#i'm here to write my brain is just telling me

[professorspork]

hello dealing with this stuff is a big part of my job actually so rather than hide my thoughts in the tags I'm gonna actually post them

all of the above is great advice! here is some more:

don't just write things down, take pictures. take pictures of the damage to your car and the other person's car. this is ESPECIALLY important in situations where the damage to the vehicles is significant enough that you cannot pull over before exchanging information -- capture context and positioning!! if the cars have to be moved to get out of the flow of traffic, it's still good to document the damage. if there's significant debris, photograph that too

seriously DID I MENTION TAKE PICTURES? take a picture of the other person's license plate, and of their driver's license, and of their insurance card. if they only have a mobile insurance card and not a printed one, make sure they SCROLL DOWN because it is often more information than can fit on just one screen. if you see a policy number that ends in an ellipsis on their phone, make them click on it -- that means the full policy number is obscured!

i am very extremely anti-cop, but unless you experience only the most minor of damage it really is a good idea to call emergency services. this is especially true if you think someone will require medical attention, but even if the only damage is to the vehicles, this is a situation where documentation matters. when emergency services are called to an accident site, they are required to generate what is called a Traffic Collision Report -- a write-up of everything that happened, with everyone's info on it in one place. if you for a moment think there is even the slightest chance you might have to lawyer up, *make sure you make it so there's a TCR.*

the advice about sticking around if you are a witness to an accident is great, and to elaborate on that: IF YOU ARE IN AN ACCIDENT AND ANYONE SEES IT AND HELPS YOU, GET THEIR NAME AND PHONE NUMBER. they might not think to offer it, and if 911 is called they might not want to stick around to talk to cops, but make sure they talk to YOU. then you can tell your insurance company you have a witness, even if they aren't on a TCR.

a lot of this sounds like very obvious common sense, but a car accident can be very rattling. memorize this NOW so it's routine when the worst happens and panic makes your brain shut off.

I can't tell you how grateful I am to the random mom in the Dodgers gear who literally blocked southbound traffic on the 5 for me an hour before first pitch, a quarter mile before the exit for the stadium, and helped when I got clipped by a motorcyclist out of nowhere. she had places to be and her kids with her and she took a full twenty minutes to make sure someone else called 911 so she could stay with me and say things like "make sure you get a picture of his license, honey" and coach me through every step.

be that person for yourself. be that person for someone else.

[nitewrighter]

Snow White and the Fae Co-Op

Part Three: I Got Better

Part One

Part Two

Hey thanks for getting the next round, man. 'Preciate you.

I've tried writing this part down, you know. Every couple decades or so I get the urge, say "I'm gonna do it right," get a journal or typewriter or laptop or whatever they're using, try it out for a couple pages... then I drop off. Then I get guilty for dropping off because... I mean Snow taught me to read, right? So if there's anything I should be doing to repay that then...

But I mean--Trolls, look, we're an oral-tradition based culture anyway, okay? The closest thing we had to a writing system is this... kind of Ogham-ish tally language that doesn't distinguish the alphabetical from numerical very strongly that was mostly used for outlining lineages and territories. And we can read rocks, obviously. We can look at a rock and we can tell you where that rock has been or how it used to be a much bigger rock or how it's actually a lot of little rocks mashed together but that's not really a language.

I'm getting sidetracked. Where was I? Snow and the Prince.

Okay. Bloody nose. Probably broken nose. Snow's leading the Prince through the castle, and this is the part where, if Snow were telling this, she would throw in something flowery about the way he gripped her hand or the way the light from the windows passed over his face, or the way her own brain was a scramble of 'You can't trust this guy, this is the queen's cup-bearer, he's done fuck all to try and connect with you before this, why would he try now? This has to be a ploy from the Queen." But then that thought gets interrupted by overwhelming pity for the guy, but then that pity gets interrupted by feeling bad for pitying him, because he's a whole-ass person with dignity or whatever. It all sounds very exhausting, this pure-of-heart thing. She brings him down to this spooky-ass alchemy lab and he's like, "Are we... allowed here??"

And she goes, "Sure, the Queen taught me all kinds of stuff down here when I was younger."

And this is when the Prince makes an 'Oh shit' face and she catches herself saying, "Oh, nothing bad! Like, we did great with the basics, but then we moved on to poisons, but then everything I made kept... burning or percolating into medicines, and she screamed at me over and over again every time my poisons turned into... the opposite of poison... and eventually she just gave up. Anyway, I've got a leopard's bane compound around here for the swelling....Should probably also find something for the pain--how's the pain?"

"It's... there?" Prince Damp Kingdom says awkwardly, "You know, you haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Why you're on edge?"

"Oh. Well, Queen wants to kill me."

"Wh--"

Snow plucks a vial from a crowded shelf, uncorks and sniffs it. "Oh, this'll work," she holds the vial toward him, "Put this under your tongue?"

"W-what is it?"

"It's... kind of complicated. It's rotten sugar and ground up seashells and this one herb that's been steeped in vinegar for a week and a bunch of other little things."

The prince makes a face again but Snow---and this is another part of Snow that to this day scares the shit out of me--Snow just flutters her eyelashes and goes, "If you don't want it, though..."

And knee-jerk the prince takes the vial from her and goes, "No, thank you--I mean, yes. I'll..." he glances at the vial and then back at her, "Thank you."

And yeah, you could argue that the prince is the kind of guy who would let his Bushwick girlfriend cut his hair and then pretend it looks great when it looks like shit for like three weeks after. But Snow is not a girlfriend from Bushwick. Snow is a Fae Weapon Forged in a Human Womb. Snow is the heart of the Evil Queen wrapped in new flesh and made pure. Snow is holiness and magic. Snow is a Miracle and a Curse. Again, Princess-Messiah.

So like, if you're hearing this from my perspective, you're probably wondering why she's spending so much time with a dude who doesn't have a lot going for him beyond being pretty and harp-playing. But y'know, I've already told you that Fae have complex and have esoteric notions of attraction, and that Snow knew things and saw things that both fae and human couldn't. She's just also... crazy convincing over the stupidest, smallest stuff, which is how the Prince found himself putting something that he didn't even know what the hell it was under his tongue and immediately making a face at this horrible honey-bitter-chemical taste before squinting for a few seconds and feeling his shoulders relax along with a slight tingling buzz relieving the ache of swelling in his face.

"Why do you think the queen's going to kill you?" it's possible Snow's medicine loosened his tongue as well as his shoulders.

"I didn't say she's going to kill me, I said she wants to kill me. If she could kill me, she would have done it already."

"So you can't... die?"

"I can die. Why wouldn't I be able to die?"

"I don't know. This is a lot right now. We don't talk much."

"Why is that?" Snow tilts her head.

The Prince gulps, already higher for this than he wants to be. "It... hurts to look at you, sometimes," he mutters, not meeting her eyes. Her thick black lashes squint and those red lips of hers hitch off to one side and he tries to clarify himself, "Not that you're not pretty--I didn't mean that in a 'You're not pretty' way, because you are... t-terrifyingly pretty, but when I look at you, all I can think of is... how... I've never done anything."

"I think you're selling yourself a bit short," Snow says kindly.

"But that's the other terrifying thing. I'm--I'm also scared of what kind of person I'd become just by being close to you. The world changes for you, I mean even right now, I'm saying so much more than I would ever normally, sanely say and--and what did you give me? What did I just put in my mouth just now?"

"Rotten sugar, ground up seashells, leopard's bane soaked in vinegar for a week--" Snow is counting on her fingers.

"But what does it do?!"

"It's for your nose--which I am still very sorry for, by the way."

"And I'm trying to find out something about you--I want to help you, but you just-just-- shimmer out of it! Why does the Queen want to kill you? This is the third time I've asked you that!"

"That's not the third time you've asked me that. First you asked why I'm on edge, then you asked why I think the Queen's going to kill me, which basically implied that you don't believe--"

"Princess," he bites the word between his teeth with frustration and she blinks, wondering if she's finally managed to find whatever iron is in him, before those thick black lashes lower.

"I think... because of what you just said. Because the world changes for me," she pauses for a few moments and her shoulders sink, "It scares me too. The changing. You stayed away because you thought I'd change you?"

"You can't tell that you're changing me now?"

"We don't talk much," Snow smiles sadly.

There's an awkward pause, then, and they both look away from each other. Fucking teenagers, yeesh. But then Snow seems to remember herself and says, "You really shouldn't be standing this long--with both the drug and the blood loss you could get dizzy so--"

They both flinch at the sound of a voice bouncing off the stone from the turret staircase. From the castle undercroft. They both recognize the powerful, elegant timbre. The Evil Queen.

"We should go," Prince Damp Kingdom says on reflex, all of the truth drawn up out of him shriveling up and dying like velella washed up on a beach, before saying, "Princess--Snow!"

But Snow's already pacing forward, shoulders stiff, gripping her skirts with white knuckles and the prince hopes she's going upstairs, but nope! Downstairs. And he curses in a very unprincely way under his breath before hustling after her, head now swimming from whatever the hell she dosed him with and his own movement.

He follows her down the turret stairs and into the castle undercroft, which is lit by some extremely unsettling purple-teal flames in the approximate spots where torch sconces should be, and they can hear the Evil Queen speaking, her voice echoing through the undercroft, though they can't make out the exact words. The prince gets a shudder at the back of his neck because there was this same draw, this same hook as when he was following the sound of Snow's voice when she sang at the well. Something something air and darkness, that was all the prince could make out, before Snow abruptly turns (maybe she could hear more sharply than him), and both find themselves looking into what may have been some kind of... mini-chapel for when the castle was under siege and human christians had to do human christian shit on account of the siege and everyone was probably going to die or something. Except there was definitely no Christian god for what was going on in that space now, I'll tell you that much. Instead, you have the queen standing in front of a circular plane of glass, as wide as both her arms spread out to her sides--and they can tell that because her arms are fully spread out, and she's saying,

"Mirror mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

And like, this is the horror movie part where any sensible person would be saying, "I should get the fuck out of here, that's what I should do" but again, we are dealing with FUCKING TEENAGERS so of course Snow and the Prince are both hiding behind a column watching the Evil Queen commune with some cosmic horror shit.

And like, the thing is, at first the Queen is just talking to her own reflection.

But then her reflection suddenly digs its fingers to its hairline and peels its whole front off, peels the goddamn image off the queen off like one of those Korean beauty masks, but in that same motion, it's like a layer of the glass itself is being peeled off as well, and before the evil queen stands a roughly her-shaped figure of green flames.

"Our dearest betrayer, our loveliest entertainment," the figure in green flames coos, "Must you call us on such tedious matters?"

And the Evil Queen just says again, more insistently this time,

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

"You ask and ask and ask, beloved," the Mirror answers back, "What have you done to change things this time, hmm? Some new potion? Another felled king?"

The evil queen's breath hitches, but she steels herself before saying once more,

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

Who, in this land, is fairest of all?"

The green flame figure huffs. "Ugh, so BORING--though know we're only answering because your reaction is the most entertaining part of these little chats." The green flame figure seizes and abruptly gets swallowed up by shadowed dampness, revealing itself as Mosscloak.

"You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But Snow-White is a thousand times fairer than you."

But suddenly two green flame eyes burn in the shadows of Mosscloak's hood.

"You act as if she is a weapon against you by her own will,

That she is not the product of your actions.

That she is not your heart. "

The Queen doesn't seem to react, but Snow suddenly winces next to the Prince, her head bowing, her features scrunching as if holding back a sob.

"Snow?" his name leaves him barely audible as a puff of breath.

"You need to go," Snow is suppressing the whimper in her own voice, like there's a tidal wave of grief inside her surging up, fingernails scraping against the stone of the column.

"Not without you--" the Prince starts.

"Now," she flicks those dark eyes to him and before he can even comprehend his own free will in the situation, he's zipping up the stairs, and she can feel his will screaming against her. He's supposed to be scooping her up in his arms and taking her with him, or sprinting toward the Queen screaming with a dagger, or something, but no, Snow is sending him away because he's safest if he doesn't have the Queen's attention.

"Show her to me," the Queen says, her voice thick.

The mirror abruptly morphs to show a scarlet net studded with pearls against jet-black hair. This mass of hair is facing a mirror, which is showing a scarlet net studded with pearls against jet black hair, looking at a mirror at the far end of the rom. The mirror in the mirror in the mirror is displaying a mess of black hair studded with pearls facing a mirror--

Snow realizes she's looking at the back of her own head in the Magic Mirror, and because she is looking at the mirror, the mirror is looking at itself. Her head swings around to see... nothing. There's nothing there and yet it can see her. Her jaw opens and quivers with unspoken, terrified words before she finally manages to force her brain signals down to her legs again. She hauls up her skirts in bunches and sprints up the turret stairs after the prince.

...Oh look at that. I finished this pint. Now, I could go home, or... I could tell the next part of the story if someone got me another pint of 'Literally Just Wet Hops' IPA. Decisions, decisions.

[missmisnomer]

Just encountered something that made me so viscerally mad I had to stop everything I was doing and scream about it into the void (you are the void, tumblr, thank you for your time)

Ever seen that little test tube icon at the top of your Google search? That's Search Labs.

This led me to reading about all the "experiments" they have going on and OH BOY, this is the one that got me mad enough to actually leave feedback (bear in mind I like NEVER leave comments or reviews on things so you know it's bad)

Of all the "experiments" they are launching with their Search Labs, this one is the most egregiously transparent attempt to capitalize on the human brain's superiority over a computer's.

I see what they are doing.

"Look at these auto generated images and try your best to tell us what you think the original prompt is! Teehee, isn't this a fun test? Don't you want to have fun?? Play our game, uwu".

This is about as blatant as you can get: they want to train their Ai to get better at generating its frankly often garbage results by using real people to tell it how it could have done better.

My guess as to why Google is even doing this: ◽️Let’s say you use of one of Google's programs to generate an image based on your own personal written prompt (I know YOU wouldn't, fair tumblr user, but stay with me here)

◽️You are subsequently frustrated at the slop Google generated for you, and select a button that says something along the lines of "I am not satisfied with this result".

◽️This auto-triggers something on Google's end, which I assume captures this response along with the image it is attached to.

◽️Now, they can put that picture in front of thousands of unwitting people who can tell Google EXACTLY what "prompt" they associate with that image instead. Exactly the words that it SHOULD be tagged with.

These pieces of ai "art" are NOT good, let me make that clear. What financial benefit would Google have to present a panel of testers with perfectly generated images? To make this game in the first place? The only way ai can advance is when humans tell it what it did wrong. Because the computer doesn't fucking know what a raven vs a writing-desk is. It needs us to give it the words to think. Poor baby gets confused when we are vague. :(

All this under the guise of a cutesy little "test". A "game".

This is not fun, and it is extremely scummy. Do better Google. Be better. I'm attaching some screenshots of the first "level" so you too can enjoy the art of prompting!!! (she says with so much dry sarcasm the Deserts of Arrakis spontaneously turn into an ocean)

And to have the audacity to show the actual real pieces of art made by real artists that they trained this stupid machine with. Fuck entirely off.

[masoncantthinkofaname]

Hello, Mason!! 💛

(I'm so sorry in advance, this is really long).

To start, I rarely interact with shifttok or shiftblr in general, but you have been one of my favorite shifting-centered creators for several months now. I really look forward to every post you make, though I mostly see them on TikTok nowadays. But either way, they never fail to motivate me, especially the posts about your relationship with your husband and family.

It is just so comforting to see someone else who shifts alongside their partner (who is also not in this reality). That's what I do as well. Or at least that's what my ultimate goal is.

My own soulmate is someone who does not exist in this reality in any way, shape, or form, with the exception of the content I have created myself. (I'm trying very hard to avoid calling him an OC, cuz he's really not 💔). I have always felt like he wasn't just a love interest I "created" for myself since he entered my life, but that was before I knew channelling and other such things were possible. That was still in the early stages of my shifting journey, so I was figuring things out. (Over a year ago now, God time flies). But, now I know that he's the one that I was always meant to be with in the end.

I've been meaning to ask you, (though feel free to tell me if you've already talked about this), how you deal with separation here in this reality? Or any other realities where you're physically apart from your husband and your family?

It's been kicking my ass for months now. I miss my Angel more than words can express, I'm genuinely tearing up just writing all of this. I've technically never "successfully" fully shifted before, but I've had minishifts (some where I've felt or heard him). Despite this though, it feels like I've known him for a few lifetimes, which makes the physical separation 100x worse.

I usually comfort myself with art or writing, but I haven't been able to finish, (or even really start), any of my scripts lately because they just feel so empty? Like his parts are missing and my brain can't fill in the gaps. I feel like I'm in limbo, waiting to finally write these with him, cuz doing so without his input feels wrong. Not to mention I've had no time for proper art.

I have scripted a waiting room for us both, where we will shift together, and it has been my main destination for a few months now. He's there, waiting. That's where we'll physically meet for the first time. But the longer I'm emotionally attached to that place, and the more failed shifting attempts I have, the more the separation anxiety weighs on me. I know he is there and doing well, and the wait truly does not matter in the end. But my brain is so loud, and so restless, that I've just been feeling like a rat pacing in a cage of my own making recently, lol.

Like, sometimes, I genuinely catch myself caressing the air and pretending he is there like a crazy person. And when I focus hard enough, I can feel him, in my mind. Which also drives me absolutely mad.

I'm not sure when I will shift, but I know that the separation anxiety is not helping my chances of doing so soon. (I feel like it's putting unnecessary pressure on me, and making me very anxious during shifting attempts).

So I was wondering, how do you deal with it? Is that something you have to deal with at all? Or do you have any experience with similar emotions? Is there anything you do to feel more connected with your husband when you're physically apart? Like channelling, I assume.

(Also) On a side note, I have been wanting to channel my man directly so bad. But I saw some TikToks about that during the early stages of my shifting journey, and I can't get rid of this belief that if I do not have the right equipment (herbs, candles, charms, stuff like that), I will end up channeling harmful or trickster entities. I don't have the money to buy these, and I don't know how else I could protect myself, or if it is even needed at all? I know my partner's energy like the back of my hand, but I'm still inexperienced, and my mind is so foggy most days that I am too anxious to try it properly.

(Also also) Honestly, half of this ask is a sleep deprived ramble, feel free to skip it if it's too long, I promise I won't mind 😭 I drafted this before you shifted away/and back, I'll completely understand if you do not want to answer it 💖🫶🏻

First of all, there is no need to apologise, really. My responses aren't always the quickest, but I don't want anyone to feel anxious to ask for advice or reassurance, especially when you have been bottling it up!

I understand you, completely. The separation can be painful and seemingly infinitely long. You're not weird or abnormal for being affected by it.

I want to start off by letting you know channelling is nothing to be afraid of. It's natural. You have to remember you're in control, always. You don't need protection, you won't channel tricksters or bad entities. If you assume you'll be safe and only talk with your man, then that's what will happen! You can channel in so many different ways, ask for signs, send letters, he can visit your dreams, spend time around you. There are so many options to feel more connected and less alone.

I have a few established signs with my husband. Yellow flowers is one, especially sunflowers. Forget me nots, in general just hearts, and more! These are signs he has sent me so many times that it's easy to recognise them anywhere, and know it's him. You can simply just establish them with your man in a letter or through channelling, and it can help a lot with knowing he's there! Especially if you pick something that's not too uncommon for you to see, but also not something you come across daily.

Always remember that your time here is temporary, and about to be replaced with an eternity with him. No matter how painful it is, he's there, he's watching over you, and supporting you along the way. You're not alone and never will be. Remember that it will all be worth it. You're allowed to be sad about it, but try not to focus too much on the fact that you're not together yet. Instead see every interaction or minishift as motivation and an encouragement to keep going! You got this, before you know it you'll be together :)

[like-rain-or-confetti]

@soythesaucytoast this is for you, I'm so sorry I fucked it up posting too early. I misclicked on my phone! Okay, let's try this again and thank you SO much for the love❤️

Like.. idk if this has been asked before but like, s/o (Also right hand to a rouge) has been recently overworking themselves to the point of physical health declining becoming terribly sick and they still are pushing themselves too hard because they just want to be they best for their boss eyebags and sometimes falling asleep when sitting down long enough starting to develop a fever- stuff like that- also I adore your writing I love it

Overworked

Black Mask: At first, it seemed like he wasn't paying attention to your condition. That he was too busy enjoying himself in the club. He turned his back just when you were about to tell him about how off you were feeling rather suddenly. However, the lights were blurring, and a cold sensation rushed down your legs. You didn't see him turn back around. Without warning, he caught you holding you up. "You're alright, babe. I got you." He led you to sit in a booth. Snapping his fingers at a goon. "Get a glass of water. Cold." He turned back to you. "Right, baby, are you with me? You're alright. We're gonna get you some water and a quick snack for the ride home. Get you some food on the way back and you're gonna take some time off."

Scarecrow: He noticed how you kept shifting your weight from one leg to the other, lifting a leg and rolling your ankle every so often. "Are you alright?" He asked warily. You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You nodded, trying to push through the pain. Jonathan didn't buy it. "No, you're in pain. You've been standing all day. Sit down." He said, and whilst you protested, he didn't take no for an answer, guiding you to sit on the desk. Wordlessly, he took one of your legs, massaging the calf, knee, and thigh. You grimaced slightly at first before feeling the relief as your muscles were forced to relax under his firm grip.

Two-Face: It had started when you went to eat. It was all fine until you took the first bite. A shiver went down your spine, your body screamed that this isn't what it wanted despite looking forward to it. Now you wanted nothing but to spit it out. He sensed it as he put a hand on your thigh. Apparently, you weren't going fast enough because your brain sent off a signal that made you get up and make a run for it. You hurried to the bathroom. He followed just as quickly. His non-scarred hand rubbed your back. Nothing happened, but it felt like a close call. "You good? You literally lost colour for a second." Harvey said and checked your temperature. "This is stress, baby. I'm sure of it. You need a break - screw that!" Harv cut in. "You need time off. Real time off. You're gonna get sick. Not on our watch!"

Firefly: He paid attention to you more than you had thought. Without a complaint, you nursed a migraine, rubbing your temples and eyes interchangeably. Out of nowhere, You felt arms around your middle and a roaring sound attacked your ears before you were suddenly in the air. You were lowered again on a hill, the grass padding your decline as you lay on your back. "There. No city lights. Fresh air. We're gonna get you outta here so you can go lie down, babe. Just relax, I'm staying right here with you. I've got this."

The Riddler: He came into the room to see you were out, fast asleep on the desk. He leaned forward, hands on his knees as he bent to your ear. "(Y/N)?" He got no response then he blew air in your ear, and you jolted awake with a yelp. He caught you from going anywhere. "My dear, take a breath. everything has been taken care of." He found it cute. "You've been working hard. I appreciate it, but you're not as accustomed to this as I am. I must insist you go and get some rest." You had expected for him to be condescending but apparently he was feeling nice? Beware he'll likely use this against you later. It's only a matter of time. You know...narcissist and all that.

[dawngyu]

ahhhhh shuri i just woke up!!! im so excited to read this so bad. <3

spoilers under the cut

first of all the playlist? i love itttt so much!

WAIT. i literally had to pause because i got so shocked at the first scenes. i went back and reread the summary — the one i skimmed without actually letting it sink in. you receive a blessing that lets you see the future, only to find yourself married to jungwon, the college heartthrob you’ve barely spoken to, with a child calling you mom. OMG???

You’re lying on your side, skin pressed to something solid, someone. There’s a strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place like you might float away. His grip isn’t rough, just sure. Certain. Like he’s done this every morning for years.

Your breathing catches.

The room is bathed in soft morning light, golden and quiet. Dust drifts through the air, glinting like stars. It smells like sunlight and cotton and something so familiar it makes your throat tighten.

ahhh, the way you write!! i'm reminded all over again why you became my fave enha writer so, so fast. i seriously love how you describe things, it feels like i'm actually living it. dskjfhgsjfhg

“You’re not allowed to run away this morning.”

Your heart stutters.

“Not until I’ve had enough of you.”

I SQUEALED. (and with stuck with u playing ughh)

His hair is tousled, lashes casting shadows over cheekbones that have grown into sharper lines. His lips part slightly as he smiles at you. Lazy, teasing, like he already knows every inch of your heart.

But it’s his eyes that undo you.

He looks at you like you belong to him.

Like you always have.

i can't stop smiling. i’m scared i already love him here. i might just paste everything from your fic in here so i can gush about how much i adore them.

“I didn’t think you could get prettier,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against your cheek. “But here you are proving me wrong. Again.”

“No,” he says instantly, his arms tightening. “You get up, I have to share you. I’m not ready.”

IDK HOW MANY TIMES I'VE SAID OMAYGHOD NOW. AND WE HAVE JIHOON

“Unfair,” he whispers in your ear. “Wearing my hoodie and stealing my whole heart before breakfast.”

he’s so in love. he’s setting my standards fr. this is how it should be. i love how you’ve written him so far, and all the dialogues; i keep rereading them because they’re just so beautiful.

AND THEN YEAH WE GET BACK TO THE PRESENT HOW CAN I FUNCTION NOW.

The warm embrace of Jungwon’s arms around you. His voice, low and possessive, as he held you like you were his and his alone. The image of Jihoon, smiling up at you as his tiny hands reached for you, and you just knew his name. It all felt so real, like you could feel their presence even now.

:((((

In this world, everyone receives their Blessing on their 18th birthday. It’s a gift, a special power that defines your life. But it only comes once a year—on your birthday—and you can only use it that day.

Blessings are a mysterious and magical part of life. Some people get practical abilities like the gift of perfect memory or the ability to always know when someone is lying. Others receive mind-bending abilities like controlling the weather, seeing through time, or reading minds. There are even rare Blessings that come with superhuman strength or the ability to heal wounds with a single touch.

WHAT A BRAIN. you're a mastermind.

"Blessing Activated: The ability to see into the future."

goosebumps. there's no way she will think it's just a dream now. or is she?

How can that be your Blessing? How could you see the future? Maybe the system made a mistake. Maybe you read it wrong. There’s no way that what you saw in your dream could be your actual future, right?

the way you wrote her inner monologues… ahhh, i'm in love. and honestly, i’d be just as shocked if i were her. like, how am i supposed to use it? who do i even tell? how does it even work? i'm feeling so nervous.

You try to dismiss it. Your mind starts to race. Could it really be true? Could you really see the future? You look around the classroom, feeling a sudden wave of self-doubt. Was this a mistake? Or was your mind still so caught up in that dream with Jungwon, that it created something out of fantasy?

this is what im talking about. ahhhhhhh ps: i love sunoo

Coming in the doorway, disheveled in a way that shouldn't look good but somehow does. His white button-up clings to his frame, damp and slightly wrinkled, the top two buttons undone to reveal a sharp collarbone slick with sweat. His usually styled hair falls messily across his forehead, and he’s practically glowing under the fluorescent light like chaos wrapped in charm.

i'm so in love with the way you write him. you give him this light. honestly, you're the best jungwon writer out there.

oh right, i forgot about the tags!! he’s a fboy here!! how did a fboy turn into such a loving husband?? divorce babe, divorce now (lol).

He might be handsome, charming, and seemingly always the center of attention, but that’s not you. You’re the class president. Always prepared, always on time. The responsible one professors rely on. You’ve talked to him maybe—what—twice? You barely share two classes, and even then, he never remembers to bring his ID, you even reprimanded him about that one time.

And yet this morning, you saw yourself in his bed.

His arms around you. His lips on your cheek. A little boy, Jihoon calling you Eomma.

AHHHHHHH I HATE THIS.

Because that boy over there? The one with sweat dripping down his temple and a lazy grin on his lips while he talks about his nightly rendezvous like it’s a joke?

IT KILLED ME YEAH.

And as your thoughts spiral, Jungwon catches your eye again. This time, he doesn’t look away. His gaze lingers just a second longer than it should, a playful glint sparking in the depths of his dark eyes. It's almost like he can sense your gaze, like he's aware of the tension in the air.

I CANT EVEN FUNCTION RN.

Your heart stutters, and you quickly look away, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control. No, you tell yourself. He’s not for you.

He’s not someone you fall in love with.

i'm unwell. this fic officially has my whole heart.

His back is to you, but you’d recognize him anywhere, even with his uniform shirt half-off, even with his mouth locked on someone else's neck like he’s starving, even with a girl tangled around him, her skirt pushed up high on his thigh, hands pulling him closer.

and she gets to see this??? what the fuck. that blessing doesn’t even feel like a blessing anymore. how is she supposed to feel normal after seeing that future and watching him mess around now? and does she even have the right to be mad? i'm gonna cry. i’m not surviving this.

“Y/N?” he says, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just split your world open.

DONT CALL MY NAME. DIVORCE.

The door closed behind you with a click that felt too loud in the silent hallway, but your legs didn’t stop. You walked—no, stumbled—down the corridor like a ghost. Your heart still thunders in your chest, a strange mix of fury and humiliation burning behind your ribs.

:(((((((

ughhh, i’m so emotional right now. and it doesn’t help that your writing is so amazing — i’m getting whiplash from her inner monologues. her going to that café just to breathe, the gummy bears, realizing jungwon still cares about his studies… and then his text messages. god. i’m so sucked in.

“I want to,” he says, voice calm, low, and sure. “Get to know you.”

Jungwon doesn’t respond immediately. Then, as you start walking again, he says quietly:

“Maybe you just finally started paying attention.”

YES BABY. I FORGIVE YOU.

"Hey," he says, voice low. “How stupid do you have to be… to not realize your long-time crush actually likes you back?”

WAIT. WAIT. WAIT?????

Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. He kicks at a pebble on the ground. “I mean, you’ve liked someone for so long, but you didn’t know—couldn’t tell—that they might feel the same.”

OMAYGHOD?

Jay glances sideways. “You saying you’re hearing confessions in your dreams now?”

WHAT IS THIS.

“Hey, wife!”

WHAT. IM STILL SO LOST, IS HE GETTING DREAMS TOO???

You don’t know he knew everything. Not yet.

But soon—

You will.

ahhhhhhh i didn’t even realize it was finished and you should’ve seen the pout on my face. i devoured every word like i was starving. i had to reread everything from jay and jungwon’s scenes because i couldn’t shake the feeling that i missed something important. i’m just… ughhhh i need to know; does he know? how? what’s his blessing? i’m aching for the next part, baby.

there’s something so special about when a writer writes so fucking well that i don’t just read it, i feel it. the excitement, the rush, the guilt of blaming jungwon when, deep down, i know he doesn’t owe me anything yet. but after seeing the future now… :(((( it’s so messy and beautiful and you captured it perfectly. my heart hurts in the best way.

i love love this so much. the plot is so unique, and the second i realized you were doing another soulmate au, i just knew you were going to break me in the best way. and you did. you really did. i’m in awe. the slow, soft morning in the dream, her realizations, her inner monologues. the pov switches were so smooth, like everything just fit so naturally. i honestly can’t say this enough; your pen game is insane. truly.

eighteen - yjw (part I)

pairing: fboy!jungwon x reader summary: where on your 18th birthday, you receive a blessing that lets you see the future, only to find yourself married to jungwon, the college heartthrob you’ve barely spoken to, with a child calling you mom. genre: college au, university au, soulmate (?) au, making out, fluffff, jungwon has a big bike (that's hot tbh) word count: 7.6k playlist: 18 - one direction, stuck with u - ariana grande & justin bieber, you belong with me - ts, lavender haze - ts, wish that i could - umi, meddle about - chase atlantic

You don’t remember falling asleep.

But you wake up to a warmth that doesn’t belong to your real life.

You’re lying on your side, skin pressed to something solid, someone. There’s a strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place like you might float away. His grip isn’t rough, just sure. Certain. Like he’s done this every morning for years.

Your breathing catches.

The room is bathed in soft morning light, golden and quiet. Dust drifts through the air, glinting like stars. It smells like sunlight and cotton and something so familiar it makes your throat tighten.

You try to move to lift your arm, to turn your head but your body doesn’t listen. It’s not frozen… just heavy. Like something else is moving for you.

And then his voice finds you.

Low. Smooth. Sleep-warmed and fond.

“You’re not allowed to run away this morning.”

Your heart stutters.

“Not until I’ve had enough of you.”

The words are dipped in something dangerously soft. Like honey laced with electricity. They settle over your skin, deep and warm, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re breathing at all.

Your head turns slowly, not by your own will.

And then you see him.

Jungwon.

Older. Sharper. Ridiculously handsome.

His hair is tousled, lashes casting shadows over cheekbones that have grown into sharper lines. His lips part slightly as he smiles at you. Lazy, teasing, like he already knows every inch of your heart.

But it’s his eyes that undo you.

He looks at you like you belong to him.

Like you always have.

“I didn’t think you could get prettier,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against your cheek. “But here you are proving me wrong. Again.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You’re stuck somewhere between awe and confusion. And even though your mind is spinning, your body melts into his touch like it’s been doing this for years.

His hand slides slowly up your arm, fingers curling against your back like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your spine.

“Come on,” he whispers, voice dropping lower. “Just five more minutes.”

“Let me have you to myself. Just five more.”

You try to answer, to say what is this? or what’s happening? But your lips move without sound.

There’s no fear. Just a strange pressure in your chest. Like your heart is trying to remember something your brain won’t accept yet.

“I have to get up,” you manage, barely.

He tenses behind you. Then—

“No,” he says instantly, his arms tightening. “You get up, I have to share you. I’m not ready.”

The words come out softer than they should. Almost like a confession.

You whisper his name. “Jungwon…”

At the sound of it, he exhales shakily, like you’ve touched something sacred.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering closed.

“Let me love you quietly… just a little longer.”

And before you can say anything more, your body moves, like instinct.

You slip from his arms, legs brushing the edge of the bed. Your bare feet hit the hardwood. It’s warm.

Too real.

You reach for something at the foot of the bed and your hand wraps around fabric, his hoodie. You slip it over your head like you’ve done it a thousand times.

And you walk barefoot into the quiet glow of a house that isn’t yours… but somehow feels like it.

The hallway is lined with soft light and softer memories.

A second toothbrush beside the sink. Two mugs on the drying rack. A stray sock by the couch that definitely isn’t yours.

You pause outside the kitchen.

There, on the wall framed in wood worn smooth by time is a photograph.

You can’t breathe.

It’s you.

Smiling, windswept, holding a laughing boy in your lap. Jungwon is behind you, arms around both of you, lips pressed to your temple like he never wants to let go.

The boy is bright and soft and radiant, about five, maybe, and his name tumbles out of your mouth before you even think it.

“Jihoon…”

You don’t know how you know.

You just do.

Suddenly—

“Eommaaaa!”

Tiny footsteps thunder down the hall like a stampede of joy.

Before you can react, a small boy in dino pajamas hurls himself into your legs with all the power his little body can muster.

You catch him somehow. Arms instinctively cradling him close.

“Jihoon…” you breathe again.

He grins, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “I want toast! And Appa said I can have Choco milk if I say please like a gentleman!”

You laugh. It feels strange coming out of your throat. Like a sound from someone else’s body. But it feels right.

And then a voice behind you—

“I also said you have to kiss your mom good morning. Or I get double.”

You turn, slowly, heart already racing.

Jungwon walks into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and unfairly beautiful. His shirt is half-buttoned, collar wide, hair falling across his forehead. He looks like a dream.

But his smile?

That smile is real.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“You left the bed too early.”

You don’t speak.

You can’t.

He walks right up to you, presses a kiss to your temple, then one to Jihoon’s cheek.

“Unfair,” he whispers in your ear. “Wearing my hoodie and stealing my whole heart before breakfast.”

Your throat tightens.

And before you can answer, he scoops Jihoon into one arm and turns toward the stove, all casual affection and practiced ease.

“I’ll make the eggs,” he says with a smirk.

“You just stand there and look pretty.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The alarm blares, a sharp, unforgiving sound that rips you from sleep. Your body is sluggish as you roll over, eyes still half-closed. There’s a strange weight on your chest, like something that doesn't belong to you. You reach for it instinctively, only to find the bed beside you empty.

You freeze.

That dream. That dream.

The warm embrace of Jungwon’s arms around you. His voice, low and possessive, as he held you like you were his and his alone. The image of Jihoon, smiling up at you as his tiny hands reached for you, and you just knew his name. It all felt so real, like you could feel their presence even now.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to push it all away.

But no—this isn’t real.

This isn’t how your life is.

Your heart starts to race. It was just a dream. Or was it?

You groggily grab your phone from the nightstand and swipe across the screen, your thumb trembling slightly. The words are there, just as they always are when your birthday arrives:

🎉 Happy 18th Birthday, Y/N! 🎉

It's time to check your Blessing 💫

You blink, trying to focus. You’ve been waiting for this moment. Everyone has been waiting for this moment.

In this world, everyone receives their Blessing on their 18th birthday. It’s a gift, a special power that defines your life. But it only comes once a year—on your birthday—and you can only use it that day.

Blessings are a mysterious and magical part of life. Some people get practical abilities like the gift of perfect memory or the ability to always know when someone is lying. Others receive mind-bending abilities like controlling the weather, seeing through time, or reading minds. There are even rare Blessings that come with superhuman strength or the ability to heal wounds with a single touch.

It’s always a huge deal. Everyone anxiously awaits what their Blessing will be, and it shapes their path forward. Some Blessings are more powerful than others, but no one ever knows until the moment it activates.

And today... it’s your turn.

You swallow, nervous. This is the day you’ve been waiting for, the day when you finally get to know what you’re meant to do in life. A strange fluttering sensation rises in your chest as you tap on the notification, feeling your heartbeat louder than before.

"Blessing Activated: The ability to see into the future."

You blink, your heart skipping a beat. You read it again.

See into the future.

Your mind instantly flashes back to that dream. Jungwon. Your son. The home. The family. Everything that felt too real.

But no. No way. That’s not possible. It can’t be.

It was just your wild imagination running rampant, a byproduct of your complicated feelings for Jungwon, the popular, carefree guy who could charm the entire campus with a smile and a wink. The one who always seemed to have a crowd of girls following him around, eagerly hanging on to his every word, craving his attention. It wasn’t his fault. He was just... well, Jungwon, always in the spotlight, effortlessly cool, and always a little out of reach.

You, on the other hand, were the ideal responsible student body president, constantly trying to keep everything in order while keeping your unaddressed feelings for him under wraps. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that, a fleeting daydream. Your mind must've just tangled everything up, creating a perfect world where you were married to him and raising a child. But no. You couldn't let yourself believe it was real.

It was just another one of those wild, embarrassing fantasies... right?

That’s all it was. Right?

You shake your head, trying to banish the thought. But deep down, you feel the weight of the words still pressing on your chest.

The bell rings, signaling the start of the school day. You drag yourself out of your seat, trying to focus on the tasks ahead, but the words on your phone, the words about seeing the future linger in your mind.

Your Blessing has been activated. And yet, you're not sure if you should even believe it.

How can that be your Blessing? How could you see the future? Maybe the system made a mistake. Maybe you read it wrong. There’s no way that what you saw in your dream could be your actual future, right?

You’re so lost in thought that you almost miss Sunoo sitting down beside you, his usual wide grin greeting you with far too much energy.

“So, Y/N, any plans for your Blessing today?” He’s practically bouncing in his seat, eyes sparkling. “I’m so jealous! It’s going to be so cool! What did you get?”

You glance at him, blinking rapidly to clear your head. “I... I’m still trying to figure it out,” you mumble, your voice sounding unsure, even to yourself. “It’s just... hard to process.”

Sunoo giggles. “Of course you are. It’s always hard to accept, right? I mean, last year, my sister got the ability to talk to animals. She’s been living with a pet snake for months now, and I swear, that thing is smarter than me. Some people get the craziest gifts! It’s just so exciting.”

You nod, trying to sound upbeat, but the mention of talking to animals only makes you feel even more confused. There are so many kinds of Blessings: there’s the ability to control fire, to read minds, to move objects with a glance, and some less flashy ones, like the ability to memorize anything you hear, or even the ability to speak every language fluently.

But seeing the future?

You shake your head. No way. That’s... too much. Way too much.

“Hey, Y/N, did you get your notification?” Sunoo asks, leaning in curiously. “I bet it’s something super cool. You’re going to be amazing with your Blessing.”

You can barely focus on his words as you pull out your phone again, a dull weight settling in your stomach. You scroll through the notification. Still there. Still the same message.

"Blessing Activated: The ability to see into the future."

You try to dismiss it. Your mind starts to race. Could it really be true? Could you really see the future? You look around the classroom, feeling a sudden wave of self-doubt. Was this a mistake? Or was your mind still so caught up in that dream with Jungwon, that it created something out of fantasy?

You glance out the window, distracted by the thought of what your future could hold. And yet, despite the fluttering feeling in your chest, you can’t shake the nagging thought at the back of your mind: What if it’s real?

The soft hum of the classroom was interrupted by the creak of the door opening, and in walked Jungwon.

“Holy shit,” someone whistles from across the room, dropping their pen. “Jungwon, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

You turn your head, and there he is.

Coming in the doorway, disheveled in a way that shouldn't look good but somehow does. His white button-up clings to his frame, damp and slightly wrinkled, the top two buttons undone to reveal a sharp collarbone slick with sweat. His usually styled hair falls messily across his forehead, and he’s practically glowing under the fluorescent light like chaos wrapped in charm.

Someone tosses him a bottle of water.

“What happened to you?” another guy laughs. “It’s third period, man.”

Jungwon catches the bottle effortlessly, twisting off the cap like he owns the moment. “Big bike broke down,” he says, taking a long drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tire popped near Namsan intersection.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

“Why didn’t you call a cab or something?”

Jungwon’s lips curl into that infamous smirk, the one that always starts trouble.

“Couldn’t,” he says casually. “Left my wallet last night.”

“Where?”

He pauses dramatically, eyes flicking to the side before he says it:

“Some girl’s dorm.”

The silence is brief but heavy. Then, like clockwork, the room breaks into amused groans and howling laughter.

“You’re insane,” someone cackles.

“Bro. Again?”

“Whose this time?”

Jungwon just laughs, tossing his bag onto a nearby desk and shrugging out of his damp uniform jacket like he’s done this a hundred times. Which based on reputation, he probably has.

You look away, jaw clenched.

What were you thinking?

He might be handsome, charming, and seemingly always the center of attention, but that’s not you. You’re the class president. Always prepared, always on time. The responsible one professors rely on. You’ve talked to him maybe—what—twice? You barely share two classes, and even then, he never remembers to bring his ID, you even reprimanded him about that one time.

And yet this morning, you saw yourself in his bed.

His arms around you. His lips on your cheek. A little boy, Jihoon calling you Eomma.

A wild fantasy. That’s all it could be. A side effect of your Blessing. A trick of your crush-riddled brain.

Because that boy over there? The one with sweat dripping down his temple and a lazy grin on his lips while he talks about his nightly rendezvous like it’s a joke?

You take a breath, as if that thought alone should pull you back into reality.

But then you can’t help but glance at him again. The way his hair falls messily over his forehead, the glint of mischief in his eyes, how effortlessly the attention of the room falls on him like gravity pulling in everything around him.

And as your thoughts spiral, Jungwon catches your eye again. This time, he doesn’t look away. His gaze lingers just a second longer than it should, a playful glint sparking in the depths of his dark eyes. It's almost like he can sense your gaze, like he's aware of the tension in the air.

The weight of it all hits you. There’s no way someone like Jungwon could ever be husband material for you.

But you did have a crush on him, don’t you?

The question hits you like an electric jolt, and the realization makes your skin burn with embarrassment. You feel like a fool. A huge, pathetic fool for letting this fantasy play out, for letting him take up so much of your headspace when he barely knows you exist.

Your heart stutters, and you quickly look away, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control. No, you tell yourself. He’s not for you.

He’s not someone you fall in love with.

He's someone you survive.

That night, you had a plan.

A quiet café near the riverside, your favorite spot, where the view of the night city glimmers like constellations trapped in water. You’d go there alone, sip on something warm, pretend the world paused just for you, and think.

About the dream.

About the Blessing.

About how stupid it is to have someone like him trapped in your mind like he’s yours.

But before that… duty calls. Being class president means more than title and praise—it’s also staying late to organize reports other people forget exist. You’re hunched over your desk in the empty student council room, sorting folders by department, your phone buzzing softly against the desk.

It’s a message from Sunoo.

Sunooooo 🐥:

hey prez 😗 i left my USB in the drama club office, can u grab it for me?? it’s in the drawer beside the speaker. i owe u 2 bubble teas 😭🙏

You sigh, push your chair back, and stretch your arms. The building’s almost empty now, the halls eerily quiet, lights buzzing faintly overhead.

The drama club’s room is on the third floor. You climb the stairs, footsteps echoing, your mind halfway to the riverside already.

The door creaks open when you push it gently.

And everything inside you halts.

Your breath catches. The air leaves your lungs before your brain can tell you what you’re seeing.

Jungwon.

His back is to you, but you’d recognize him anywhere, even with his uniform shirt half-off, even with his mouth locked on someone else's neck like he’s starving, even with a girl tangled around him, her skirt pushed up high on his thigh, hands pulling him closer.

It’s raw, messy. Real.

The girl gasps and pulls away first, eyes widening in panic.

Jungwon turns. Hair mussed. Lips swollen. Chest rising and falling fast.

The room falls silent. Everything slows.

He sees you.

“Y/N?” he says, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just split your world open.

You feel your legs move before your mind catches up. You don’t say a word. You just back away, out the door, letting it click shut behind you.

You don’t remember how you got out of that room.

The door closed behind you with a click that felt too loud in the silent hallway, but your legs didn’t stop. You walked—no, stumbled—down the corridor like a ghost. Your heart still thunders in your chest, a strange mix of fury and humiliation burning behind your ribs.

You hear someone calling your name just as you turn the corner.

“Y/N!”

It’s Sunoo, jogging up to you with his usual bright energy and a hopeful grin. “Did you find the USB?”

You stop. Slowly turn to face him.

The expression on your face makes his smile falter.

“You—” your voice comes out shaky, then steadies with a strange coldness. “You seriously need to start screening the students in your club.”

Sunoo blinks. “Huh?”

“There’s a line, Kim Sunoo,” you snap, the words cutting sharper than you intended. “And whatever the hell was happening in that room? Way past it.”

He stares at you, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Wait, what are you—?”

You don’t wait for him to finish. “Tell your vice president to clean that space properly. And keep the door locked when it’s not in use.” Your tone is clipped. “This school has rules for a reason.”

And then you’re walking. Fast. Past the bulletin boards, down the stairs, out the doors into the open night air where it’s cooler, easier to breathe.

Sunoo calls your name once more behind you, but you don’t turn back.

You clutch your tote tighter, your steps hard on the pavement. Your thoughts spiral.

What the hell were you expecting?

That he was different?

That a man like Jungwon, irresistible, untouchable, a walking magnet of trouble and girls and charm would someday settle for someone like you?

You? The uptight, rule-following class president? The one who frowns at missed deadlines and documents everything in folders? You’ve spoken maybe twice. He probably doesn’t even remember what your voice sounds like.

The dream wasn’t a vision.

It was delusion.

A cruel, beautiful lie spun by a Blessing you hadn’t even asked for.

You sigh, pushing your hands through your hair as you finally round the corner, the warm light of the café now glowing just ahead. It’s quiet inside. A perfect place to sit with your thoughts, maybe even rewrite them into something less… pathetic.

But as you approach the glass doors, your reflection stares back at you.

Eyes wide.

Still shaken.

And behind all the anger, confusion, embarrassment—

There’s something else.

A flicker of hope that refuses to die.

What if it is the future?

What if, somehow, against all odds, things change?

And would you even want that?

You push the door open, the bell chiming softly above your head. The scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon wraps around you.

You find a seat by the window. You order something sweet.

And for the first time today…

You let yourself breathe.

The next day arrives colder than usual, the gray sky draping a slow, sleepy atmosphere over the campus. You’re halfway through skimming your notes at your desk when something plops onto the table beside your laptop.

You look up.

Sunoo grins, placing a cup of brown sugar bubble tea beside a bright yellow pack of gummy bears.

You blink. “What is this?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes. “One of the two bubble teas I owe you.”

You raise a brow. “This?” Pointing at the pack of gummy bears.

He nods. “That’s... uh, from Jungwon.”

That makes you freeze.

Sunoo scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “He said I should give it to you since he felt bad about what happened yesterday. Said he didn’t mean for you to walk in on that.”

Your brows knit. You glance toward the door, scanning the incoming students. No sight of that familiar tall figure. “Where is he, then?”

Sunoo blinks. “Huh?”

“If he really felt bad,” you say, crossing your arms, “why can’t he say it to me upfront?”

Sunoo stammers. “Ah—he’s not skipping or anything. He just said he had something to take care of today.”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

Sunoo shrugs again. “Lab research. BioChem. Said he’s getting data from the lab.”

Your eyes widen.

Lab research?

Your breath catches as you fumble to grab your phone. You had completely forgotten.

Two days ago, your Biochemistry professor had handed out a research task due in five days. You hadn’t even made a group chat yet for your team. You were supposed to assign roles, divide the work, set a meeting.

You swallow, fingers rushing to open your inbox and sure enough, there it is.

A message request from Jungwon, sent exactly two days ago.

hi y/n, i know we haven’t made the gc yet, but i was reviewing the assigned enzymes, so i made a quick draft of the intro and references. we can revise later. let me know if this is okay.

Attached is a PDF file.

You tap it open.

And you go still.

It’s… detailed. Clean. Formatted correctly. The citations are already APA 7th. He even included notes and potential corrections in the comments, like he expected you to edit it yourself.

Your eyes linger on the timestamp.

You feel a twist of guilt settle in your chest. Two whole days. And you only saw it now.

God, you think. He’s not just messing around all the time.

Jungwon may have the reputation of being a flirt, a wild card—hell, even that guy who disappears after parties—but his grades are stable. You’ve checked. Of course you have. And now, seeing this…

You hate that your heart flutters a little.

You shake it off. It’s ridiculous. You need to be logical. Collected.

Still, your fingers hover over the screen.

You type.

hey. sorry i just saw this. the draft looks good. where are you now?

You stare at the text, hesitate, then hit send.

The typing bubble doesn’t appear. Yet your chest is already tight.

Sunoo notices the way you keep looking at your phone.

“You okay?”

You hum noncommittally.

Because the truth is…

You don’t know what you want his reply to say.

Your phone stays silent all through your next class.

And the one after that.

You keep glancing at it when no one’s looking—pretending to scroll through lecture slides while secretly refreshing your messages. Nothing. Not even a “seen.”

By the time the afternoon rolls around, your head's a mess of static. You try to lose yourself in your workload, drowning in spreadsheets and professor emails, but everything tastes like paper and air. That dream still clings to the back of your mind like static on skin. Warm breath on your neck. That stupid soft voice calling you mine.

You shake it off again. It's all just hormones and brain chemistry and—yeah, maybe a little too much pining. You can get through this.

You push away from your desk, grabbing your bag. You’ll head to the lab early, maybe reorganize the data files. Be useful. Do something.

But as you exit the building, your heart stutters.

Jungwon is there.

Not in your imagination, not folded behind a dream, but actually there. At the shaded edge of the quad near the science wing, one foot propped against the wall, head tilted as he scrolls his phone. His uniform shirt is crumpled in that lazy way that’s probably not intentional but always looks intentional. His neck glistens faintly with leftover sweat from the walk, and his bangs stick slightly to his forehead.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

You freeze.

Part of you wants to turn around.

Part of you wants to go straight up and ask him why the hell he didn’t respond. Why he’s acting like nothing happened. Why your name still sits unopened in his inbox when he’s clearly online.

But mostly you just stand there.

Then, as if summoned by your indecision, he lifts his gaze.

Your eyes meet.

The air shifts. It doesn’t crash. Doesn’t burn. But it thickens.

He pushes off the wall slowly, slipping his phone into his back pocket, eyes locked on you.

No smirk. No signature grin.

Just him. Watching.

Then he calls, voice low but unmistakably Jungwon: “Hey. President.”

You stiffen.

Not Y/N.

Not even hey.

Just President. Detached. Teasing.

Like he didn’t make you spiral last night without even trying.

Like you didn’t see him tangled with another girl just hours after dreaming of his arms around you like a promise.

You square your shoulders.

“You got the lab data?” you ask plainly, walking forward with steady steps.

Jungwon nods, pulling a crumpled printout from his bag, and holds it out. “Compiled the results. Some weird numbers in the catalase trials, though. Might be a pipette issue.”

You take the paper, fingers brushing.

You pretend not to notice the tiny flicker in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you say, voice clipped. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

You turn to leave.

But just before you walk past him, his voice comes again, quieter this time, a little too casual.

“…You saw the file?”

You stop. Don’t face him. Just nod once.

“And?” he asks.

You pause again. Swallowing the lump of everything you could say.

“It’s good,” you mutter, before walking away.

You don’t look back.

But you feel his gaze burning into the space where your footsteps used to be.

That night, the campus is quieter than usual.

Most of the dorms have dimmed down, the courtyard echoing only with the soft chirp of cicadas and the occasional motorbike in the distance. You’re back in your room, the soft yellow desk lamp casting long shadows across your textbooks. The lab report glows on your screen, and your fingers move on autopilot, editing, cross-checking, reformatting Jungwon’s initial draft.

You hate how well-written it is.

Hate how focused he must’ve been when writing it.

Hate that he sent it before you even made a group chat.

He knew. He just… did it anyway.

The way your mind keeps replaying today’s encounter isn’t helping either. That careless tone. The unread message. The way he looked at you, not like you were someone he’d kissed or remembered, but like you were just another task to check off.

You sigh hard through your nose, shoving your glasses onto your head and pushing away from your desk. You grab your phone out of habit.

Still nothing from Jungwon.

You frown.

And then like a cruel joke your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number

[9:47 PM]

hey.

You blink.

The typing bubbles flicker, disappear, flicker again.

Then:

it’s jungwon.

You stare at it. Right, you never saved his number. You consider leaving it on seen, out of pure spite.

But then another message arrives.

thanks for checking the file.

Simple. Casual. No emojis. Not even a period. You almost roll your eyes.

You don’t respond right away.

The dots appear again.

are you still mad about yesterday.

Your jaw tightens. Your fingers hover over the screen, unsure whether to ignore or unleash. But before you decide—

it’s fine if you are. just wanted to say i wasn’t trying to... make you uncomfortable or anything.

You blink again. This time, slower.

Another message comes.

didn't know you’d walk in.

That annoys you. A flick of your thumb and you're typing fast before you can stop yourself.

[You]

Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.

[You]

I’ve seen worse.

You hit send and set your phone down, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

But he responds almost immediately.

you sure? you looked like you saw a ghost.

You inhale sharply.

[You]

I was just surprised. That’s all.

Typing bubbles again. Then pause. Then again.

sunoo said you looked pissed.

[You]

Well, maybe tell Sunoo to mind his business.

Another pause.

Then finally:

you don’t like me much, do you.

Your fingers freeze.

For a second, you consider lying. Saying of course not, brushing him off.

But your thumb hovers too long.

And somehow, you type:

[You]

I don’t really know you.

This time, it takes a little longer before he replies.

But when it comes, it’s unexpected.

then maybe let me fix that.

You blink at the screen.

The cursor waits, asking what you'll do next.

The next day, Jungwon is already waiting in the hallway by the science building when you arrive.

It’s unusual—he’s unusual.

Not late. Not surrounded by a gaggle of students laughing at his latest offhanded charm. He’s just… there.

Leaning against the white-tiled wall with his arms folded, sleeves rolled up, and the usual smirk playing at his lips. But this time, it’s softer. Almost thoughtful.

You slow your steps. Part of you wants to ignore him. Pretend last night’s conversation didn’t exist. Pretend he wasn’t the reason your thoughts kept short-circuiting through biochemistry formulas you didn’t study for.

But of course, he notices you before you even consider slipping away.

“Morning, President,” he calls, straightening from the wall. “I was starting to think you’d ditch lab today.”

You give him a sidelong glance. “Why would I?”

As you step inside the lab, Jungwon follows quietly, his footsteps just a beat behind yours. For once, he doesn’t try to fill the silence with jokes or idle flirtation.

Just as you reach for your lab coat, he says it. Casual, but too quiet to be harmless.

“You seemed a little different last night.”

You pause mid-button, fingers stilling at your collar. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I had different views about you until yesterday.”

Your gaze narrows. “And what would you know about me last night?”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “Just… stuff. The way you talked. Your messages. The way you suddenly replied. It felt different.”

There’s a weird pressure building in your chest. An old instinct, fight or flight.

Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “If this is your way of getting back at me for… walking into that night, then please—I hope you stop.”

That makes him blink.

For once, he doesn’t have a snarky comeback ready. He just watches you, expression unreadable, lips slightly parted like he wasn’t expecting that.

You drop your bag on the nearest chair and turn away from him, fixing your gloves with more focus than you need. The lab is silent except for the hum of overhead lights and the slow clink of glass being arranged.

And still, you can feel his gaze.

Heavy. Focused. Not the kind that undresses you, but the kind that unravels.

He doesn't speak again for the next ten minutes.

But whatever he’s thinking?

It lingers in the air between you strange, searching, and unsettlingly curious.

“Right, I read the sample analysis section you made this morning. You write well,” you say.

He grins, leaning closer as you reach for the lab equipment. “Well, maybe I wanted to impress you.”

You choke slightly on air. “Excuse me?”

Jungwon’s smile doesn’t falter. “What? I figured if you’re gonna think I’m just some fuck-up with a nice face, I should prove you wrong.”

His words hit sharper than they should. Like they were dipped in something hot before being handed to you.

You fix your gloves with more pressure than necessary. “I don’t think that,” you lie.

He hums. “You sure?”

You glance at him. He’s already pulling on his goggles, but the tilt of his mouth is too smug for someone who’s not enjoying this.

He’s trying.

Not in the way people usually do, with flowers or pick-up lines or chasing you through the quad. But trying in his own strange, infuriating way.

Jungwon, campus heartthrob, late to every second class, always with a hickey or two to hide, is suddenly showing up on time, preparing lab notes, offering to help you with the pH balance readout before you even ask.

And the most confusing part?

He’s not flirting like he usually does.

There’s no winks. No lazy drawls of your name. Just this steady, unnerving attention. Like you’re a problem he wants to understand, and maybe, just maybe, solve.

Halfway through titration, you break the silence.

“You know,” you say quietly, not looking up, “we barely know each other.”

Jungwon glances at you over the rim of his beaker.

“That’s kind of the point,” he says simply.

You glance back. “What?”

“I want to,” he says, voice calm, low, and sure. “Get to know you.”

You freeze.

There’s no laugh behind his words. No teasing. Just sincerity. Raw and strangely unfamiliar, coming from him.

You drop your eyes again, hands tightening around the glassware. “Why?”

He tilts his head like the answer is obvious. “Don’t you ever get tired of people pretending around you?”

You stare at the blue liquid swirling in the beaker.

Yes.

But you don’t say it.

Because how the hell does he know that?

Your grip on the beaker tightens, knuckles paling. For a second, you forget to swirl.

The silence hangs there, suspended like the acid fumes in the air. Unspoken, unexplainable.

Jungwon doesn’t push.

He just returns to his notes, pen scratching gently across the paper, like he hadn’t just peeled open something raw in you without ever looking up.

The rest of the lab passes with that same strange rhythm. You work in silence, too aware of his presence beside you, too aware of the weight in his glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

You don’t know what’s changed. Only that something has.

And whatever it is, it’s throwing off your balance.

When class ends, you’re the first to gather your things. You need air, space, anything to clear the mess in your head. You sling your bag over your shoulder, brushing past the last lab bench, when you hear him behind you again.

“Hey, wait.”

You stop. But you don’t turn around.

“About what I said earlier,” he continues, and his voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “I meant it. I want to know who you are. Not as the class president. Just… you.”

You swallow hard. “You’re weird today,” you mutter, forcing a laugh that doesn’t sound like yours.

Jungwon doesn’t respond immediately. Then, as you start walking again, he says quietly:

“Maybe you just finally started paying attention.”

You leave before he can say anything more.

That night, you lie on your bed, staring up at your ceiling as the hum of the city fills your ears through the open window.

Your phone is beside you, lit up with the unanswered messages from your org groupchat, some random memes from Sunoo, and one still unopened message from Jungwon, sent just now.

You hover over it, thumb twitching.

Lab partner:

Let’s meet again tomorrow. I’ll bring the spectrometer data.

…Also, I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just think you’re interesting. That’s all.

You stare at the screen for a long moment.

How does someone change overnight?

How does someone who never cared suddenly act like they see you?

You lock your phone and press it face-down onto your chest.

Maybe this is just how college goes. People are unpredictable. Feelings shift. You’ve seen it happen.

But deep down… something in your gut says this isn’t just feelings.

It’s something else.

Something you can’t quite name.

Not yet.

Jungwon watches your retreating figure until you disappear into the stairwell, the glass door swinging shut behind you with a soft click.

He exhales. Runs a hand through his hair.

What the hell are you doing to me?

"Yo!" A familiar voice calls from across the courtyard. Jay’s already halfway toward him, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, lanyard swinging lazily from his neck. “You free?”

Jungwon nods wordlessly and falls into step beside him.

They walk in silence for a while, the wind cool and sharp against his skin. It's late afternoon now, the sun low, casting long shadows on the pavement as they make their way to the parking lot.

Jay’s halfway through a story about a classmate bombing their presentation when Jungwon suddenly cuts in.

"Hey," he says, voice low. “How stupid do you have to be… to not realize your long-time crush actually likes you back?”

Jay pauses mid-step. “Damn. Where’s that coming from?”

Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. He kicks at a pebble on the ground. “I mean, you’ve liked someone for so long, but you didn’t know—couldn’t tell—that they might feel the same.”

Jay raises a brow. “Well, I wouldn’t say the person is stupid. It’s not easy to assume something like that about your own crush. Most people don’t want to believe in something unless, they’re sure.”

Jungwon hums, thoughtful.

Jay goes on, more carefully now. “And if that person—the crush—doesn’t show anything? Doesn’t flirt, doesn’t confess, doesn’t even act like they notice you? Then yeah. I can see why you wouldn’t suspect it.”

He shrugs. “Especially if you’re the type who’s also good at hiding your own feelings. You both end up playing it cool. Two silent idiots in a stand-off.”

That earns a half-smile from Jungwon. “So, it’s a draw?”

“No,” Jay chuckles. “It’s a mess.”

Jungwon laughs, then quiets again, eyes drifting up to the campus skyline. The same classroom windows, the same building. But something feels different now.

He thinks about the way you looked at him today. Guarded. Defensive. Scared, almost, that he was pulling some kind of joke on you.

And god, maybe he deserved that. Maybe he was a joke, before yesterday.

But now… now he knows something else.

Not from gossip. Not from rumors.

From you. In your own thoughts.

He shakes his head.

“Still feels like I don’t deserve to know something she hasn’t said out loud.”

Jay glances sideways. “You saying you’re hearing confessions in your dreams now?”

Jungwon smirks faintly. “Something like that.”

They reach the parking lot. The quiet hum of passing cars fills the space between them.

Jay finally says, “So what are you gonna do?”

Jungwon leans against the side of his motorbike, crossing his arms. The late sun glints off his helmet, dangling loosely from the handlebars.

“I’m gonna stop pretending I don’t care,” he says. “And I’m gonna make sure she knows I see her now.”

Jay raises an eyebrow. “You really got it bad, huh?”

Jungwon doesn’t answer.

He just looks toward the building one last time, expression unreadable—but no longer unsure.

"Late birthday gift," Jay says casually, already fiddling with his car keys. "Didn't have time to hand it yesterday."

Jungwon rolls his eyes but there's a genuine grin tugging at his mouth as he peeks inside the bag.

Inside, there’s a simple keychain—a silver motorcycle charm—and a half-eaten pack of mint gum taped to a note that says “For fresh starts. Don’t mess it up.”

Jungwon shakes his head, amused. "You're the worst gift giver."

Jay grins, unapologetic. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Jungwon slips the keychain into his pocket anyway, feeling the small weight of it settle there. It's stupid. It's small. But somehow, it feels heavier than it should.

Maybe because yesterday wasn't just about turning eighteen.

Maybe because it wasn’t just about the blessing he received.

It was about everything starting to tilt sideways—about seeing things he never allowed himself to see before.

About realizing that maybe, just maybe, the person you spent so long pretending you didn’t notice… was already standing in front of you, noticing you too.

Jay unlocks his car, tossing his bag into the backseat. "You coming?"

Jungwon swings his helmet onto his head, the faint jingle of the new keychain in his pocket.

"Nah," he says, voice a little lighter. "Think I'll stick around a bit."

He watches Jay pull out of the lot, then leans back against his bike, staring up at the dimming sky.

For the first time in a long while, Jungwon isn't rushing anywhere.

He’s just… waiting.

For once, he doesn't mind.

Or at least, he thinks he doesn't until he checks his phone and sees your name sitting quietly in his notifications.

No new message.

Just last night’s thread, and your last reply still stuck in his head.

Something pulls at him. Impulse, maybe. Or instinct.

Without thinking, he swings one leg over his bike, starts the engine, and makes a turn back toward the front of campus.

The tires crunch lightly against the pavement as he rolls to a smooth stop just outside the main gates. His eyes scan the crowd.

And there you are.

Walking alone, the sunset catching the edges of your hair, a plastic bag hanging from your wrist—maybe takeout, maybe something from the café nearby. Lost in thought, your expression unreadable.

Jungwon lifts his helmet’s visor, smirking.

“Hey, wife!”

Your head snaps up.

You freeze, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like the word itself just slapped you in the face.

Jungwon chuckles, resting his elbow casually on the handlebar. “What?” he says, shrugging. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

You blink, still in shock, unsure whether to roll your eyes, yell at him, or melt into the sidewalk.

Probably all three.

You stare at him like he just spoke in another language.

Wife.

Wife.

The word still echoes in your ears, sharp and ridiculous and dangerously familiar. Too familiar.

Your hand tightens around the plastic bag. “What did you just call me?”

Jungwon only grins, a maddening glint in his eyes. “You heard me.”

You narrow your gaze. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

He shrugs, tapping the seat behind him. “Depends. Are you going to get on, or keep standing there like I didn’t just offer you the smoothest getaway from a long day of work?”

You glance at the bike. Then back at him. And suddenly your mind flashes, uninvited, to the dream you swore was just that: a dream.

A boy with dark hair, arms wrapped around you on a bike.

Laughter. Wind. A familiar warmth pressing into your back as the city blurred behind you.

You shake the thought away. No.

Absolutely not.

“Are you trying to be funny?” you ask tightly, your voice firmer than your heart feels. “Because I’m not laughing.”

Jungwon’s smirk softens. Not entirely, but enough that it startles you. There’s something in his eyes now, something quieter. Not playboy-charming. Not smug. Just… sincere.

“I’m not trying anything,” he says, almost too casually. “I just figured… we don’t really know each other, right?”

Your breath catches.

“And maybe,” he adds, his voice dipping lower, “you might want to get to know me too.”

For a moment, neither of you move. The wind brushes your hair into your face. His helmet gleams under the last stretch of sunset.

Then, slowly, you take a step forward.

His eyes flicker with something…surprise? Hope?

You raise an eyebrow. “Call me wife again and I’ll throw this bubble tea at your face.”

Jungwon laughs. Really laughs. “Noted.”

You roll your eyes. “One ride. That’s it.”

He pats the seat, triumphant. “One ride,” he echoes, and you swear his voice sounds just a little too satisfied.

You hesitate once more before climbing on, arms uncertain.

But when the engine roars to life, your fingers instinctively curl around his jacket.

And as the bike pulls away from campus, you don’t see the knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You don’t know he knew everything.

Not yet.

But soon—

You will.

lmk your thoughts :D

permanent taglist: @1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol @yjwonsgf @lvvstruck @leah-rose03 @kanonjji @kyunlov @somuchdard @seongiewon @theothernads @luumiinaa @enhaverse713586 @lynanist @moriwori @han-to-my-minho @hhyvsstuff @gardenwons @frankenstein852 @firstclassjaylee @lamin143 @serenadehera @elove2047 @cookiesha11 @enhamysunshines @tkooooop @lizdevorak @hoshilysm @meggxsxs @deluluscenarios @babyboomysweetie @tinycatharsis @leesolbeesol

[plantcrazy]

Dr Bruno White & Experiment 1354 [Theory]

I was writing a completely different theory in relations to MOB's latest trailer, when this realisation hit me like that hardest ton of brick ever.

You guys know, recently I studied the Ch.4 ARG for my story writing. I wanted to know more about Dr. White for writing his character, and in one of the emails from Harley he says: '[A bad memory]' and I interpreted it as Harley saying White has a bad memory. I think it's actually Harley having bad memories of White, and what he did to him after he became 1354.

Eg. The full email the above reads:

(The emailer asked)

Dr White?

(Harley replies)

'[Eyes peering from behind a pane of glass] He always did have a certain drive, didn't he? [A bad memory] But what good did it do him? None. He's dead.'

I initially thought the in brackets stuff was Harley, but it's EYES. Two eyes. He only has one as, 1354. But eyes peering from being a glass pane would refer to how he was being watched in an observation room, like the other experiments.

This robot-man has trauma. Trauma from Dr White.

When asked by another emailer what he remembers, all he says is:

Bruno

Another good example, an emailer asks:

What did he do to you?

(Harley replies)

The footage is archived (more bad memories) I won't dwell on it.

We also know throughout the email, Harley speaks negatively about White, implying he doesn't like him. (I think I mentioned somewhere,) my theory that they had a less negative relationship pre-1354, and I'm still inclined to believe that based on his whole:

White?! White is that you?!

He sounds hurt, and him complimenting White's drive could show one of his few lingering positive memories of White. Cause, like, take it from me, as someone with trauma relating to a person I had a good relationship with once in the past, when I think of said person, none of those positive memories come to the surface. Only the traumatic ones. (I'm fine folks. This was years ago, I'm healed & good now. This was just a great example of the feelings Post-1354 would have towards... the abuser?).

We also know the admin account & password belonged to Dr. White (, with the password being a mocking jab at something Harley use to say all the time). So White was fully in control over Harley. Sure. That's one reason to have some trauma, but...

I also was looking at the red text again, with this new point of view about Harley & White in mind. I think the red text is 1354's thoughts being displayed on a screen.

Leith says in the 1354 tape:

You'll be like an open book to us whenever we want.

I think he meant this quite literally. That's why he tells Harley he can fight or give in. It doesn't matter because they can read his every thought regardless.

More evidence to back this up, with the red text being Harley's thoughts:

I can see you. You aren't welcome here.

And

They can see. away. Don't think it. Hide it from yourself. rwk

(idk what 'rwk' stands for. I couldn't really find anything solid).

I'm about out of steam with this lol. Just thought it was intresting to throw out there into the void :P

Also, really interesting that one of the things he says replies is:

I know my name.

Annoyingly, I can't find the email this came from, to give it context. Interesting regardless. To forget one's own name would almost suggest a level of brainwashing, maybe? IDK.

Not sure on the whole brainwashing thing, but it's a fun idea.

If we assume the first red text we start with is the last time anyone accessed Harley's thoughts (that being White), then their final conversation is intreaging, because it would suggest Harley was more bitter than White (I mean... hard to be bitter when you weren't the one turned into a brain in a jar, lol):

He asks if I still dream? Why? This changes nothing. A broken leash. Casket. I do. What became of her? Theater incident still strange, the things that linger.

[insurged]

if you want a little something from the stupid asshole astarion ( he has a modern verse *squinty eyes*) , feel free to like. if you want someone else from the roster, you can comment !

[fictionadventurer]

This AV Club comment is making me so desperate to write a romcom, you have no idea.

[illegiblehandwriting1]

i love you flashbacks i love you pov shifts i love you nonlinear storytelling

[lord-squiggletits]

I 1000% don't mean this in a moral judgement manner, or saying ppl aren't allowed to like evil characters, or saying that silly fandom stuff means people don't take analysis/real world parallels/whatever seriously

But honestly I have yet to experience as emotionally/mentally jarring of an effect as I did hearing about MTMTE Megatron so positively from the fandom (best Megatron ever! best character in IDW1! sad grandpa! compelling character arc! tragic villain!) only to actually read MTMTE myself and go "This guy is so fucking annoying, self-righteous, insufferable, and an asshole, what are you people talking about." ladjskfjsdalfk

Like I get that Megatron can't go from fresh off a heel-face turn to being an actual hero, and believe me I know that ppl in this continuity are almost all flawed/jerks in some way. But MTMTE Megatron was a special breed of annoying to me like. It wasn't just "he did bad things so I dislike him." In fact, the moments where Megatron regressed closer to being his old self (such as massacring the DJD during Dying of the Light) were the moments I liked him the most.

I don't really know how to describe it, bc it's not the idea of Megatron being redeemed that bothers me (I love redemption Megatron), and I'm not one of those ppl who postures about how I don't like him because his crimes are evil IRL (I literally like villain Megatron more than I like Autobot Megatron). There are characters who have done things that I found shitty/annoying but didn't have a significant reaction to besides going "omg what a jerk (chews popcorn faster eager to read more drama)". It's literally just Megatron where I have this feeling of being viscerally annoyed/pissed at every other thing he says salkfjsdkaf

[unopenablebox]

people around me online are always disclosing their kinks, like by writing fic about them or writing posts about them or reblogging the same photo of lee pace thirty times. but i can't do that. because my kink is embarrassing

[softquietsteadylove]

Poor fisherman Gil getting turned to the same species as Thena for a day because of some wich and now he finds out how Thena finds him very hot in his form

"Thena!"

"Gil?" Thena turned, her hair fanning around her in the water. It was still a distance away, but she knew that voice. Although, she never expected to hear it in this way again. She squinted, hoping to focus her eyes on the far, far distance.

There was a small dot of black, swimming towards her. It was moving quickly, using a thick, strong tail. Its fins were thick, like a shark's, dark against the blue like an angler.

"Gil!" She swam, her tail propelling her urgently. Her arms reached out against the currents, a habit she'd picked up from her human mate.

"Angelfish!" Gil burst in relief as he got his arms around her. They circled in the water, their tails swishing so closely they knocked together. "I'm so glad I found you!"

She blinked, her eyes adjusting again. She could feel the dark scales raised on his skin, the dorsal spines running down his back between the muscles of his torso. Her fins reacted naturally to the way the water bent around his larger, stronger fins.

He pouted as she pulled away. "I was worried I wouldn't be able to find you. It's a whole lot of nothing out here!"

She laughed faintly, although she quieted herself at his distress. "Everything identifiable is further down, love. Sandbanks, current changes, there are reefs and-"

Gil latched onto her again. "Well, I didn't expect to have to come find you like this."

He had a point. Thena let him cling to her, although it was decidedly odd behaviour for a mer. "Indeed--why are you out here like this?"

He groaned, making bubbles rise from the gills on his neck. "I don't know what happened."

She listened patiently as he started drifting downward listlessly, letting his worries sink him a little at a time. She took his hand, also odd for a mer, but assuring him she was there.

"I reeled up this weird looking eel-fish-thing. I was gonna cut it loose, thought maybe it was an endangered species or something. But then I got close, this purple gas came out of nowhere, and suddenly my legs were gone."

"Hm," Thena mused aloud. She could see how that was alarming. It was one thing for her to practice and then perfect splitting her tail into legs. And while it was embarrassing and frustrating to lose that control in times of fatigue, she could only imagine how frightening it would be to experience it completely without knowledge or prior attempts.

"I slid myself off the deck of Titania so I could come find you," Gil finished, practically whimpering at her.

She offered a smile and leaned in to kiss him. "Fear not, my lionfish. I doubt it will last."

"You think?" he asked her as she continued her affections. They drifted closer to the coral reefs below.

She nodded, guiding him more deliberately towards some ledges of coral formations on which they could rest. "Old magic like that is rare, but all the tales of it never speak of anything lasting longer than a moon."

Gil looked down at himself, bending his tail as they managed to hover around the coral and sand. "I wasn't exactly planning on taking a day off work, let alone like this. And Titania isn't even anchored!"

"Gil," she said gently, tipping his chin to kiss him again. It seemed to calm him, and she had to admit that kissing him in this form - feeling the bend of his fangs under his lip - held a certain addictiveness to her. She blamed it on her instincts.

"Okay, okay, you're right," he sighed, again releasing his excess air via his gills. Even they were lovely.

He looked around them, now able to see a few mers in the area, further from the surface. "I had kind of hoped I could ask someone if they had seen you, but no one was around. And if I did see anything even resembling a mer it just...swam off."

Thena smiled again. Her mate was truly adorable. "I can see why."

His gills puffed. "What does that mean?"

Her eyes drifted down from the rich colour of his eyes to the exposure of his collar bone. Usually, he was preoccupied with covering himself, even at home, more often than not. But she had a full view of his chest, the perfect blend of muscle and fat. His dark scales encroached on it, harmonizing with the lovely colour of his skin. His upper abdominal muscles bulged, a line running down them until his scales from either side of his back met and formed the upper beginnings of his tail.

"Angelfish?"

She darted her eyes back up to his. This was not the time for her to be appraising his appeal as a mate. "You look a little...sharklike."

"Really?" he looked down at himself. Of course, both of them next to each other, the contrast was visible. His tail and fins were thicker, more cartilage than thin membrane stretched between spines. "Huh."

Thena squeaked, her own gills bubbling as he reached down and ran his thumb over the webbing of one of her fins. Red bloomed across her face.

"Whoa," he commented mildly, comparing the feeling of her fin and his own. He ran it between his thumb and finger, like he did with hers. "That's such a weird sensation. It's like...I dunno, I've never had an extra limb like this."

Thena was unable to offer comment, too flustered at having him explore her so liberally.

"So," he looked at her again, completely unaware of how badly he had flustered her. "Is it bad?--how I look, I mean."

"Oh," she gulped, her gills breathing for her. She resettled her tail, hoping it wasn't vibrating from the stimulation. "N-No, not necessarily."

"Is it, uh," he made a face, also resettling himself to 'sit' with her (in a sense), "uncommon?"

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and out of her way. "No, Gil, it's...well, it isn't common. But it's in no way unfavorable."

He looked around them again. They were getting a few looks by passing mers, both individuals, and even mated pairs passing through. "You sure?"

"Indeed," she murmured, also eyeing those who paid them special attention. "Intimidating, perhaps, but not unfavorable."

"How is it good to be intimidating?" he asked, and it reminded her that he felt sensitively about his size as a human, too. He was such a gentle soul, he didn't like it when other humans assumed he was of an unpleasant disposition.

Her sweet human.

Thena sighed, taking his hand again, clasping it between hers. "To other bulls, I mean, Gil. You are an intimidating rival to other males."

"Oh," he made another face, and then his eyes went wide, "oh! Wait, you mean, like...I'm-"

"A fine specimen," she finished for him, no matter what it was he would have said. She huffed, "and believe me, the others here have noticed."

Gil raised a brow at her. He took another brief look around, although she was happy to note that he didn't seem to really notice anyone. "Really?"

"Is it so unbelievable?" she challenged. She rose from their relaxed position on the smooth coral overhang, dusting up the sand below. "I'll have you know that mers are very selective about potential mates. You cut a very promising prospect."

Gil rose to join her, easily only having to beat his tail once for every two of hers. "You know I don't care about that, hon."

Thena followed another mer taking notice of them with her eyes. In fact, she let her whole head swivel, making sure they knew they were not unchallenged. "It is not up to you, I'm afraid. Those interested will take notice whether I want them to or not."

She hissed at the passerby, just to really send a message.

Gil chuckled next to her. "Now you know how I feel all the time."

Her gills puffed again as he turned her gently to stop glaring at others and look at him. He brushed his thumb against the necklace permanently corded around her neck.

Thena happily leaned in, angling her shoulders forward as her tail swished happily. Kissing wasn't foreign to mers, but it wasn't the primary mode of conveying affection, either. This was much more human, but she had no qualms.

Gil kissed her eagerly, their fangs clicking together a few times in their vigour. His arms wrapped around her, his fingers tracing the spines along her back bone. She really had to tell him that he was quite handsy as a mer.

She purred as they separated, her hands on his cheeks, him still holding her as close as their tails could allow.

"It's quite a vulgar display, isn't it?"

Thena turned, hissing and splaying her fins at whomever it was that felt the need to comment, no matter who it was. "Away!"

It was two other mermaids, eyeing her with displeasure. It was not unlike having to confront human women on land, though. Defending her territory as a mate was always the same, legs or tail.

The two waved at Gil. "Do come find us if you tire of her."

Gil let his offense at the suggestion show on his face. His lip curled up in a snarl to show off his impressive fangs. "Trade a pearl for a rock, you mean?"

The female's jaw dropped.

Thena snickered at both the jab and her reaction to it. They turned sharply, flapping their tails forcefully in their exit. Thena was happy to send them away without their satisfaction. She circled on the spot a few times, displaying her unwillingness to back down.

Gil reached up to pull her down to him again. He was amused. "Are mers always so...forward about mates?"

Thena gave one last withering look in the direction of the two intruders. "Not always that forward. But I did tell you--you are a desirable prospect. And those without a mate would happily make an offer to you. Clearly my presence is not an obstacle."

"Well," Gil pulled her close again, despite or perhaps in spite of how they were just scrutinised for it. "How should I convey I'm a taken man--or mer, I guess."

She smiled, pressing her lips to his again, if briefly this time. "Only for a day. And just stay close to me. I will handle any potential interlopers."

"Well," he drawled. He was having fun, now. "If I'm so intimidating looking--what with my shark fins and all."

He spoke lightly of it, but it wasn't that common, and it did make him entirely too appealing to the eye.

"Maybe I should put it to good use," he nuzzled her cheek, making sure to settle himself next to her ear. "And make it clear that I'm happily mated."

Thena did her best to resist the urge to flutter like a jellyfish. She nuzzled into him in return, again indulging in such affections based on her merly instinct (she told herself). "It should be obvious to anyone. You are far too alluring a specimen to be without mate, after all."

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow at her as she trailed a finger down his open chest. "Well, it's a good thing I'm so 'alluring', as you put it."

She pursed her lips, awaiting his reasoning. But she blushed as his fin caressed hers in a way she refused to believe was accidental. "Gil!"

"I'll have to be, to be with the most beautiful mermaid in all the seven seas."

[mcalhenwrites]

Still alive, writing and editing a lot and even drawing (mostly dragon sketches at work). Seasons has some new chapters now... I saw something earlier about writing being something you can hone by doing lots of reading and writing. I wonder when that will apply to me. I've read a lot of books this year. I have almost hit my goal of 90 books, and while a couple are nonfiction and half are comics, the rest are novels. I expect that to increase again, now that I'm going back to the library. (I stopped with the bed bug scare.) Then I'm setting aside time each week to write. I work on stories at work, even if it's mostly just planning. (My laptop is falling apart so I just gave up taking it to work.) Yet here I am, still the same idiot who doesn't have anything appealing enough for most people to read. I can't get 99% of my followers interested. Sales of Geckos have dropped to next-to-nothing. Nothing else I put out there matters either. The fault lies with me. I'm not good enough. After having this stupid blog for 12 years, I want to delete it. I want to delete my twitter account. I want to delete every single account and shut up for good. There is nothing I can offer. My writing is a good hobby for me. I can get pats on the head for doing a little thing for myself. Aww, look at the cute little dumbass adult doing wittle storwies!!! Isn't that silly!!! They're not good, but he's having fun during the process. Too bad he hasn't figured out that not even 39 more years of practice can save what he's handing out.