to get a ticket because of you.”

“Hey, Jihoon?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we have a sleepover?”

He stares at me, halfway through fixing my seatbelt. Its funny, how pretty his features are. If I could extend my fingers just a little bit, I could touch him, feel exactly how many lashes he has, see if his skin is as smooth as it seems to be. My hands remain firmly at my sides. “What do you mean a sleepover?”

“I don’t want to bring you to my house,” I reply, settling into the seat, “it’s a mess.”

“Because you can’t keep a house.”

“No, I’m moving.”

“I thought you had time?”

“I’m being evicted, Jihoon,” I yawn, “Kim’s hiked the rent again.”

Jihoon sighs, before getting into the driver’s seat, “I’ll get you some of my clothes.”

“Hey, Jihoon,” I ask, as soon as the car begins to run, “why are we stuck?”

“Stuck?” he seems confused, “I thought I was the one who was stuck, not you.”

“I’m stuck too, just that I haven’t told anyone.”

“You’re not making any sense, you know.”

I sigh, “I’ve been running my entire life, you know. When I was younger, I’d constantly worry about what kind of university I would get into, what course I’d get to study. I was so busy with my studies that I didn’t notice that my school life was slipping past me.”

“When I came to university in Seoul, I thought I had achieved something, but everything I did, my sister had already done it before me; for my parents, I was just following the footsteps of my sister. In university, I thought so much about my grades and how to get a good job right out of university, that I forgot to enjoy the fleeting moments of my youth. Even now, even when I’m worrying about how to get ahead in life and how to get ahead in my workplace, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped for a single moment to think, am I doing this correctly? Is this how I want to live my life?”

“Did you waste your youth? Is that how you think about it?” Jihoon asks, “really, truly, is that how you think you spent your university life?”

“I worried about grades, I worried about how to pay my university fees, I worried about so many things. I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Is that why you didn’t join the others?”

“I’m jealous.” I admit. Its easier now, when one has said the words that have been bothering them, “I’m jealous of their youth. No, I’m jealous of how carefree they are.”

“Everything I do, I think twice, thrice, and four times, before I settle on it, and even then, something always goes wrong.”

“What if you could do it all over again?” Jihoon asks, and I’ve never seen him this serious outside of the studio, “what if you could do it all over again. High school, university, meeting us. Would you have done it differently?”

I shake my head, “Its not that I’ve never thought about it, everyone has. But honestly? If I could do it all over again, I’d do the same. Perhaps a little more honestly, but I’d still be the same person I was in university. I’d still like to meet you and Joshua and the others, even if I can’t get as close to them as they want me to.”

“They’re very respectful of the face that you’re an introvert, just by the way.” Jihoon parks his car, “I think Jeonghan-hyung would commit some serious crimes if you asked him to.”

“He’d commit them either way. He likes the chaos.”

Jihoon’s apartment building is far larger than mine, and he holds my hand to stabilise me as we walk to the elevator. I’ve been here before, it’s a building populated entirely by old people who like to take walks at six in the morning, and young married couples who like to stroll with their children at night. His hand is warm, perhaps from the car.

The elevator is empty as we walk in, and Jihoon punches in the number for his floor, “do you need anything? A hangover cure?”

“I’m fine.”

His apartment is much bigger than mine, with a separate room for his recording equipment, and I’ve been here many times before. I know the couch has a  spot where the spring digs into your skin, I know the perfect spot from where the television hurts less on your eyes, I’ve spent hours in here divvying up the banchan his mother had sent from Busan, arguing with him about what movies we would watch. Everything is the same, and at the same time, different.

Jihoon is standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking in his refrigerator for something to eat. I make myself comfortable in one of the chairs, looking at him work. Jihoon looks strange in this light, a change that I can’t put my finger on. He’s dressed in a white shirt, and from here, he looks lonely. Lonely like someone who has lost all sense of their being, like someone who’s barely hanging on. Do I look the same, from behind? I want to ask him, how I look when I walk away.

“Would you really not change anything? If you went back?”

“What do you mean?”

He pauses, still with his back turned to me, then continues, “I guess we were all immature in our university days. If I could go back, I would change some things at least.”

“Not take that sociology class?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’d still take it; even though it gave you an irrational fear of surveyors, I’d still take it. for me, that sociology class was one of the brightest moments of my university life.”

He turns to me, and under the bright lights of the kitchen, he looks strange, as though he has been restraining himself from doing something, “would you have changed anything?”

“I’d still take the sociology class,” I admit, “I met you and Joshua in that class after all.”

“And?”

“And it’s one of the brightest moments of my youth,” I say, “that class, it was the brightest spot in my university life.”

“Because of me, or because of Joshua?”

I scoff, “that’s a weird question, Lee Jihoon.”

“Answer the question.”

“I can’t choose.”

Jihoon sighs, before holding out a glass of water. “Its lemon water, drink up,” he says, “you can’t drink honey water.”

“You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you, you idiot,” Jihoon points towards the bedroom, “you’re going to hurt your back if you sleep on the couch, so take the bed.”

The bedroom seems inviting. So’s the bed, if I’m being honest. White sheets with an embarrassingly high thread count, with Jihoon’s books all arranged neatly in a bookshelf. There are pictures too, of us, hung up on a corkboard, half of them from university when we were too out of it to remember anything.

“This one is my favourite,” I say, pointing to a polaroid shot of the two of us, in one of Seungkwan’s birthday parties, me with my arms around Jihoon and Jihoon pulling a face, as though the last thing he wanted to do was take a picture with me, “we look so cute.”

“You and your ideas about cuteness.” Jihoon scoffs, throwing a pile of clothes onto the bed, “get changed. Or don’t, I’m going to be washing these sheets anyway.”

“You didn’t tell me which one’s your favourite,” I say, taking off my shirt and putting on Jihoon’s, “where do you even buy these shirts from? They’re so comfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Jihoon, who had been walking out of the door into the living room, walks back, “What the fuck! Don’t change your clothes anywhere, you idiot?”

I frown, “I’m changing in front of you because I trust you enough to not take advantage of me, is that not obvious? And besides, don’t act as though we haven’t changed in front of each other before.”

“There were circumstances, not you stripping in the middle of the bedroom like this.”

“Excuses,” I say, slipping on a pair of his shorts. They’re at least two sizes too big for me, “you still didn’t tell me which picture is your favourite.”

“You’re going to get killed one day, mark my words,” Jihoon mutters, pointing to a picture on the corkboard, “there, that’s my favourite picture of us. Happy?”

I lean forward, observing the picture. It’s a printout of a picture taken on the Jihoon went to the military, his head hidden under a flat cap that I had gifted after watching Peaky Blinders, and although Jihoon had hated it, he wore it all the same. It’s a simple picture, him with a bored expression on his face, and me, beside him, putting on a smile for the world to see.

“This was on the day of your entrance ceremony, right?”

“Hmm. You were the first to come. The others almost couldn’t make it.”

I look at Jihoon out of the corner of my eye. He has a strange, wistful expression on his face. I’ve never seen this expression on his face. Jihoon seems smaller than he is, vulnerable. The military wasn’t a great experience for him, I know that, but perhaps talking about it is too much.

“Hey, do you have any other pictures from university around?” I ask, looking at the corkboard, “or have you put up some of our new pictures?”

“I was happy in there, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s serious, “I mean, it was difficult, but I got through it. I had my friends, and I had you.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t even in the military.”

“You used to come visit me every month or something.”

“And I remember you used to get annoyed by me.”

“I lied.”

“What?” now its my turn to be surprised, because all I remember is Jihoon getting angry with me over jajangmyeon, “You used to get pissed off all the time!”

“I lied,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, “truth be told, those visits were one of the bright sports in my military service. You and I, fighting over food, like we were back in university again. It made me feel, ah, I can tolerate this. I can get over this.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Is this what they say ‘lost for words?’ Jihoon shakes his head, “hey, go to bed. Its late enough that you’ll need to take a leave of absence tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Hey, Jihoon?” I call behind him.

“What now?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol. I’m not as drunk as I was before, but I’m still drunk, right? Or maybe it’s the way Jihoon looks from behind, sad and lonely, someone struggling to hold onto his sanity, in a world that continually squeezes every last drop of humanity from us. Or maybe its both.

“Do you want to sleep here with me?”

Jihoon stares at me for a moment. “You’re still drunk.”

“I’m not! The couch is very uncomfortable, and I’d hate for you to sleep badly because of me.”

“Dude, I’m used to this.”

“Is it because ‘you’re a guy’? Jihoon, you have thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets. You’re clearly going to be more uncomfortable.”

Jihoon sighs, then climbs into the bed, “don’t try anything funny.”

I laugh, “shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I don’t trust you.”

I laugh, before climbing into bed beside Jihoon. Its awkward, but that’s simply because we haven’t done this in so long. Jihoon is warm beside me, his body heat permeating the thin fabric of the bedsheets. This is why I should not make decisions when blind drunk.

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“Hm?” I turn my head to see Jihoon, his eyes closed, “you’re thinking about it too hard. Don’t think so much. This is fine. We’re friends. Friends can do this once in a while.”

I nod my head. We’re friends, right. Friends do these kind of things, friends come over to each other’s homes, friends comfort each other when drunk. Its what friends do.

“Hey, have I told you something?”

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Jihoon groans, “go on.”

“Have I ever told you that my dream was to be a writer?”

“Not really. It was?”

“Yes. When I was a child, I’d write stories all the time, and I’d read them out to my parents. They were really encouraging when I was younger, but as I grew older, I had other things to think about, and I suppose I lost that dream somewhere along the way.”

Jihoon says nothing, so I continue, “it makes me jealous sometimes, when I see people following their dreams. I keep thinking to myself, ah, if only I had more courage, if only I could stick to my dreams, I would have been able to fulfil them; and then I look at my parents, the people who have stuck beside me and supported me, and I think to myself, would I have been able to support them as well as I do now, if I had followed my dreams?”

“Even me?”

I pause, “Especially you.”

Jihoon sighs, and for five minutes, all I can hear is his breathing, steady and slow. Did he fall asleep? I want to ask him what he thinks, but before I can open my mouth, he begins, “You still have that dream, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s eyes are closed, but he’s speaking, softly, as though he’s scared that if he raises his voice, all this would disappear, “you can take a break. Its okay to take a break. But your dream is your own. It’ll always be there for you.”

“And what if I decide to give up?”

“Then that’s okay too. Just because you gave up on it doesn’t mean it didn’t give you happiness for a time.”

I fall silent, because really, what else is there for me to say after this? In the dark room, the moonlight filters in through the curtains, and Jihoon is there, beside me, his presence solid as a rock. In between us, my dreams lie, scattered and broken, a space that neither of us can cross. We’d always be on opposite sides of the river, me and Jihoon, despite how close we are. I’ll always resent him for being brave enough to follow his dreams, and he’ll always fail to understand who I am. Its better this way. Better to be far apart and resentful than be close and drift apart anyway. I’ll take this emotional distance over a physical one.

—

I wake up in the morning to find Jihoon gone, and a cooked breakfast waiting for me on the table with an attached note: don’t think too much about it.

“He’s the one who needs to think less,” I mutter, settling down to finish the omurice he’s made, (the onions were raw and the egg was rubbery) but it has been a long time since I’ve had anyone make me a meal, and I finish the entire dish, washing up in return. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to see me, its fine if he doesn’t even want to talk to me after I said that I was jealous of him; its common nature to avoid the other person if they are jealous of you, or if they are envious of you. “Still, he could have said good morning.” I murmur, putting on my shoes.

 For all Jihoon’s posturing about how much he loves his private space and how much he hates the chaos the rest of the boys bring, he still lives in the same building as Mingyu, whose door I tiptoe past on the way to the elevator. Wait, why am I ashamed? I’ve spent a lot of time in Jihoon’s apartment, and he’s spent an equal amount of time in mine. Then why am I treating this as a walk of shame?

I press the button to the elevator, and Mingyu’s door opens. Oh shit, now he’s going to see me—wait, I thought we were going to be normal about this? Before I can hide in the stairs, Mingyu’s walking over to the elevator, dressed for the day, his face lighting up when he sees me, “hi, noona. Crashed at Jihoon-hyung’s house?”

“Ah. Ah, yes, yes, I did. I simply slept over. Nothing else.” I manage to say, stumbling through my words. Great, now he’s going to think Jihoon and I had sex.

Fortunately for me, Mingyu doesn’t seem like the sort of person to take things to heart. “I didn’t imply anything else,” he says equally brightly, showing no signs of being awkward, “Seungkwan told me you all got wasted on a Monday night. Do you want me to give you a lift?”

“Yeah, that would be really nice, thank you. Also, blame our editor and assistant editor,” I reply, “they seem to have no sense of how to host company dinners. At least this time I didn’t have to pay out of my own pocket.”

“You had to pay out of your own pocket?” Mingyu looks aghast, as though my loss of funds is a personal slight, “that would never fly in my company.”

“Yeah, that tracks. Minghao always hated large get-togethers.”

“No, he didn’t.”

I roll my eyes, “he didn’t hate them when it was you guys. He absolutely hated them when he was forced together with a group of people he didn’t like.”

“Oh, you’re talking about that. He’s much better now, I can assure you.” Mingyu says, as the elevator dings to a stop, “noona, did you get the new clothes from the autumn collection? I sent you the women’s collection. I didn’t know what size you were, so I asked Jihoon-hyung for help. Did they fit well?”

“Kim Mingyu, if you give me new clothes from every collection, then how the hell are you going to  make any profit?” I ask, and he just laughs, “you’ve been sending me all these clothes when I don’t even post on Instagram! Minghao would have your head if he knew about this.”

“That’s his idea,” Mingyu replies, walking ahead of me to the parking lot, “you spent so much on us during university, then when M.M launched, you wrote a good review of us too.”

“I’m going to be accused of biased reporting, you jerk, I only said the truth. And besides, I left the job at the fashion magazine.”

“Still, you helped us a lot. And besides,” he opens the door to his car for me, “step in.”

“And besides?” I ask, putting on the seatbelt.

“Besides,” Mingyu gets into the car, “I like you a lot, noona.”

I smack him on the back of his head.

—

The office is empty when I walk in, which means I get to have five minutes of peace before the Editor walks in and demands all the articles of the week laid out in front of him, because of course, who else would take on all the jobs of the culture desk if its not for me, the Associate editor, the one who’s supposed to be happy to be included? Every week, the culture desk does a special feature, and usually, the assistant editor is in charge of it, unless, they decided to tack it onto my ever-growing list of things that need to be done.

“Sunbae,” I swivel around my chair to find a haggard-looking Seungkwan, “you’re here already?”

“Yes, I am, Seungkwan,” I tease, “are you feeling better?”

“Ugh, my brain feels as though it’s about to leak out of my ears.” Seungkwan mutters, sliding into his desk, “and we have the weekly meeting too, unless the editor isn’t feeling well enough to come in.”

“He’s got an iron stomach,” I wave, “he once came in after being blackout drunk, this isn’t even a big deal.”

Seungkwan groans, then opens his mouth to say something, stopping abruptly at the sight of my clothes. “Sunbae,” he says, “did you borrow those clothes from Jihoon-hyung?”

“What? I’m wearing my own clothes—” I look down at my shirt. Sure enough, its Jihoon’s shirt, the one he made to give as presents to give out to famous people who visited his studio. I can’t even lie and say that it’s from a former boyfriend. Fuck. “Yes, I crashed at Jihoon’s place last night. Was too drunk to take a cab, and he let me stay over at his place.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Yes, yes it does. wait, why am I even explaining it to you? You were the one who ditched me to go for a second round at the karaoke bar.”

At the mention of the karaoke bar, Seungkwan presses two fingers to his temple, “don’t even start me on that. The people here drink so much, its sickening.”

“Who drinks a lot?” it’s the editor, with a pained smile on his face, “remind me never to host company dinners on Monday evenings.”

“I could have told you this before, sir, except you didn’t really listen to me.”

He shakes a finger, “then remind me to listen to you on matters of company dinners. God, my head hurts so much.”

Soon enough, people start filtering into the office; Haewon comes in with dark circles underneath her eyes that are barely hidden by makeup, the assistant editor walks in soon after that, nursing a bottle of hangover cure. The seven of us pile into the meeting room, where the editor looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here.

“The bosses have asked me to start a new column,” he says, after the larger part of the meeting is over, “just a general column, but new ideas will be appreciated.”

“A column on new books?” Haneul asks, “we could have a dedicated column on books.”

“We review every new book when it comes out, there’s no need to have a dedicated column for book releases.”

“Relationship advice?” Changmin raises his hand, “we could have readers send in their concerns, and one of us could write about them.”

“This isn’t Sex and The City, Changmin,” Haewon says, “stop trying to be Carrie Bradshaw.”

Changmin deflates, looking exactly like the stock photo of a blobfish, and Seungkwan decides to step in, “what if we did a comparative study of cultures across Korea? We could talk about provinces that aren’t really explored in media.”

An excellent idea, I think to myself, but too research-heavy for Seungkwan to do it himself. And sure enough, the editor shoots it down, saying, “we can’t spare two people going around Korea to find out about traditional villages. We don’t have the money, nor the manpower for it.”

Everyone sighs, and the editor looks at me, “any ideas?”

[Here we take a small break from our regular programming to tell readers that the following stunts were performed by a professional, under medical supervision, and must not be replicated in real-life situations.]

“What about—dreams?” I say, scrunching up my face and hoping the editor doesn’t notice my lack of preparation for this meeting, “what if, we had a weekly column where we talked about our dreams. Whether we have managed to achieve them, or whether we have only gone further away from it; like a confessional. One of us could write it, or we could have readers send in their entries. Like Hong Seung-Hee’s Suicide Diaries.”

The editor ponders over it for a minute, then looks to the assistant editor, who nods appreciatively. Great, I think, I’ve managed to save my ass. If there was anyone being reprimanded at this meeting it would not be me.

“You do it.” the editor says.

“Huh?”

“The column on dreams, you do it, since its your idea.” The assistant editor smiles encouragingly at me, “I think it’ll be something really good.”

“No, but,” I sputter, even as the rest of them shuffle out of the meeting room, “Editor! Why can’t you just take credit for my work like the rest of bosses?”

The editor looks at me, “why would you want me to do that?”

“I don’t know, it’s what others do!”

“Look,” the editor says, voice gentle, as though he’s speaking to a fragile toddler, which I can’t even blame him for, “if the workload is getting too much, you can always offload some of it onto us.”

“No, I can do it.”

Back at my desk, I groan, before almost smacking my head open on it. Seungkwan offers me a smile, before setting down a coffee. Bless that boy. I knew pulling something out of my ass would get me into trouble. If I hadn’t spoken up, they would still be considering Seungkwan’s idea of going around the countryside. At least that would mean a vacation on office time and office money, this just means I have to work twice as hard.

And why the fuck did I talk about dreams? I could have talked about esoteric theatrical performances, or trends in trot music, or even the different kinds of marinated crabs they sell around the company building (there are seven different restaurants that offer it), why, why, did I have to go and open my mouth to talk about dreams? Out of all the people here, I’m perhaps the least qualified to talk about my dreams, given how spectacularly I’ve managed to fail at following them, and the deadline is in three days.

“What are you thinking about, sunbae?” Haewon asks, depositing another can of coffee on my desk around lunchtime, “you’ve been working like a maniac all morning, aren’t you going to take lunch?”

“Can’t, Haewon, still have to put finishing edits on the three articles that are supposed to release this afternoon. Then I have to start working on the column, because I know its going to take me a long time to finish it.”

“Wow, you sure work hard,” Haewon grimaces, “well, if you need me to pick up something for you at the convenience store, make sure to text me.”

“Hey, Haewon,” I call after her retreating back, “where’s the article on the new movie?”

“Its in your inbox, I just sent it to you,” she calls out, “should I get you a lunch set?”

“Thanks!”

My eyes are itching. Perhaps from having stared at the computer screen for too long, but I take out my contacts in the washroom, instead of putting in lubricating drops. While on the toilet seat, I make a mental note of all the things I’m supposed to do, just in this week. Edit articles as they come by. Write a review of the play I went to. Write a new column, get it approved by the editor. Make amends with Jihoon. Look for a new apartment that doesn’t bleed me dry.

I moan as I press my hands to my temples, “there’s no way I can get this done in a week.”

My phone pings, and it is embarrassing how quickly I reach for it, hoping it to be a text from Jihoon. Its not. Instead, its Mingyu, texting me about my health.

Gyu: noona, you didn’t seem well in the morning. Should I get some medicine for your hangover?

I crack a smile. Having Kim Mingyu show up on the doorstep of my company would imply him being accosted by thirty people at least, and have his photo taken without his consent. It’s bad enough I took his car to come to the office this morning.

big dick (canon): no, Mingyu, please don’t put yourself in harm’s way by bringing me medicine.

Gyu: Minghao can do it too

Gyu: he hasn’t seen you in a while so he said he was missing you

Gyu: should I send him?

big dick (canon): no, I’m fine, Seungkwan brought me a hangover drink from the convenience store.

This is a lie, but I figure Seungkwan doesn’t really have anything to lose by featuring as the Good Samaritan in my story.

Gyu: tell me if there’s something I can do for you

Gyu: you know that we’re all there for you, right?

Ah, this cursed statement, ‘being there for you’. In my experience, people who say this, are rarely there for others. Everyone says it with such sincerity, but when it comes to the actual thing, they are rarely anywhere to be found.

big dick (canon): thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. Just a bit frazzled from all the apartment-hunting I’ve been doing over the weekends.

Gyu: no luck yet? I heard from Joshua-hyung that your lease was up

big dick (canon): he’s told all of you?

Gyu: no, just the guys

big dick (canon): so, everyone.

Gyu: well, unfortunately,  everyone’s aware. Sorry, noona.

big dick (canon): well, what else can I do about it.

Gyu: I can ask the other guys to not ask you about it

big dick (canon): no, no, if they can help, I’m going to be grateful

gyu: so, do you want me to help?

big dick (canon): yeah, what the fuck,  it's not as though I'm going to lose something by asking for help. 

Gyu: I'll ask my contacts if they have an affordable apartment around

big dick (canon): While this is a blow to my pride, I’d still be grateful if I can manage to get a good place that doesn't cost me an arm and a leg

gyu: on it, noona.

Back at my desk,  I trawl through the columns submitted by the reporters, adding edits to them to be published. One of the few perks of my job is the freedom I get while editing articles, because the editor and the assistant editor are both busy with administrative works to be bothered about the day-to-day works of the desk. To be fair, the new column should have been one of their duties, but now that it's my work,  I need to do my best.  Or at least,  not fuck up in a way that ends up with me being fired. 

Haewon, the absolute angel,  has brought a lunch set for me from the convenience store, with fried chicken and green salad. The chicken is rubbery, and the salad is stale, but to my groaning stomach,  it's all delicious. I pull up the word file sent by Seungkwan, and I'm not even two minutes into editing it,  when my phone pings again. I check it, hoping for a text from Mingyu, but instead, it's a text from Jihoon, who is apparently not ignoring me any longer. 

hoon: are you asking Mingyu of all people for help with your apartment search?

big dick (canon): he offered to help me, and I am not going to turn down help offered by anyone

hoon: you could have just asked me

big dick (canon): you left abruptly this morning,  so I thought you were ignoring me. Hence, I didn't want to bother you

hoon: get this concept clearly,  okay?

big dick (canon): what concept

hoon: you're my friend. Friends are allowed to help each other, even if the other person is a weirdo

hoon: how long do you have on the lease?

big dick (canon): not much,  but I can’t find an apartment that fits my needs. They are either out of the way, or too expensive, or just straight up bad

big dick (canon): I don’t want to spend an hour on my commute that’s going to eat into my free time

big dick (canon): and I don’t want to spend too much on a flat when I’m clearly going to be renting

big dick (canon): you know, usual demands

hoon: the flat next to mine is empty

big dick (canon): doesn’t someone live there?

hoon: you’re in luck, no one does

big dick (canon): keep feeling like there’s a catch that I’m missing

hoon: about that, well

hoon: the reason why its empty and people don’t get it is because an old lady died in there

hoon: so, you might be haunted by ghosts

big dick (canon): that’s an extremely stupid reasoning

big dick (canon): do you know the realtor

hoon: I don’t, since she’s new, but

hoon: I’ll call her and say that you want to see the apartment

big dick (canon): you’d do that omg thank u

hoon: in return

hoon: please cook for me

big dick (canon):KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH

hoon: I’m lazy and I don’t like to cook

hoon: too much prep too much clutter

hoon: I could use that time to make music instead

big dick (canon):ah yes, the great Woozi makes his appearance

big dick (canon): can I see the apartment this week

hoon: yeah, I’m done with this song, so I have a bit of free time before preparation for Soonyoung’s new album begins

big dick (canon): Hoshi is coming out with an album omg this is INSIDER SCOOP

hoon: are you for real? The company announced it in the beginning of the financial year

big dick (canon): right, I keep forgetting

big dick (canon): I totally remembered btw

hoon: I’ll pick you up at 5 if that’s okay

big dick (canon): yeah, that works

—

The realtor is a fifty-year old woman with an extravagant puff on her head, who glosses over the supposed ghosts living in the apartment and goes entirely too hard on trying to sell me the apartment. And she didn’t even need to, because I would have taken it anyway.  It’s less of an apartment meant for a singular person and more for newlyweds, with two rooms, a large enough living room, and on top of it all, a kitchen with plenty enough light for me to grow my own plants. The bedroom faces south, and there’s enough space in the living room for me to host my friends (two of them) when they come over. I can just tell Mr Kim I’m leaving the apartment tomorrow. He’s probably been itching to find another naïve university student to fleece.

“This is great,” I say, after the tour is over, “I’ll take it.”

“Great! This will be just perfect for the two of you.” The old woman titters, “I love selling newlywed houses!”

What?

I look at Jihoon, who seems just as surprised as I am, “uh, ma’am, we aren’t married.”

Now its her turn to look surprised, “what do you mean you’re not married? You guys look exactly like a married couple!”

“No, ma’am,” Jihoon says, “she’s my best friend. I’m only helping her get an apartment at a good price.”

“Ah yes, friends, is it?” there’s a twinkle in the old woman’s eye that I can’t quite place, “we’ll see about that, eh?”

“Uh, no, no one is seeing anything about it, because we aren’t dating, nor are we married.”

—

“There is only one perk to living in a hovel like a broke university student for six years after university, and that is the amount of money one saves in their bank account.” I say, taking a sip out of the shared kimchi jjigae pot, “I don’t even have to get a big loan out of the bank to pay for the deposit.”

“Are you that happy?” Jihoon asks, “you’ve been smiling non-stop since signing the agreement. You know, you could have seen more apartments, right?”

“No, this one is the best,” I say, “the kitchen has space for plants, there’s a veranda, the bedrooms are big, but not too big, you know? Just the perfect size.”

“The perfect size?”

“Yes, you know, the perfect size, not too small that it feels suffocating, not too big that it feels depressing. Just the right amount of cozy.”

“You’re crazy.” Jihoon says, “that’s some crazy-person logic right there.”

“I’m not!” I protest, but there’s no real spite in Jihoon’s words, and its almost as though he’s bickering with me to continue to keep things normal, or at least, as normal as they come.

“About the other night,” he begins, “you don’t have to feel envious of me that way.”

“I’m sorry about the other night. Admittedly, I was drunk.”

Jihoon stares at me. “Really? Are you going to pull the ‘I was so drunk I forgot’ trick? On me?”

“Uh, obviously, no.”

“So, you were.”

I grimace, and Jihoon sighs, “look, if you want to forget about this, you can, and I’ll pretend as though nothing happened that night, and you said nothing, we’ll move past it as we always do. but envy, jealousy, these are all important emotions, and I think you should at least try to talk to someone about it.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Not me, I mean an impartial party.”

“Like a therapist?” I narrow my eyes, “Are you calling me insane?”

“What? No! I’m not saying that you’re crazy, I’m just saying that you might need to talk to someone outside of me and Joshua once in a while.”

“I talk to Eunseo. And Seungkwan. And the people at the newsdesk.”

“None of these people are impartial listeners, and besides, you don’t even go out much!”

“I’m out with you right now!”

Jihoon sighs, “yeah, I get it, going to therapy sounds difficult. But I really think you need to—”

“And since when are you the arbiter of my needs and wants?” my voice comes out sharper than I intended, and Jihoon just stares at me with a mix of shock and awe and something I can’t quite explain, “you can come and sit here and tell me that you think I should go to therapy, but have you ever paused to take a moment to understand what I need? I don’t need someone to tell me what I need to do, I already know that! I just need someone to be there for me, even when I sound stupid and petty and foolish.”

“Do you always need to take things this far?”

“This far? Why is it always me taking things ‘this far’ with you, Jihoon? Why can’t you stop for a moment, and try to look at things from my perspective for once?” I pause for a moment, chest heaving, “this won’t do, I can’t bear to sit down and eat a meal with you right now.”

With this, I storm out of the restaurant, Jihoon running behind me, “hey, look, we can just talk it—”

“I don’t want to talk things out with you!” there are people staring at me, but I just cannot bring myself to care right now, “you’ve kept pushing the idea of me sleeping with people ever since you found out about my feelings. Have you ever stopped to ask if that’s something I really want?”

“Then tell me!” Jihoon’s yelling too, the two of us on a busy street in a late autumn evening, screaming at each other, “you never tell anyone anything! I’ve been friends with you for six years, and I still don’t know anything about you! What is it that you actually want? Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I’m scared!”

Jihoon stops, stunned. Terrified. There’s no other way to explain the expression on his face. I continue, “because I’m terrified that I’ll do something wrong. All my life, I’ve lived in the fear of doing something wrong, of letting people down. What happens when I take a step forward? Will it be the right decision? Will I do something wrong again? I’ve always thought that, and now, when you keep telling me to take a step, I’m terrified, Jihoon. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

There. Now I’ve said it. “I think we should stop talking to each other for a while, Jihoon,” I say, walking away from him, “with you, I’ll always think of the ‘what if’s’ and I’ll be stuck anyway, but this time, I’ll be terrified, and I’ll fail. I don’t want that for myself, and you deserve better than a friend who’s like me.”

—

What are dreams? Are they something that your inner child holds on to, in the hopes of a better future, or are they something that the adult of now, works toward? I’ve always thought about what dreams meant to me, and I’ve always come up short.

The psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud interpreted dreams as the manifestation of our subconscious mind, a look into our unfulfilled wishes. But this is the scientific interpretation. what does it actually mean, to be able to dream?

When I was younger, I dreamt of a happier existence. An existence where I was fulfilled, or better yet, my desires were fulfilled. I kept dreaming, and dreaming, and dreaming, until one day I woke up and felt myself in a foreign land where dreams held little meaning.

In truth, that is our reality. A foreign land where we are forced to give up on our childhood dreams, and become grown-up adults. The definition of a dream changes too, from the manifestation of our inner desires, to mere scientific fact, neurological phenomenon whereby we can ascertain the quality of our sleep. Is this what we are doomed to become? To go on with our lives from day to day, doomed to repeat the cycle until we die one day?

When I was young, I dreamt of being a writer. I wanted to weave worlds with my words, perfect the craft of storytelling until my words brought comfort to people. I wanted to be someone whose words could be someone’s comfort, someone’s pillar to lean on when distressed. But that was when I was a child. As I grew up, I realised, ah, this is the real world, a place where my words of comfort held no meaning for anyone. I struggled against it, because I could not accept my reality. I failed. The world was too big, too cruel for me to hold on to the foolish dreams of a five-year old, and I woke up to my reality. Now, my words bring no comfort to anyone, because they are no longer my own. My words don’t belong to me, and neither does my dream. It is something I’ve kept locked in a box, hidden amidst my childhood belongings.

I am an adult. I envy people, I get jealous of people, I hold petty grudges. It’s who I am. I envy people who have achieved their dream, I envy people who are working towards their dream, because it reminds me of a five-year old child, whose dreams I allowed the world to crush. And they didn’t deserve that. None of us do.

So, for all of you who are working towards your dreams, may they be fulfilled someday. And for those who have given up on our dreams. It will be okay. Even if we gave up on it, even if it is distant from us now, it doesn’t mean we weren’t happy once.

—

“That’s the last of it,” Joshua pants as he hauls up a flowerpot into my kitchen, “why do you have so many plants?”

“So that I can save on groceries.”

“Wow, noona, you’re really sensible,” Mingyu says, “should I keep a plant in my home as well?”

“You can barely keep a rock alive, Mingyu, and that’s me being nice.” Joshua mutters, laid out on the sofa, “this is not how I imagined my day off to be going.”

“I enjoyed today,” Mingyu jumps up form his seat on the floor, “do you want jajangmyeon?”

“I just ordered it,” I say, settling down in a chair, “wow, this is nice.”

The flat is piled high with furniture, but the majority of it had been done by movers the previous day. My landlord, who hated the sight of me, even patted me on the back and said he was sorry to see me go. Weird. But, now that I’m in my own room, with enough sunlight and air and a new place to start over again, I can feel myself growing happier. Is it something related to places? Can they really affect mental statuses? “I should host a housewarming party later on, when I’m all settled in?”

“Really?” Mingyu perks up at the idea of a party, “you’ll invite all the others too?”

“Yes, I’ll invite everyone.”

“Great!” he’s already on his phone, “Jeonghan-hyung will be so happy to see you again.”

“I haven’t seen him in months,” I muse, “god, I don’t think I’ve seen all thirteen of you together in months, now. Or has it been a year?”

“Probably a year,” Joshua groans, “the last time we met up was at Chan’s welcome back party. Ugh, my back is killing me.”

“Old man,” Mingyu laughs, “shouldn’t you be at home with your fiancée?”

“Eunseo asked me to help out since she couldn’t come.” Joshua clarifies, “she was the one who was asked initially.”

“Makes sense.” Mingyu nods sagely, then jumps up at the sound of the doorbell, “food’s here!”

This is how it should be. Life. Surrounded by friends, surrounded by people who make you laugh. If this is how I can live here, then I’ll be happy, I think. But happiness is a difficult construct, and an ephemeral state of being for me, always slipping out of my grasp.

“Noona, where is Jihoon—” Mingyu gets a swift kick to the ass for that sentence from Joshua, and my smile dies away on my face.

True, no one has commented on it, not at the office, nor between friends, but I can practically feel Seungkwan’s curiosity burning every time I take lunch by myself, or I go out to meet people out of office, and come back alone. I haven’t been attending Sunday morning brunch with Joshua and Jihoon either, and both Joshua and Eunseo have kept quiet about it, but sooner or later, someone would have to speak up. Its unusual, having Jihoon away from me, without his voice being a constant presence in my life. Now, even with him living next door to me, I can’t reach out. The metaphorical rift has now become real.

“He’s busy,” I say, trying to change the subject, “I think he’s busy with Hoshi’s new project.”

That gets Mingyu’s attention, and he starts talking about how his and Minghao’s company is the one who’s dressing Soonyoung for his comeback, and how Soonyoung keeps wanting custom tiger-print stuff, until I can comfortably lean back and just laugh along at his words, trying not to think too much about Jihoon.

Later that night, as I’m climbing into bed, exhausted, the doorbell rings again. I’m dressed in pyjamas, with a pair of fluffy slippers on my feet, and the sound of the bell makes me wary. Who could it be, at—eleven at night? All of a sudden, I’m gripped with all the things I’ve heard on true crime podcasts, about the perils of single women living alone.

Wait, you’re thinking too much. It’s probably Mingyu, dropping something off. Right, that’s it. it could be Mingyu.

I open the door a little, “Mingyu, could you come back in the morning? I’m tired—”

“Do I look like Mingyu to you?”

In my shock, the door swings wide open. Its Jihoon, dressed like he’s come home running from work, the tip of his nose pink. He’s dressed casually again, in a white jacket over a black t-shirt. In comparison, I look and feel horribly underdressed.

“Look,” Jihoon begins, “am I too late?”

“For?”

“Is there nothing I can do to repair this friendship? Am I too late?” he grabs my hands, “I’m sorry, I’ll apologise a thousand times if you want. I stayed away from you because you wanted me to, but I can’t. I can’t give you up as a friend. I need you in my life.”

“Jihoon,” I open my mouth to say something, but my heart starts beating erratically. Is this normal? I look at Jihoon again, wide-eyed, evidence of tears on his cheeks, and I can’t do anything but nod my head.

Fuck. I’m screwed.

[chthonicgodling]

‼️🥁‼️🥁

Please give a warm welcome to! The new current babiest of babies! Who we’ve all been waiting for! Via an Elysium Drama Update - finally featuring AND INTRODUCING…..

Say hiii to BABY RØKIA !!!

and his parents: Tory! ELoki! And Maci!

SCREEEEEAAAAMMMSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Born just after midnight on November 19th, (💞making him the Elysium’verse’s VERY FIRST Scorpio yaayyyy💞) at VERY long last + one billion comics later, Loki & his PARTNERS welcomed their son, Røkia, into their arms weighing in at…. Too big and roughly the shape of a wiggly potato. and we (Loki, Maci…… me) are all BAWLING ABOUT IT and ohh hh my ggGODDDD IVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO SHARE HIM WITH YYYOUUU

His name is pronounced “RRUHK-ya,” be sure to roll the R and say it really fast bc it’s more fun that way. (Loki’s a brat and there was zero chance this baby wasn’t getting a Norse name, an argument Maci didn’t even bother to waste breath on lmao)

I’ve been sitting on these drawings for practically the entire year, plus more!!! that I’ll share during the week!!! but I held off on drawing in advance anything FROM Røkia’s actual birth bc who knew how that was going to go. As it was, the event was a rollercoaster— the bulk of this Drama Update beyond the babie is actually text based! Highlights from this night in Elysium— As follows behind the cut!!

• a massive oversight in failing to discuss with EeL any birth plans ahead of time so huge argument ensued when EeL tried to shove Maci and Tory away to gIVE BIRTH BY HIMSELF LIKE HES APPARENTLY DONE EVERY OTHER TIME??? AAUGHHHHHHH????????

• Him conceding and admitting that he. Simply. Wasn’t expecting them to WANT to stay and was caught off guard by the intimacy of it, admitting using Very Good honest communication skills that he lashes out when he’s emotionally overwhelmed (“YEAH WE NOTICED”)

• also. Maci trying to call his bluff on giving birth alone seven times wtf no way. EeL admitting it’s “not for lack of trying from previous partners, they just weren’t as argumentative as the two of you are.” ;fgkfkf.

• so, hurdle crossed! ….then Hurdle IMMEDIATELY faced again when Maci & Tory try to call in midwife Hecate to help him which caused ANOTHER huge and weepier argument which EeL ALSO eventually conceded to. “I’ve always done it myself,” he sobs, in a panic. “Sweetheart you don’t HAVE to 🥺🥺” aahHhhGh

• (also. a choice quote from Maci: “We’ve already established we’re not letting you give birth alone like a sick cat again.” gOd)

• okay everyone gets to stay. Next, Loki using the word “atwain” sincerely in a sentence, Tory laughing in his face about it

•FINALLY Røkia iS BORN AND HE’S SO SQUEAKY AND MEWLY. THIS IS A KITTEN WITH SCALES 🥺🥺🥺 and immediately they’re all in love with him and oh my GOD he’s huge. Tory and Maci respectively cooing— “oh, he’s a chonkster” “oh my god he looks like a potato” — Loki is thankfully starry eyed at THE BABY and DOES NOT HEAR THEM SAY THIS which Maci points out is a bulllet dodged cause he’d kill ‘em ffFGFFK

• like I said last night while I was in lEGIT tears lmfaooo um!! 🥹 Tory realizing that yeah “EeL’s entire everything created an entire dragon” but now he’s HERE and— Røkia’s got Tory’s colors. and him and Maci just going 🥺🥺 that’s right Tory’s in there too

• mush mush mush oh my god oh my god. Trying to get Loki to relax - we’re here we’ll take care of him. It’s okay, we’ve got him. We’ve got you. Maci insisting EeL get some rest— dazed and vulnerable, immediately blowing his standoffish cover for the evening by a weepy plea for them not to go, not to leave him.

• we’re not going anywhere, says Tory; we’re staying right here, says Maci. clinging to him. You made a perfect baby, you did such a good job, we’re so proud of you, says Maci, now get some rest.

• I love you, says Loki. IT’S THE FIRST TIME HE’S EVER SAID IT TO MACI.

• I know, sweetie, sHE rEPLIES FGKFFGKFKF 🙄🙄

• (And an I love you, too, ofcourse. And from Tory.)

hi. Oh my god.

WELL!! more drawings of babie Røkia to follow - more Elysium Drama Updates shall come as more drama trucks inevitably along - thank you all for continuing on this journey with me as an audience while I LOOOOOSE MY MINDDDDD.

Røkia’s currently snoozing and purring curled up on top of all three of his exhausted parents. They love him very much and so do me and Fenixe 😭💞

Stay tuned for more of our lil mush. ah!

[f1stan]

Lewis Hamilton - we are just friends

I couldn’t thinking a title so if you have ideas please say!

Part 1- I don’t know how many parts this is going to be so just come along for the ride🤷‍♀️

Eva woke up and checked her phone, after a long flight she had slept for most of the day it was now 8:30 pm.

She's looking through her messages and checking social media to see what she's missed out on after travelling and sleeping all day long.

She'd read her group text, with 6 of her friends, Chloe, jenny, ella, Connor, miles and Liam. For the 4 summer now, they have rented a house in Brazil for 4 weeks and that's how they spend their vacation every year, it's nice and relaxing being with the people you want to be with, but also the house is big enough that you can get away from the noise and the people and have yourself some 'me' time.

They'd messaged to tell her that they'd all gone out. They didn't want to wake her after she'd had such a tough day. She was all alone. She led there for a further 15 minutes before her tummy started rumbling. Since she was on her own, and she knew her friends were not going to come back until early hours of the morning, she didn't bother to put clothes on before leaving her room. She was home alone, so her thong and crop top with no bra would do.

She got out of her bed and started walking towards the door, to get some food that her body was clearly craving. As she was leaving her room stretching her arms up in the air and yawning to get rid of this tired feeling after a long sleep, She opened her eyes to a man standing there topless, looking at her like a deer in headlights, sneaking into Chloe's room. She was shocked looked down and realised her crop top had risen and exposed one of her boobs. Her face went red. Embarrassed she shoved herself back into her room locking the door.

She took out her phone to text the group chat,

'WHY HAS NOBODY TOLD ME THEY ARE BACK AT THE HOUSE AND HAVE BROUGHT A BOY?!'

'We're not back yet, join us in the club now you're awake we're having such a good time!' Connor said, not even acknowledging that I've told them there is a man in the house.

'Chloe there is a man legit sneaking into your room why have you left a boy here?' Eva asked. She knew it must've been something to do with Chloe cause he was sneaking into her room.

'I could only wish he would be a man that I'd brought home. But it's not. It's Lewis, remember we told you he's going to join us this summer, he has come slightly earlier than we expected though!' Chloe replied.

There was indeed someone who was supposed to come, how could Eva forget when it was the only thing her boyfriend had spoke to her about since she told him that this vacation was booked, he was furious about her spending her entire summer in a house full of men especially a stranger. It was liams childhood friend, they knew each there from when they were karting as kids. Eva had never met Lewis, neither heard anyone talk about him other than when planning this vacation, but everyone knew him and seemed extra fond of him so for her it wasn't a big deal. Of course until now when the man who she'd be living with for the next 4 weeks had seen her pretty much completely nude.

What a summer vacation this is already...

Going back to 4 weeks ago. Eva was sat in her room having just finished work, with Ashton, her boyfriend, he was a footballer for Manchester United. They hadn't been together that long but it was safe to say she was totally obsessed with him, and that's probably why she either didn't see or just chose to ignore all of his red flags. Her phone pinged once and she didn't bother checking, instead concentrating on the murder documentary she was watching. A few minutes later, her phone went crazy. He looked at her, she know what he was thinking, 'why would someone be texting you this much', he can sometimes be really jealous over nothing, but that shows he cares right? That's what Eva told herself anyway.

She checked her phone and noticed it was the group chat going off, the one that hadn't been touched since last September and we are now in June! This could only mean one thing, the annual trip to Brazil is being booked.

They have 2 group chats, a regular one that they talk in as and when and the one where it's vacation details only. It is fair to say none of them are as close anymore, but nevertheless they are all still the bestest of friends.

'It's the Brazil vacation I told you about before, we've got the house and now I need to book flights. It's during your off-season, don't you fancy it?' She asked Ashton, he was at the kitchen island in her house eating some fruit, with an unbothered look on his face he replied 'now that you have a boyfriend do you really think you should be going to something like this? It's disrespectful no?'

These are the types of red flags she chose to ignore, at the same time she ignored his remark and went back on her phone, texting about the details in regards to this vacation.

'I'll be there 2-3 days later as I have a shoot scheduled with PLT it's Molly mae's collection so I've been dying to be a part of it. I have asked Ashton if he fancies it but I'll let you know if he will come in the meantime.' Eva said, she knew they wouldn't be happy that she has asked Ashton, but in the same breath they all knew he would say no.

'If it's going to make your life easier let him come but I can't promise that I will bite my tongue if he speaks to you like you're shit in front of me' Chloe replied and everyone had reacted to her message with a thumbs up, sort of like they're agreeing. Here it starts already. Her friends haven't ever got on with Ashton, neither side have made an effort to even try, Eva understand why they wouldn't like him, I mean when you're in relationship you don't ever talk to anyone about the good times, you always vent about how much they've pissed you off, or hurt you and there's been plenty of times like it so she gets it.

'By the way guys Lewis has had a super tough few years, he usually travels around the globe for his summer break but this year he decided he's going to spend it with his old friends so he's coming to Brazil' said Liam, that's when Evas anxiety peaked. Telling Ashton that there will be someone she doesnt even know coming on this vacation is going to cause a huge blow out, eeek!

She never met Lewis, she's never even heard him being talked about, the only thing she does know is what has just been said in this group chat, that he used to do karting with Liam when they were younger, Liam gave it up and Lewis carried on. Everyone's fond of him so hopefully he won't be an issue on this vacation Eva thought.

'What are they saying in there' Ashton asked trying to get as much information so he can think of more and more reasons to tell Eva not to go.

'Hmm nothing really, just that there's someone called Lewis that'll be coming, which is good it makes it slightly cheaper for us all.'

'A stranger?' He asked, 'you're going to be living in a house with 3 lads that have all probably tried to sleep with you at some point, and on top of that a stranger, someone you don't even know. All while having a boyfriend who's famous! Imagine those headlines' he snapped back, Eva could see the fury building in his eyes waiting for a response, which he would find something wrong with to further cause an argument, this was routine.

Eva kept calm, gave him an unbothered look, 'don't tell me about headlines, have you not seen yours from 2 days ago? Hmm pictured in a night club with a girl wrapped around you, good headlines Ashton.' She smirked and looked back down at her phone. She has now rage booked the flight for herself and in her head officially disinvited him. He left her house not long after, after she gave him the silent treatment so she could stop the argument before it went further.

Brazil is booked and nothing is going to stop her from going.

4 weeks later, she's sat in ashtons car, he's driving her to the airport, the car is eerily silent. They hadn't touched the topic of this vacation since the first day that it came up. Ashton had tried to bring it up but to no avail, she knew if she let him go on about it she would cave into what he wanted and would stay in England, but this was tradition so if not mentioning it or ignoring him when he tried was the way to go then that's what she would do.

He pulled up at the airport, she'd waited for him to get out of the car, help with her bags and wave her off since they wouldn't see each other for 4 weeks. She wasn't extremely surprised when he didn't, he left the car engine on and stayed in the drivers seat. She got her bags, and excitedly came to his window 'are you sure you don't want to come, it would be really great for our relationship if you did' indeed it would be good for him to see her in that environment and seeing how platonic their relationships are. He kissed her cheek and rolled the window back up and drove away. She knew he was angry but to act like this, he was acting like a child.

Sure enough soon she was on the plane waiting to get to Brazil!

[ev-writes-things]

the state of you

the biggest struggles of writing this were choosing a name for the fic and for xie lian's demonic dish from the pits of hell LMAO

super scuffed hualian sick fic based on this post by @draweltz :) i legit speedran writing this in like three days and didn't edit so please forgive me if it's like. exactly as terrible as i expect it to be HAHA

i'm also notoriously terrible at writing proper endings so i apologize for that as well

u can read the fic here (under the cut) or on ao3

likes n rbs are super appreciated :)

Given the noises and scents emitting from the kitchen of their apartment, Xie Lian’s cooking wasn’t going… conventionally well. 

Hua Cheng didn’t mind in the slightest, though, humming to himself softly as he twirled his chopsticks expertly around his long fingers. He’d offered his help already, as usual, and Xie Lian had declined, wanting to surprise him with some kind of odd, inventive meal, as usual. 

He enjoyed being able to help Xie Lian in every way, but he didn’t argue too much about the cooking matter. Xie Lian was the first and only person who deigned to cook for him, and he seemed to take pleasure in preparing meals, so who was Hua Cheng to argue? 

Tapping his chopsticks against the wood of their low-set dinner table gently, Hua Cheng tried to contemplate what Xie Lian had made today. It was an impossible endeavor based on smell alone, but he tried regardless, calling out guesses to amuse his husband. 

“Is it… stew?”

“Nope,” Xie Lian called back over the sound of sizzles. 

Hua Cheng considered the noises. “Is it… meat?”

“Wrong!”

“Really? Then, is it-”

A light laugh from the kitchen instantly warmed Hua Cheng’s heart. “Stop guessing, San Lang! Let me surprise you for once.”

“Oh, I’m always surprised by your cooking,” Hua Cheng replied sincerely, earning him another laugh. 

“I’m almost done, okay? Just wait another minute or two,” Xie Lian told him. 

Instantly, Hua Cheng rose from his seat on the floor. “Does gege want help carrying plates to the table?”

“I’m alright!” Xie Lian chirped. A series of sharp clatters met Hua Cheng’s ears and he winced, concerned. “Okay, close your eyes.”

Hua Cheng obeyed, covering his good eye with one hand. Soft footsteps announced the arrival of the martial god, followed by the sound of two plates being set down gracefully on the table in front of him. 

“You can open your eyes now,” Xie Lian told him, and he moved his hand away.

The dish was, simply put, a monstrosity. Purple and pink bubbles popped at the surface of a thick, strange substance speckled with starbursts of orange and yellow. Equally horrible was the smell, pungent and awful. Hua Cheng looked up at his husband, seated to his left, with a grin. 

“What is it called?”

“I call it ‘Dreams of Summer Nights Passed’,” Xie Lian replied. 

Hua Cheng nodded affirmatively, picking up a spoon and stirring it through the plate. Beneath the pink and purple substance was a densely packed white… rock?

“And what’s in it?” Hua Cheng chipped away at the rock for a bite. He brought it up to his lips with a playful smile. 

“It’s rice and strawberry curry. I put carrots and corn in it, too. Look, Ruoye helped me cut the carrots into neat pieces!” 

Hua Cheng placed the bite in his mouth, chewing slowly. He scraped away at the rice-rock for another bite, mixing it with the curry again. 

“It’s good,” he said when he’d finished chewing. “I like it. It’s one of your best.”

Xie Lian beamed at him and pulled his own plate closer to himself. “I’m glad you like my cooking, San Lang,” he told the Ghost King happily, spearing a carrot with the sharp end of his chopsticks.

“Of course I do. What’s not to like about it?”

The god gave him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “Do you not remember what happened to poor Quan Yizhen?” He popped the carrot into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Well, it wasn’t your fault that he wasn’t strong enough to handle your food. I, for one, will never ever be sick of, or from, your cooking.”

“Does San Lang promise?” Xie Lian teased. 

“Of course, gege,” was his easy response, and he prepared another bite. “I promise.”

Xie Lian grinned at him and Hua Cheng grinned back, savoring the taste of the strange curry and Xie Lian’s happiness.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Hua Cheng woke up feeling terribly, horribly, awfully, dreadfully ill.  

He shuddered violently, and Xie Lian shifted in his arms. He froze immediately, then slowly disentangled himself from his sleeping husband, clenching his jaw against the waves of nausea rising up within him. 

When Hua Cheng had stumbled out of the room and down the hall, he slumped against the wall and hugged his stomach, willing himself to stay strong. 

You’re a Supreme Ghost King. You’re over eight hundred years old. You’ve lived through things that were thousands of times worse than this. This is ridiculous. 

He sucked a breath in through aching lungs- then stopped. 

The next thing he knew, he was heaving over the toilet. 

Hua Cheng shivered miserably, silvery pinpricks of sweat rolling down his spine. The bathroom floor was cold, colder than he remembered, and he clenched the sides of the porcelain bowl with a vengeance. 

Another wave of nausea came crashing over him, and he gave in to it, only caring now that his husband didn’t hear him. 

A quiet minute passed, then two. Hua Cheng rose on shaking legs to walk to the sink. He caught sight of his own reflection and shuddered. His gaze averted quickly and he splashed water on his face, trying to rinse the foul taste out of his mouth. 

What on earth was wrong with him?

He’d never before had this kind of reaction to the food that Xie Lian had cooked for him before. He’d prided himself in the way he never flinched, and had grown to thoroughly enjoy the food that was prepared for him with such love. 

Hua Cheng despised this feeling of weakness.

As if on cue, he could feel his stomach churn in rebellion.

It was all he could do to lean over the toilet again, shove his long black hair out of the way, and not make a mess.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

When his vision cleared and his consciousness drifted back into his aching body, Hua Cheng sat up. He rolled his neck, trying to work the stiffness out of it.

Judging by the slant of moonlight shifting through the window, only an hour or two had passed since he’d passed out, slumped against the wall. 

Hua Cheng swiped a hand across his mouth, staring with disgust at the bile that came away on his fingers. He stood slowly, trying his best not to stumble, and washed off in the sink again. 

Silently, he surveyed the bathroom. Despite his best efforts, he’d made a mess, one he’d rather die than leave for his husband to clean up.

Body still wracked with chills and tremors, Hua Cheng fished paper towels and a cleaning spray out from under the sink. He dropped heavily to his knees, ignoring the pain shooting through his stomach, and began to clean.

Tears began to prickle the corner of his eye and he closed his eyes. Self-hatred and confusion gripped him, and he clenched his fists. 

Why would he be having this reaction? Was he really losing his powers? He hated this immensely, hated that he wasn’t strong enough for Xie Lian. 

Hua Cheng disposed of the paper towels with shaking hands. He sat down again beside the toilet, hugging his knees, unable to stop the flow of tears down his face. 

Slow, unsteady breaths filled his lungs, and he clamped his mouth over his sobs. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with the warmth of his husband tucked in the curve of his body. 

But he still reeked and he would never, ever, ever want Xie Lian to see him like-

“San Lang?” 

Hua Cheng froze, trying not to breathe too loudly, raising his other hand to try to stifle himself. 

It’s not enough, though, and he let out a loud hic that echoes in the bathroom. Hua Cheng glared down at his hands, annoyed at the way his body seemed to be betraying him at every turn. 

“San Lang?” Xie Lian’s voice was closer now, and Hua Cheng tried to sit up straighter. He hated that he’d made him get out of bed. 

“Are you in the bathroom? Seriously, what are you doing in there?” Xie Lian’s voice is teasing and gentle until he flicks the light on. His mouth makes the shape of a soft o, unbound hair flowing freely around his shoulders. Lit by the silver light of the moon and the golden light of the bathroom, he looks beautiful, an untouchable god.

Hua Cheng was, by stark contrast, a complete mess. His hair was tangled and undone, falling in messy snarls around his shoulders. The front of his shirt was wrinkled and half-wet from his attempts to clean it off. His stomach still hurt and he could only imagine how pale his skin was. 

It was mortifying to be seen like this. He tried not to sniffle, reaching up to wipe the tears off his face. 

Xie Lian was quicker, dropping down with his usual grace to cup Hua Cheng’s face with his hands, running his thumbs over his cheeks tenderly. Hua Cheng’s best efforts couldn’t stop the low sob that escaped his lips. He lowered his eyes, embarrassed. 

“What’s wrong, San Lang?” Xie Lian moved closer, forcing Hua Cheng to meet the concern in his ethereal golden eyes. He refuses to speak, closing his lips together tightly. 

But his husband was perceptive, and the pain in his eye and the way one arm was still half-curled around his stomach protectively must’ve given it away. 

“Oh, no.”

Hua Cheng began to cry again, for real this time, and Xie Lian pulled him close. His fingers combed through Hua Cheng’s hair. 

“It’s alright. I’m here now. Oh, San Lang, why didn’t you wake me up? You don’t have to suffer alone.”

Hua Cheng’s instincts took over and, in a moment of physical and mental weakness, he finally reached up and pulled Xie Lian’s body close to his own. He tried not to care about how bad he probably smelled. 

Xie Lian lost his balance with a soft oof, falling forward onto Hua Cheng’s body. He buried his face in Xie Lian’s soft hair, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of lavender shampoo filled his senses. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Xie Lian asked Hua Cheng quietly, drawing back slightly to look at him. His voice was steady, and he didn’t pry when Hua Cheng shook his head and pointed to his mouth. 

“Okay. I’ll help you up, is that okay?”

Hua Cheng hated feeling powerless, hated the dizziness that overcame him and pushed him to lean heavily on his husband’s side as they shuffled towards the sink together. “Ge.. ge…” 

But Xie Lian was strong, and Hua Cheng knew that. “It’s alright, San Lang. Come, here’s your toothbrush. You got it? I can help you…”

Five thoroughly humiliating minutes passed by before they were on their bed, having successfully made it out of the stinking bathroom and into their shared room. 

Xie Lian helped Hua Cheng recline his head against their propped-up pillows before he ducked out of the room. He returned with tall glass full nearly to the brim with water. His dependable hands didn’t spill a single drop when they brought the cup to Hua Cheng’s lips, allowing him to drink slowly. 

When he was done, Xie Lian placed the cup on the bedside table before climbing into bed with Hua Cheng. He sat beside him, legs pressed against Hua Cheng’s side when he turned to face him. “Are you alright?”

Hua Cheng managed a nod, still too embarrassed to say much more. He found that he was even more reluctant to tell Xie Lian what happened now that he was out of the bathroom and with his husband.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian’s voice was reprimanding, yet kind. “Tell me what happened. Please?” 

The two locked eyes, golden eyes determined and shining, black eye a swirl of conflicting emotions.

Hua Cheng could never deny his husband of anything he’d asked, however, and he told him the whole story in strung together pieces, trying desperately not to meet his eyes.

Xie Lian’s hand drifted over to cover Hua Cheng’s and he listened attentively, nodding when it was appropriate. When Hua Cheng finished, Xie Lian sat silently, as if contemplating something.

“San Lang, why wouldn’t you wake me up or tell me?”

“It’s… gege, I never get sick from your food and I don’t ever want you to stop cooking for me just because… because of something like this…” he trailed off, then closed his eyes. “And I don’t even know what caused it. I’m always fine and I love that you cook for m-”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, his hand squeezing Hua Cheng’s reassuringly. “Have you ever considered that you might just be… allergic to what I made?” Allergies. Hua Cheng’s mouth opened, then closed. It made sense, and he hadn’t even considered it. “Oh.” 

Xie Lian smiled and moved closer, wrapping his arms gingerly around Hua Cheng’s torso and snuggling close. “My poor San Lang. Will you come wake me up if this ever happens?”

Hua Cheng laid his cheek against the top of Xie Lian’s head, nodding. 

“Thank you. Do you want to sleep now? You must be tired.”

“Actually, gege… I’m a bit hungry. Any leftovers?”

Xie Lian looked up to gape at Hua Cheng. He chuckled quietly, turning to pull Xie Lian into his arms. 

“Only joking, gege. Unless…”

His husband bumped the back of his head against the curve of Hua Cheng’s neck teasingly, and Hua Cheng laughed again, already feeling better.

[polyamzeal]

Hello! I have a bit of a situation that I would like your honest opinion on; I've read a lot of your asks and I trust your opinion on this, as I unfortunately delved into reddit initially and that was not a pleasant experience.

I have experience with romantic polyamory, and I'm out to the important people in my life; I'm also married.

Recently, my spouse and I have been talking about how nice it would be to have another partner to love and care for as we do with each other. (Note: we discussed this shortly after we started dating, so it's not something new to us) We've been talking about a long-term triad who we'd like to nest with if the new partner would like to nest with us as well.

We don't have any, in my own opinion, unrealistic expectations of the partner. We don't have any "qualifications" or a "job application" that you would typically find with unicorn hunters.

I've been doing my reading, as I haven't been with multiple people in a couple years and wanted my information on terminology to be up-to-date. I've found that another big issue with unicorn hunters is that they treat their partner like a little secret, introducing them as a friend and such.

Like I mentioned earlier, I'm out of the closet about this, and I'd always introduce my partners as just that, my partners, and I'm sure my spouse would do the exact same.

So would my spouse and I still be considered unicorn hunters just for wanting to hopefully pursue an equal & ethical triad relationship without any expectations whatsoever? Reddit has been so unkind 😅

Thankyou so much for your time.

Absolutely!

Alright, that is a bit of a joke. I like Reddit for a lot of things but their polyamory community is infamously bad. And pretty much all polyamory social media always witch hunts Unicorn Hunters. And not without some good legit reasons. Lots and lots of people get hurt by unicorn hunters. But I have seen lots of people jump to immense conclusions as soon as it is mentioned. I have seen people describe their unique situations only for the replies to completely ignore it, clearly not reading all the way through, just to read a pre-scripted response about how unicorn hunters are bad and they should feel bad.

As you have mentioned, I don't really agree with this. I am a unicorn myself. I like dating couples! I don't feel like I am abused or taken advantage of when I do. Admittedly I have some privilege and advantages there. But regardless I think smart unicorns can effectively date ethical couples.

So my advice is to just be really upfront with any potential partners about what you are looking for. Be honest about limitations. It sounds great that you are open and would introduce them as a real partner. But also be realistic about if the existing couple would have any advantages over the new partner even if that isn't the intention. Make sure the new partner always feels like they have agency and are not trapped. I personally favor open triads to closed ones but that is a decision for all of you to make. Be understanding that a new partner will most likely not like each of you equally at the same pace. They may lean towards one person more. And over time things may shift to lean another way. Your existing relationship will probably go through this too as New Relationship Energy might overpower the old marriage for a time. This is normal and workable. Trying to force everything to always be equal often leads to problems.

Just try your best to be ethical and make everybody happy. Mistakes will be made along the way but they can be worked out. If everybody involved is happy then don't let the internet judge your triad.

[matoitech]

what's wrong with the wolfertinger guy? im confused lol

no its a fair question i was honestly confused too esp since i had never heard of these ppl b4 and the 'callout' i saw was INCREDIBLY vague and expected u to already know who puppychan was, ig the tldr is wolfertinger666 is a rebrand of puppychan who was a shithead that had been like, twitter popular? i asked one of my buddies cuz they knew a little bit more abt it, im just not involved in community stuff, furry or otherwise.

ig the tldr is stuff like puppychan pretended 2 b asian, being buddies w 4lung (i also didnt know who that was but ig like a breakcore artist that got outed as an incest fetishist who abused her partner) and buddies w zoos, ig there were grooming allegations too. i apologize for not having like evidence on hand for any of this i know a lot of this is like REALLY serious, im hearing abt it all secondhand for the first time and i guess its considered 'common knowledge'. if anyone else knows anything or has the actual evidence please feel free to reply w it, im going to disable rbs on the post cuz i dont want to spread false information if anything isnt backed up, but it looks like this stuff is pretty legit its just been long enough screencaps n whatever arent pulled up as easily

anyway so ig now hes on tumblr rebranded. i had rbed this cerberus post recently cuz obv i had no idea who this was and no way to recognize it lol

ill also link the very confusing and vague post that expects u to already know whats going on and who this is that i saw, its here if u want to see it as well since it has him admitting to be the same person, but i dont think its good for sharing information or rly having evidence bcuz again its rly confusing and vague (particularly if u dont know who puppychan is which it just. assumes everyone does)

hope this helped or u can look into it urself now (tws in mind since this shit is.. heavy), unfortunately i dont rly know any more than you do since i just didnt know who any of these ppl were until today

[onecornerface]

the time I trolled 4chan as a fake flat earther for six hours in 2012

In July 2012, I got on 4chan and pretended to be a flat earther. I passionately argued for flat earth theory for six hours with almost no break. I kept a single thread going the whole time, getting over 400 replies. I’m not sure if I still have a PDF of the thread, but I do have some quotes from people who responded to me. Looking back over this a decade later, I am proud.

[CW: Slurs]

"There's no way you're actually this dumb. There's just no way."

"the flat earth society is one of the best trolls i've ever seen, in all those days of /b/"

"I tried some scientific research on this topic a while ago. I ordered a pizza, got two because the first was not what I ordered. I let the first dry out under a light bulb. Eventually, after a couple weeks, living creatures started populating Planet Pizza, after a while orbiting their home planet. This is proof, that the earth is flat. tl;dr Earth is a pizza, probably on a bigger pizza which probably is in a room with an even bigger pizza."

"Sir your thesis contradicts climate, you don't know what refraction is, you can't explain day and night, ebb and flow and you're also paranoid and/or outright stupid since you believe in conspiracy theory."

"You are a stupid faggot, and the whole of society would be better if you stopped breathing it's air. ...unless, of course, you're a troll. In that case, I'll award you an 8/10."

"I however, HAVE BEEN TO SPACE. Twice. I assure you, having orbited the planet many times, it is indeed a sphere. OP is an idiot, his only defense against me is 'omg gimme proof' which I can, and once given, 'u r part of the illuminatee' Ugh. Ignorant dumb ass piece of shit."

"Damn OP 9/10"

"If we dealt with this on a daily basis i would kill myself."

"Yes my jimmies are rustled, because I hate ignorant, inbred fucks like OP. Go die in a hole. Oh wait, you couldn't, you'd be scared of just falling through into space."

"10/10 OP good trolling, keeping in character and sounding legit"

"9/10 OP. My jimmies will be rustled for the whole rest of the day after reading this tripe."

"[S]ome eyebrows must be raised in the direction of the /b/ros still continuing to argue about this. Better standard should be expected from you guys, but taking away nothing from OP. Excellent work."

"If you're not a failtroll you are, by far, one of the most deluded and idiotic people I've ever seen post on /b/, which is a tremendous feat."

"9/10 for commitment"

"love this thread op 10/10 for still being here." (This was three hours in.)

">Focuses on the obscurely worded >Ignores every other point >Provides no answers About what I was expecting."

"Go hung yourself, please Humanity doesn't need such stupid people like you are"

"I'd believe someone who says the earth is flat compared to someone who claims otherwise and can't grammar correctly."

"I haven't laughed so hard at something on /b/ for a long time."

"OP, I'm not gonna bother asking you anything. I just wanted to let you know this is the best thread I have seen as long as I can remember. You truly are amazing. Good fucking job."

"nice arguments though i am in awe of your reckless faggotry and ignorance and skills of producing believable logical fallacies."

(Four hours in) "I can't believe this thread is still going. OP is the most successful troll of all time."

">Earth is flat >Every other celestial body is round >mfw 1/10"

"Great thread. You are not a troll, I saw you other times here and I knew personally a man from this society."

"holy shit 0 of fucking 10"

"Billiard balls are also flat. Isn't it obvious that they sprites?"

"10/10 OP wins"

">almost 5 hours of this shit 10/10"

"Big respect OP. OP is alpha as fuck"

"but seriously, OP is the man destroying everyone with his devasting arguments for hours huge respect man if i would suck a cock then I'd suck yours and I'd propably come before you do"

"3/10. Painfully obvious troll, yet impressive to see so many anons actually failing to make a compelling argument."

"Willy Wonka travelled around the world in 80 days, and ended up back where he started, just in time for tea. You can't explain that."

"Did you ever wonder what happened to Amelia earhart? She flew too far. Gov't shot her down past the ice wall. They obviously couldnt have her come back from that trip, she would tell everyone"

"I myself subscribe to modern rational empiricism, in accordance to which OP's arguments are absolute bullshit. And yet the attempts to challenge his unfalsifiable beliefs have proven mostly futile. A great majority of those posting in this thread have no idea why they should believe the earth is round."

"There has to be trolling here, I seriously can't believe what I am reading."

"this is beyond epic"

"I'm starting to enjoy this so i'm upping you from a 2/10 to an 8 but it ends now."

"OP is now argueing since 6 hours. This is the longest discussion I've ever seen in my life. Of ALL discussions, not only 4chan."

"arguments presented thus far by flatty: >did you personally do the experiment? no? then the results are invalid >here's my evidence; as demonstrated in this experiment someone else did also >oh; you did the experiment itself and it basically shows that the earth is round? >there's probably crazy gravity or some shit; hell if i know or >just because we can't explain every one of these phenomena and a spherical model can doesn't mean we're wrong. i'm serious you guys also >pictures lie and you should never believe them; despite mind boggling quality and quantity available for universal use online"

"Explain how we can have fat asses and tennis balls but a flat fucking earth."

"9/10 OP, well done!"

[lunardeao3]

Hello, I need to talk to you

In addition to make me sound like a gf about to break up with you, it turns out I actually have something important to tell you.

For as long as I can remember, I've been dealing with severe depression which I don't really talk about because I don't really see the point in exposing myself like that. However, I know I have built myself a small community thanks to my fics on AO3 (yes, it's very small but still, you guys exist) and I'm incredibly thankful for your support but I also know it comes with expectations which, all in all, are more than legit. I have failed you guys a lot this year; my schedule is a mess (there's no schedule at all anymore), I haven't updated certain fics in forever and I take ages to reply when you comment when I used to answer fast before.

The reason to that is because I've been struggling a lot more than usual since last December with my mental health. I haven't posted as much as I'd like, as often as I'd like either. Hell, it's barely if I could write at all this year. I regularly receive comments and texts asking me when the next update is gonna be and although it makes me feel happy to see my content makes you craving for more, I'm not gonna lie, I feel bad reading these cause I'd love to give you more, so much more, but my health doesn't permit it.

Without giving too much details, I have been stuck in a hypersomnia phase since February/March on top of the rest of my usual symptoms which means I sleep around 13 up to 18h a day. I am in a constant low level of energy and tiredness which I don't seem to be able to get rid of for some reasons. And where I could write chapters and chapters while having insomnias, it's honestly impossible for me to produce anything good when I go through hypersomnia. It's like I'm constantly drowsy and nothing good can come out of this.

Honest, I even considered deleting the on-going fics I haven't updated in too long so you wouldn't be expecting another chapter soon. I would've obviously reuploaded them as soon as they were completed but I know some of you wouldn't have liked it to see them disappear so I kept them up despite the lack of updates.

I really didn't want to make that post, it's incredibly embarrassing for me and it sounds like I'm complaining, which I am not. I just thought that after over 6 months of struggles, it doesn't seem like it's going to get any better soon and so because I respect you, I think I needed to be honest about it. Thank you for your love and support through the years, I appreciate every single comments you guys leave on my works and feel grateful for the interactions we have and I'm deeply sorry these became more and more seldom.

I basically make this post to explain why there's a lack of updates but still expect them to come scarcely. I am not giving up on my fics, they all still mean a lot to me, but I can't tell when I'll post anymore cause it really depends on my energy which is not something I have control over.

The last chapter of the second year of Downfall should be coming soon by the way, I've been working on it for a little bit over a week (it makes me sick to say that when I used to do it in one day 💀). Keep an eye out for the update!

[portablecity]

So, some news: tomorrow morning I'm having surgery on my right arm - my dominant arm - my drawing arm, my writing arm, my brushing-my-teeth and typing-in-chat and unlocking-my-door arm - and will lose most use of it for years, and an unknown (but hopefully less dire) amount of use of it forever. As you might expect, this sucks so, so bad.

As you can see above, I have been trying to proactively warm up my left hand so I can still write and such once this happens. As you might also detect above, it has not felt great.

(complements on my left-handed writing are not welcome; the feel of it is so alien that even if it looked perfect, i'd be upset)

So while I go in to get that done, I was wondering if you'd be willing to reply or repost or something with a thing you like about my work that isn't about how it looks? So I can go back to this post when I get real depressed afterwards and remind myself I'm more than my line quality?

And if you are curious, slightly more explanation with anatomical specifics below the cut:

so it turns out I have a peripheral nerve tumour on my radial nerve above my elbow in my right arm - it's been slowly preventing me from lifting up my index finger (extending it) and more and more the rest of my hand's extension has been weakening. scans show muscle atrophy in my forearm, so not only is the nerve weakening, it's been weakening long enough that the muscles are getting noticeably less use.

from what we know, the tumour is benign, but it's not possible to remove it without removing a chunk of the nerve, and likely fully severing the nerve. and though benign, the tumour has been steadily growing and is likely to continue doing so, where it would eventually effectively sever the nerve all on its own.

so this is a preventative surgery where we take the tumour out before it withers all the radial offshoot nerves farther down my arm, and graft in a spare (well, less important) nerve from my ankle, and hope that the graft takes and the nerve has a chance to heal and then let me rebuild my muscles and recover some hand and wrist extension. How much is not known. Complete recovery is impossible - some nerves in there are already dead and no amount of grafts and occupational therapy can change that, and more will wither while we're waiting for the graft to heal.

Motor nerves can only heal for so long, so I'll know more about my expected lifetime function in a few years. Likeliest outcome is followup tendon reassignment surgery to try and fill any dire functional gaps, and then what will presumably be a bit of a mind-fuck of physio trying to teach my brain that one of my flexion muscles will then be responsible for extension of fingers or wrist or something.

What's confusing about this is, my other arm nerves are all fine.

Ulnar? Doing great. Those nerves you fuck up with carpal tunnel? that I fucked up in 2008 and have spent a decade and a half taking very careful care of? really solid, healthy nerves! good job past Shel!

So I'm certainly not losing 100% of hand function; I'll still be able to curl my fingers and thumb and actively bend my wrist down - I just likely won't be able to reverse all those movements. Hell, already I can tell how much weaker my right hand is at typing - writing this after a day of spreadsheets at work is really wearing it down.

It's surreal how much all i feel is grief about this. There's no one to be mad at, not even myself - it just, sucks. Can you hold a funeral for your handwriting? your markmaking language? your line quality? your ability to touch type up to 140 words per minute? your confident, trained, controlled method of self-expression? RIP, radial nerve. I already miss you.

It's been a 13 month gauntlet of medical appointments since I first saw a neurologist about this and it's a relief to finally have the surgery, but i do really appreciate all the other scans and tests and biopsies - they gave me enough information to make this legit horrible decision to try and save what function I can for tomorrow by making today awful. And to try and become ambidextrous, I guess, because god knows I'm not stopping making art simply because my body betrayed me. It'll just be ... not what I think of as my art, for a while, at least.

[terraliensvent]

thanks for being open to critique /gen

I sadly do agree with the anon on the pkmn blog rn bc I also noticed a change in how you respond aswell.

i can think of two examples straight off my head of when you seemed biased. srry to bring it back up but ya the first time was when the porn proportioned terra discourse happened. you spoke for the anon and changed the meaning of what they said to “oh they just meant kea should be more varied” when its clear thats not what ppl were upset about. the second example was when you also made it seem like anons who had imo very legit reasons to be upset about the way you handled the “speculation” were just being crazy out of nowhere. like you said they were like “you should die in a fire if u think this is ok” when no one said that, they were just rightfully disgusted and concerned.

ik this is a drama blog but the truth does matter too even when it means conceding that someone u disagree with was not bad in a situation or also that someone u agree with was bad.

idk i think u have been ok sofar but like yea if u learned from this it would make ur blog alot better like when it started

post related

example 1

example 2

prefacing my reply by saying im not arguing against the point this anon made or trying to paint my responses linked as “correct” or anything, just giving my reasoning for stuff

i will say that these 2 situations are the ones that have exhausted me the most when it comes to topics on here, which does further my point about how i can be bitter when topics get more aggressive. im not sure if i should take this as an issue with myself, or whether to show that being nasty to myself and others in my inbox just helps nobody. lets go with both!

starting with example 1, i felt like i made it pretty clear that i had my own interpretation of the comment, i think i even said as much within my reply. i will admit though i dont really have any sort of fondness for kea and their previous sexualization of terra adopts did leave a bad taste in my mouth regarding them. regardless, i think the reason i gave og anon so much slack is because of the (in my opinion) unbalanced response to it in the first reply. i think that there should be some more disconnect when it comes to critiquing a person ideas as opposed to the person themselves; what i mean by that is you can say “that comment you made or that idea you hold is misogynistic” without making aggressive assumptions as the person replying did. i think that maybe it makes it my fault for not being clearer that assumptions like that arent welcome here, or maybe its more my fault for having a very specific expectation of how people should interact. either way

example 2 i think has a bit of a shorter explanation, this specific ask set me off about the whole situation, since i agree it really shouldnt have gone on as long as it did. but as ive stated many times before i prefer to post everything in my inbox just to be more trustworthy as a mod and i was expecting that ppl could just let the topic die on its own. the assumptions thing was also happening here, and with the arguing going on it just pissed me off. i will say about the specific “die in a fire comment” that wasnt me so much saying that anons were claiming stuff like that, but rather me being hyperbolic in explaining my stance. i can be really hyperbolic on here when it comes to jokes and i can realize sometimes it isnt the most obvious thing, but thats my way of communicating for when im not being the most serious. with that specific situation, i was getting really annoyed that people were winding down to slapfighting, and if i presented the opposing anons as crazy or not really having a leg to stand on, thats my bad. i can see where both sides are coming from, it was just at that point in the argument i really just wanted it to be done and i maintain the stance that it really wasnt any of our business

i dont mean to present my opinions on here as the correct ones or that people who disagree with me are bad, and my responses on here are meant to be my interpretation of asks and how i see things personally. if i give my interpretation, it isnt meant to be like “oh actually anon meant this,” its more like “the way i read it is they could mean this, i dont have a ton of evidence one way or the other though so this is just my thoughts”

in the end though, i think both of these instances can be majorly chalked up to me becoming snippy, lol

[clarabowmp3]

Could you please predict for me when we will be done with the meathead?

stoppp 💀💀 honestly I didn’t expect them to have lasted till now but also I fully expected that she’d end up marrying joe so what do I/anyone rlly know lmao 🤡🤡

Fully explained below but tl;dr - it’s either until the travis team (i legit forgot the name i know the colour is red or smthhhh) keeps winning the Super Bowl/maintains a relatively good reputation OR until Taylor gets bored of him and looks for another shiny toy to make a complete fool of herself over (so like by this time next year) OR they get married and ride off into the sunset towards some happily ever after.

Howeverrr just for funsies: the way I see it is by working backwards, starting with if I see them getting married, and honestly…based on ttpd, leaning towards yes. When they will get married I have no inkling and I don’t even feel like speculating cuz of all those gross pregnancy/marriage rumours going around 🤢 I think they’ll get married cuz:

their careers are such that they’re both lifting the other up when they show up for games/concerts, there is no conflict of interest (ie no competition) cuz of the vastly different fields they’re in. Also, he was more established than joe at the start of their r/ship which makes for a very rosy picturesque love story image which at least some part of Taylor desires (based on her interviews, the fearless/speak now eras) but she’s also become quite jaded (as per ttpd) so maybe she thinks this is the closest she’s going to get to it

i also think she’s in no rush to leave a r/ship this comfortable after her last 2 emotionally complex ones. Not saying this is good or bad of her; I do understand why she would want to take it easy now (and possibly forever) but given how little they seem to have in common, I don’t think she can find this r/ship as emotionally fulfilling as she would want with a life partner, so I don’t see them sticking it out forever. Ofc I could be wrong and maybe she’s changed, but based on her track record travis does not seem the type of person Taylor Swift would want to spend the rest of her life with (girlie was cringing so hard in the viva las vegas clip)

Possible triggers for the breakup and why:

She finds someone else to obsess over and for some weird reason…she suddenly realises what a temper travis has? And how aggressive he is?? Cue the breakup songs/album, swifties dig up That Clip and go omggg how did we not see this he was abusing mother 😢😢, rinse and repeat until she (hopefully) finds some self-worth NOT tied to a man

travis’ team starts losing the Super Bowl/not doing all that well in other competitions. I think the main reason swiftie are kind of sweeping his messed up tweets and behaviour under the rug is cuz they won. But what abt if/when they stop winning? All that’s left is a hot-tempered football player who isn’t even an “all-star” (am I using that term correctly?) and she’s not going to like being associated with that/have that tarnish her brand. I find it so absurdly hilarious but she would rather be seen as problematic (re: M*tty) than unsuccessful, so she’d prob drop him if this happened

very unlikely, but maybe she breaks up with him and enjoys being single for a while? No reason for thinking this tho

ngl as long as this reply is, im kind of apathetic cuz she’s changed so much recently that im becoming less and less invested in her. I’m not even rlly looking forward to rep tv despite it being such a formative album for me cuz that version/image of taylor has been sooo tarnished by recent events yk? So idc what she does, mostly cuz if I had her as an actual friend I’d cut her out of my life SO fast

again, the usual disclaimers apply, idk her/them or anything abt their relationship, I am literally just a girl sipping her ginger ale and watching this train wreck of whatever taylor swiftTM has become 🍹🍹

[consequencesofargentdawn]

With all due respect, and regardless of 'warning' (about what btw?) we just have no choice but to reply to what is, at best case, a major misunderstanding and ignorance of situation. You choose whether to publish it or not, but we must explain things and make our position clear.  "multiple independent reports" - how do you know it's not same person spamming accounts and fakes? Just takes a hour to make maybe 50 or 100 of them. If it's 3 people doing this - multiply by 3. How do you know it's not PCU drones that were ordered to suddenly start doing this at same time? Some of them may have old tumblr pages which look legit or active WoW accounts, after all, PCU drone is a WoW player too.

"You also insulted one of our editors, claiming they were "PCU scum" for putting your main invitation "bot" or however you use to automate your invitations on ignore." - none of our officers are aware of any situation like. While we indeed to send automated guild invites, that's just to speed up finding people we need (and we indeed find those who thank us for invite, such as victims of PCU or friends of somebody who PCU bullied out of WoW), however we always respect people's right to refuse, and it would make zero sense for any purpose to get toxic and try to offend them. Don't you think (can you?)? Also - Izanaxis is a horde character, while the guild is alliance. It is cross-faction, yes, however FastGuildInvite addon does not work if you run it on character of opposite faction. You could have checked it easily, big fail. Unless you think Izanaxis would just run to random people and spam /ginvite ? Cool, but even then - if somebody refuses - what is the point of getting toxic about it? The fake evidence you are spammed with tries to portray as like some crazy fanatics, when in fact we are reasonable people (in light of recent events I would say more reasonable than you).

"CoAD is not your personal army, nor are we your hammer to swing at others" - it is not, where did we say it is? "Anyone claiming to be CoAD in game is not CoAD" - none of us (of officers) ever claimed of being CoAD, where did you pull that from? All we did was trying to advertise your website in good faith, because we wanted more of actual WoW players know of it existence and even use it as their daily news source. We included it in guild info labeled as 'General news site', similar in some TRPs. Sometimes when people asked what is PCU we directed them to your site to read. That's it, we never claimed to be part of it, being editor of it or working together with it. But don't worry about that, after you backstabbed us like a rat for no reason (still not sure if on purpose or played by PCU like stupid kid) and then proceeded to, basically, harass and slander us with more lies, we won't mention you anywhere ever again. I should also mention that we actively sent you valuable evidence between 2019 and 2022, in good faith (not from this account, also I won't tell which evidence exactly but it did a big impact on the outcome of PCU situation). Of course proving anything like that would be too hard, but from now on expect interesting evidence avoiding you and being brought up by somebody else, somewhere else.

It's also very funny how you marked Hand of Conquest as 'inactive', while them having events with 15-20 online nearly every evening, most are also fully honor geared (which proves they play game actively on their HoC characters). Do your editors even play the game, or just read some guild statistics from outdated third-party site? At this point you are outright lying to your readers. Makes the whole list not trustworthy enough to even bother checking others. The whole 'PCU is dead' mantra is a big and very suspicious lie.

To sum up.

After careful consideration our council came to conclusion that COAD changed into something that can't be trusted anymore, became careless or, possibly, got corrupted by PCU (there could be agreement like 'as long as Perroy is out of WoW we will keep informing people that PCU is dead to keep situation calm'? who knows, after all you think of yourselves as those sneaky benevolent puppeteers who can decide what is better for realm and enforce it with lies if it achieves the goal). Therefore we part ways for now.

The only potential way to make it work is if you thoroughly examine each of your editors, especially new ones, investigate the whole situation with 'PCU dead' narrative, maybe start playing actual game? or at least make some bot that monitors in-game activity of guilds (via Who). Then make necessary adjustments and reach out to us. Haha, just kidding, of course you'll do nothing of that. Therefore it will be our last post, feel free to smear us with more lies if you want, those who are smart will see through them and also what kind of blog COAD has became. Have fun fading into obscurity in your little 'PCU is dead' bubble.

[rosesnwater]

I love how most of the time Armel can handle stressful situations like a pro and isnt visibly affected by threats by other incredibly powerful beings. But the MOMENT he gets even the tiniest bit flustered all that just goes away and he just like FLEE I MUST FLEE DONT PERCEIVE ME. like when he got caught looking at a booba or Arceline came for a surprise visit and he legit just

I hope you know I shall respond to all your messages lol thank you for noticing this particular detail XD yah like any human whose been in a position of control and unquestionable authority for a long time, he hasn't exactly had to develop smooth responses for when his expectations are not met and YET he is also burdened by the horrible knowledge that he is messing up a second time by straight up fleeing. Thank you! I will enjoy replying to the rest of your notes ^^