#i'm just. so full of rage. and have to do critique day and i don't wanna critique things i wanna punch something

[helianthus-hellion]

god i fucking hate verizon customer "service"

- lost my router when i moved last year, verizon kept telling me they were gonna charge me $200 about it but never said when so adhd didn't make it a priority

- they charged me $200 unexpectedly (well within their rights, but did fuck up my finances considerably)

- finally found the router last month. took it to a verizon store near my house, was told that it was the wrong kind of verizon store and they couldn't take it back. had to trek halfway across town to get to the "correct" verizon store

- they made a shipping label, had me take a photo of it, said that i'd get a refund as soon as the router got back to wherever it was being shipped to

- that was like two weeks ago, so i decided to check the tracking number today. it said it was delivered on December 9th, a full month and a half before i brought the router in. no the fuck it wasn't.

- try to call verizon to ask about it. robot "assistant" will not connect me to a representative no matter what i do, and hangs up on me. try to call again, it demands an account number. i have no way to view the account number because my account is no longer active

- i'm gonna have to go back to the fucking verizon store and ask them what the hell is going on after class today. i'm gonna fucking scream.

[shini--chan]

Can I have the reader insulting the axis members using ✨historical ✨ facts to make them feel guilty on purpose? Similar to that Prussia ask?

Oooo this is a nice one. Serving coming right up. This will be excluding S.Italy this time,

Yandere Axis - National Guilt

Austria

"Says the one who locked thousands in concentration camps", you snapped at him. That made Roderich halt, the sandy ground crunching beneath his hiking shoes. 

"Do you really want to discuss the Nationalsocialitsts with me? I'm not the right person for that - go pester Ludwig instead", he shot back, not even deigning to look at you as he said that. The cheek he had, to even resume walking!

You ran after him. At this point, you were just so furious - about his arrogance and self-righteousness, about how he always evaded questions and played other verbal spiels. 

Grabbing the sleeve of his coat, you yanked him back. 

"Don't you realise that I'm talking about you, and things that only you have done? I'm talking about your crimes, your sins that you refuse to repent", you spat at him, your voice becoming louder with each further word. 

This time, he turned to you fully. His hands were trembling with rage and a nasty sneer graced his lips. A bad omen, if anything. 

"Are you one of those that constantly brings up the fact that Hilter was Austrian? If so, I strongly recommend you cease talking about things you don't know. He was the Chancellor of Germany, and died German. The place of birth is trivial in contrast to the morals a person adopts."

"I didn't even have the Holocaust in mind, or the Second World War. Instead, I'm talking about the First World War, and some of the horrible things you did then", you hissed. 

This caused him to frown. While you had gotten better at discerning his masks from his genuine expressions, at the moment you couldn't tell if he was scrunching his eyebrows due to honest confusion, or just as a ploy to throw you off. Eitherway, it wouldn't hurt to remind him what you were implying. 

"What about all those Ukrainians from Galicia you brutally killed in the Thalhofer concentration camp, just because you were afraid that they were working for the Russian Empire?"

As a general rule of thumb, Roderich would seek to avoid confrontation because he views it as boorish and uncultured. However, that doesn't mean he isn't prepared to go head to head to get what he wants, or to defend himself. If anything he can become very nasty and aggressive once a confrontation starts, and doesn't shy away from delivering low-blows, be they verbal or physical.

In total, he tends to be cautious, so once you start he'll do his best to make you shut up or flip the argument around and corner you. Best knock his opponent down before the latter has full wind in their sails. Aside from that, he has counter arguments prepared for the most usual arguments, so it would best to come with a critique he hasn't heard off yet. 

Germany

"Why are you so scared of me?"

The question came suddenly, and broke you out of the uneasy reverie you had fallen into. Reluctantly, you stopped tracing the rain droplets racing down the car window and turned to watch Ludwig. 

Despite being the driver, he had turned his head to look at you. Generally, you had become used to the fact that he was a very irresponsible driver and no longer took offense at it. Perhaps one day he'd crash and then could run away. 

"Why on earth should I be scared of you?", you murmured. The sun is just a red line on the horizon and after the long day behind you, you are so tired. You don't want to have a row, but Ludwig has a special talent to get on your nerves. 

It is a difficult topic that he has broached as well, thus you have even less motivation to address it as it is. Would short answers make him eventually leave you be?

"Don't take me for stupid, I can see how uneasy you are around me. While I might be lacking in social skills, even a blind fool would notice how you stumble over words or shy away from looking me in the eye when we talk", he reprimanded you. In a rare show of anger, he flexed his hands holding the steering wheel.

"Are you scared of me because of what I did in the past?"

At that statement you had to laugh. Ludwig could be hilarious without intending to be, with how he suffocated himself with guilt and drowned himself in attempts of humility. Your laughter made his eyebrow twitch. 

"To correct you - I detest you, in regard to the past, based on all the times you turned a blind eye when you could have helped and made a difference. Like when you sent escapees back to that cult in the Andes", you retorted. "They were your own citizens, yet you sent them back to the hell that was Colonia Digndad."

The irony here is that the guilt that Ludwig stews in everyday can make it harder to reach him. The reason for this is that his internal monologue is at times harsher than anything you could say to him. As such, he would either brush your arguments off due to them being milder than the ones he knows. Or he'll take to heart, and try to make it up to you. Though that wouldn't automatically mean he'll release you. Or he'll repent for his sins in church or through community service. 

Of course, there is the chance that he'd break down if you continue attacking him and forcing him to confront his past mistakes. However, him breaking might not lead to the best outcome - you could cut yourself on the shards. Ludwig snapping could manifest as him locking you away, or even killing you.

Italy 

Feliciano had a sour expression on his face, which was surprising, especially since the two of you were in public. Granted, he had booked a table on the indoor balcony of the restaurant - a private setting in a public place. Nevertheless, even this would usually be too public for him to discard his carefully crafted masks. 

“You are simply too simple-minded to understand that things were different back then. Do you think that you would have been better if you had lived back then”, he countered, in an uncharacterized serious manner. If anything, this whole conversation had been out of the ordinary. 

Over time, you had learned that one Feliciano Vargas had many sides to him - playful, prideful; sometimes self.righteous but always very sly. 

You set down your desert spoon with more force than necessary. “My point is that you haven’t changed since then. You are still a snake that speaks with a forked tongue. At the end of the day, you care more about your wallet than anything else. Despite everything that has happened, you are still a city-state at heart that hasn’t grown out of his barbaric way, and not a nation that is worth taking seriously.”

Perfectly plucked eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. You would have been fooled if you hadn’t been acquainted with him so well, you would have missed the way of how the muscles around his mouth tightened. That was when you knew that you could count yourself lucky that you were in public. 

“And yet, here I stand, while others have fallen.”

“Why that, other than that you’re a treacherous weasel?”

Arguing with Italy might make him more serious and the two of you could end up having a serious conversation. What would happen, if that you would end up talking in circles, with him employing so many verbal traps and stalling tactics that you’ll end up either getting a headache or tearing your hair out. If you really want to trip him up, then you would need a third party pitching in, or get him inebriated and sad.  

Interesting enough, this would be one of the “misbehaviours” that you’d be punished for - he doesn’t need you thinking that you can paint him as a criminal or colonialist. He’s taken so many steps to steep his previous misdemeanours under the rug; he doesn’t need you dragging skeletons out of the closet.

Japan

“Please go make some tea. You apparently don’t have enough to do”, he mumbled, without even looking up from his book. It honestly made you feel very pathetic, this whole situation made you feel very pathetic. You weren’t even having a fight, it felt more like you were a lunatic that was screaming at the wall. 

“Oh, so now I’m some servant to you. Bet it was like that during the Second World War for you too - just kidnap some locals and force them to work in your manor”, you hissed, and didn’t make a move to go to the kitchen. 

In some ways, you even wished for him to shout at you in turn - it would have made you feel less childish. As it was, you had started hurtling insults and arguments at him for the last half hour, and the only way he acknowledged you was through non-committal replies and half-hearted answers. 

“I was too busy in the military at the time to have a manor. Now hop along.”

To him, the way to win the game would be not to play in the first place. So he would simply not participate in the conversation and let you shout and rant at him until you are blue in the face and tire from your self-appointed mission. Should you strike a weak spot, then he would make you leave or he would dismiss you and leave the room. 

It is not that he wouldn’t feel pain or anger from your words - it is just that he would elect to remain stoic and let you think that nothing you say can really get him. You don’t teach your opponent how to wage war, so he would go to great lengths to conceal such weaknesses from you.

[zmwrites]

Tag: Questions From Sleepy

AKA, @sleepyowlwrites Wants Me To Answer These Questions to Satisfy Her Curiosity, and I Am Obliging

1. What is your ideal setting for focusing on your writing?

Hahahahahaha. There is no magic formula, unfortunately. But I tend to write best late at night when I'm too tired to critique myself, but not so exhausted that my words stop making sense. For many years that was 1am-5am, but now that I have to wake up at 7:30am every day, I do what I can on my phone between 11pm and 1am.

2. What is your favourite genre to write?

Fantasy! It is very rare I'll write something without some sort of magic, because I have been born into a world where I cannot cast fireball and I refuse to inflict the same misery on my characters. Also with fantasy, I can fudge the details on politics, geography, and... everything else related to world building. That way I can write instead of researching forever.

3. Do you prefer to write on paper or digitally?

Digitally. When I was younger I wrote on paper, and had binders and notebooks full of writing, but now I find typing is easier. I wrote most of Remnants on my iPad (which has since died, RIP), actually. I do most of my writing on my phone now that my iPad is gone. For some reason, writing on my laptop feels like too much pressure and I can't get much done.

4. It’s the middle of the night and you suddenly wake up with an idea, what do you do?

If I think it has potential, I'll either write it down in a Google Doc on my phone, or text it to my friend Nat. Usually I just roll over and go back to sleep, though. Middle of the night ideas are never as shiny as they first appear.

5. Who is your favourite person to write about?

Women who seem to be full of rage but are actually full of grief. There have been many iterations across many WIPs, I don't foresee the type disappearing from my work.

6. Do you like making your own characters or do you write about real people?

I make my own characters. I can't even write fanfic bc I can never get the characterization right, never mind trying to capture a real person.

7. Have you ever written a book or story with more than 15 chapter or 100K words?

Yes. Remnants is 153K words, and Indigo Wars Book 1 is currently sitting at 139.5K words after several rounds of editing solely focused on making it shorter. I am a chronic overwriter, so in my eyes, the people who tell an entire story in under 100K words are the real wizards.

8. How often do you get ideas?

It depends! Sometimes I won't get a new idea for months on end, and will just chip away at my existing projects, and other times I'll have four new WIP ideas in a day. Most don't go anywhere and return to the creative compost pile, but they're always fun to play with.

9. Do you ever get an idea that you really like but can’t seem to ever finish?

Most of them. But that's okay, they're still percolating. They'll get there when they're ready.

10. What is your least favourite plot?

I think almost any plot can be done well if the author loves it enough, but I'm not generally a fan of anything that ends with a woman who explicitly said she didn't want children getting a "marriage and a baby" ending. I don't think enough women are allowed to be happy without children in fiction. As someone who's always told "oh you'll change your mind" when I tell people I don't want kids, it's very annoying.

[trilies]

tldr, proship is the idea that if you don't like a fandom thing, just block/mute the tag, don't read the fic, etc etc, anything that is not harassing another person. Antiship is the idea that whatever you are into in fiction is a reflection of your irl interests and thus if you ship, say, teacher/student, then you are dangerous and should be made to Stop.

the full three course venison meal:

So in ye olden days, but especially on tumblr, you would tag your ship hate with anti-[that ship] for a mix of reasons - to keep your bitching out of the ship/fandom tag for people to mute (so that no wars started) and to find other haters. That's fine, that's basic tumblr etiquette.

However, people generally agree that shit got Real Bad with the Voltron fandom, where a huge ship war started to rage. The kind of ship war where animators and VAs were actually targeted - one guy was sent *death threats* - because one side wanted their ship to be "canon".

And if it was that bad towards the *actual people involved in the show*, then the fandom atmosphere was at least twice as bad. It only got worse when Ship A's side decided on another argument for their side:

You couldn't ship Ship B, because that was *pedophilia*.

Now, not only was this a rubbish excuse to start with, but it was all the more rubbish because, iirc, the two characters in Ship B didn't even have ages stated anywhere, and Voltron is about people in the space military finding giant robots, so, y'know.

Anyway, so that only made things worse, because now this wasn't just a matter of "your ship sucks and is OOC" but "your ship is IMMORAL too!!!!!!".

That meant a person not even IN the Voltron fandom would reblog a non-ship fanart from a Ship B artist, but then get some jerk from Ship A's side in their inbox screaming at them that they were actually supporting the art of a "pedophile".

....Because the Ship B artist shipped two vaguely young adult anime men.

Now, some people thought these were some god-awful vibe s- even if they were Ship A types themselves! So to signify that they were not that kind of terrible toxic "anti-shipper", no matter what they did or didn't ship, they came up with a name for themselves. A show that they followed older fandom trends of "if i don't like it, I'll block/mute/ignore it, not be a dick at other fans".

Anti-anti.

....But that sounded really dumb, and everyone knew it, so they changed it to "pro-shipper".

You know.

The opposite of anti. Because that's how the English language works.

Voltron may have ended, but it was a large fandom and that terrible fandom practice had cemented itself - both by the active dickhead fans of Ship A, but also passively, by people who *wanted* to be Good People (tm) and not do terrible things like "support pedophilia" but hadn't, like... really critiquely thought about how shit the whole thing was, or didn't know that pedophilia is 100% not shipping two vaguely adult anime men.

(And everyone kind of falls victim to that to some degree - I won't pretend I'm wholly innocent on that either, I've just matured after some experiences of my own, but enough of that)

So large fandom meant lots of other people to take that sort of terrible fandom practice to aaaaaall the other fandoms and, indeed, general internet fandom at large.

And it's very tantalizing! No one wants to be a "bad person", after all, and "encourage" whatever terrible thing the other ship supposedly "encouraged" (abuse, pedophilia, incest, etc). so it took off, especially with people who were still on wobbly fawn legs when it came to certain respects of social justice.

....Except one of the core problems with the ideology is that it was always founded on making up a shitty lie for a ship that people just plain didn't like because they didn't like it, no other reason, and that carried through everywhere else it went, too.

Ship-hate with a shallow veneer of social justice, using All The Right Language.

That's how you get "child-coded" because a character doesn't have watermelon boobs. Or "it's incest because they're childhood friends". Or "it's racist to ship this white guy/brown dude because, uh.... the brown dude is clearly just a stand-in therapist, yeah".

"You can't ship this literal child with this other child, because the boy was a brat to her once, and so that means you're saying abuse is fine."

These are all real excuses I've heard, by the way.

Because anti-shipper excuses are, well, just that - excuses - that meant its meaning was always a little *wishy washy* depending on the anti in question and what they were trying to spill. For example, I've heard some antis claim that it was only ever "anti-underage". Bring up toxic ships, and they try to claim that isn't a part of it at all. Anti-shippers are for convenience, and so "anti" is "anti whatever is convenient for them".

(Some even say it's "anti-proshipper", which is fascinating to me.)

In contrast, I'll say *generally* proshippers always stick to a more consistent meaning for their own label: being anti-harassment in fandom, blocking the shit you don't like to see, etc.

....Now.

I'll admit I *don't* know who first came up with the definition for "proship" that translated into "problematic shipping". I cannot guess at the reasoning there. However, that is so against basic English language that either they're not very bright.... *or* it was someone who purposefully decided to twist the meaning.

Considering how antis lied about a ship being "pedophilia", you can't deny that second option is a possibility.

After all, it's more convenient if the person arguing against you is a "gross person who ships abuse/incest/underage/whatever it is you don't like". If they *aren't*, if they too are a basic vanilla shipper who still thinks you are a creepy jerk who can't follow basic etiquette, well...

One side looks more reasonable and sensible, and it's not the side you're on.

Better to use the "problematic shipping" idea, if only for one's own ego and saving face.

ANYWAY THERE'S YOUR FULL VENISON MEAL i also used to not give a damn but then I got accused of lying about being a CSA survivor because I said "a character's age isn't judged by her boobs, that's stupid" and called slurs because I suggested a person block a ship tag, so then I deep dived and have seen So Much Shit,

hope that helps, @sonaspectrum

I'm starting to find evidence on twitter of antis encouraging each other to shun friends and family for not being one of them and I am deeply concerned. This is some cult shit.

"should I shun my friend for being proship even though they're my only irl friend?"

"Should I shun my mother for being proship?"

The answer to both of these is GET HELP. You are being brainwashed into thinking that your friends and family are dangerous when you know that they wouldn't hurt anyone. See a therapist, take some time off the internet, reevaluate your situation. Fiction does not take precedence over your loved ones.

I'm tagging this with "antis please interact" because I think they need to see this too, and hopefully it helps someone. Your loved ones are not dangerous because of their taste in fiction.

[from-the-clouds]

YOU ARE THE BEST WRITER FOR KENDALL! My heart hurts and/or is so full with each of your fics! Can you do a HC or mini fic of an angsty fight between Kendall and a GN!reader and how they both would come down from it? Please!!

tysm!! of course! <3

The two of you don't fight often, but when you do, it's explosive

Kendall comes home from work angry, the door slamming behind him, in a mood.

Even though you don't work with him, he often opens up to you about everything going on at the office, and you hear him out, and even offer him advice sometimes

But he tends to get really touchy when you're critiquing his business decisions, so his already sour mood just escalates and overpowers any type help you're attempting to give him.

Sometimes it turns into a full blown argument between the two of you, screaming, pointing fingers, both of you throwing out your best insults, fueled by rage and frustration rather than the intent to get to the root of the issue.

Kendall definitely the type of person to say some really shitty things during arguments that can be super hurtful, as he tends to be super reactionary to any type of feedback - even if it's constructive.

"Can't you just support me? Like, why the fuck do I even keep you around if you're going to make me feel even worse when I have a bad day?"

His whole life has basically just been being shit on by his father and family, so he goes into defense mode and is unable to hear you out, even though you have good intentions. You know that he doesn't mean what he says, but it doesn't mean it's not hurtful, or that its any excuse for his behavior.

But you know him well enough to know that after a big fight what you both need is space.

Like he'll lock himself away in his office or his bedroom

He has the tendency to be a little self destructive, too, so even if you're still mad, you're just thankful he's staying in the house and not trying to leave to go get drunk or high

The plus side of his massive penthouse apartment is that you're able to retreat to the bedroom that's technically 'yours' even though you usually stay in his.

You're upset, you're mad, and you know that the advice people always give to couples is "Never go to bed angry" but there is no way the argument is getting resolved tonight, so you cry it out and eventually go to sleep.

You don't sleep well, but when you finally wake, and get ready for the day, you're hoping that Kendall has already gone to work and you can deal with the aftermath tomorrow. But instead, he's in the kitchen, cooking breakfast

He greets you casually like nothing even happened, and after you give him the side eye, he's immediately apologetic

"I couldn't go to work without talking to you first."

"I'm so sorry, I was such a fucking ass. You were just trying to help me."

You apologize too, as you aren't completely innocent, tentatively accepting his and letting him wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back, both of you a little teary-eyed

He knows you deserve better, feels like you deserve better, but you stay with him despite all his flaws, and it means more than you could ever know.

[thebluester2022]

Farmhouse [Part 1 out of ???]

Note: So, I know that I made an Itto fanfic literally not too long ago [Don't worry I still plan on updating it every now and again seeing as it's a short story!] But I also had another idea in mind at the time based off my current obsession with Stardew Valley! The game is hella fun and seeing as I've created a whole mini-story over my farmer, I wanted to bring it to life!

Not to mention- the game is so packed with lore and small little details that really bring the story of Stardew to life that I just couldn't help it~

So...even though my account is mostly based around anime and Genshin Impact, this account at it's core is still revolved around stories in general so that's what I intend to do with this account!

So without further ado? Thanks for checking out my story 'Farmhouse'!

~~~~

Synopsis: Life in Zuzu City was...stifling, to say the least. Quite frankly, you've lost track long ago as to how it exactly got this way, it seemed that it was just yesterday that you started waking up and working a boring 9 to 5 desk job. Intense wars and uncertainty raged outside of those stifling mega-corporation office walls, hopelessness within' that place bred as quickly as a disease. At least, until you remembered you had a one-way ticket to a new start.

Warning(s): Angst, Mentions of Depression and Suicide [Mostly when Shane comes into the picture], Slow-burn Romance, Gender-neutral reader(?) [It's not really a self-insert though? The reader has their own personality and wishes that are similar to the original personality I gave my farmer], Suggestive Themes [In late parts], Smut(?) [Subject to change if I suddenly feel like the story doesn't need it or I'm too nervous of my ability to write smut to even attempt it xD], (More warnings to possibly come as this story goes on?)

And per usual, critique and comments? Likes and reblogs? All is appreciated!

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[9:00pm :: Zuzu City, Location :: Grandpa's House]

It was a sad day that day you remember...your immediate family, friends, and even people you haven't even begun to hear of have come to witness your grandfather in his final moments. Sometimes he had the energy to joke around and laugh, playfully saying that he was happy to leave this world and stop having to pay the bills. Other times, particularly the ones where people would walk up crying, he'd remain silent and simply offer them a smile and the strongest grip of their hand he could muster at the time.

You watched it all and tried to remain strong, your mother was already trying to comfort your father for he was losing his only father.

You remained strong...up until it was your turn to go up to your grandpa's bedside and look at him.

Oh...he used to be such a jovial man. Full of life, hearty laughter, and many stories that you couldn't even begin to believe!

Stories of magic, witches, and wizards, fighting against dark monsters and hustling goblins out of their duties. As a child growing up, you would listen with your eyes filled with wonder and question about whether or not those stories were really true! Especially the monster part, while witches and wizards and strange races were a common thing in your world.

Monsters? You've yet to see such a thing!

Those memories...they served to help you keep your smile up until you finally arrived at your bedside where you found it particularly hard to keep your tears at bay.

"Grandpa..." Your voice whispered, having to remove your round glasses to quickly wipe away the tears that threatened to fall.

Your grandfather remained silent through the minute-long ordeal, allowing you to grieve and process your emotions before he finally chuckled quietly once he assumed you were done.

"Don't cry now...be happy! Or, well, attempt to...you have a stressful job don't ya?"

You nodded your head with a scoff. The job was indeed stifling, stressful, and back-breaking. Hell, you could've sworn that one time, you saw a skeleton in one of the cubicles at your job. No one bothered to clean it up nor mention it so...you thought it best at the time to not mention it either. After all, in this life, that was the motto. Mega corporations called the shots, you were just a piece in the game they wanted to play.

"Grandpa, let's...let's not talk about my job...kay?"

He nodded his head weakly. "Yes, yes...I wouldn't want to make you feel jealous of the fact I'll never have to hear of those big corporation bastards ever again."

You gasped. "Grandpa!"

"Bah, calm down, I'll be dead soon. Let me curse."

You rolled your eyes as you held his hand.

Cold.

Death's door was near.

"Now-" He coughed a few times. "-Listen to me Y/N...there- there will come a time where you will no longer be able to stand your workplace. Truly stand your workplace." You slowly nodded your head, wondering where he was going with this.

"You'll long for something different, to be someone different. A fresh start almost...so..." You allowed him some space to reach over to a nightstand right beside himself, opening up a drawer before he pulled out a single letter.

When you took it, you were about to open it until he quickly stopped you. "No, no...keep it closed...only open up until that time comes..."

You tilted your head, you were curious of the reason of why he would tell you this. To be honest, you were tired of your job now! You longed for something different but...you'd honor your grandpa's wishes. To wait for that moment when you truly couldn't stand your job anymore. To the point where you felt like your head would explode if you stayed at your job a second longer.

You'd honor his wish.

You'd wait.

[3:00pm :: Zuzu City, Location :: Joja Mart Corporation, Your Office Cubicle]

That night had been nearly three years ago. You were twenty-six now. For all those three years, you had been waiting for that exact moment that your grandpa had told you to wait for to open that letter. That feeling that only a dead-end job with no hope in sight nor the distant future could provide. The feeling where you'd feel like you'd either explode or maybe even cause a ruckus, anything to get you out of this job.

You waited for that feeling.

And...just as you moved your mouse to hover over the 'Send' button to send yet another email to your boss, you felt it.

That feeling where you thought you were going to explode at any moment if you continued to remain and suffer at this job.

Three years, they still haven't removed that skeleton.

It was getting cobwebs now and you swore the ghost of whoever died there was haunting this place, resulting in the depressing atmosphere whilst an annoying beep played in the background. The beep that reminded you of an annoying alarm clock was the one that told you to keep working, the green light with a sound that reminded you of caged birds was the one that told you to take a break.

Well...'break'. It was barely long enough for you to get a drink of water, a measly three minutes tops. Maybe five if it was a holiday.

You slowly looked behind you to see if the Head of this floor was watching.

No, he was busy talking to some secretary. Entranced by the young man's flashy smile and eagerness to please.

You scoffed, you wouldn't fault the secretary for doing anything to get a raise in this place. But that man? Based on what you've heard, he was a demon who gave no mercy and exploited people ten times worse when they attempted to exploit him.

Nevertheless, it was the opportunity you were waiting for as you turned back around and opened one of your desk drawers, your grandpa's letter hidden away safely amongst the paperwork and manilla folders as you blew some dust off the letter and tore it open.

You cleared your throat as you quietly read the note aloud.

My dearest granddaughter, Y/N,

If you are reading this then I have passed on. This letter is to state that I am passing on my pride and joy, the Kami Farm. It is located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast of this region. It's the perfect place to start your new life.

My girl, I know you will do the family name well. You'll do well with this farm, it was my most precious gift after all and now? It is yours, good luck Y/N.

Love, Grandpa.

Your eyes threatened to bulge right out of your skull.

A farm?

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[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words. 

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

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