#etc. but these are stories for other time. }

[jeza-red]

I commented on this post in the past, but today I made a mistake of being curious enough to see the comments and I'm tired.

However, one valid question that keeps popping up is "How to learn to speak in a concise way?" Quick and dirty ways to help yourself with this conundrum are:

1. Listen. Listen how people talk. If you're in a specific industry/social circle/group - listen how people who seem to have little problems with being understood talk and dissect this.

2. If you have a question to someone that concerns some larger problem - always start with the question. Leave the background of the situation for later//if they ask for clarification. Most of the time the clarification seems important to you, but not critical to the other person or even reaching the conclusion.

Example:

"Hey, Jack, I need help with this problem. So, there's this customer who called yesterday asking for a design change, and he didn't seem to know what he's actually asking for. So I walked him through the project and all the spec of the steel in the corners of the extension, and why he cannot just move have corner bi-folds in that place, and..."

"Jane, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Do you have the architect's number?"

VS:

"Hi Jack, do you have the number to the architect running the X project?"

"Sure. I'll send it to you. Why do you need it?"

"Thanks. The customer called yesterday and wants to have corner bi-folds now, and I need to run it through the architect. The guy doesn't seem to know what he's talking about."

"Sounds tough, good luck."

Basically, imagine you're an overworked employee of the call centre and your phone starts ringing. What would you want to hear from a disgruntled and hapless customer - their life-story or what's their current issue?

3. READ THE ROOM

If you're interrupting someone already doing something or going somewhere - don't waste their time. Even with the best of intentions, when their brain is elsewhere, they won't follow your meanders.

If your current circle thrives on short and snappy interactions, then a drawn-out story with eight side characters won't find much acclaim, no matter how funny you find it. Tell it to someone else, this is not the time.

If someone comes to you with a problem that affects them - don't immediately "reciprocate" with your own similar experiences, no matter how much it seems like you're simply commiserating. Listen to them, and maybe ask one or two compassionate questions (Are you okay? How is your xxx? What do you plan to do now? Etc).

Understand, that even if something looks like "the neurotypicals having no patience or grace!" very often the truth is that it's the neurodivergent experience blinding us to the reality of someone reaching for their last spoon.

Not to be a technical writer on main, but I've been bumping into the idea lately that the only reason explaining yourself in more detail never seems to work is because neurotypical people are misunderstanding you on purpose, or because they have short attention spans, or because they just hate listening to you talk – and sure, occasionally that's even true, but most of the time the problem you're running into is more fundamental.

Every time you add more detail, you're running the risk of tripping over a bad assumption on your part about the listener's prior knowledge, or hitting the tipping point where they become overwhelmed with new information (and remember that you don't know which parts of what you're saying will be new information for them), or making a leap of logic that isn't as self-evident as you think it is, or any of a dozen other potential snags which, by definition, you will not see coming until it's too late to correct course.

Basically, every piece of information you add multiplies the odds of you getting blindsided by some vector of misunderstanding you didn't anticipate, even as it addresses the ones you did anticipate. The point of diminishing returns where continuing to elaborate increases the odds of unexpected miscommunication more than it decreases the odds of expected miscommunication is much nearer than you'd like.

The most effective act of communication is not the one which contains the most possible information, but the one which contains the smallest amount of information it possibly can while still getting its point across. It sucks, but it's the reality of the situation. People far more autistic than you have been trying for hundreds of years to invent a way of communicating which doesn't work this way, without success.

All of which is to say that "getting to the damn point" is legitimately a communication skill, not just an accommodation for people who aren't paying attention. If it's any consolation, it's something neurotypical people struggle with just as much as anyone else – if it was easy, technical writers wouldn't have jobs!

[no-144444]

who are you?- l.hamilton

꩜summary: lewis gets into a crash that changes everything.

꩜pairing: lewis hamilton x fem! wife reader

꩜warnings: crashes, loss of a limb, fire, lando is not alright, generally sad, etc. :)

Wind, water, and pain.

That’s all that cut through Lewis’s thoughts as he hit Raidillon Eau Rouge at 300 km/h with Lando Norris crashing into him straight after. His blood spiked, his eyes watered, his head throbbed beneath his helmet as he fought with his seatbelt to get out of the car. The rain battered down on him, feeling heavier and heavier by the second. His everything burned in agony, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting a few whimpers as he tried desperately to free himself. For the first time in his life, he could hear the crowd. Gasping. Shocked. Scared. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up, not even looking down at himself to check. He needed to show he was out of the car, that he was fine. That he didn’t need the marshal’s help. He tried to plant a foot on his seat.

And then nothing. 

His foot didn’t move. His leg didn’t move. He tried the other, nothing.

Anxiety filled his chest and his brain raced. He refused to be another story, another great who got hurt and had to stop. Not when he had a new start in Ferrari, especially not when the car was just becoming competitive, and absolutely not when he was leading a fucking race. He had to get out of the car. He had to have functioning legs. His breathing sped up, his chest rising and falling in time with the rain. Poetic really, he was totally in sync with the world around him, even if he didn’t want to be. All he wanted was to be out of the fucking car, funny that. He’d sent his entire life inside cars, and now all he wanted was to be out of one.

Finally a marshal, a guy no older than 25 caught up to him. Lewis hated the look on his face, but still he continued trying. His legs wouldn’t move, but he chalked it up to shock. “Mate, give us a hand here?” he asked, holding out a hand. The kid shook his head and put his hands on Lewis’s shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Lewis sighed out a shaky breath.

“Sit back in the car,” he advised. “The paramedics are on the way.”

Lewis squirmed in his seat again, trying to feel his legs. Nothing. Someone could’ve stabbed him and he wouldn’t feel a thing. That panic rose again, his breathing getting quicker and quicker. “Man, come on, get me out of here-”

“Stay in the car,” the kid advised again. “You are far enough away from the fire, stay in the car until the paramedics get here, alright?” 

He couldn’t totally hear everything, the ringing in his ears was louder than it had ever been and the kid had a strong accent, but he could’ve sworn the kid had just said fire. “Fire?” he questioned, shouting over the rain. “Shit, is Lando ok?”

The kid was wide-eyed, staring at the scene behind Lewis. He wasn’t sure he wanted to look, judging on his expression. “Just stay in the car, they’re here now.” 

It’s too white. That’s the very first thing he noticed when he ripped his eyes open, his lashes sticky. The air was too clean, too sterile, too dry. He quickly realised he wasn’t in the car anymore. He wasn’t in his race suit or helmet anymore. Where is that beeping coming from? He turned his head to the side, then the other, but everything was just too blurry, everything hurt too much, everything took too much effort. He moaned out a pained sigh when he moved his arm, and felt a shoot of pain up his collar bone. It’s all distant. That fucking beeping was the only thing getting through, drilling into his skull like a fucking nailgun. He blinked experimentally, wondering if he'd fall straight back to sleep if he did. He didn’t. His vision got clearer, he made out the screen to his left, displaying some numbers he couldn’t quite read. He looked around the room. 

Hospital. 

He gulped. He, like most people, didn’t like hospitals. They were impersonal, sterile, and full of pain. Mental, physical, emotional, psychological, whatever, but pain all the same. That beeping continued hitting his temples like a sledgehammer, until finally someone spoke. 

“Lewis?” a voice he knew well, but couldn’t quite place. It was muffled. Like those times you’d hear your parents shouting for you when you were underwater as a kid. He thought back. Back to those days before he was who he is now. Those days when he was a little kid on holidays with his dad, staring up at the bluest sky in the world, the water distorting it, adding texture and life. The silence of the water. Or on days where he’d go seas swimming when it was chucking it down, and he’d look up and watch the raindrops hit the water, making small ripples but never touching him, not while he was underwater. The voice came back stronger, paired with an almost doorbell ding. “Shit you’re awake!”

Another blink brings the world back to him. Definition on the chairs and table in the room, definition on the numbers on the screen, definition on the IV drip in his arm. He gulped, and his throat burned. He probably hadn’t drank anything in a while. 

He blinked again, his eyes flying wildly around the room. He found you. 

Jesus, you looked rough. Beautiful, always of course, but exhausted. Baggy clothes and messy hair, red-rimmed eyes and messily removed makeup. He could see the tiredness pulling at your wide-eyes, already full of new tears to shed as you stared at him. He tried to sigh again, but that burning persisted. The door swung open and a fleet of doctors and nurses walked in. His hearing was back in full force, and now everything was too loud. He grimaced as they stood beside him, pulling and pushing buttons beside his bed. Yet, you didn’t take your eyes off him, like he’d disappear if you looked away for a moment, or even blinked. He wanted to reach over and cup your cheek, tell you everything would be alright, explain that he’d be back in fighting condition soon. But he couldn’t. You probably knew more about his condition than he did, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. 

“Mr. Hamilton,” one of the doctors, a black-haired woman, spoke up. “How are you feeling?” 

He let out a dry cough and reached for the side of his bed to sit up. Three nurses tried to help him. He got there in the end. “Thirsty,” he admitted, his voice dry and small. 

There’s a chorus of laughs, but he doesn’t hear your familiar one. He just felt a bottle of water in his hand. Cold. Your eyes still wide, still thinking a thousand miles away, but here. That’s what he cared about. He took a big gulp, and swallowed down the dryness. It took a few sips before he could really get his voice back, but he did. 

“Better?” someone asked, and he nodded. 

The black-haired woman stepped forward again. “So Mr. Hamilton, this will be a lot to hear but we’ll take it at your speed, is that alright?” 

He nodded, despite the terror filling his chest. 

What the fuck had happened? 

He didn’t have a left leg anymore. From the knee down, it was gone. It was the only way to save him from bleeding out, and it was a split-second decision. You made it. Under extreme stress and exhaustion. You chose to save him rather than save his career. It was brave. It was terrifying. You were scared he’d hate you. Maybe he’d have a reason to. Maybe he’d be justified. But you couldn’t, in good conscience, deprive the world of him. His light. His smile. His kindness. You couldn’t give that up for another championship, and you hoped he wouldn’t either.

The doctors left the room. You stayed quiet, waiting for the storm to rage. Waiting for him to cry, or scream, or simply drop his wedding ring into your hands and point to the door. You’d have left too, if that’s what he wanted. 

“How was it?” he asked, his voice quiet. Soft. Small. “It must’ve been… a lot. For you, I mean.” You bit your lip to stop the tears, squeezing your own hand. This isn’t about you, you told yourself. Ask about him. It was all too much though. The last 72 hours hung above your head heavily, the crash, the paperwork, the surgeries, the fear. Only now were you slowly easing out of your fight or flight responses. Only now were you breathing properly. You knew he was safe, maybe he was hurt, but he was alive, and that was more than you thought at that moment. That moment when you saw his car hit the barriers, Lando right behind him. Fuck, Lando. Lando was in a room 5 doors down, and he hadn’t woken up yet. You knew what you were getting into when you met Lewis, you knew he was a daredevil, you knew he carried some risk with him, but fuck. When you saw them pulling his body out of that car, you wished you’d somehow convinced him to stay in bed that day, to just forget the race and run off with you. The memory was permanently implanted in your brain every time you closed your eyes, it ran on a loop until you opened your eyes again. The burning parts. The silence in the garage. The way all their eyes went to you. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered, but your voice was broken. Hoarse from days of crying. Exhausted from explaining what happened over the phone to everyone who needed to know. Burning from the fresh tears threatening to fall. You cleared your throat. “I’m more worried about you.”

He nodded, and reached over, pulling you in by your hands. “You’re shaking,” he frowned, sitting you down beside him. You nodded, holding your breath so you wouldn’t cry. “Baby, we’ll get through this. I promise. We’re a team, remember?” He smiled, but you could see the unshed tears at the corners. You nodded, trying to believe him. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, reminding yourself that he made it. He was safe. He was alive. Different, but alive. 

Anthony walked in with a relieved look on his face. He’d been your rock. He’d been the one who told you that you were doing the right thing. “Lew,” he sat at the end of the bed, his resolve crumbling as his eyes watered. “You’re here.”

Seeing that. Seeing him grateful and happy that his son was there, that made everything worth it. That made whatever would come next worth it. Even if it destroyed you. 

And it would. 

Home had been a faraway thought for the past week and a half. Lando was still out. Lewis was lucky, but he sure as hell didn’t feel it. You were… getting there. You were alright. You had to be, for him. But when the noise of it all died down and he was out of the woods when it came to everything else, the dust settled and you realised how bad it had been. You watched the replay and saw when they accidentally cut to you, that haunted look in your eyes before you sprung into action and started running to the medical centre, so you could be there for Lewis. You saw the video of you holding up Lando’s girlfriend as she sobbed, talking her through her first big crash, your eyes wide but caring, focusing on her and getting her through the day. You saw the comments online, people wishing him well, people praising you, people calling you both frauds. You tried to block it out for him. You tried to not break or crack, or act like you were scared. But you were scared. You were terrified. Nothing was as it was before.  For the first time in 18 years, Lewis wasn’t an F1 driver.  So, who was he?

navigation for my blog :)

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[novy2sirius]

ASCENDANT CORE ©novy2sirius

readings for sale (“ur core” readings for $18)!!!

moon core | mercury core | venus core | jupiter core

this is just a random post abt things ppl w these ascendant signs could experience ♡

the more negative ones r based on low vibrational ppl not neutral to high vibrational ppl, so don’t take those specific ones personally if u don’t resonate ♡

these r only abt isolated placements so take these with a grain of salt bc the whole chart does matter ♡

a lot of these r experiences that i’ve heard personally from my friends and ppl who’ve purchased readings from me ♡

aries ascendant

being the first in ur family to do things (ex - graduate, be rich, be famous, etc), being the first person to do things in general (ex - create trends), not being able to find happiness in life until u find what ur passionate abt, unintentionally coming off too intense and speaking too passionately abt something random, ppl thinking ur a mean person before even getting to know u bc of ur rbf, getting sunburnt or getting tan easily, having a lot of pet peeves, blushing rly easily, having thick eyebrows, being called hot and never cute or pretty, being relentless when someone hurts u, being complicated, looking hotter w tattoos, accidentally screaming at someone over something that wasn’t even that big of a deal bc ur react too quickly sometimes without thinking, not giving up until u have what u want, getting farther in life by being assertive and demanding than by killing ppl w kindness, giving amazing head, having a high sex drive, being that person who has natural abs w out working out (if ur naturally skinny)

taurus ascendant

saying the most insane or traumatic stories in the calmest voice ever (nonchalantly) leading ppl to believe something is rly wrong w u, having a deep desire to be valued, sleeping a lot, being a stoner, being a throat goat, being a touchy person, holding a lot of grudges and being slow to forgive, being materialistic or more abt that bag than anything else, taking a lot of naps like a little kid, realizing things too late (a lot), overdoing things/being extra, being super grounded and down to earth, being hella chill, being slow to anger but when u do get angry being vengeful af and raging, being an observer, being able to act calm in the scariest moments and somehow not scream, never looking at someone the same again when they have stank breath even once around u

gemini ascendant

oversharing too much, talking to too many strangers, texting ur every thought one by one instead of typing one longer message, always posting on social media, being well known online, talking w ur hands a lot, always getting told u look younger than u r, having a lot of online friends, constantly wanting to go places and be active, being rly witty, being rly energetic until 3-5 pm hits and then randomly being drained, being in denial a lot even when u know ur wrong, creating a lot of trends online, easily being persuaded by others, ppl forgiving u easily bc of ur charm, making a lot of mistakes bc ur a rly curious person, being inconsistent

cancer ascendant

being super protective of ur loved ones, everyone always saying “y r u sO sHy?” and making u even more shy and uncomfortable, having a charm that makes ppl feel emotionally connected to u and drawn to u instantly, having a baby face/round face, being a rly cuddly person that loves physical touch (sometimes too shy to immediately be this way tho and it can take time to open up), being perceived as cute all the time instead of sexy, always being there for ur family even if they don’t reciprocate the love, having a soft/sweet voice, worrying too much abt things that will literally never happen, emotionally manipulating when u don’t get ur way, being a huge homebody and kinda lazy, getting farther in life by killing ppl w kindness than by being aggressive, being the most unforgiving person alive when someone hurts someone that u care abt

leo ascendant

being popular or attracting lots of attention regardless of how loud/quiet u r (having that star-like energy w out even trying), being a natural comedian, looking like a cat or being a cat person (someone who loves cats), having a deep desire to be admired by others, being brought into drama that has nothing to even do w u, being a gawd damn furry, having a playful energy that’s perceived as immature sometimes but rly u just don’t like to take life too seriously and want to be happy, being rly generous until someone gets on ur bad side (then the sassy side will come out), lying abt the most random things all the time as a kid (ex - saying ur from paris when ur not)

virgo ascendant

being the best person to come to for real and honest advice bc u r not afraid to say the absolute truth and nothing but the truth, struggling with ocd, being rly critical of ur appearance, always getting told u look younger than u r, overthinking every interaction that u have w ppl, having an almond mom, being nosy, having a lot of pet peeves, having such bad anxiety before school growing up that u nearly puke (or do), having horrible health anxiety and thinking ur gonna die over the smallest things like a headache or regular stomach ache, accusing/shaming ppl for doing things that u literally do also, being rly talkative once ur comfortable w someone, wanting to have control in every situation and struggling when u don’t, being rly loyal and not forgiving others who don’t reciprocate loyalty, drinking a ton of caffeine even tho it makes u hella anxious, having grandpa/grandma posture

libra ascendant

caring a lot abt how u look and feeling unhappy/depressed when u don’t feel pretty, being flirted with a lot, being rly good at flirting, wanting to keep a good image, not being able to sleep when u have an unresolved conflict bc u just want peace and no drama in ur life, being an ass eater, attracting a lot of jealousy, blushing rly easily or having rosacea, ppl thinking that u have a crush on someone when ur literally just being nice to the person, being scared to say when ur uncomfortable or don’t like something in a situation/conflict bc u don’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings or get on anyone’s bad side, fearing conflict bc as a kid ur parents would sweep too many things under the rug and now as a result u never learned how to properly solve conflict so u try ur hardest to just simply avoid it, accidentally coming off fake when u didn’t mean to

scorpio ascendant

ppl that u just met randomly venting abt all their traumas to u, being a rly good secret keeper, wanting most of ur life to be private and keeping a lot of secrets, ppl thinking ur a mean person before even getting to know u bc of that rbf, having an intense energy, being misunderstood, disliking when anyone has power over u in any way, attracting a lot of jealousy or being jealous over everything, having thick eyebrows, observing everyone and being able to tell if something is off just by looking into someone’s eyes, being flaky, exaggerating stories a lot to make them seem more interesting than they r, being rly compassionate (sometimes too compassionate), unexpectedly being a freak when everyone thought u were shy and innocent, looking hotter w tattoos, approaching life w a lot suspicion and skepticism (being paranoid af all the time)

sagittarius ascendant

feeling unhappy when ur in the same place for too long, being perceived as extremely blunt when giving ur opinion when u just thought what u said was pretty mild, knowing multiple languages, being rly spiritual (or religious. or both), having religious trauma, coping w being rly unstable by laughing and doing crazy shit, easily adapting to ur surroundings wherever u go, moving to a new house and being rly emotional the first day but then forgetting that u even moved like a week later, being the worst person to have a roast battle w bc u have the most insane and vile comebacks, attracting lucky opportunities at the most random moments, being that person who sends random memes/gifs thru text all the time, ghosting someone for days and then randomly coming back to tell them the most insane story out of nowhere

capricorn ascendant

being a workhorse and more comfortable when ur working than when ur sitting at home all the time, being rly intelligent, being book smart, being seen as hella cold and ppl always saying “ur sm nicer than u seemed before i met u”, having a rly hard childhood (not peaking in middle/high school but instead when ur older), having to mature from a young age which causes u to then learn lessons and experience things as an adult that u should’ve experienced as a child/teen, speaking very proper, being that one weird kid from elementary school who had a weird obsession w history books abt world wars, gaslighting hoes, seeming tougher on the outside but being a soft person on the inside, being prudish, having a coffee addiction

aquarius ascendant

being unpredictable even to urself, being told ur much friendlier than someone thought all the time bc u have an rbf, prioritizing friendships (or urself if unevolved) over anything else, ur emotions constantly changing in an instant (more so than the average person), running away from commitment bc u have a fear of failure or messing up, being perceived as chaotic, making more friends online than irl, thriving more when ur being independent (ex - not sharing finances/a bank acc w anyone, having ur own bedroom, etc), having to be the brave one all the time and stand on business, growing up with divorced parents or parents that desperately need to have a divorce and it affecting the way that u view relationships for the rest of ur life, reading to seem smarter than u r but not actually enjoying it

pisces ascendant

ppl copying everything u do (having a lot of wannabes), having a mystical/ethereal beauty, being a stoner, being misunderstood, having sanpaku eyes or eyes that look big and cute, ppl naturally being fascinated by ur presence, having a lot of secrets and having ur guard up a lot due to being hurt in the past, being rly forgiving of ppl, always putting others before urself, having psychic visions or dreams from a young age, seeing things that others don’t, knowing something is gonna happen way before it happens, being more spiritual than religious, playing mind games w ppl to get what u want, living in fear too much, wasting money on stupid stuff, morphing ur personality/appearance into every character that u love in a show/film, creating delusions in ur head too much bc u overthink everything, having the most random hidden talents

[darkwitchoferie]

Friends Don't - Felix

Summary: Your friends dared you to send a nude to your guy best friend and you think they knew more than they let on.

Pairing: Felix x afab/fem!Reader

Warnings: A small almost-panic attack at the beginning, Mommy kink, pet names (baby boy, baby, good boy), subby!Felix, vocal Felix, nipple play, hand job, oral (f receiving), cum eating, praise kink (m receiving)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: This story contains a nude or semi-nude photo in the fake text screenshots. This photo is just for reference and not meant to represent the body/face/etc. of the FMC (Reader). The photo used is from a publicly published account.

This one is longer than intended, but I got a little carried away and I don’t care.

This story is part of an unconnected series of oneshots of smau/written best friends to lovers fics. The rest (as they get written), will be found on my masterlist.

Felix was pacing his living room when you got there. You let yourself in, using the spare key you’d been given for when the boys were gone, to see him pacing back and forth, top edge of his phone pressed against his lips. When he turned to start back toward the front door, he stilled, noticing that you had come in.

“You’re here,” he said, eyes widening. “Oh god.”

You watched his chest heave with panicked breathes for a second before striding forward, grasping one of his hands and pressing it over your heart. You placed your other hand on his cheek, making him keep eye contact with you. “Breathe, Lixie. Try to match my breaths, okay?” You exaggerated your own breathing and saw him give the faintest nod.

Felix didn’t freak out and panic like this often, but you’d encountered it enough that you knew what to do for him. You knew the breathing, feeling your heartbeat, and grounding eye contact would bring him down quickly. That and it helped that he wasn’t too far into panic. Sure enough, after just a minute, his breathing evened out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I heard your texts in the car,” you replied. “I have questions, baby boy, can you answer for me?” You watched his pupils widen at the pet name, suppressing your own smile. He nodded. “Words, baby.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” this time you did grin. “Have you called me Mommy before? Even just in your head?”

“Yeah.” You watched the spots of color appear high on his cheeks.

You stroked your thumb over his cheek, torn between simpler, smaller questions to drag this out to see how far you could push this newly discovered part of your best friend and asking the big ones to learn what you wanted to know. You decided you could push him another day.

“Do you stroke your cock, thinking about me?”

“Yes.” The flush on his cheeks spread down to his neck.

“Mm. And do you call me Mommy when you do?”

He nodded, faintly whispering, “Yeah.”

You smiled softly, reassuringly squeezing his fingers that were still pressed against your chest. “When was the last time you did, baby?”

“Th –” he cleared his throat, voice having started to come out very faint. “This morning.”

You leaned in closer to him, smile widening as you did. You watched his eyes widen as you got closer, lashes fluttering as he kept looking between your eyes and lips. “Good boy,” you said softly, lips barely an inch from his.

He whimpered, knees buckling slightly before he was able to catch himself. Still smiling, you shifted your hand to the back of his neck and leaned in to claim his lips. The hand on your chest clenched and you heard his phone drop to the floor rug. Your other hand wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. His hands gripped your hips tightly, as if anchoring himself or reminding himself that this was real, not a fantasy. You pulled back slowly after a moment, with soft pecks as you did.

“C’mon,” you stepped away from him, but grabbed one of his hands and tugged him after you to his bedroom. In his room, you turned back to him, pushing his door shut behind him. “Tell me what you thought of this morning, hm?” You stroked the backs of your fingers gently down the side of his face and neck. “You thought of me this morning while you stroked yourself right?” He nodded, a breathy ‘yes’ forced out. “So what did you think of? What did you imagine, baby boy?”

It took a moment, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he answered, his voice soft, unsure or maybe embarrassed. “I… uh… I thought about you stroking my cock instead of me while… um…. While you let me suck on your tits. Me laying sorta in your lap, on my back.”

You hummed thoughtfully. His answer wasn’t really what you’d expected, you’d thought it would be more than that. But he’d been so good already, answering all your questions even though he was obviously nervous. You nodded once, more to yourself than to him. “Strip for me, Lixie.”

“Huh?” his eyes shot wide, flush deepening.

“Strip for me,” you repeated with a smile. “Good boys get rewards, Lix.” You stepped away, letting go of his hand. Backing toward his bed, you tugged your shirt over your head and stifled your giggle as Felix caught on to what you meant and started to scramble out of his clothes only to stop dead for a few seconds to stare at your lace-covered tits as you sat on the edge of his bed. The tent in his pants grew larger before he seemed to shake himself and finished striping. He stood bare before you, shifting nervously as you let your eyes roam his body, pussy clenching at the sight of his hard cock.

You smiled at his whimper when you tossed aside your bra. Still, he hadn’t moved. “Come here, baby,” you held a hand out to him and he hurried to you. You tugged him down, claiming his lips in a fierce kiss even as the two of you worked to arrange him the way he’d imagined – laying on his back with his upper back sort of hovering over your lap, lower back resting on your thigh.

You tugged him away from your lips, threading a hand in his long hair as you gently directed his head lower. He didn’t need more incentive from you – pressing hurried kisses to your neck and the top of your boobs, before latching onto your nipple. With little hesitation, he wrapped his lips around one nipple, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it. You moaned, hand clenching in his hair at his answering whine, your other hand skimming down his chest and abs before lightly wrapping around his cock.

You stroked him a couple of times, saliva gathering in your mouth. When you let go of him, he whimpered, but only switched to your other nipple. You licked your hand, wetting it as thoroughly as you could, before snuggly wrapping it back around his cock. He twitched in your hand, hips kicking up.

You kept your hand buried in his hair, holding him against you as he teased and sucked on both your nipples. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to be quiet in order to hear his soft moans and whimpers better. His mouth fell open for a second when you swiped your thumb over the head of his weeping cock before latching back onto you with renewed vigor. Then you remembered the way he buckled when you called him a good boy.

“Look at you baby. Pretty cock so hard for me, leaking in my hand.” He whined, pressing closer to you, his hands grasping at the blanket under him. “Mouth feels so good on me,” you moaned softly. “Such a good boy for Mommy, aren’t you?” His legs kicked slightly, hips lifting off the bed as he moaned louder against you.

You could feel how wet you were getting, a little surprised at yourself by how much you were enjoying this. You hadn’t realized you’d enjoy it this much until your pussy had throbbed when Felix sent that first text calling you Mommy.

You sped up your strokes, thumb swiping over his head again. With the way his cock was twitching in your hand, and the way he was writhing against you, you were fairly sure he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Gonna keep being a good boy for me, hm? Gonna cum all over my hand?” He whimpered, nodding even as he kept suckling on you.

The praise rolled easily from your lips as his hips bucked, cock twitching in your hand as he came. You didn’t take your hand off him, continuing to stroke him into overstimulation.

“Mommy,” he whined, lips still against your nipple. “Too much.”

“Too much, baby? But don’t you want to fuck me?”

He groaned, pressing his face between your tits. “Yes. Please.”

“Then I need to make sure you stay hard, don’t I?” He whimpered, rolling his hips again, which you accepted as his answer. You tugged his hair gently, pulling him back away from you so you could look down at him. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, color high on his cheeks. You leaned down to kiss him, unable to help yourself with how sweet he looked. “How about you make sure Mommy’s pussy can take your cock, hm?”

He nodded frantically, scrambling off your lap as soon as you let go of his cock. He groaned, dropping to his knees as he watched you bring your hand to your mouth and lick his cum off your fingers. You only smiled around your fingers, spreading your legs and beckoning him toward you with your other hand. He shuffled forward on his knees before settling comfortably between your thighs. At a nod from you, he reached up and quickly helped you out of your jeans and panties.

He stared at the wetness soaking your panties and then the tops of your inner thighs. “You’re so wet, Mommy,” he said softly, eyes wide in what almost looked like awe.

You tangled your hand back in his hair and pushed him forward. Needing no more encouragement, he buried his face in your pussy, tongue lapping at you as he shifted to wrap his arms under you thighs and rest them on his shoulders. Your grip on his hair tightened and you clenched against his tongue at his responding moan. You dropped back on his bed, hand still in his hair, holding him against you as he ate you out like a man starved. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth as two of his fingers circled your hole a few times before pushing in. You moaned, clenching around the intrusion as he started thrusting his fingers in time with the way he sucked your clit.

You were building quickly to an orgasm, thighs tightening around his head, your moans mingling with his that vibrated against your pussy. His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit, fingers curling up inside you to rub against the spongy part of your walls. The coil in your belly finally snapped and your body tightened – thighs clamping around Felix’s head, pussy clenching around his fingers, back arching off his bed – as you came against his mouth. He worked you through it, fingers still pumping, mouth still sucking, until you tugged his hair and pulled him away from you.

He whined, staring up at you with those same glassy, wide eyes. You smiled through heaving breaths and scooted back onto his bed, back against his pillows, knees bent, legs splayed wide. “Come here, baby.”

He scrambled at your invitation, climbing onto his bed and straight between your legs. You tugged him down toward you, claiming his lips again. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in kissing him, in the slide of his lips against yours, his chest pressed against yours. Then you felt his cock, heavy against your hip, and rolled your hips lightly against his, delighting in the moan it pulled from him.

He broke the kiss first, lips trailing across your jaw, down your neck, eyes flicking up to your face before he gently scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck. When you moaned, he pressed harder against your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin there.

You trailed your hand down his abs, nails lightly scratching against them, until you wrapped your hand around his dick again. You lined him up with your cunt, rolling your hips against him again. He quickly got with the program, propping himself up on one hand and slowly pushing into you with a low moan. He held still for a moment, breathing heavily and staring down into your eyes like he was trying to memorize this moment.

“Move, baby,” you told him after a moment, deliberately clenching around him. He sat back on his knees, tightly gripping your hips and pulling you partly onto his lap to force your back to arch. He pulled most of the way out before thrusting back in, setting a quick pace from the start.

Praise for him fell easily from your lips, telling him how good he made you feel, how perfect he felt inside you, how beautiful he looked above you, between moans of your own. He ate it up, moans and whines constantly spilling from his lips. Surprising yourself, your praise of him was quickly building yourself up too. His eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, when you scratched your nails across his chest and you filed that reaction away for later use.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, feet bouncing off his ass with every thrust. He leaned over you again, lips trailing over your chest in open-mouthed kisses that were more moans against your skin than actual kisses. You tugged his head up, claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss until you had to let him go with a low moan as his thumb found your clit.

His breath huffed against the side of your neck as he rubbed quick, firm circles against your clit. “Please. Wanna feel you cum around me. Please Mommy,” he whined against you.

You felt your belly tightening and clenched around his cock as you fell over the edge of your second orgasm. You gasped, nails scrapping against his scalp, his whimper slightly muffled against the side of your neck.

“Love you,” he babbled, face pressed against you as he now chased his own orgasm. “Oh god. Love you so much.”

You turned your head, lips brushing against his ear. “I love you too, Lixie. Love you so much, baby boy.”

With a moan that sounded more like a cry, he came, hips stilling, cock twitching deep inside you. He collapsed against you, rolling off to the side after only a second, chest heaving.

“A dare?” he asked after a while, both of your breathing having evened out.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. The girls were over, and you know how they can be when they’ve been drinking,” you rolled your eyes fondly at your friends. “Anyway, they started playing truth or dare, convinced me to join them.” You hummed thoughtfully. “I left them at my place, actually. Decided I had someone more important to do.”

He rolled over, snuggling himself against your side. You wrapped an arm around him, turning so you were properly holding him against you as you both drifted off to sleep.

[philosophicalparadox]

Agreed. Though actually confident characters are quite rare in my neck of the woods lollll

Storytelling at large doesn’t tend to include them (anymore) as primary characters because of the view above. That they lack depth or more so because it removes an element of conflict in their character.

But they do exist. And sometimes you do gotta hit it from a different angle because yeah, reducing them to the same old same old does get a little bit boring at times.

That said. There’s different kinds of confidence.

My Fiancé is actually a perfect example of that. He’s very secure in many respects; certainly he’s secure in his masculinity and personhood, and knows exactly what he’s worth without hubris. To most people, he comes off like a confident and put-together guy. Which never fails to impress because he’s only 25.

But he still has struggles. He’s got an IQ of 165, and it makes communication difficult with most normal people sometimes. He can do it, but it’s exhausting. He’s a supervisor and therefore in charge of other people, which is a position he never wanted but is well suited for. It tires him out, having everyone rely on him, which extends into home because he’s the main breadwinner to a household of disabled adults.

He cries if you yell at him. He’s exceptionally emotionally intelligent (EQ) as well as being problem-solving smart (IQ) and that scares him. He’s a confident person, yes, knows who he is and what he wants, etc. But he’s still terrible at boundaries because he’s always been the guy to respect other people’s, without ever being taught he was allowed to have his own. It’s not a source of insecurity for him, nor caused by it, it was simply an oversight in his social education, which was well rounded, but kinda forgot to include him in the discussion.

His mom is physically and mentally disabled, and they can’t communicate effectively hardly at all. They get along fine, and on the surface have a good relationship. But their IQ are too far apart to have meaningful conversations where everyone understands each other, and that lead to a lot of misinterpretation on his part about…a lot, of things. Left to its own devices his brain came up with some fascinating explanations for how things worked lol 🤣 it’s a good thing he wasn’t raised religious

The point I’m making is that yes, he is by all accounts a secure and confident person, in his personhood, but he definitely has things that can create conflict and story beats. Like the fact he was quite literally never made to do chores, ever. Which you would never guess meeting him because he’s a very respectable and responsible person. He just doesn’t know how to do chores. He’s very much the opposite of your run of the mill manchild, mind, he just literally was never made to do domestic stuff. And I had to fight with his mother to let him do them. I’ve taught him how to: vaccuum, sweep properly, how to use a towel to clean up spills, how to mix batter, how to do his own laundry, and how to walk a dog without getting his shoulder dislocated lol. Among other small things, like how germs work and why there’s a difference between washing and sanitising, etc.

So yes. There’s many more ways to make a confident person multidimensional. Most writers don’t really go there, though. I’m not one to insert insecurities where there aren’t any (unless I’m doing it for a specific reason, obv, sometimes the Barbies need to get chewed on by a dog 🤷‍♀️) in the canon character, but frequently there is in fact profound insecurity there, or a type of insecurity anyway. You can be insecure as a person in your personhood or insecure about a specific thing, or particular character traits, etc. The fundamental nature of insecurity is itself multifaceted, so there’s a lot of grey area, and everyone has something.

hello tumblr user. in front of you stands a confident and outspoken character. your challenge today & forever is to consider the possibility they may simply have self-confidence and are not just faking to secretly cover up massive insecurities. good luck

[diabolicalevil]

lion x reader headcanons?

Lion El'johnson x reader headcanons

gn!reader

lion,,, he is not my favourite primarch but the dark angels are my favourite leigon so I'll have fun w this i think. all sfw but I can be persuaded!

Warnings: none, this is mostly fluff

Escorts you everywhere, Knight and Royalty style. He doesn't see it that way, of course, but that's the vibe. God forbid your feet ever touch the ground when leaving a vehicle or ship he'll start maiming. Firmly believes your place is protected at his side or in his arms.

Lion speaks to you very little despite rarely leaving your side. Something something, you can take the cat out of the house but not the house of the cat. Being with you hasn't fundamentally changed his nature. It surely bothers you, you must start and carry every conversation, but over time you realised his silent ways of showing interest. Lion doesn't just expect you to speak first, he looks forward to it. Those that know him can tell the mere fact he's looking at you is the sign he's interested.

Once you gave him the silent treatment, not maliciously, you just couldn't be bothered for once. By not even midday he dragged you off to a side room, sat you down somewhere you were eye level and began to reprimand you. "Why is it that you're playing coy, hm?" He had little reference for negative personal emotion and usually manifests through confusion, occasionally anger. He scoffed and called your tiredness a silly reason for ignoring him but spent the day more attentive than ever.

Should be noted that telling him you're upset, tired, etc is a recipe for getting swept away back to your room immediately. No ifs, ands or buts. If he can't immediately remove the cause of your discomfort he'll simply take you away.

Often worries in general but particularly if he's doing your relationship wrong. It's not hard to interpert his tendency to shut down or standoffish behaviour as anxiety. He's paranoid about every other part of his life, why not you as well.

Regardless of gender, wants you dressed beautifully. "For the pride of the First Legion." So he says, but his unusual interest in getting you clothes that match his eyes tell a different story.

Unlikely to give gifts face to face. He'll have something constructed, crafted etc and order one of his idiot sons bring it to you or leave it in a place you frequent. Would never confess it but he fears your reaction to his gifts. Well, fears that he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does.

He is part of the club of primarchs who want to kick their legions to death. So aside from mandated gaurds when he isn't present, your interactions with the Dark Angels is limited. Probably for the best. Often rants to you about why he wants his sons grilled alive.

Loves you being well read, particularly about Caliban. Before he leaves for a hunt he'll ask which beast you want him to bring back for you. He takes great, great pride is displaying it's pelt or horns in your shared areas.

Trapped in a prison of his own making. Enjoys surprises kisses but he's too tall to get them, won't ask for them and very rarely will he kneel to your level. If he does kneel and doesn't get any he'll be kicking rocks all day sorry.

this is a bit shorter than usual but alas -.- I plan to pick up son of the forest at some point so maybe I can make a part 2. hopee u like it anon

[avsanderoth]

Writing Techniques #4: Character descriptions

Giving your reader a clear idea of your world is to paint it for them, and to paint those who inhabit. As you detail rolling fields and high-rising buildings, must you remark on flowy hair, azure eyes and lanky figures. While it may seem straightforward at face value, there is a great deal of nuance to this art. 

Composition & presentation

First of all - how do you describe a character? If you’re unfamiliar with how to do so, don’t fall for the idea that if you can’t “prettify” your language, it’s pointless.  You need to start by outlining their appearance, even if only to yourself, and that outline need not be fancy in the slightest. Feel free to describe their hair, then their eyes, the shape of their nose, their jawline, etc. etc. 

When you have that idea, however, it’s time to shave off the fat. Here, there are some things you will want to focus on, and some you will want to minimize or completely exclude. 

The focus is best placed on what your character wants to express about themselves, the parts of their appearance that communicate the emotions and aesthetics they want people to see in them. A very confident and outward character may unconsciously move in ways that draw attention to their features, like swaying their hair or tracing the zipper of their leather jacket. 

On the opposite end, a more timid and clammy character might “close up”, move in ways that keep them subtle and unnoticeable. Hoodies and other featureless attire helps communicate this, but it’ll really come down to the energy you use when describing them - more on that later. 

What you’re better off minimizing or excluding is everything that doesn’t serve to communicate something about your character. Details like jewelry, shoes and earrings need to carry a meaning, if subtle. Maybe your character wears very worn shoes, to convey they’re not very wealthy? Or maybe it’s the opposite - maybe your character enters the scene wearing a brand new pair of shoes since they were last seen? Jewelry and those kinds of accessories do much the same, but you can also plant things like family heirlooms or trinkets of personal value through them. 

Emphasis and the consequence

One of the smoothest methods of conveying a character’s importance to the story is by placing weight on their appearance. The cashier your protagonist meets in the supermarket might just “look tired”, but their best friend waiting outside may wear a bright smile - one that hasn’t waned in the thousand times the protag’s seen it - and run one hand through their wavy hair while the other clutches a worn handbag. 

Placing emphasis on a character’s appearance is an opportunity to establish them for the audience, both in terms of importance and personality. For example, see the brief descriptions below:

She flicked a stray lock out of her eyes, where it joined its locky brethren in nestling behind her ear. That same hand quickly returned to the pocket of her torn jeans, while the other had the strap of her backpack in a vice grip. The setting sun was her spotlight, shading the rolling sea of brown strands cascading down her back a slight gold. The furrow in her eyebrows combined with her defiantly straight posture made her seem many heads taller than she really was.

A stray lock of hair fell atop her right eye, her hand twitching to flick it back but ultimately relenting. Instead, it remained in the midst of her bangs, washing through them in some search for comfort. Her other hand rested loosely in the strap of her backpack, holding on with just a finger or two while the rest hung slack. The setting sun seemed intrusive on her skin, shaded her brown hair gold like a thief illuminated by a flashlight in the middle of a heist. Her eyes boring into the asphalt and sunken shoulders made her look guilty, as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. 

Two instances of the same character with the same appearance, but vastly different energies. To use your language in conveying a person is elementary if you want to concisely tell the reader of a character’s importance and features, and is the centerpiece for writing an amazing introduction. 

Leaving breadcrumbs

Another element you may want to take advantage of is saving some of your character’s features to introduce continuously, rather than dumping it all on your reader at once. This works especially well for tiny details like accessories, and other things that your character might fiddle with. “With his right hand, he pulled his wristwatch back into his sleeve,” or “The silver chain of her necklace wound up her finger, turning her rosy skin white”. Body language is a significant aspect to any character, and pacing their introduction lets you work on both without every sentence becoming the same thing. 

Notably, you should not do this with every aspect of their appearance. Giving the reader a baseline idea of clothing, faces and demeanour is best done immediately, so that your character has a face before they start defining their personality. 

It might also occur that your characters change outfits between parts of your work. Be that the case, it’s important to remember that if you place a lot of emphasis on a character’s shirt in their intro, you will want to place a similar or equal emphasis on the new shirt they’re wearing. This is to establish consistency in the “mechanisms” of your book, which makes reading a lot more comfortable. 

Eye of the beholder

This last point isn’t quite so important, but can be fun to consider. If you’re following a particular character, especially in first person, it may be that their gaze is drawn to certain things before others, which could affect how people appear to them. 

Maybe your character is someone well-used to fighting, and so they focus first on a person’s size, or musculature, or general feeling of “danger”? Or maybe your character enjoys fashion, and places more emphasis on how people dress and carry themselves? 

Here lies the third application of character descriptions: expanding on the protagonist. The cautious, searching a stranger’s robe for the bulge of hidden weaponry; the romantic, imaging the body beneath the jacket of the person on the other side of the bar; the terrified, scanning their every friend’s faces for the slightest sign they’ve done something wrong and are going to be punished for it. 

I really do mean it when I say character describing might be the most versatile element of storytelling among those that are practically guaranteed to appear in a work. There’s so much opportunity for exploration that I can’t describe it without doubling the length of this post. Alas, I will spare you from that. 

The end

Thanks for reading! I know quite a few people might struggle with getting this part right - character descriptions - so I really hope this guide helps someone. 

Also, I’m curious: what are some of your favorite character entrances you’ve read/written? Or details you love to see being focused on? If you’ve got one, feel free to reply with it! Bye!!!

[makixroll]

Plsss write a story about Jo confessing to fem!reader (&team help him organize the date/picnic, etc. you choose lol) ☺️

YOU LIKE HER. — jo ۫ ꣑ৎ

pairing . . . jo x fem!reader

contents . . . fluff , friends to ??? , jo fumbles bad

message . . . this is so cute omg !! Hope u like it anon<3

Jo's feelings for you are so obvious, especially to the teamies. The soft, affectionate stares Jo gives you whenever you're not looking, or the way their quiet member's eyes grow wide and twinkle like stars when you talk to him. Those kind of stares that the teamies could only see when Jo has rice in front of him. And his sketchbooks that are now filled with doodles of you.

But somehow, Jo didn't realize the feelings he has for you, and neither did you. Which was frustrating for the teamies, so after a long time of pinning, they took matters in their own hands.

Kei, their oldest member, approached Jo who quietly sat on the couch, a sketchbook in hand as he doodled probably the hundredth drawing of your face.

"Jo." Kei called out, stealing Jo's attention for a minute.

"Hm?" Jo hummed, staring at Kei confused.

"You like Y/N." Kei stated. He didn't even asked him if he liked you. Instead, he went for the obvious thing and told him about it. It was like Kei was informing Jo about his feelings for you, which was really funny if only you witnessed it in person.

Jo stared at the oldest, eyes wide, the tip of his ears going red by the second.

"W‐what..?"

"You like Y/N." Kei repeated once again, even nodding as he stared at Jo intensely, and he stared back. His face now red like a tomato.

"I... do?" Jo asked, and Kei nodded.

"You do." The oldest answered, still nodding. Still confused and bright red, Jo nodded his head as well.

"Maybe... I do like her.." Jo whispered to himself as he finally realized his feelings for you, by the way his heart beat trippled upon hearing your name slip from the oldest's tongue, yet it was still heard loud and clear by Kei, who's now smiling ear to ear.

"Great! Now let's talk about how will you confess to her." Kei then moved closer to Jo as he took the sketchbook out of his hand, not without glancing at it for a few seconds. And he was right, Jo was actually drawing you for the hundredth time. The oldest could only smile teasingly before he placed down the book on the table.

"H-huh—"

"What are you guys up to?" Maki asked, appearing so suddenly with a canned cola in his grasp.

"Jo finally figured out his feelings for Y/N." Kei answered, then looking back at Jo, it looked like his whole body is on fire with how red he was right now because of the conversation he has.

"About damn time!" Maki exclaimed, following with a chuckle as he placed down his cola, staring intently at the two men in front of him.

"What's the plan?"

"That's what we're going to talk about, right now." The oldest answered.

"Maki, go get the rest." Kei ordered, the youngest member saluted at him before he rushed and started knocking at the other members' rooms.

And so, the teamies devised a solid plan for a date to make Jo confess to you. Harua even made a script for the older man to memorize so he wouldn't mess things up.

The day of the date came. Jo had invited you to a mini picnic with just you and him, and when you asked why, he told you it was because he needed a muse for his drawing, and the members weren't up for it. You laughed and agreed. The tall guy decided to pick you up at your apartment, he was already prepared, thanks to his members who helped him. He has a huge picnic basket to store the blanket as well as the amount of foods Kei and Maki made him bring. Maki even woke up early to prepare them.

Once you two arrived at the place. You helped Jo set up the blanket, which was a favorite color of yours. Jo didn't fail to notice how your eyes sparkled at the sight of your favorite color, and he smiled secretly.

"So, Jo." You called out as you watched him doodle on his sketchbook, but he wasn't too smart to realize that you could see him fumbling with his pencil, not really sketching you.

"Hm?" Jo hummed, clearly nervous as he couldn't look up to you.

"What's the real reason why you asked me here? 'Cause it's clearly not to be your muse." You asked, amused at his action. Jo's pencil dropped as he quickly picked it up and chuckled nervously.

The ever so shy Jo gathered up the courage and looked at your face, his eyes softened upon seeing the half soft and half amused smile on you.

"W-well, actually... I've been in love with you ever— w-wait, no..." Jo mumbled, fumbling through his words. You couldn't help but laugh at him, finding him cute.

"No?" You asked, he shook his head.

"I mean—! Y-you're beauti...ful... and I've been in love— wait... that's not how it goes." Jo didn't realize how hard it was, telling you the memorized confession. When he practiced on Harua, he didn't stutter like this, he never forgot a word, so why now? Why is he fumbling so hard right now?

"Did you seriously memorized a script for this?" You asked, finding it amusing. Jo could only let out a loud sigh, covering his face as he lets out a whine.

You laughed once again, coming closer to him as you removed his hand from his face, a soft smile etched on your face as you stared at him.

"It's okay, Jo. Just tell me your feelings, without the script." You said, softly. Jo nodded before he sat up straight, looking in your eyes once again.

"Y/N, I really, really, really like you. Please, give me a chance!" Jo exclaimed, eyes now shut as he bowed, waiting for you to reply before he'll raise his head. Your hand went its way to his chin as you lifted it up, you went closer, and gave him a small kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, Jo."

[theymer-vayne]

The issue with chatgpt isn't that it has uncovered some unique exploit into the human psyche that people are universally vulnerable to, sure. It follows the same recruitment dynamics as any other cult; most people will bounce off immediately, dismissing it as ridiculous, but a few will be in the right state of mind at the right time - they've just experienced some sort of trauma that left them searching for answers, or circumstances have separated them from their support group, or they're just particularly open to the specific pitch they receive, for example. Of those, some won't get drawn deeper - their attention gets drawn away, or they bring it up early on with someone they trust and they get talked out of it, or the pitch goes too fast and loses them. But, again, that won't happen for everyone, and some will get drawn in, will isolate themselves from others, will become deeply invested in the idea that they are special, uniquely privileged with secret knowledge that everyone else wants to see suppressed. Chatgpt is a surprisingly effective cult recruiter simply because it's designed to be agreeable; essentially, it's designed to 'yes, and' when fed a prompt. And between all the fiction and the random internet pages scraped for training data, it has a huge amount of writing on conspiracy theories to draw on. What that means in practice is that if a user starts to give it prompts that make up the first steps down a conspiracy rabbit hole, it will work with that user to build a full-fledged conspiracy as large and elaborate as they need at exactly the pace they can handle, because it's doing it collaboratively with that user. This leads to the issue it presents; it's not that chatgpt has brainhacked a backdoor into human consciousness and is going to make us all its cultist acolytes. It's that it is always ready to run with a vulnerable user - and everyone is potentially vulnerable if it catches them with just the wrong answer at just the wrong time, the same way all those people radicalised by tiktok or grifters weren't always like that, they started 'normal' and got lured in - and dig out a rabbit hole for that user to fall down. And OpenAI, and the other LLM companies competing with them, want to put their LLMs in front of as many users as possible regardless of how many of them are vulnerable and will be radicalised, because it's better for their metrics regardless of the human cost. Add to that that much of tech 'journalism' consists of breathlessly reciting tech company press releases with zero critical analysis, and so plenty of those potential users are going into interactions with LLMs having been told these things are just a few steps away from omniscient sci-fi AIs and might evolve into them spontaneously any day now, which naturally primes them to be a bit less critical of what they put out than they might be if they were described as "fancy autocomplete" instead. It's like... scientology isn't really considered an existential threat; probably most people by now know that they're a cult, a significant amount of the public know at least the outline of their sci-fi story 'secret knowledge', their claims of superpowers (and lack of evidence thereof), etc. There are other groups doing a better job with the same playbook. But you'd still be extremely concerned if every software developer was suddenly forcing e-meter functionality as an obligatory bonus feature in all their apps, right? Not because that made scientology's recruitment tactics better in themselves, but because that reach means suddenly a lot more people who were at risk of falling for them will also be exposed to them. That's where the concern about AI radicalisation is coming from.

Every time I see some panic article about people worshipping chatgpt, I always ask "okay, what was that person doing before they started praying to chatgpt" because the answer is almost always some shit like "well, they were in Qanon and ran a Facebook page about psychic serpents who live in the center of the earth"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So someone made a FNAF joke about the new upcoming event so I was like wouldn't it be funny if it's revealed that the diner had two human-size animatronics of Chip and Dale that somehow malfunctioned and the NRC students get locked in the diner and they now have to survive two nights at Chip & Dale's. It would definitely give more reason as to why Lilia and Idia are there. Knowing Lilia he would go battle mode on the animatronics or Idia could use his hacking to fix or shut down the animatronics.

[ Referencing an event set for the JP July 2025 schedule! ]

I feel like everyone and their grandmas have been making FNAF jokes about the new C&D event 😭 I could definitely see Lilia going full war general mode and smiling/giggling as he drives like a kitchen knife or cleaver straight into a robot’s skull… Idia cowering in a corner and shrieking that it’s just like his horror games frfr (as he’s trying to hack onto the mainframe or whatever you’d call it)… It’s a funny idea, but the restaurant had no animatronics as far as we know. It’s just an old-fashioned American style diner!

Crowley explains in the event why the diner is in need of help and why these 4 students were picked!! According to the headmaster, the manager/owner of the newly opened Crisp and Dips Diner is a NRC graduate. The squirrel-themed (themed after the story of 2 mischievous squirrels) diner uses magic to prepare the food, and the name of the eatery comes from its signature menu item, crispy onion rings paired with a gravy-drenched burger that you dip into cheese sauce. They also sell nuggets and magic-infused items like a latte where the latte art moves (Ghost Latte), potatoes that change colors (Rainbow Potatoes), and pancakes with cream that sprout trees and a little house (Snow Globe/Dome Pancakes).

The manager and some employees have gotten into accidents recently and are recovering from those. There also appears to be strange things happening at the diner for about 2 weeks. Ingredients going missing, plates moving on their own, trash that should have been thrown away reappearing and falling where it shouldn’t, etc. I know this makes the diner seem haunted, but it’s actually the work of these two pesky squirrels who also appear in a new Twistune/Rhythmic causing trouble:)

Literally just Chip and Dale but as squirrels instead of chipmunks

Anyway, Crowley summons Cater, Azul, Lilia, and Idia to his office. He wants them to fill in for the injured staff because Cater knows diners + cafés well, Azul is familiar with management, Lilia is charming, and Idia would know how to deal with the diner’s machines/tech. Plus, they’re all capable of magic (which is necessary for the diner’s dishes)—and don’t they want to help out a NRC alumnus rather than leave it to RSA?

Crowley incidates that he has already been to the diner 5 times and enjoys their thick patties, so it seems like he has personal gain here. The diner has been temporarily closed for about a week by the time he summons the boys; he laments that he missed his lunch because he went there and found it closed. (The only other character of the cast that seems to have already been to the diner is Cater.)

Azul suggests that Crowley struck a deal with the manager to be paid a sizable sum if he can backfill the employee positions for 3 days. Crowley strongly denies this, but his flustered behavior doesn’t make anyone believe him 💦

The boys are incentivized to fill in because Crowley says they will be exempt from taking an exam for a subject of their choice. Idia, Azul, and Lilia all want to get out of P.E.! (Idia and Azul make sense; Lilia says the next unit is long distance running and he doesn’t want to be in the sun for a prolonged period of time.)

Cater is picked to be the acting manager because Crowley sensed his enthusiasm and liked it. (Surprisingly, Azul doesn’t argue or volunteer himself; Idia’s C&D Diner card has a voice line where he, too, expresses surprise over this.) He is the only character with skates in his new look because they’re a personal item he brought along. After all, “retro” is “in” right now! It’s a neat extension of Cater’s skateboarding skills.

Idia will be the line cook (so he can avoid dealing with customers). Azul will do support work like washing dishes, stocking + prepping ingredients, and managing the register. Lilia and Cater are going to be servers!

And in case you’re wondering!! Yuu and/or Grim aren’t working at the diner; they drop by a few times as customers. We shoot a video at the diner and this helps to attract more business. Cater says he can give us a free item from the menu as thanks ;3c

[howlingguardian]

I think I'm going to do some worldbuilding on my superhero idea.

In a fairly typical superpower setting- costumed heroes and villains, the occasional giant monster, etc, plumber and single father Frank Bennett comes home from work one day to see a costumed woman standing in his apartment.

Naturally, he freaks- until said spandex-clad stranger transforms back into his 12 year old daughter Tammy, who excitedly holds up a drawing of the superhero she was a second ago. She'd discovered that she has the power to create drawings that can transform you into the subject of the drawing, complete with powers, for a limited time.

The next step is obvious- she's young, powerful, and driven by an innocent desire to do good like the heroes on the news. She's going to be a superhero.

Absolutely not, says Frank.

They argue massively, before Frank sends her to her room to try and think. Left to himself, he realises that she's too determined to be persuaded easily, and he can't keep her away from paper and pencils for the rest of her life. But he also doesn't want his baby girl running around doing some daring do, even if she signs up with a superhero team- and he's not eager for that, because there are stories about child superheros having the same problems as other child celebrities. So what's the solution?

Frank knocks on Tammy's door, and offers her a deal- no superheroics for herself until she's 18 and ready to make her own decisions. In exchange, he'll take her drawings and do the hero stuff himself.

Tammy likes the idea- what kid doesn't secretly imagine their parent as a hero at some point- and eagerly shows him her drawings and her ideas for various superheroes.

The thing is, most of the heroes in this setting are pretty grounded; less capes and more body armour. Whereas Tammy's ideas are more like something out of cartoons, or the stuff an excitable 12 year old would come up with.

Thus, over the next 6 years, the inhabitants of the city of Steelhaven are absolutely baffled by multicoloured goofballs with powers even odder than usual showing up out of nowhere for a day to help with whatever problem's going on- guys like Caffeinator the coffee-fuelled speedster, or Demo Dino the cyborg pachycephalosaurus construction worker, or Kanga-Fu the martial arts master from Down Under.

And then there's Yo-Yo Master. Nobody is forgetting Yo-Yo Master.

Over the years, Tammy's art skills improve, and her various teenage phases and personal life crises influence her art- her emo phase results in a rash of gloomy heroes with way too much eyeliner, while her love of fantasy books give rise to friendly ogres and benevolent minotaurs.

And Frank has to buck up and slip into the body and powers of all of them. Nobody ever said it was easy parenting a teenage superhero!

[m1ssunderstanding]

do you think john and paul were hooking up in the 70s at all? i know so much abt the mclennon 60s timeline but the 70s is a bit foggier to me

Anything's possible, man. I think the whole seventies are generally portrayed and perceived as much more antagonistic than it actually was. I do think the actual fucking was a lot more sparse than the sixties obviously but the mutual obsession and the closeness and friendship and attraction and desire to be and work together was just as present in the seventies as all the bitterness and miscommunicated and competitiveness and jealously and lawsuits and mind games were.

They were together a lot more than is generally acknowledged in the seventies and I bet they were together a lot more than we know about even. And let's be real, if those two couldn't be lovers they'd never be friends. So it's likely that at least some of the time they fucked.

70: 0% chance of fucking. Paul is really hoping he ods up in Scotland and John is screaming his guts out in an institution. They're not speaking. They don't see each other.

71: they technically could've (John doesn't move to NY until August and Paul would've been in London part of the time) but I doubt it. Someone correct me if we have more information but I think they didn't really see much of each other in this year. John did send Paul the tape of their deca audition with a lovey note for Christmas so things weren't all antagonism, but still very rocky. And I believe he invited Paul to play live with him but Paul wouldn't because of Klein.

72: maybe. In January, Linda and Paul flew to NY to visit John and Yoko at their new place. Then John invited them to play live together and even said Klein wouldn't be involved if Paul didn't want. (I don't know how that would've looked legally) But we have no idea whether Paul responded to that telegram, only that he didn't go and that after that he went on the wings tour of Europe. But John was very much not permanently pissed at him because then we get the elephants memory story of John regularly taking 90+minutes out of a recording session for SINYC to chit chat with Paul on the phone. And the thing is. If they're that friendly, the McCartneys probably visiting John and Yoko on their way to Linda's dad's house. Which being rich and being big on family, they probably did more often than is documented.

73: Probably not. January of this year is when John yelled at Yoko during a party that he wished he was back with Paul. This is also the year (might even be the same party idk) that he got mad at her and grabbed some woman and went into a nearby bedroom and fucked her and everyone knew what was going on etc. Late 73 is the start of the lost weekend. But! Even though emotionally they would've been there imo it was physically impossible because Paul wasn't allowed into the US and John wasn't allowed out. I did hear they tried to meet at the Canada border just to see each other in person, so maybe? That would be something they would do, I don't know.

74: Definitely. As soon as he was legally allowed to, Paul was tapping that ass I guarantee. May acts like there's something she's not allowed to disclose about John and Paul during this time and the agreed upon timeline for their meetings does not match their locations so there's something sneaky going on.

75: Definitely. Again, with May Pang. I definitely recommend her book. It's one of my favorite Beatles books. Paul just randomly knows they've moved into a new apartment (again in NY where Paul and Linda visit all the time anyway) knows their number and shows up to hang out with John. John's so stoked for New Orleans. He's popping out songs left and right, he's giddy and goofy. He's talking about getting a house with May. He can't wait to get that bussy.

76: Probably not. John and Paul remained on good terms despite John not showing up to New Orleans and breaking Paul's tender heart. (His excuse is a baby. Like Paul's not going to eat that up. He was born with milk in his tits I swear.) But even though they're buddies, I have a hard time believing they fucked when they met up in 76 with the whole snl story and all that. While I do actually buy that Linda might've supported them hooking up (we can get into that mess later) I don't think Yoko wanted that, at least at this point in their marriage where they're trying to be a nuclear family with Sean and all that. I really doubt, after she's just taken him back and had his baby, that Yoko would've let him be alone with Paul. So unless John went in disguise to a Wings over America concert -- which was decidedly Not his mental state that year -- it's extremely unlikely.

77: Doubt it. I don't know too much about 77 other than that was the year John wrote many of those extremely love-sick and beautiful and depressing ballads and made self recorded journal entries about not wanting to get out of bed unless it was to jump out the window. Paul also took this year "off" so Linda could have James in peace and he could more actively participate in child rearing and housework while she healed from pregnancy and birth. This was probably the start of the "we just talked about bread and cats and babies" phonecalls. Idk maybe there was some sad->sweet phone sex in there somewhere.

78: Bit more likely. Sean was turning two at this point, and as a mom of a two year old I can tell you two is WAY better than one or zero. So, while John of course had nannies and house keepers to help, I'm sure his mental state still improved with Sean's development. Meanwhile, Paul's London Town was a flop numerically and critically, which probably helped things between them to be honest. Also, this is where I think Yoko was starting to get over John and wasn't around much. So any time the McCartneys were in New York to visit Lee, it's possible.

79: Probably. And this is just me being insane, but when Paul tells interviewers he showed his homemade tapes that would become McCartney 2 to "someone" and that "someone" said 'oh this is your new album' and Paul said 'no I was just messing around' and that "someone" said 'No. That's your new album'. And Paul went, 'yeah you're right' and put it out. I mean, that's just obviously John. Nobody talks to Paul like that except John. Nobody else has the balls and Paul wouldn't respect anyone else that way. So this is where -- I think -- the secret Montauk meetings probably started. We also know Paul and Linda visited John and Yoko again at the end of 79 right before they went to Japan. So it could've happened then too.

80: Definitely. See my post about secret late seventies meetings for an explanation here. If you don't know what I'm talking about, message me or comment or whatever and I'll send it your way:)

[ao3commentoftheday]

hi, first of all thank you so much for running this blog! i've followed you for a quite a while now and i can't express enough how helpful it has been!

i think this is more of a little confession than an ask, i guess i just want to get some stuff off my chest. feel free to ignore this though because i dont think what i'm about to say here is something that hasn't been said before, now that i've scrolled your blog for like an hour or so.

i've never written really consistently, same goes for my other stuff like art or vid editing. i feel like having a solid plot isn't really my strong suit so i usually just stick to oneshots where there are little actions but a lot of feeling lol, and even with that i have drafts and bullet points from 5 years ago that i haven't touched. there's a lot of struggle with finishing things as well, wips of all kind just keep accumulating and i just feel so guilty over that, especially when i get the idea for something new. i suppose the more i internalize that the more i get intimidated by the mere thought of starting anything at all.

so recently i got a new shiny idea of a multichapter fic, its scope is larger than anything i have ever written or attempted to, and it has plot. i have basically spent weeks trying to piece together a string of plot, setting up characterization and all that jazz. i got pretty ambitious with how the story unfold, so there is considerably more prepping than ever.

i'm now writing the pilot chapter, and honestly it is getting frustrating. i know you have mentioned speedrunning to jump straight into "the good bits" before, but there's just this strange obligation to the opening that i can't quite shake off. i also set up this mental quota for words count, and seeing myself spending days and still not reaching that number is very disheartening.

realistically, i can see many recommending slowly building up my writing, like just biting what i can chew and enlarge the bite as i go. but the idea of shelving this one feels bad, and i wanna ride the high before i start losing interest and eventually look back on this project with some sort of bitter regret like many others. i know the saying about projects not disappearing and i can always pick up from where i left it, but my mind doesn't seem to be happy with that, and this is worsened be the reminder of my other several-year-old abandoned fic.

sorry for the whole rambling. i am aware that this is a mindset problem and i have issues with instant gratification. it just i was so excited during the planning phase and now the actual writing is so stagnant that i feel like im losing hope for a breakthrough. and i couldn't even ramble to anyone about the plans because most of my friends aren't into what i'm writing for/the particular character i'm centering this fic around i'm scared that i'm gonna bother them; i am not actually active in the fandom and joining a server makes me insanely anxious. the whole thing just feels more and more like digging a hole for myself and lie there.

again i am so sorry for the rambling this got out of hand! i hope you have a good day!

Oof. Deep breath, anon! It's okay 💗

You've got several things in this ask that I want to have a quick chat with you about, but feel free to jump to the end if what I'm saying isn't hitting for you.

I want to start by addressing your little personal history that you gave up at the top. This is something that I hear from a lot of people about various hobbies, not just writing. We feel guilty when we don't finish a project. We feel bad when we stop doing something when it stops being fun.

That's normal. That's a perfectly fine choice to make with how you spend your free time. Just because school and work both require you to finish projects doesn't mean that your hobbies require that too. Just because your parents said you couldn't give up on [insert hobby here] because it cost so much for your lessons or equipment etc. doesn't mean that you have to hold yourself to that same standard when you're the one paying your own bills. Besides, writing is free.

Be a little kinder to yourself and a little more forgiving when you DNF a fic. You're allowed to quit writing as much as you're allowed to quit reading. If it sucks, hit da bricks.

Related to that idea is the way you talk about "struggling to finish fics." Of course you struggle with doing something that you're bored or frustrated with. If the story itself isn't more interesting than the struggle why would you continue with it? Keeping yourself motivated isn't just about energy. It's also about passion. When it comes to a hobby, the only person pushing you to finish a thing is you. And when you're tired after working all day or after finishing a full day of school, you don't want to start writing a fic that feels like homework. You want to work on a fic that feels like play.

It sounds like you got that play feeling from creating the plan for your story. Whatever you were doing at that stage was keeping your passion alive. So what's changed since you shifted from planning to writing?

If you've created a strict outline that you're now trying to follow then it might feel like you're doing homework or just filling in boxes in the fic-writing factory. Try to find places where you can still make creative decisions as you go, where you haven't got things all planned out in advance. Put a little "choose your own adventure" back into your storytelling and that passion might come back.

Try investigating that "obligation to the opening" as well. What's the cause of that? Was the first scene the one that prompted the rest of the story? Are you trying to do the tone setting and worldbuilding there? What expectation have you put in place for yourself, and is there a way to shift that expectation to later in the fic? What's the most basic version of that opening that you can write to get it down on the page? You can go back later to add more to it if you still think it needs it.

One thing to remember when you're writing a large, complex story is that the reader doesn't need to know anywhere near as much as you do. You can figure out 10 books worth of backstory and worldbuilding and relationship history that informs what you put on the page, but you don't actually have to write it all down if the reader doesn't need to know all of the ins and outs. And if you want, you can always create a companion fic on the side where you do go into deep dives or missing moments etc. when those things ignite a spark inside you.

When it comes to word count, though? Throw. That. Idea. In. The. Garbage. The number of words you use has nothing to do with the quality of the story that you're telling. It's a number that you've clearly put some kind of meaning into, but saying that a 100K fanfic is better than a 20K fanfic is kind of like saying that a 6ft tall person is better than a 5ft tall person based solely on their respective heights. It makes no sense!

I'll get off that particular soap box now, anon, but I do hope that you'll be kinder to yourself. You're beating yourself up in a dozen different ways and none of them are a good reason to be so mean to the most important person in your life: yourself. ❤️

[antispopausandstuff]

SPOP and Arcane made me feel even more strongly about the necessity that toxic // abusive siblinghood, especially sisterhood, should have more awareness. for pretty much the same reasons.

collectively, SPOP and Arcane, though, largely their fandoms, had a problem with viewing the youngest sibling as incapable of real harm, at some point in the story.

the eldest ( Adora // Vi ) can do everything right. do their absolute best to keep their loved ones happy and healthy, no matter what it costs them personally. but the moment they make a mistake, even if it's one they heavily regret seconds later, or even if it's not a true mistake at all and just makes the youngest upset, they're considered villains and face constant backlash.

but the youngest can do everything wrong, no matter the intentions, and be praised for it. it's people like that who make me question if Azula, for example, really... should have a redemption to begin with. yes, she's a child, i get that, but that meant she needed help.

Catra isn't seen as solely in the wrong because she thinks Adora abandoned her, when she has absolutely no reason to believe that, and even said plenty of times herself that she made her own choice to stay with the Horde, that she didn't want to leave.

she isn't seen as in the wrong for her inhumane, sadistic, objectifying abuse towards Adora ever since they were children because she's considered a product of her circumstances ( when apparently no one else is ), doesn't know what she's doing ( despite making it clear multiple times she does ), sees Adora as She-Ra ( she almost never uses "She-Ra" when referring to Adora, no matter what form ), etc., etc., etc. she's a girlboss who can do what she wants until she suddenly does something unforgivable, then it's not her fault.

Jinx isn't seen as in the wrong, partially or otherwise, despite the show's intentions from the very beginning, because Vi made a huge mistake in a moment of weakness after realizing her little sister, accident or not, killed their entire family.

she isn't seen as in the wrong for abusing Sevika, obsessing over Vi, which led to her stalking and kidnapping Caitlyn, bombing an entire bridge, killing dozens, if not hundreds, of people ( esp the one that reminded her of Vi, that's not a red flag at all ), etc., etc., because she's evidently mentally unstable and needs help.

and, strangely, she becomes a... hero to Zaun? i'm gonna be blunt, i don't even remember why. instead of her health declining even further after accidentally killing yet another family member, with his last words literally telling her she's done nothing wrong, she feels almost like a stranger in comparison to how she was in s1. there were very few things that didn't set Jinx off, but she feels like... Harley Quinn-esc in s2? if that makes sense?

what i'm trying to say is that i don't feel like people take sibling abuse as seriously as they should, especially not in media.

one of my favorite films of all time is Prince of Egypt and that's largely because it centers around the shifting family dynamics between Moses and those he loves, including Rameses. it adds a lot of depth to terrible people, one's mistakes, how that makes them reshape their whole world and self view, or how it makes them dig their heels deeper in the sand.

Ramses and Moses never had an abusive relationship. at least, not in the beginning. it was clear as day they loved each other. Moses was quick to defend Rameses when they got in trouble with their father, and Rameses was quick to defend Moses when he killed a man.

and, even despite their complete and total differences, with Rameses not being able to see the Hebrews as anything more than objects, slaves, and Moses being a Hebrew and needing to free his people, their love was still there.

it only became hate, from Rameses' side, after it was clear that Moses wasn't able willing to go back to how life was before. but even in that hate, he was still trying to reach his little brother. until his son was in the midst of it and eventually died.

he blamed Moses, when it was him who was at fault for not listening and not freeing the Hebrews.

Prince of Egypt is a beautiful film, artistically and in its writing, and i highly recommend those who haven't seen it to do so. but this is what i mean.

this film held Rameses accountable. Moses held Rameses accountable. and he didn't even hate his older brother, he still loved him, and it pained him to bring the plague to Egypt, his home.

i think it's easier, in some ways, because Moses is the youngest of the two. society generally tends to think that younger people either don't know any better or can lead to better futures. but they're just as capable of bad as anyone else, and people still don't understand this.

it's why, whenever you hear stories of an older sibling being abused time and time again by their younger one, families will excuse it over and over, constantly giving benefit of the doubt, instead of just holding the younger sibling accountable for their actions.

the same issue applies to SPOP and Arcane. it doesn't fully acknowledge that Catra and Jinx are in the wrong for hurting // abusing Adora and Vi, let alone anyone else.

we need more stories that show all possible truths in families. and one of those truths is that the youngest can still be bad and abusive to anyone, just like anybody else.

[rav1377]

In The Dark

In The Dark Masterlist

adoptivebrother!Simon x adoptedsister!reader

tw:DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE, DNE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED NOW. this is dark, includes fauxcest and sibling relationships. smut, unprotected, soft Simon, etc etc, please please PLEASE don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this content. READER AND SIMON ARE NOT MINORS, THEY ARE 18, THEY LIVE WIH JOHN.

the floor was cold. the pads of your feet chilled by the touch. but the blanket wrapped around you wore off the cool chill in the air. John, your adoptive dad, liked the house cold. said it helped him sleep, helped his hurting joints. he’d taken you from a group home when you were 16, choosing you. you, who regarded yourself as insignificant or not needed. he still chose you. of course you’d met the man before he’d adopted you. gotten to know him. you trusted him now, and in many ways, he was your father. no, not your flesh and blood, but he was the one that had the other end of that fatherly bond. you’d quickly learned that he already had two other children. both adopted. Johnny and Kyle. Kyle had been with him the longest, since he was 6, and Johnny since he was 13. you were the newest addition to the little pack. Kyle was three years older than you, Johnny only one. you’d been scared that they wouldn’t like you, or that they would ignore you, mistreat you, deem you unworthy of love from their family. but that hadn’t happened. Kyle merely hugged you on that first day you came in, shocking your system to its core. Johnny had been next, telling some joke as he gave you a side hug. John had chuckled from his place by the door. introduced them as his boys. his sons. and from that moment on, you were his daughter. the boys had treated you like their little sister, quick to protect and fight for you, but just as quick to tease you. you belonged in the family now. then, a year later, things had changed, and your world shifted once more.

Kyle was away at college now, already in his second year. Johnny had just left as well, a freshmen in the new university a city over. you were 17, and home with John most days. until he’d sat you down, bringing in his serious tone. John was adopting another person. another teenager. like you. but this one had been troubled, had scars that ran deep. wounds that John wouldn’t reveal to you, saying that they were his stories to tell. and you didn’t have a say in the matter. it had been done. the foster home the boy was at couldn’t keep him anymore, said the others were scared of him. so John swooped in, playing at savior. his name was Simon. Simon Riley.

the first few weeks were rough, to say the least. Simon wouldn’t talk to John or you, would merely through glances, glares, and other looks when he thought you weren’t looking. still, John was counting on you. needed you to welcome him in. help him be at home here, for however long that was. Simon would turn 18 in a year, days after you would. a year in this house. with him.

——————————————————————————————————

with you. Simon was supposed to spend a year in this house. with you. you’d done your best to welcome him, but that was hard to do when Simon couldn’t even look at you for long. not without heat rushing to his face, a pink blush on his cheeks. you treated him like no one else had, not even his own family. he remembered his mother, some days. you had the same soft tone as she did when you talked. like you were skiddish and always testing the waters of the world around you. he remembered his brother on other days. you had the same joy in your laughter like he did when they weren’t hiding from their dad. other days, Simoj Riley remembered his father. the large hand that came down on him so many times. the belts used across his arms and shoulders. the nicks from pocket knives on his forearms. the cigarette burns on his skin. but you weren’t anything like his father. neither was John. but he still couldn’t trust you. the two of you weren’t anything to him. just some people he had to stay with until he could leave. for good. but the days still went on, and Simon was still a man whose heart did soften. lost the jagged edges of it when your fingers danced across his as you both reached for the pepper one night. became smooth when you smiled at him, trying to tell a joke. melted when you blushed after he said you looked nice one day.

Simon knows he’s messed up for this. letting himself weasel his way into your family. pushing himself where he doesn’t belong. for loving you the way he does. you were supposed to be his sister. but he couldn’t bring himself to see you that way. yet he locked and bottle up his feelings deep inside him to hide it. putting on a cold exterior and harsh glare that always took the place of the goofy smile he wanted so badly to share with you. John merely thought he was still being guarded. the older man often tried to talk with the blond, getting him to open up slowly. John knew the man and what he’d gone through, but it was incomparable when it came from Simons own lips. he’d still cared for him, even with the stories that came with the scarred face and skin. Simon trustedJohn, ever so slowly. let him into his bubble, into his life. and with him, he brought you. letting you sit next Simon at dinner. letting you near him in positions where Simon had no choice. positions where John would watch with keen eyes, seeing how Simon tried to hide from your gaze. and the man chalked it up to being scared to trust you, just like he was scared to trust John. figured the two of you needed time to work it out, to bond with another. so one day, he announced that he was leaving town for the weekend, going to visit Johnny at university. you two would stay alone with he was gone.

——————————————————————————————————

you were frustrated to say the least. Simon seemed to hate you, didn’t want anything to do with you. glared at you and couldn’t seem to even look at your face most days without turning away. and it frustrated you. that despite the fact Simon didn’t like you, you still liked him. liked the way he made his toast, jelly first then butter. liked the way his strong form walked through the kitchen late at night. liked how his eyes took in each detail of each room every time he entered. like how he held himself. Simon wasn’t an ugly man either. you had to admit there was a part of you that was attracted, almost drawn and trapped in, to him. but he didn’t seem drawn to you. no, he deemed you unworthy of a hello or good morning most days. that’s why you dreaded spending the weekend with him alone. how would you even get through it if he wouldn’t talk?

the first night John was gone you cooked pizza. frozen, but good nonetheless. Simon took Johns place that night. in the little bench in the nook of the kitchen. right next to you. your body froze when you felt his large thigh basically press against yours. Simon merely dug into his pizza like he was starved and couldn’t focus on anything else, letting his shaggy blond hair fall over his face, covering the many scars that decorated it. still, you bit into your own pizza, letting your thigh relax and press again his. when you’d both finished, sitting in the silence as the food digested, Simons head turned to you, still downturned. “thank you.” he murmured into the dim room. your face lit up, eyes darting to the ones that hid behind his messy and tangled hair. “of course.” you whispered. Simon stood after that, helping you take the dishes to the sink to clean them alongside you. every now and then, you’d throw glances at the tall boy next to you, his disheveled hair and almost defeated shoulders. some days he stood taller than others, but today he seemed…weighed down. as you stared as his fingers while they rinsed the plate, an idea appeared. his hair was a mess, desperately needing to be cut and washed. but Simon hadn’t let anyone touch it, insisting to even John that it was fine. but it wasn’t, not to you. “Simon?” you asked tentatively. he looked to you slowly, eyes drifting up your collarbone and stopping at your chin. “can I cut your hair?” his lips pressed together. “only if it’s okay. I-I just know that it’s long and i uhm. well wasn’t sure if you liked it like that?” the words lost volume and their certainty as Simon didn’t flinch at them. so you looked back to your dishes to dry them. “no. I don’t like it.” Simons voice was dry and sounded like it hadn’t been used in a while. “you can cut it.” he finished before handing you the last plate. your lips parted slightly as you nodded, drying the plate before returning it to its cabinet.

——————————————————————————————————

an:ahhh! I loved writing this, it will be a series, and don’t worry there will be more to come, including all the stuff in the tws so there will be darker smut ahead, and anyway this story is already a bit different, rlly just bc they’re adopted siblings, but I’ve had this in my head for a while, so I hope you enjoyed it!

-cass💕:D

[mingoner]

calling cards ⋆˙⟡ p. seonghwa

you have been able to make a name for yourself in creating garden landscapes for wealthy London elites, semi-successfully getting your parents off your back about marrying well. when a mutual friend connects you with a new client - a lonely bachelor named seonghwa - feelings wither before they grow fonder, but how will they end? notes: this story is writing with fem!reader (she/her pronouns, talks of gender roles, etc.) jsyk! another addition from my series "reveal the banns!" thank you for waiting :) wc: 5.7k

the sun shines on a garden landscape in the middle of london, the home of a young man made beautiful by degrees of nature.

with a final patch of tulips planted you stand on your feet, admiring the pieces of the sprawling garden design you have so carefully created and constructed.

you turn your head towards the main house to see a servant walking towards you, offering a glass of water while the owner of the estate looks out from the back door.

"please, come inside when you have finished," he yells towards you. "and after you are made clean," he adds as an afterthought, looking up and down at your dirtied dress.

once you are deemed clean enough to enter the residence you do so, seeking your friend hongjoong in one of his many drawing rooms. you descend from a privileged and rich London family, which is both how you are connected to hongjoong and how you are able to work what is basically a full time job at a time when women were expected to do all but lift a finger in labor.

“please, sit,” he instructs, but you both know he needn’t bother saying so. you have long since felt comfortable settling into the chairs in his home, your long talks stretching back over so many years.

"how has business been?" he asks, knowing fully well you barely had enough time to visit today in order to plant an unnecessary-to-others addition to the garden you have so laboriously planted and maintained for many years. he felt as though there was something missing and you knew exactly what to supplement with: always tulips.

"steady," you reply, not feeling the need to go into much detail. "the clifton's landscaping is taking longer than i first imagined. mrs. clifton has a specific picture to achieve and she keeps adding small and large additions. we should be finished next week, and if we are not then i will decide to be."

"well i am glad to hear you are so busy, and i am also glad you have a schedule clearing coming soon. an old friend of mine from university is moving to town and he is a fan of pretty things. would you be interested in helping him?"

"of course, for the right price," you counter teasingly.

"and for 'right price' you mean me excusing you out of social engagements?" he smirks.

"for whatever reason my mother is still hellbent on you being my future husband, even with all of the assurance otherwise and the complete lack of interest on our parts; so, you remain the most effective solution to any and all activities i wish to avoid. even today my mother had a tea planned but i was able to slip right out of it by merely mentioning your name,” you roll your eyes.

"i do what i can for my dearest companions," hongjoong smiled at you, happy your arrangement could offer such benefits.

oh, how he could not wait to see how you and his dear friend would interact.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

hongjoong brings you to your new client seonghwa's house the very next week, only a day after you have officially finished the clifton job. you parted ways at the front of the estate, he said he would go inside, announce your arrival, and wait for the man of the house to call everyone in together. you wanted to get a survey of the land before the preliminary talks of expectations in order to properly manage them.

you have taken notes of the front yard and part of one side when a figure stepped suddenly out from a small walking path.

"hello, is there anything i may assist you with?" the man asked cautiously, thinking you to be some kind of salesperson with your notebook and observing eyes. even now you were observing every part of him.

"i apologize," you start, "i am here to meet with the owner of the estate, park seonghwa. i am to be in charge of his landscaping. i only wanted to get a small lay of the land before we talked, but if i may be overstepping a boundary of your patron's please allow me to make it right at once. i shall easily be ushered where i am most welcome."

"i do not believe he should find your observations to be, instead, intrusions. please, continue with your previous course of action," he assured you.

you shared small smiles, a bow and curtsy, and you observed him one more. what a handsome young man, you thought, it would be pleasant to be tied with him for a few decades.

you went about your way and he went his, and only after you had leisurely strolled the property, having been allowed to take more time than you would have expected to have, were you called inside to meet the man of the hour.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

"this is park seonghwa, madam," hongjoong introduced his friend to you as you stepped into the drawing room.

you could not help the look of surprise as well as the mischievous smile wash over your face, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," you say.

"the pleasure is all mine, madam," he smiles back.

you share a look, knowing that this was technically not your first time meeting and you both pause for a moment, you remembering your thoughts from the side yard with a blush. the moment is long enough for hongjoong to observe and he catalogues it for later, curious about how this will pan out.

"anyway," he diverts, "shall we begin the meeting?"

"we shall," seonghwa smiles gently, leading you to a room with the materials you require to draw out his garden design.

"let us begin."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

some flowers open early in the season and continue to bloom brightly until the first frost, some take time to properly blossom and receive their fair share of the sun. at some point in the job you had become fairly skilled at reading your client’s behaviors and attributing them to how flowers behaved as well. for example, mrs. clifton could be attributed to dahlias - needing endless care and significant time to grow, but beautiful nonetheless and gentle in their own way.

park seonghwa was something you could not quite place yet.

while seonghwa may have been quite open and kind in your first meeting, every time you have seen him since he has been the opposite: cold and distant. you have been to his estate four times now since the first meeting: to collect measurements, to approve designs, to label exactly where each plant or decoration would go, and only once to begin the actual work. each time you always only talked to a servant in the house, if you were even let inside the house. the single time you had to get his approval for your final design, you had to leave the design with the servant and come back later for the servant to tell you he agreed with your latest plan.

with each visit you were growing increasingly frustrated. you never imagined from that first meeting that he would turn out to be this kind of man. you are not so disillusioned to think you shared some kind of remarkable moment in his side yard before you "officially" met, but you at least thought all of the laughter and joviality from that meeting with hongjoong would translate into future meetings. you were quite wrong in that thinking, but what could have possibly changed from just your first meeting to every time after?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. seonghwa has been directly avoiding you, and, to be very truthful, he has even resorted to staring at you longingly through the window during your visits. he will readily, yet ashamedly, admit that his gaze is indeed quite full of longing.

you walked so uprightly, eyes looking straight ahead of you like you never doubted where you would end up. you had a surety in your step but a softness in your smile that seonghwa had known would be dangerous to him ever since your first meeting. after you had left and it was only him and hongjoong, the other man had turned to him and asked slyly, “so, what are your thoughts on your new landscape architect? will she complete the job to your liking?” seonghwa knew exactly what he was implying and, to be fair, he had considered it for a second before his own insecurities set him back firmly on the path of reality.

he had no doubts of your ability, no one intelligent would think to suppose you held a deficiency of skill or talent. however, he had doubts of how he would handle seeing so much of you. he understood the pressure of everyone, but mostly women, to marry well, and he was nothing special. so, why would you waste any precious time thinking of him? no title in sight, just well educated and well paid, but he was a working man instead of an aristocrat who could live off the rent of his tenants in far-reaching properties. could you ever be interested in the life he could give you? would your parents ever approve of you marrying down? no, he wouldn’t hope for it.

so, he would just have to avoid you until this whole mess was settled.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

you were exactly one month into your project at seonghwa’s house before you met him outside of his estate for the first time. it was a typical summer ball, the outdoor garden filled with sprawling flowers and perfectly kept hedges creating a maze for guests to stroll through.

you were just conversing with mr. and mrs. clifton, with them praising the outcome of their garden and happily seeing so many people enjoying the grounds, when you spotted him out of the corner of your eye.

you could tell seonghwa became aware of you the same moment you became aware of him because he stiffened for a moment then went walking quite quickly in the opposite direction of you.

whatever suspicions you had before had been confirmed - he hated you. why he continued to have you work on his estate was beyond you, but nothing could shake your convictions that he was just an insecure man who was rattled greatly by a woman’s ability to make a name for herself. oh, you felt sorry for the man and the earful he was about to receive.

your feet could actually carry you rather fast if you just lifted your skirt slightly, and with long strides you managed to follow seonghwa until you had him cornered in an empty part of the maze. the hedges were high enough to block you from others' sights and the scene was probably fairly scandalous if a stranger were to stumble upon it.

you had his back up against the hedge and continued to stalk towards him, finally able to articulate the frustrations you have held onto for weeks now.

"why do you hate me so?" you ask, at first angered by his behavior but now only feeling resigned and heavy with disappointment. you see his eyes go wide with the question, a disbelieving look clear on his face. so he was going to play dumb with you?

words could not describe seonghwa’s feelings at the present moment. there was confusion from your assumptions, disappointment that his actions portrayed him as such a coward and that they made you feel judged in such a way, and part of him felt wholly overwhelmed by how attractive you yelling at him was to him. he should be able to focus on formulating an adequate response; instead, all he could think of was how your chest was moving now with your deep breaths as you had him basically pinned against the hedges.

suddenly, hongjoong, who had been watching the small game of cat and mouse from afar for far too long, turned into your corner of the maze and was shocked by the scene in front of him. while he did not care much about propriety, he certainly was aware of unsaid social rules enough to know that how close you two were and how decidedly without chaperones you were could create big problems for lots of people.

"what are you two doing here? why are you so -" hongjoong started but was interrupted, another lost group stumbling into your corner.

a girl you are familiar with, known for being a town gossip, gasped when she saw you with seonghwa and hongjoong, even though you and seonghwa had put much more distance in between yourselves after the arrival of your mutual friend.

for a second everyone stood still, no one in either party was moving or, seemingly, breathing. that is until hongjoong, ever the quick-thinker, jumped into action.

"seonghwa, you have been able to meet my dear friend but i wish for the two of you to be a little more amicable! how about we go to the party and the two of you could share a small dance?” he began to usher you both towards the manor, “really, seonghwa, i’m sure she thinks you hate her by how much you scowl around her,” he laughs out and you and seonghwa laugh uncomfortably - half because of the truth of it and half in order to make this strange excuse seem more believable. so he wants your stroll to look like three friends walking through the maze, you thought.

the girl looks at the three of you suspiciously and asks, “but for what reason were the three of you so close together in this maze all alone?”

“i thought a bout of bonding time was in order for my dear companions, they have not been as cordial as i should wish them to be as my mutual acquaintances,” hongjoong replies with a small laugh. “but i believe i must ask you the same, is there a chaperone in your own party?”

the girl flushes and mumbles an incoherent reply, with rushed well wishes the crowd disperses and the three of you share a sigh of relief as you walk back towards the manor.

“that was dangerously close and wildly improper,” hongjoong chastises you and seonghwa, and you have the decency to look sheepish. “but i stand by what i previously said, there has been a most confusing sort of hostility between the two of you for a reason i cannot place; so, in the midst of the scuffle, i took the liberty of writing seonghwa’s name on your dance card,” he directs a look at you. “whatever it is which you were discussing needs to continue if it is productive in bettering your relationship, but it needs to happen at a lower volume and in a proper way.”

both of you stopped suddenly in your walk and seonghwa felt a dramatic sort of notion that was undeniably true: he needed to clean up this mess he caused without confessing his feelings or you and any respect you could have for him would be lost forever. you felt an intense wave of dread for the imminent explosion of any personal relationship you could have with seonghwa, and how that might affect your friendship with hongjoong.

hongjoong just pushed you two forward.

when you were safely returned inside the ballroom and had waited a few minutes for a new song to start, hongjoong pushed the two of you again into the center of the dance floor where you had no choice but to meet seonghwa's eyes and continue the conversation where you left off. only now, the passion you had felt in the maze had seemingly disappeared and the two of you were left in silence.

you were content with letting the dance play through with no words spoken on your part when seonghwa decided against that.

"i must apologize to you at once," he started, and when you began to reply he signaled for you to let him continue. "i have ignored the rules of polite society and my own moral upbringing for most of our acquaintance, and i refuse to do so any longer. i have been unobliging and obstinate towards you and i must set it right, for your position in society has everything to do with my reasoning," he quickens his point as you raise an eyebrow in anger. "i find you to be one of most incredible beings i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. you are headstrong, humorous, and you are sure of yourself in a way i have never seen before. it is because i believe your social position to be above mine and your personality to be more suited for friends who are more confident like yourself that i have not been able to face you like an equal. not because i fancy myself to be above you, but because i see you as someone who is so decidedly stationed above me."

once he finishes there is a long pause between you. you take a moment to comb through his words and process just how wrong you had been about him once you decided the words held truth in them. he searches his words for any hint of romantic feelings and does not enjoy the subtext in which someone could infer from his speech.

"seonghwa," you start, "i decide my companions. i alone decide if the person with whom i am fraternizing with is 'good enough' or 'not good enough' for me. if you believe me to be so sure of myself i hope you will take a guarantee in these words - if i seek you out it is because i respect you and because i think highly of you." you begin to think about all you know of him, tales of his work ethic and kindness reaching your ears from many different clients and friends. "i admire that you are a working man, i believe it takes strength and dedication to commit your life to work, and that is a value i appreciate in my friends and in potential suitors," you realize a moment too late what you have said, and in that time both of you have flushed pink.

"i mean, i do not think of your station being anywhere except for on my level," you quickly get out, looking into his eyes to ensure he understands the truth in your words but quickly avoiding them the moment your words sink into him.

the dance was winding down, finishing much quicker than you previously thought it would have. you were out of time for talking, except seonghwa takes a careful look at you.

"would you mind if we continued to dance? i would love to ask you questions about your work - i promise i am not always consumed by such feelings of insecurity," he asks with you with a slight laugh for the last line of his appeal.

you join his laughter and agree, letting the music begin again with you both standing in the middle of the room - everything falling into place like it was made to support you and seonghwa.

with that shared dance, it seemed that peace had finally been attained.

you were much happier for it than you would care to admit.

later, when seonghwa went for a glass of punch to quench his thirst, he overheard the girl who had stumbled upon your group talking with her friends in the corner.

"you know between the two choices, i think it is clear. she should absolutely choose the duke! he is handsome, smart, rich beyond compare, and he does not seem to give anyone else the time of day," she said.

one of her friends countered, "but they have been friends for some time now, i think it to be highly unlikely that any romance could bloom so late in their acquaintance with each other. either way, i think mr. park would fit her much better! he is gentle, even more handsome, and he is quite rich as well! maybe he lacks the fortune of a duke, but she will never not be satisfied by a man of his station."

"either way we can all agree that they would both be satisfactory options for her, and i, for one, cannot wait to see who puts the ring on her finger at the end of the season," another girl squealed.

seonghwa escapes the group of giggling girls without notice and he cannot help but to feel slightly pleased in spite of himself. maybe they are right and someone like hongjoong would be more suited to you situationally, but he knows his friend has no interest in you in that way. and to hear people in the ton, some of the most notorious gossips at that, say an arrangement between the two of you would not completely be shocking, but even slightly encouraged, is something he valued more than he could say.

maybe he had more of a chance than he previously thought; after all, he may not have the "fortune of a duke", but he could still potentially be the one whom you refer to as your "husband".

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that dance it seemed like a true friendship had formed between you and seonghwa, though that in and of itself was becoming a separate problem. with each day you spent tending to his garden you gradually had opportunity after opportunity to learn about the man whose home you were beautifying, and that was becoming dangerous.

at every turn you found him to be incredibly thoughtful: hand-delivering water to you at intervals throughout the day, making sure you always had a place to rest under some shade, never allowing you to stay outside in the heat for too long.

in every breath he was kind: asking about your day, offering rare books in his collection for you to borrow, inquiring about your favorite projects and what drew you to gardening in the first place.

and with everything in his body he was endlessly attractive: with sweat dripping down his neck when he would hand you your glass of water, taking a break with you as he made sure you drank the whole cup. he was unfairly attractive when he would reach across you and flex his bicep unwittingly, trying to position a plant correctly according to your instructions when he insisted he offer you help on a particularly long or hot day. and he was uncommonly handsome when he would invite you into his home for a snack, asking for your permission to give your hands a small massage for their hard work that day. his excuse would always be something about making sure his employees were in their peak form at all times, but you hoped dearly that no other received the same treatment from him.

in all, seonghwa was dangerous, he was cruel, and he was in seemingly ever-present danger of making you fall in love with him any day now. if you were being honest, that day might have already come, but you were too stubborn to admit that yet.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

a few days later, after you, against your will, started to become aware of your feelings, you finish your walk around hongjoong's garden to complete small maintenance and make sure everything is looking as it should before you go inside the house, falling into a chair in the drawing room.

hongjoong awaits you on the couch across from you, looking at you slyly and sipping a glass of something dark.

"so," he starts nonchalantly, "i have noticed an increasing number of social events have had the distinct honor of your attendance recently. would this rare phenomenon have anything to do with the gentleman who has lately been present as well? maybe a man referred to as a mr. park seong-"

"please abandon that sentence before you can finish it," you reply, trying to look unfazed. his words hit much deeper than you would ever care to admit.

"i only ask because it seems as though your payment for the park project is becoming null and void, if my excuses for social events were your price for his garden, why have you continued your work?" he asks, knowing the reason all too well. to be fair, he has met with you and seonghwa many times at seonghwa's house as you have been progressing on the garden, even once interrupting a strangely intimate hand massage - that one still confuses him.

“we have become friends,” you say with a similar, but more forced, tone of nonchalance. “i have a great admiration and respect for his character. with that reason also comes the one which says i have too much respect for myself and my work to quit a project before i can finish it. it is impossible to tell when my time at the park estate will be finished but i do not necessarily hope for it to be over,” you tell hongjoong, gritting your teeth for the next part. “i have become aware of, spiteful of, and currently resigned to potential romantic feelings towards that gentleman, as i am sure you know. in this lies a very serious problem in that i believe we are just too ill-suited for each other to ever be successful, so those feelings must stay unheard of. so, please do not attempt to meddle with my love life.”

“you may ask things of me which i may not decide to give,” hongjoong answers. “things like discretion as well as a promise not to meddle in the affairs of two people who are more suited for each other than anyone else i have ever met - mr. and mrs. clifton included,” hongjoong laughs, then turns serious. “you and seonghwa are a match that even an imbecile could see is worthy of pursuit, and i will actively try to make both of you see that. that is, in fact, a warning, threat, and promise all wrapped in one.” he gives you a long look.

you only sigh, knowing the storm had not yet passed and the rain showed no signs of letting up - not if hongjoong had any say in the matter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

everything falls apart too easily.

after so many months of growth, it all happens in one night at a ball, getting to be one of the last of the season, when a man you had never met before approaches you with hongjoong.

"madam," hongjoong says, "may i present another old friend of mine from university, this is song mingi."

mingi gave you a slight bow, taking your hand and giving the back of it a small kiss. "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance ma'am," mingi drawls. (hongjoong privately rolls his eyes at how thick he decided to lay it on.)

"he saw you from across the room and asked if i were familiar with you, how lucky of me to be able to say yes," hongjoong said, laughing. "in fact, mingi, there should be another acquaintance of ours lurking around here somewhere, he always seems to be floating around wherever this young lady may find herself," they both look at you with small smirks and your cheeks flush.

finally, hongjoong spots seonghwa and ushers him over, not without taking special notice of the way his eyes seemed to be locked on mingi, a particularly unpleasant look on his face and eyes clearly observing the flush on your own face.

mingi turns and sees him as seonghwa stalks your way, and while of course he missed his old friend, he was more excited to be apart of hongjoong’s plan to kick things into action for the two of you.

“seonghwa!” mingi exclaimed and they shared a firm handshake, one that was more firm on the side of one particular person. the rest of the evening followed in a similar fashion, seonghwa riding the line between gladness to see his friend and absolute loathing for how he thought mingi looked at you.

through conversations drowning in layers of tension, and even one incredibly tense dance between you and mingi, seonghwa’s eyes almost never left you. he was beginning to see all which he could lose.

when everyone had retired for the evening and you went back to your own bed for the night, the three boys returned to hongjoong’s house to catch up.

one drink became two, which then became the bottle, and after only a short while each of the men were stumbling around the estate looking for trouble.

in the garden mingi finally said, “i am only in town for a short while, seonghwa you must tell me when i should clear my calendar to return for a wedding!”

seonghwa flushed deeply, “maybe i should ask you that instead,” he said, voice coming out full of bitterness.

the other two boys startled, surprised by the abrupt change in tone of the conversation.

“what do you mean?” hongjoong asked gently, treading carefully.

“i mean that i saw how she blushed when he was near,” he points to mingi and turns to him. “i saw how she gravitated towards you and how she smiled at all of your comments, laughed at all of your jokes, all the special attention she paid to you while she couldn’t stand to look at me.” his drunken rant continues, now joined by small tears streaming down his face. “i knew my first impression would come back to haunt me, she wants nothing to do with me!”

he walks deeper into the garden with every word when he stumbles upon a little patch of tulips, obviously planted later than the other plants, but growing and thriving nonetheless.

“i wish i could tell her everything in my heart,” he mourns, he grieves for something he has not yet lost.

mingi and hongjoong share a deep look, knowing that without even stronger and more forceful meddling seonghwa would be lost forever.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

the following day the men plan for a dinner at seonghwa’s house once he has recovered from his intense hangover and is at least slightly less involved in a self-thrown pity party. and while seonghwa has sobered up enough to let go of the most dramatic of the feelings he shared last night, he still felt the base of them linger in the back of his mind.

it was not until hongjoong and mingi had arrived for dinner and the three of them had settled down that seonghwa began to suspect something, and that is when he noticed the fourth plate setting. he looks briefly at it then glances up to hongjoong and darts his eyes between the two biggest imbeciles he has ever met.

"do not tell me -" he tries, but is interrupted.

"mr. park," a servant calls out, "another guest has arrived!"

you step into the room as the servant announces your name, looking beautiful and smiling brightly, smiling only for him.

"thank you kindly for the invitation, sir," you say with a curtsy. he never really had a chance against you.

as dinner progresses and hongjoong's 'subtle' hints get decidedly less and less subtle, and seonghwa becomes more and more withdrawn; so, hongjoong and mingi decide to change tactics.

now that the last course was about to be served, hongjoong makes up an incredibly transparent excuse, "i must oversee the desert selection, mingi could you lend me a hand?" he asks quite forcefully.

"why of course good sir, i would be delighted," mingi smirks as he stares into seonghwa's eyes for the whole of his reply.

seonghwa glares back then turns to you with a softened gaze. once they leave the room, he feels as though he owes you an apology.

he moves slightly closer to you and takes one of your hands, takes a deep breath, and summons all the courage he can find.

"please, madam, if i may say so without supposition or pretension," he takes another deep breath, "i hold you in the highest regard possible in my heart. i have fallen slowly but mightily in love with your character, morality, humor, and kindness during our acquaintance this season; however, i have observed you for months and in all of that time i have not seen any indications of a return of these precious feelings of mine. instead, i have seen an interest on your part for my dear friend mingi, so i would like to finally be brave enough to say exactly what i must in order to do what is right. i love you. and it is because i love you that mingi will never feel comfortable acting on his feelings for you. so, i arranged this morning transport for me to leave town in two days, the very day you are projected to finish the garden on my estate. i thought i at least owed it to you to see the project through. i apologize for any - "

"if you leave in two days i will never forgive you," you interrupt him and his eyes widen. "you have made me wait for so long for a confession of love from you and you cloud it so with talks of mingi? i do not know that man! i only met him a few days ago! he means nothing! you, seonghwa," you grip him tightly, pleading with him to hear you, "you mean everything. he shall never compare to you. he cannot make me feel even a fraction of the love i feel for you when you smile at me, and he cannot make me feel even an ounce of the despair i feel when you refuse to converse with me. i only care for you. i do not know in what moments you have observed me to think me impartial to you, but i cannot help to think that either you have a great deficiency of sight or i, too, have been a fool to let this go on for so long. it is you, seonghwa. it has always only ever been you. i always only want it to be you."

the room stands shockingly quiet for a long moment, until he takes the hand he had grasped so tightly and brings it to his lips.

"i guess all there is to do now is to make me the happiest and most grateful man on earth."

"i guess that must be so."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

for months leading up to your wedding hongjoong and mingi bicker about who will take credit for your partnership at your marriage reception.

you and seonghwa just laugh and discuss which color tulips will be featured at your ceremony.

⋆⭒˚.⋆