#im TOO emotional over these two duos

[kafka-ohdear]

do you ever think bubbles & croz are a softer version of malark & muck.

[malues]

HAIII!! I was super fixated on LOTS during my exams and it almost cost me. But it helped relieve stress at least :D ANYWAY. I got stuff I wanna say, and it’s nice to have a main creator’s opinion. But pls correct or change my headcannons or anything, I do like accuracy. :p Apologies if this is long (I literally hv no other ppl to talk ab LOTS stuff like this with)

I see Michael and CB always hv sharp teeth when rlly upset, and I interpret CB’s lil bump in his teeth as a fang. Is that a good interpretation to have? I like the idea of those two being an intimidating sharp teeth duo

Semi-related to above, I like to think operators and their patients are very super similar. Like they’re sort of fated to be that patients operator for a reason yk? Like Michael and CB mirror each other a lot in their own way, yet are so opposite. And it seemed that PB was clean and stuff, but his operator wasn’t (rlly cool mirroring). Crown and Sean just compliment each other and get along great. I’m also mostly fixated on Michael’s and CB’s dynamic, Michael and CB being a complete mental mess in their own rights, and little things like Michael likes rabbits and CB bunny ears jokes :> I also like the idea CB holds a form of resentment cuz his friends get chiller operators and he was instead locked up for months.

Also Michael seems like the type to get over-stimulated and lash out, or collapse onto herself. Would she pace around? (If so, I like to think she holds her pinwheel top still cuz it’ll spin from the air yk and it would be more over-stimulating) Does she pen click when frustrated? Does she chew? Or does she mess with her pinwheel pieces>

I also like the idea that CB throws tantrums and is prone to unintentionally lashing out, he’s over-energetic and he can’t help it. Like he lashes out at crown and his operator. Would his lashing out come from stress, fear or anxiety?

I think that’s mostly it. Uhhhh my only complaint is you should’ve made PB cry in episode 1c, I wanna see TEARS lol

Ok thank u! I’m excited for more episodes, livestreams, videos and whatever else u hv planned ^.^

I LOVE ALL UR THOUGHTS!!! ill try to answer these without giving too much away

the fangs/bumps in a characters teeth is less of an actual trait and more of a little thing i draw whenever i feel like itd be funny to show on screen, but more detailed interpretations of that are fine by me!

the relationship between operator and patient is really hard to explain, especially in a general sense. i wouldnt call it fate COMPLETELY but the patient that an operator is assigned isnt COMPLETELY random either if that makes any sense. im happy u noticed the similarities between cb and michael, and we'll get to see a lot more of their relationship as the episodes go on. both of them are very prone to lashing out if in the right context but for their own reasons. the lashouts originate from a lot of mixed emotions, but i think part of it comes from both of them thinking "Why am i stuck with this asshole?"

also i agree that i shouldve made pb cry in 1c. when faeb did those lines i was taken aback cause i didnt expect him to sound like hes on the verge of tears!!!! but i guess it makes sense

thank you for your kind words!! im excited for everyone to see whats next for the show

[ashascoven]

❃☆ showering w/ the pyromaniac rat man ☆❃ pt. 1

☆ so hi!! um!! welcome to my first fanfic lolz (im nervous about posting this can you tell ?!?! o(*°▽°*)o)

☆ im rlly new to posting on tumblr, but ive been reading fanfics on here for a WHILE!! it's inspired me to write a silly one about my favorite lanky robber <3 if theres any mistakes, PLEASE hit my line abt it (i beg)

☆ here is part 2, which is smut/nsfw, also on my profile!

☆ FANFIC DEETS! junkratxreader ☆

reader is a female who's known for working with plants

VERY lengthy build-up fanfic (LOTS of reading, buckle up yall)

fluff??

emotional stuff, but nothing intense (??)

first time writing an australian accent, pls lmk if anythings weird!!

hope u enjoy :,D

“Hggshmmshh.. peeaachh c-c.. cobbler.. mmh.. eeheeheeheh!! Piee..”

“Dammit! Move over, rat-ass!” 

You felt as if you had finally managed to doze off only a couple minutes ago. 

One second you're about to drift away into a somewhat decent sleep, counting flying sheep and letting your drool start to fall.

The next, you're getting whacked in the head with a metallic hand or shoved by a wooden peg in one of your sides.

Having to share a bed with a loudly snoring pyro-freak who reeked of gunpowder and body odor was not a promising night of rest, especially in a room of pure humidity and sweat. 

The mattress beneath you two was unbalanced and squeaky, the walls surrounding it adorning overgrowing vines and tears in its paper.

His twisting, turning, n’ noises didn't make it any better, but it was kind of reassuring in the sense that you weren't sleeping alone.

When was the last time he even showered anyway? 

Does this man know how to?

How does he sleep like this?

The more you questioned the Australian in your head, the more his body managed to keep sprawling across the queen sized mattress you two shared. 

Both his normal and prosthetic limbs jabbed at your back, his armed belt straps and gauntlets not contributing to your comfort whatsoever. 

“Fucking- MOVE!”

You gripped at the bed and gave him one kick in the ass with your bare foot. 

The maniac yelped himself into a giggling fit, somehow still remaining asleep. 

God, what's his secret to being such a happy sleeper?

With one last scoff, you nearly pushed him off of the bed, but you didn't think twice about it.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your previous position with your back facing him, crossing your arms and trying to let your eyes close again.

You thought about the mission you two were given together, recalling it hundreds of times in your head to hopefully quench at your inability to have a comfortable sleep.

Back at one of those Overwatch HQ meetings, they discussed wanting to try something new while still maintaining everyone's duties. 

Experimenting with how different heroes and scientists worked one-on-one with one another for “observational purposes,” they said.

Gibberish about increasing the rate of productivity within our cause by cutting down our dispatched team sizes.. 

“More groups of heroes can get sent out on more missions if distributed differently..!”

Blah-blah-blah..

You ignored all of the blabbering at the time, your ears only ever being open for what sounded most important and intriguing.

“It'll be an educational experience for great future references-” 

You reaaaallyy didn't think you'd be in one of the duo dispatches, yet here you were, somehow still in the flesh.

All that was asked of you both was to keep a watch out for anything suspicious at some abandoned town in the middle of who-even-fucking-knows.

Wooden huts n’ houses that were falling apart, yet they somehow still formed and held a small community of humble elders.

Supposedly, this place was a possible target of some well-feared terrorist group, and “Grandpa Jack” wanted you two to scout.

Discussion about exposed plans for making sure as many innocent people as possible experienced war “too” made your blood boil. 

It didn't make sense to you, the whole “no pain, no gain” mindset.

Clearly these people chose to live all the way out here to get AWAY from the danger, why force that on some old people anyway?

With their lack of clean drinking water and functioning power in an empty desert, you were sure they've already seen enough.

“Haven't we lost thousands of innocent civilians already? Omnic or not, they can't just keep coming up with all of this frivolous shit and throw it at us..!”

You grumbled to yourself outloud, unconsciously turning to face the ultimate rat that was laying behind you.

“Why would they send us here if they KNEW there were people out here who needed help? Wasting precious time by sending two of us out here instead of a whole team is beyond me, honestly! We'll just keep getting killed and..” 

Your eyes ended up catching onto your distorted reflection on the goggles that Jamison wore to bed.

It made you trail off and unball your fists, causing you to think about the old people again.

You thought about how much you were gonna get onto HQ's ass to seek a better home for them all.

They were sweet to you and Jamie, and you were pretty sure he would try to take one or two to keep as parents of his own.

Considering he didn't have any living ones anymore, it would check out.

Your eyes wandered off onto the flickering of the dying light bulb hanging bare off the ceiling.

The bulb hung right behind mister sleeping beauty, holding on by torn wires.

You were surprised your sleeping partner hadn't managed to somehow pull it down in his sleep yet. The thought made you smile for a bit, letting your face rest.

Then, your hand reached up to Jamison's face. 

You didn't think much about it since your mind was more on other things still, but you unconsciously held his cheek.

You watched as he smiled in his sleep, gently putting his own hands on yours and nuzzling into your touch. 

The feeling of his rough palm against your skin along with the metal of his other one sent a chill through your body, but you didn't pull away.

Just looking at him resting like a baby put your mind at ease for a bit.. It helped calm your grumpiness from not being able to sleep these past few nights.

It’s been the longest mission yet, and also the first one that you’ve slept together with a person you were sent with.

You ran your thumb over his lightly chapped bottom lip, your mind finally winding itself down.

You two had somewhat of a record of being assigned missions together, but you were never as close to each other as this. 

Something about the way your silly acquaintance slept carelessly in front of you was strangely inviting.

You swallowed your emotions and repressed your urges to suddenly hug the rat man, drawing your thumb lower to his chin. 

You ran it over his speckled face hair, still letting him hug your arm. 

“Mmmmh.. G-gosh, so.. so waaarmm..! waarmm like a maarshmaallooww.. eheeh..!!”

He chuckled in his sleep as his hugging turned into more aggressive snuggling.

It made you wonder if he'd remember anything once he woke up.

Outside of those thoughts, you were heavily caught off guard.

You didn't know if you wanted to comfortingly rub at his hair, continue holding his face, or try to hug him entirely.

Internally? You wanted to do all of those things, but it didn't feel right yet.

Despite all the deep talks you've had with Jamie on the drives and flights to missions together, you guys were still just friends at work, right?

Would it be weird to treat a friend as such? 

Did he think you two were even friends?

You always had a tendency to overthink the simplest of things.

Questions would fog your mind the split second a minor inconvenience popped up, you struggled to help that “problem” all your life.

Yet, your time spent with him so far made it feel like your questioning wasn't a problem at all. 

You always wanted to know the specifics and the “why” or “how” in anything that interested you.

Jamison was similar. He fed into your talks about figuring out what's after death, your master-list of alternatives to milk JUST for enjoying it with cereal. your wonders about what being an omnic felt like, and even your rambles about plants having feelings.

He was so invested into the plant talk that he now avoids stepping on anything green to show you that he cared about nature's heart too.

He admired your outlook on everything, the way you approach things by being your real self.

He also liked that you didn't look down on him for having an explosive personality. 

Everyone else at HQ had something against the lanky robber, but you didn't hate him at all. You two matched each other in the way that you were both transparent and almost always had a fixation or a story to share.

His eyes practically turned into sparkles whenever you two got into your deep conspiracy talks because no one else bothered to entertain his yappering about bombs, especially with mutual ranting about something else.

It was nice, soo..

You guys had to at least be friends, right?

“Mate! Earth’s waitin’ for your grand return! Ya aren’t dead yet.. Are ya, plant woman?”

Friends.. Yeah. You thought you two were cool buddies for all it’s worth.

“Aye! I knooow, me charmin’ physique’s too much to take in aaall at ooonce but-!”

It’s crazy how you were thinking about his eyes sparkling because.. Huh, how come they’re doing it right now?

“I can’t have ya dyin’ on me yet.. Ain’t no doctors around to come and shock ya awake!”

Gosh, who knew the local bombardier had such a twinkle to his eyes anyway?

“Is yer brain workin’? Want me to.. rewire it for ya?”

Twinkle.. twinkle.. twinkle..~

“Well, she’ll be apples! Ya goootta snap outta it mate! What is it ya want this time? An autograph? Some lollies? Aye! Aye..!”

You were so zoned out into the thought of his eyes, you didn’t even register that you were now actually looking at them; he had woken up.

Your hand was still on his face too, but he wasn’t hugging it anymore. 

His robotic right hand was knocking the top of your head lightly while his skinned left one was holding your cheek. 

His facial expression was one of concern despite his messy blonde hair and some drool glistening off the side of his mouth.

With the way he clearly scooted closer to you, you two were actually really close to each other this time.

“Woaahh.. Ooh.. Oh..? OH!!” You froze up again, covering your mouth and (almost literally) getting knocked out of your trance.

“Whew!” Jamison sighed in relief.

“There's me’ plant woman! Turns out me charm was too much for ya to handle afteraaalll!” He chuckled, quickly shifting into a lounging model pose and striking you a sly grin.

“O-Oh.. Oh my gosh! H-How long was I like that?” You panicked a little, wiping sweat from your forehead and quickly rubbing it into the tail of your shirt.

“Since me eyes opened up! Let's say.. ‘bout half a’ hour?”

“H-half an hour?!?”

“Yeah! Are ya alright? Did ya think me eyes were THAT gorgeous?” He chuckled, rubbing his chin. 

“Pshh..” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms once again.

“It’s alright if ya think so! I think so too! But, ya aren’t allowed to tell me fans that! Ehehe~!” He grinned, suddenly wrapping his arms around you and jokingly snuggling his head against the top of yours.

“E-eugh!! Fans my ass! Wait until they find out that you probably don't even wash yours, you stinky!” You exclaimed, trying to push your way out of his arms but to no avail.

“S-stinky?!?! Hey-! There's a’ supa’ top secret special essence in me junker way o’ livin..! T-the cleanest ya'd ever know!! How 'bout ya take a smell~!??” He challenged, immediately shoving his arm pits in your face and keeping you in his grasp.

“GOD! Quit it!! You smell terrible-! Ugh!!! Let me go right now!”

“Nuh-uh! Hatin’ on me wondrous magnificence ain't nice!”

“Your breath's gonna kill me, you bastard! Agh!! You literally need a bath!!!” You were muffling into his arms, trying to push him away even harder. 

You managed to push yourself upwards, but you still were trapped in his grasp as he giggled n’ snuggled away. 

As much as you hated to admit it, his silliness was really comforting, charming in it's own way even.

Yeah.. he didn't smell the best, but!!.. He was kind of fun to be around. It was hardly ever boring around the rat man.

“Fine, whatever,” You sighed, no longer fighting to leave his sweaty arms.

“Your eyes are.. nice to look at. Anyway, I'm tired and somehow comfortable in this position so if you move weirdly, I'm pushing you off the bed.”

He loudly gasped, his eyes widening and sparkling so much so that you could've sworn staring directly into them would've blinded you.

“Y-ya really m-mean it?!!?!! A-about.. me eyes?!? OoooOOoohh~! I.. H-How I could jus’ kis-”

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his head. His face was buried into your chest while his arms were still around you.

You felt him freeze, his immediate blush against your chest practically able to burn through you. He didn't scream or pull away, just sat there for a bit, shocked at someone hugging him back for once.

You sighed out again in content, now leaning your face on top of his head. His hair felt surprisingly soft against your cheek, but he still smelled bad.

“God, you smell so terrible.. but.. you're kinda.. comfy and..- Okay you're actually very comfy what the hell.” 

You gushed, your leaning turning into you practically snuggling against his hair.

The rat man stayed frozen in his position, shock taking over his body. For once, it wasn't one of those triggering shocks that turned his trauma into adrenaline; it was a.. refreshing kind of shock? The kind that was making him realize how starved from affection he really was for so long.

He felt like a deer mesmerized by headlights.

“If only you didn't move so much in your sleep, tsk tsk.. I can totally get over the strong burnt tire smell for how snuggly your hair is thoug-”

“Ihh shay..”

He suddenly muffled through your chest, but quieter than his normal tone.

“Eh?”

One of his fingers twitched.

“..Ihh shay shihh!”

“Fucking- Get out of there and spit it out!”

You pouted, pulling his face out of your chest’s cave to look him in the eyes and hear him properly.

“I-I’ll stay.. still! m-mighty still.. i-if ya keep on.. rubbin’ that pretty face on ma’ skull.. p-please? please mate!!”

‘Absolutely the fuck not!’ is what you almost instinctively said, but something about this weird man’s vulnerability around you gave you a feeling his request wasn’t ill intended. 

He nudged you into a softer tone towards him for the night, so you silently raised a brow. He kept pleading, his sparkling eyes bouncing between you and the rest of the room.

“I-I ain't had anyone.. touch me ‘air, l-let alone me whole body i-in years! Feels comfortin’- so- i- uh- p-please mate! i won't be buggin’ ya’ rest any longer i-if ya felt kind ‘nough to.. perhaps grant me thee honor-!?”

“I’m doing it, so hush up.”

“Y-yes m’lady”

He quickly blurted out, before burying his face back in-between your chest with a relieved giggle.

“Hah, for someone who goes by being a rat, you're sure acting like a puppy right now.”

“Y-ya really think so!?”

“Yeah sure, but- hmph, the ‘junk’ part still applies. I'm so close to dragging you into a bath myself..”

“>:(“

“Wait.. This kinda gives me an idea..” 

A mischievous grin growing on your face as you mumbled to yourself.

“Whaddya say?”

He grumbled, oblivious to your scheming. You slowly tried pulling away from him, but to no avail.. He unconsciously scooted closer into your arms with each pull.

“..nothing, ratty-poo.” 

You pushed him away quickly with your hands now gripping his shoulders.

“A-ay mate! W-whaddya push me away foorrr? I was enjoyin’ me time in there.. :(“

He yelped in response, his arms now crossing with a pout.

“No more snuggling until you take a bath!”

“W-whuh!?”

“I'm not cuddling your hair until you wash it.”

“..noooo :((“

“No shower, no snuggle!!”

“:(((... Fine..”

“W-wait- You're giving in that easil-?”

“JUNK ATTACK!!!!”

He yelled, diving back into your chest with his arms around your waist once again. You scoffed, not cuddling or holding him back.

“Rat-ass.”

“Y-yes m-m’lady..??”

“I'm giving you five seconds to get off of me, or I'll kick you off.-”

“N-no!! P-please mate!-”

“I'll go and grab a bucket of ice cold water to throw at you so help me you don't mov-”

You've never seen a tall grown man back up to the edge of a bed so quickly.

“GO.”

You yelled, pointing violently at the bathroom door.

“NEIN!”

“I SAID GO!”

“NO!”

“You want more cuddles from me, right, ratty-poo..?~”

Your tone softened as you twirled your hair and pleaded your eyes at him.

“I- u-uh- y-yes m-m'lady but-”

“THEN GO BATHE!”

He whined another ‘no’ in response, crossing his legs and arms while looking away.

You sighed, before crawling across the bed and hooking your arm around his.

“Lord.. What am I gonna do with you..”

“W-well I- AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“GET YOUR ASS IN THAT SHOWER JAMIE!!”

You yelled again as you held him in a headlock position.

As he whined, you held him there for a bit, thinking.

“Hmm..”

“You l-let go of me t-this instant mate! T-the junkers back in me home town w-wont be pleased with how you're behavin’ towards me greatnes-”

“What if we took a bath together?”

“-and once they find out what you've- huh-!?!”

“You and me, we bathe together. I'll literally help you clean up if it means you won't stink in bed.”

You said casually as you quickly faced him towards you and dropped him onto the bed. He landed on his back with his arms above his head while you sat on top of him.

Questionable position if you may, but you dare not complain about the view.

He was too in shock to notice it either.

He stared at you wide eyed. 

He opened his mouth and put a finger up to say something multiple times, only to close it with more thought and look away, his finger curling up and down with each pause.

He thought about the offer for the long time.

Then, he rubbed his chin. You watched carefully, not letting your guard fall in case he felt like randomly wrapping himself around you again.

“Hmph.. if t-that’s what it'll take.. then I suppose a.. mighty handsome fella like me.. wouldn't mind bathin’ with a.. pretty.. f-flower woman like you!”

“Uh huh..-”

“B-but under one of me’ own conditions!”

“.. you're what now-”

��Bath cuddles?”

He clapped his hands together in a praying motion, pleading with those damn sparkly eyes again. It's like he just does it in command at this point..

“God, what are we, a couple?”

You yawned with closed eyes. 

“I-I.. W-well! Your one an’ only gentleman of’uh bombardier wouldn't complain!”

He nervously smiled and blushed, his gold tooth shining comically as he said that.

It earned a giggle out of you, followed with covered mouth mumbling.

‘You’re so silly, it's kind of attractive..’

“Whaddya say, me’ pretty plant-y mistress?”

“I said, you're so silly, it's kind of.. u-uh- cool-? I guess??!? I don't- Mistress!?- I- W-whatever- C’mon, let's go! Into the baaathh we goo..! C’mon c’moonn..”

You spurted out, getting up and dragging him by the arm into the bathroom. 

You didn't really think through the fact that.. this man would be so close to you while you two were undressed.

Oddly enough, he didn't give the vibe of someone who'd try anything, but it was still weird. 

One second you're forced to share a bed with this guy.. And the next? You've convinced him to take a shower with you??? Weird..-o!!

When you two made it, you both kind of just stared at the bathroom and each other for a minute. 

It was a decently sized room, but the entirety of it was a shower.. literal shower room?.. whatever.

There wasn't a sink or toilet like the bathrooms you were used to. 

Instead, there was just one large shower head in the center of the room, a drain in a corner, and tiles that patterned the floor and walls in a creamy gradient. The two handles for the shower were next to the doorway, labeled for their temperatures.

There were also two slim windows higher up on two walls facing each other, slightly cracked for the steam.

The only light you guys had came from either these windows, or from the doorway to the room you shared, so it was acceptably dim.

Some vines creeped through corners here and there, but it was surprisingly much cleaner than the rest of the hut you guys stayed in. The non-direct warm lighting really set the vibe.

As you turned both of the handles halfway, you watched in surprise as the rat man happily stripped at whatever he had on, going for a dive on the shower floor as if it were a kid’s waterslide with a ‘yippee!!’

It immediately followed with a groan of pain from him, and a reactive facepalm from you.

With a sigh of ‘Oh, what I'll even do with him..’ (ironic), you quickly undid your hair and stripped off your clothes while he wasn't looking.

He swiveled around right as you finished, watching in awe as you awkwardly shuffled onto the floor next to him with a travel sized bottle of soap and a mini loofa.

“S-ssheesh..” he gaped, “what a beautiful woman..”

“T-thanks, b-but don't look too hard, silly guy.” You joked lightheartedly and rolled your eyes, your initiative agenda from before going out of the window because of the attractive man in front of you.

The hot steamy water combined with how it washed away some of the rat man’s dirt made his revealed skin slightly harder to not drool over..

..but you fought any urges or sudden fantasies you had right then and there. 

‘It’s just the lack of sleep getting to me,’ you quickly scolded yourself in your head, ‘.. there's no way I shoul- COULD see him like that, yep..’

“You're.. not too shabby yourself..” You muttered to get it out of your system, painfully controlling your hands from wandering. Thankfully, he probablyyy didn't hear you. 

With that, you were getting to work with your soap on his arms, trying not to think too hard about the man before you.

“Caaan I have me cuddlin’ time with ya noooww, plant womaaan?”

“Noo! I just started with you and I'm not done yet, rat-head.. Be patient n’ be quiet.” You grumbled, finishing his arms and scrubbing his back like a concerned mother.

“Pleeeaaaaseeee…????” He covered his eyes and whined as you made way to his torso with your loofah. The scrubber was barely holding on and you weren't anywhere near finished..

“Don't make me tie you down in here just to get you clean, bastard..” You threatened, moving from his back to his front side. You held at one side of his torso, scrubbing away.

He moved his hands from his face to his sides, looking down at you with that puzzled gaze once again. You glanced up at him with a raised brow before looking back down at your work.

You weren't actually all too irritated. Tired, yes, but it was actually kind of destressing being able to work your hands at something like this. 

You were also literally.. bathing a grown ass man, but you'd be lying if you said anything about preferring to be at home, bored and alone.

At least this mission gave you some kind of purpose, and alongside an entertaining goofball as well. It could be much worse, but it really wasn't bad at all which you liked.

Suddenly, he started patting your head, a close eyed grin on his face.

“Oouuhh… M-mate, ya know.. Thanks a lot for this! I appreciate ya’, I really do!”

“Don't sweat it, poo-face, you were already sweating enough in bed anyway..” You chuckled with another playful eye roll.

“If you weren't gonna bathe yourself, something had to be done for BOTH OF us to catch some rest for the mission, and goddess KNOWS I can't sleep with a loud stinky man..” You responded mindlessly, gently grabbing his face by his jaw and scrubbing his neck.

“It gets.. hard sometimes,” he threw his head back with a sigh, “I know I'm supposed ‘tuh.. do it all me’ self but, I lose me’ mind to the world o’ bombs!” He chuckled.

“You don't say…” You coughed with sarcasm, still listening and cleaning. He's used to your personality by now, and he knows you never really mean any harm.

“Oh, but I do! Even with me’ prosthetics, it jus’ makes it harder n’.. I could never fancy the time to.. uh.. keep takin’ em’ on n’ off..”

“..It bugs me, the pain, it's a reeaall.. buggin' feeling, both in me’ arms n’ legs.. n’.. the mind. It does somethin’ to ya, makes people call ya crazy!” He gestured by wiggling his normal arm, then his robotic one in comparison. 

You put his arms down like an annoyed cat, but you weren't actually annoyed, just trying to reach over him to attempt washing his hair.

“..but really ‘m not.. I.. I just resort to.. expressin’ what takes it all away.. and uh! bein’ me!, ya’ kno- Aauh.. T-that feels.. holy..” He cut himself off, sighing in relief. You had bowed his head under the running water for you to better reach him, unknowingly giving him a more direct view of your bare chest. 

“A-Anything to take me’ mind off the.. A-ahem-.. the uh.. rot.. the distinct feelin’ of not bein’ the same as everyone else.. anymore.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly trying not to stare as he spoke, but you didn't think much about it.

“People stay clear of me all the time! N’ they think I don't be noticin’ b-but I do!” He ran a hand through his hair after you moved down to his legs.

“It hurts, but.. I just keep doin’ me’, I try not to stay in me’ past, live for me’ mum, n’ keep it movin’!”

“Oh! That's also why I like ya’ mate!” He smiled, throwing up finger guns.

“Whuh- Really?” You looked at him.

“Yeah! You don't treat me funny for me’ quirks! You always seemed like.. a couple screws loose in somebody’s noggin never bothered ya’! Me’ motors don't drive ya’ wild, do I?” 

“Pshhh… You definitely drive me crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm never down for a wild adventure with you, rat-ass.”

“See? Ya’ get me! I know your tired n’ all, n’ I'm sorry for takin’ away from your beauty rest like this but..” He scratched his chin and sighed, looking to the side.

“Thanks mate, r-really..” He mumbled, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around you for a genuine hug.

“I- U-uh-.. Your.. welcome? All I've done was treat you like.. a normal human being? As you.. should be?” You awkwardly hugged him back, confused.

You pulled away, your hands on his shoulders.

“Despite our friendship, I don't know what it is you've REALLY really been through, but no matter how tired or over it I may seem, I still think you're hella cool of a guy.” You warmed up to his hug, patting his back.

“Whenever you wanna chat about.. literally anything in the world, you know who to come to, silly.. Seriously, don't ever sweat it.” You smiled and yawned, going back to washing his upper body off for a second, more gentler time. 

You were surprised he didn't question the hot water in hot weather or how quickly it managed to cool you guys off. It was definitely making you more sleepy though.

“T-thanks, plant woman..” He wiped away a tear, sighing with a contentful “aah” as you tended to him. He leaned back, taking in the feeling of your care.

“Ya know, you're reeaaal good at this.. are ya’, perhaps, experienced ‘n bathing other people?” 

“Wh- This is.. how baths are meant to be taken, no?”

“T-together??!? Mate, I’d kill to have this luxury of bein’ cleaned by ya’ like this all the time!!”

“Whuh- No! I m-meant.. the soap and water, you fucking peanut.”

“Ooh.. W-well!” he pointed a finger up, “I don't care ‘bout standin’ under some lousy water for a’ hour! But.. ya’ make me want to if it means you'll be the one cleanin’ me!”

“You're an adult, Jamie.”

“Don't forget me’ prosthetics-”

“They're literally waterproof sealed..”

“How would ya’ even know that!?”

“You told me this in our past rant sessions, twice I might add.. Something about avoiding radiactiv-”

“Screw you, mate! ( ` ﾛ ´ )”

“..You probably would though. (>ᴗ•)”

☆ if anyone actually makes it this far, tysm for reading!! feedback is 100% welcomed and appreciated <33

☆ i promise ill get the smut out for this eventually.. ill also make a pinned request post soon!! with graduation coming up, im a bit busy :((.. BUT ITLL ALL COME!

☆ ^^ update, here it is!!

☆ enjoy ur day/night yall! eat, stay hydrated, and keep loving junkrat fr ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hey. I think Killer and Error duo is being slept on. Dunno what dynamic they may have (don't have any thoughts) but something about these two makes me think that they'd get along (or at least, they would get along after initial first impressions)

Yeah, I think so too maybe. I also think that other than Color, Error is the one who actually encourages Killer to talk shit and complain about Nightmare with him.

Now im not too familiar with Error’s canon lore as of right now, but im familiar with the idea that he’s kinda a man child and sometimes had a tendency to throw tantrums.

I can see killer being uncomfortable (unsettled, nervous, confused, on edge, scared) by any huge displays of emotion, especially if they’re about or directed towards him, but he’d die before he admits to anything like that or expresses any genuine emotion and he doesn’t have the words to express any of it anyway because he doesn’t understand emotions or himself.

Killer’s more likely to decide that “something error does is influencing the soul/the body to behave differently and so I should stay away from being controlled” rather than anything like “this makes me uncomfortable.”

Because killer doesnt see himself as experiencing emotions in stage 2, and “himself” is in his mind and away from the body (which allows him to not really care what happens to the physical form so long as it operates well enough), he just thinks it’s the body behaving weird. Couldn’t be him, he can’t feel anything.

But I can see error trying to tune down the huge displays around killer eventually, maybe after a particularly huge and somewhat destructive tantrum of his drives killer to distance himself away from him. (Error seems rather lonely, and I doubt he’d want to lose his fellow nightmare-shit talking buddy.)

And another thing is that Error has issues with being touched, and killer relies on touch to determine if something is truly real or not.

And, uh, his stage 2 self doesn’t really understand boundaries naturally (or, a bit more accurately, he doesn’t see how they effect him) and therefore he can disrespect them; a lot of the time because he needs to tell if something is real or not or he’ll lose his damn mind again, other times because of a sense of curiosity or his deep seated need for control. He has a tendency to be like “boundaries for me, not for thee”—and we all saw how he manhandles swap.

So I can see just spending a lot of time just silently staring at error with his big doe black eyes while error yaps on, silent. And killer can’t really see shit well due to the goop from his sockets, so staring holes into error’s skull doesn’t make him seem any more real.

And of course error understandably flips his lid when he’s suddenly touched out of nowhere without his permission, probably stringing killer up in his strings and holding him up and away so he won’t touch him again. Only for killer to calmly slip right out of them because the strings don’t really affect him.

It’s gonna be like pulling teeth to get killer to explain why he did that, so this will probably be another period of rockiness in their relationship. Killer simply doesn’t like letting others know anything about him that he doesn’t want to willingly give, anything about his motives, genuine thoughts, goals.

And he doesn’t see what the issue is, although he recognizes that error is upset. He’ll probably say something to calm error down, something like “I won’t do it again,” without fully understanding the problem simply because, once again, the displays of emotion are making his body act weird. He doesn’t like the “control” error has over it. Killer knows how to people please and fawn when he needs to.

I don’t think he’ll willingly bring this interaction up with color to ask his trusted person to explain to him why this was an issue—simply because killer’s stage 2 self doesn’t often seek out emotional connection due to plain indifference and disinterest towards most people.

He doesn’t really care at this point if error doesn’t wanna talk to him again—just means that less chance of error’s emotions controlling his body again. (It’s the schizoid tendencies talking girl oh no he has headphones in he can’t hear us!!)

But color, being the absolute chad he is, recognizes that killer really needs more friends than him and error probably does too honestly. So instead color gently spends some time trying to encourage killer to just show some trust in others for once, and explain why he needs touch.

It takes awhile. Killer doesn’t get why he should explain himself to anyone that doesn’t have power over him, and no thank you to the idea of expressing himself. Color points out that error was willing to tone down the intensity of his outbursts, willing to adjust himself for killer’s comfort, because he wanted killer’s company.

Killer says error just wanted company. Not his company. Color gives killer a look and says, “being lonely and wanting company isn’t weakness.”

But it probably eventually happens. Color helps him write down the words, perhaps writes the definition for the derealization that killer was experiencing.

From there things probably get better for them. Error explains his phobia, killer says color told him he’s not supposed to touch people without permission. Error says he doesn’t give permission, and killer is quiet for a moment, before saying, “ok.”

Maybe they work up to it, maybe they never do. Error gives killer a mini doll of himself to squeeze whenever he starts doubting reality—probably because killer keeps forgetting he’s supposed to ask before touching but always stops himself mid way.

Error can see that killer is trying, although he doesn’t understand why it’s so hard for the guy to conceptualize the idea of boundaries. Does he not understand that saying no is a valid option? Regardless, killer is willing to listen when told no. Even if he clearly doesn’t understand what the big deal is. (If only killer had learned this lesson before meeting swap)

And they will of course what Error’s telenovelas. Or Error will watch them and ramble to killer with character analysis, headcanons, and theories while killer struggles to stay present and not become completely dissociated. The cats will lounge around in the beanbags with them.

I think it’ll be a very long time before killer feels safe enough around error to allow himself to be in stage 1–he will leave immediately as soon as he starts shifting over—but for now they’re both content with keeping things more surface level.

Kidnapping will become a staple of their interactions. Some days error will just snatch killer right up regardless of what’s he’s doing or saying and killer can escape easily but instead he’s just like, “new episode again?” Nightmare throws a fit whenever error takes killer while he’s trying to talk to him, which amuses killer so he allows it simply to spite the boss.

Sometimes ink is there too. Killer doesn’t know why or when they came around, but he’s there! Ink apparently likes drawing killer and error a lot. Ink comments that’s he taking all this in a surprising stride, and killer’s like..”pal, most days this just feels like a fever dream.”

Ink likes making and giving killer drawings of what happened that day out of hopes itll help it all feel more real to him.

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.  

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over. 

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink. 

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.  

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question. 

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.  

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object. 

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.   

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.  

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional. 

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him. 

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him. 

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers. 

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either. 

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters. 

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong. 

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation. 

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst. 

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again. 

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.” 

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.  

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”  

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

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[museofthepyre]

Im gonna ramble about Jedidiah and Sydney. Bear with me. This is a queer platonic sydidiah advocacy post.

The sydidiah dating arc feels so doomed to me and that impending doom casts a massive shadow over any nice sweet moments we have gotten/ might get… it’s so heart wrenching and devious from a writing standpoint /pos

Sydney and Jedidiah are like two trees who were planted too close together, not even of the same species. They’ve grown in sync, twisting together and fusing while the bark was still soft, weaving around each other until they’d become inseparable. Two separate trunks become one messily intertwined form, and they brace each other’s weight— if you cut one base, the other would topple. And yet they can’t survive together… they strain their branches upwards to compete for the same sunlight, every time one forms a sufficient canopy of leaves, the other ends up cast in the consequent shadow. One is always in the shade where it’ll starve, where it’ll wither, where it’ll deteriorate and take the other down with it when it falls.

And their attachment styles are so opposite from what we’ve seen… (My analysis here, some inference)

Sydney understands love as presence and affirmation and re-assuring words and touch, he needs a hand to hold like a ship needs an anchor, otherwise he’s just left to drift at the mercy of his own insecure mind. He talks about wanting something equal, I think a lot of that has to do with emotional vulnerability— he’s spent so long in a relationship where he’s an emotional mess in ways he can’t control, meanwhile Jedidiah is so… reserved. The contrast would make anyone feel burdensome, othered, isolated… even in a relationship that is loving deep down. I think so much of their poor communication/ secret keeping comes down to Sydney feeling like he’s being “too much”, or disproportionately emotional, which… is true, there is an imbalance, but it’s not Sydney’s fault. “I used to talk to Jedidiah about everything, but… I mean, he’s not just an endless well of support for me to dump all my issues into. Your friends shouldn’t have to play therapist for you, right? So I don’t really need to make him listen to all my bullshit anymore.”

Jedidiah understands love as the knowledge that someone is working behind the scenes to keep you steady, that they’re carving out a space for you to find respite in… wether you see them doing it or not. That’s what his parents did for him, that’s what he does for Sydney. He doesn’t want to get too close to the things he loves, because he fears he’ll only hurt them. He regards Sydney like an old childhood stuffed toy that he’s afraid to pick up and sleep with, it’s so precious and irreplaceable that he doesn’t want to risk damaging it… and so he holds it for only long enough to put it on a shelf for safekeeping… maybe brush the dust off once in a while.

They both need to seriously seriously SERIOUSLY a work on their communication if they want any hope of being healthy together— even if just as friends. Jedidiah needs to work on his emotional vulnerability, and Sydney needs to work on his self-assuredness… bro is the poster child of anxious attachment. And Jedidiah is the poster child of avoidant attachment. What a duo we have here! Idk they make me sad.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Micah x Javier x bill is so weird but im so curious, what do they think of each other?? Who’s big spoon and who’s little spoon?? Is it an actual ship or what???????

“Is this an actual ship” made me laugh a bit. Idk! You can put names together and call that a ship in my mind.

Opinions of each other:

- overall, dislike each other but the shared experience of being socially unsupported gay/queer men brings them together.

- Javier -> Bill: out of the two, he has the least beef with Bill. He tolerates Bill’s lack of tact and at worst he’ll punish Bill for being an asshole to him. Javier will lend Bill some patience; talk with him and ask how he is.

Javier likes making light jabs at Bill, which sometimes go over his head or land and annoy him. Whatever pairing they have going on, Javier gets a kick out of prodding Bill. He has no fear of Bill’s retaliation because Javier knows he could out smart or out maneuver Bill. ♥️ he likes his men a little doofy. (Maybe that’s why he and John are friends).

- Javier -> Micah: this is a curious pair because you’d think Javier would hate Micah, but Javier tolerates Micah enough to not initiate squabbles with him. It’s only when Micah prods him with insults/racism that Javier won’t hesitate to knock him down a few pegs.

They work well on missions and can be amicable when drunk. Watch the camp interaction of them drinking together, they’re a giggly duo. Javier is the listener to Micah’s yapping.

- Bill -> Javier: hard for him to admit it but he does respect Javier. Bill being ever the social shrimp doesn’t know how to go about it so he kind of loudly (and embarrassingly) blabbered about how Javier is so intimidating and makes grown men piss their pants.

His anger in life is misdirected outwards and Javier gets caught in the crossfires because of Bill’s racism and swiftness to pick at any pickable part of Javier’s person.

Though they have ups and downs (many downs), Javier does save Bill from bounty hunters and would even do it alone. Javier has saved Bill’s ass too many times to count. This further builds on the respect and debt Bill feels he has towards Javier.

He has periods of emotional maturity and is like “heeeeyyy, so I was an asshole and drunk and I don’t actually mean what I said. I’m just a god damn fool and I say things I don’t actually mean and I don’t know why—“ and Javier just waves him and says it’s fine, and do not get himself so worked up.

- Bill -> Micah: Bill doesn’t get micah but Micah has flirted with him enough times to tell Bill something is up. He is desperate for validation and attention and if Micah, the asshole who eggs on his hot head, is the one who offers it then so be it.

When they have a common goal and aren’t bickering, they’re pretty good as a pair on missions. Micah complains how Bill lacks tactic and speed, meanwhile Bill complains Micah lacks patience and foresight.

I’ll just say it. They both want their dicks sucked so bad. They are desperate and they are staring each other in the eyes because they’re the only two men who drop hints of being gay (Javier is good at hiding his queerness; it goes over Bill’s head).

- Micah -> Bill: like Javier, he prods at Bill except instead of harmlessly, Micah actually tries to get a reaction.

Micah and Bill get along when drunk but instead of micah talking and the other listening, they both sort of talk drunkenly. Bill understands the conversation even less than when sober, but he is far more honest when drunk and more capable of being vulnerable. Pair that with Micah being drunk and you get a combo that leads to a gay admission of needing some sugar.

Micah also just likes Bill’s laugh… he likes hearing Bill make a fool of himself. And Micah makes a fool of himself too so it’s not so imbalanced.

- Micah -> Javier: they spit and bicker. Micah sees through Javier’s fancy clothes and sees a vain man who clings to authority for guidance in life and value in his person. Micah is similar and hates seeing that reflected. Again, misplaced anger.

When drunk tho, Micah is so much kinder to Javier. While micah is in no real debt to Javier nor is he especially amazed by Javier’s skills, he can see him as one of the guys who can take his insults and not immediately walk off. He likes a man who can take rough treatment and still punch back (it’s hot).

There is so much sexual tension when drunk. Micah tried to be intimidating and get in Javier’s space, but Javier doesn’t back down and it means they’re now just close together and drunkenly whispering and hot in the face. Kiss already.

- The Triad (F of a Feather): I bet the three of them were camped out on a mission one time and got to talking while alone. Assume they all had some sort of sexual tension before this point on their own individual pairs. Now they’re eyeing each other like it’s a stand-off… they all thinking “I’m the weirdo here for having fantasies about the others. I’m such a perv.” Little do they know that they are ALL desperate closeted gay men!

Cuddle politics:

Javier is spooned by Bill or Micah.

Micah is spooned by Bill.

The other two can try and spoon Bill but it’s hard. It turns into laying on Bill’s chest.

They rarely cuddle as a trio. They are a polycule but look like pairs and then one third wheel. (they wouldn’t call themselves a polycule or a couple. Idk what they’d call it. It’s just an agreement they have that they are all hungry for the other and there is no jealousy to be had because “none of us are dating.”)

Who is the pair and who is the wheel changes and had no cycle. Micah is most likely to go off on his own and leave Javier and bill to be bromance buddies.

And that’s roughly what I have. It’s a lot.

[softspace-fics]

Knowing

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

A/N - I haven't posted in a few days but here's something I wrote in the midst of a bad mental night. Alot of my stories represent what I feel and there's times where I put it onto characters because it helps to know your not alone. If you ever feel alone please know you can always message me.

Masterlist - All my work!

This is not a age-re post!⚠️

On a separate note, Im currently working on a request! If any of you wouls like to request a story or work please ask!

Warnings ⚠️: Panic attacks, mentions of eating, bucky crying, Steve comforting bucky, mentions of hydra, mainly angst but some fluff, romantic duo, mentions of showering, mentions of what bucky endured being a hydra agent

Please read with caution!

_______

Bucky could tell something wasn't right. His ability to breathe and his brain felt as if they were working against each other the entire day. Nothing felt right, and nothing was fixing it.

He tried everything he could think of, he showered, he tried to sleep, he ate, he watched things he thought might help, nothing worked. But he tried.

Eventually he found himself on the corner of the couch in a ball with his knees to his chest. Every memory of his time at hydra flooding his head, and his mind attacking him. Every thing he had to endure, and everything he made others go through.

The murder, the harsh conditions, the making of his precious yet horrendous metal arm, attacking his own significant other, who he had been in love with since they were kids.

He didn't understand why Steve stayed, or forgave him. He didn't understand how he wasn't seen as a monster, and he didn't understand why he had people around him who still loved him so dearly.

"-cky, Bucky baby come back to me. Hey, look at me." Bucky looks up at Steve, confused, and almost lost. When did he start to cry? Why did everything ache?

Steve gently pulls bucky to his lap, cradling his head as he rocks his partner. Gently kissing the tears off his face and letting bucky soak his shirt with his tears.

Steve knew the moment the house was too quiet, that there was no sound of music or a show on, that something was wrong.

After living in his head for so long, Bucky would almost always be listening to music or watching something to help him be in the present instead of the past.

But there was always those days, where nothing he did would fix it. Nothing would change the ache and hurt, until Steve had him. Until he could smell, hear, see, touch and practically taste his cologne on his tounge.

The feeling of Steve holding him close for as long as Bucky needed, how he knew what Bucky needed more than he did.

Steve knew these days were going to end up happening for the rest of their lives. He knows that there will be days every so often where Bucky cant do anything without him there by his side.

Steve also knew that he would do absoloutely anything for him. He would reassure him until his last breath that it wasnt his fault. Steve would spill his love over and over again until the end if that meant that Bucky would smile.

Steve would give up all he owns to make sure that Bucky never has to go through what he once had to, to make sure that he could get to Bucky as soon as he could when these days hit him.

These two knew, in the moment where bucky could do nothing but cling to his lover in hope that the emotions and hurt will eventually subside for the minute, that there was endless love and care in the way they just knew.

[sea-lanterns]

im sorry but after seeing that post where who fights for the empress to sit on their lap, made me squeal. specially shenhe and the shogun, like what you said both are upfront and stoic and they are also homocidal. i feel like that a perfect duo right there

What I love about the Empress AU is that we get to make certain characters interact with each other even when they don’t in the game. Shenhe and the Shogun are a perfect example of this, as we get to see their personalities interact through the harem.

Both are stoic, blunt, and quiet women who have homicidal tendencies to do whatever they want. When these two interact, it’s usually extremely quiet, until someone makes the first move. Shenhe could suddenly grab your hand and then the Shogun will immediately grab the other. The Shogun could bridal carry you to your bed and Shenhe will try to one up her by holding you up above her head.

Luckily, things don’t get too dangerous, but this quiet jealousy is rather cute considering both of these women rarely express their emotions. They’re like two giant guard dogs who really want your attention but will walk over the other for it <3

[stripeydnp]

my live phukbang thoughts

- dan making the joint smoking hand motion definitely means they have partaken now.. god i wish they would make a high video even tho ik they never would

- the love between phil and the they’re touching joke (knee verison)

- DAN DOESNR KNOW WHAT RANCH IS?????????

- oh god as soon as they said ipad i knew what was coming

- finally an official hashtag

- i was excited to see their reaction to their own underestimation but dan had to use “horny”.. i mean…

- dan calling him dear 😭😭😭 waa

- daniel needs to scrape his tongue (me too)

- THEY WENT TO GREECE TOGETHER? DID I KNOCK OUT AND MISS SMTHN? also the bracelet story is so funny classic dan moment

- phil so embarrassed by his bad purchase LMFAO CATFISHED he’s right tho dan would’ve laughed his ass off

- jump off “the bed”…. hehe

- AAHHAHAHA DAN IS SUCH A PRINCESS WITH HIS OH NO 😭 he needs his attention 👑

- forced to sarcastically say friend of the year meant to sarcastically say boyfriend of the year

- i love these two twinks who thirst over muscular men together but only want each other

- 🥹 phil wanted him to be happy more than anything. him feeling lost :(

- all of dans accomplishments and then phil saying he developed chronic illness in the middle 😭

- i’m sorry i let dystopia daily flop daniel i just couldn’t get into it 💔💔

- awww them just doing it for fun with no pressure is really what made it shine!!! their off the cuff banter and humor is what i love most ❤️ and it is always excellent in more casual videos

- this is getting me emotional they love us again

- IM SO HAPPY THIS TOUR IS GONNA MAKE THEM SO HAPPYYYYY YAYAYAYYYY

- pls pls just make more casual videos forever babies pls pls pls don’t script it more pls pls 😭😭😭😭 but make more viewers choose my outfits and do duo fits

- WE ARE SO BACK!!!!!

i love fhem

[p5x-theories]

I imagine the game will make them get along and I see them get along too, but thinking about Makoto and Riko, if Makoto knew there was an alternative version of her that is more rich, smart and way better handling her problems and role at school than her i think her first reaction would be hit a wall with her head. I care about Makoto but damn girl has issuses and Im curious about how she would realistically react to Wind since she seems quite flawless or at least way better than Makoto at hiding her problems

I hope once the game gets popular in the West we will have more fan content to those two (and the other 'duos') interacting because it could be a interesting dynamic that cant be explored in just a game event

I think it's kind of unfair to say Riko's smarter and "way better handling her problems and role at school" than Makoto, just flat out? I don't think someone who's "way better at handling her problems" suddenly starts talking about how no one really cares about her, she just has to calculate her social interactions based on fulfilling what people want from her, and her way of thinking is kind of sad, right in front of two childhood sort-of-friends, and a recent acquaintance, haha. Riko approaches her problems differently than Makoto, and has a different mindset in general, but she's far from flawless. Her Persona awakening is preceded by her telling her teacher's Shadow to kill her so the Shadow isn't electrocuted to death. She seems to regard herself as more of a tool than anything prior to that moment, and after Katayama refuses to kill her, she literally breaks down in tears about no one ever really loving her.

It's sort of Riko's whole thing that she bottled up all her emotions about anyone or anything, and focused solely on trying to be the perfect heiress, because she was convinced that's the only way anyone could ever even pretend to care about her. It's not really "healthy" or "handling" the emotions to ignore them entirely and pretend they don't exist, that you want to live like this. Makoto's struggles partially revolved around feeling useless and unable to live up to expectations, while Riko's poor coping mechanisms revolved around her belief that all she was is her various uses to other people.

Not to mention, we're not even done with the arc focusing on Riko yet, and her Confidant hasn't even been added to the game! We have a much better familiarity with Makoto because we've seen a lot more of her; we've only just started to see past Riko's facade. And I hate to say it, but if you think Riko's flawless and perfect, I don't know if you've even looked past that facade yet, heh. But there's plenty more to learn about her from here, as well, I'm sure!

That all said, I am looking forward to them interacting, probably in the Pyramid Chapter! You're right that a collab chapter isn't enough to really get in-depth with their interactions, but I'm optimistic that they'll at least have an interesting conversation or two, like how Ann and Motoha bonded over avenging their respective best friends. And I hope more fans explore their interactions (and anyone else's, not even just the "duos" between the two games) eventually as well, because I love seeing that kind of thing!

[fruit-sauce]

im so happy other people have the headcanon of “qsmp eggs look like their parents + start looking like the people they hang most around” because i’ve had that idea since like. day one of the eggs lmao

i’ve only drawn dapper, but! i have many design ideas that i wanna write out (bc i might forget them lol), if you have any questions, feel free to ask them, I love talking about my designs, they are weird and silly and i love them all, i promise i will not be upset if you ask something i will instead by very happy

first, each egg started off basically as a blank slate (this is all with human designs in mind), just whatever is their defining detail but also pure white clothes, white hair, etc. but the more they hang around their parent(s), they go through a transformation and then look like their parent(s), typically after an emotional/impactful moment, like how pokemon evolve in the anime

second, to be more specific, every egg has different “Styles” that match each of their parents, as well as a few having mixes of parents (the beginning 8 [except Tilin and Dapper] and Richas w/ TazerCraft) called Duo Styles. All these Styles represent and resemble their parents in some way. 

Still, these Styles can change over time, fading when a parent is absent, or warping to fit the people (not their parents) that are around them the most. This came from the idea that BBH takes care of a lot of the eggs very often, even being referred to as another parent. but what if he hangs around them so much they start to look like him,,, as an example, now that Tallulah sees Phil as her father figure and wants him to refer to her as his daughter, she technically has two Styles, Wilbur and Phil, but since Bad takes care of her so often, tiny details start to change. most obvious, her eyes are becoming lighter, like Bad’s pure white eyes, as well as the tips of her fingers and fingernails creepily starting to turn into the charcoal black that Bad’s skin is. 

Warping to Styles can be stopped if the egg accepts the person as their parent, in that case, a new Style would be made, and the previous Styles revert to being not affected. 

Negative relationships with eggs or even between egg partners will reflect in the egg’s Style, for example, Mariana and Slime’s... thing they had going on? It showed in JuanaFlippas Duo Style

---------------

this is gonna be an entire essay, i’m sorry, but now its full on ramble time of each egg, some things will be vague, i’m just too lazy to try and describe it fully, while others i have more specific ideas that i wanna talk about ok lets get on with this mess:

-----

Bobby - Since he had such a close, positive relationship with both parents, Bobby has fully defined Styles of Jaiden and Roier, both having full patterns and even a bit of color in his hair. He also has a Duo Style, again, very developed, comfy, and stylish. As for any particular warping, he wore fingerless gloves (Cellbit), had yellow and green accents in his clothing (Mariana and Slime), and had slightly light eyes but nearly had his hands fully black (BBH)

-----

Chayanne - Fully defined Style of Philza, even to the point of having small crown shaped arm bands from his stories of Techno. As for Missa, his Style is less defined from not being around very often, but still very Missa, lots of bones and purples/blues. His Duo Style is more leaning towards Phil, but noticeably different from Phil’s Style. His clothing has soft yellow accents (Wilbur), a leather holster for his sword and one shoulder pad (Fit), and lately, his eyes are pure white (Missa Style already had pretty light colored eyes, but they’re now pure white from Bad)

-----

Dapper - He’s basically Bad’s mini self, I’ve already made a design for him a while back, but it needs to be updated. After Baghera, he now has a second style! Lots of soft, fluffy colors and textures. Owns a pair of sunglasses that he wears every now and then (Max), has some brown accents in his clothing and a dark grey glove on his left hand (Fit), horns have bright yellow tips, his shoes have purple accents, and his hair is braided back in Baghera’s Style (Forever), and his clothes have gold and diamond details (Foolish and Skeppy respectively)

-----

JuanaFlippa - With Slime’s Style, the ends of her limbs and hair were slime-like and green, and even had one of the slime creatures (?) that Slime has on his head and shoulder. Mariana’s Style wasn’t as defined, but still had the same colors and generally shapes. Her Duo Style was messy and vague, kinda like if you took the two main Styles and mushed them together, instead of being a third new one.

-----

Leo - Very defined Styles of Foolish, Vegetta, and Duo. Foolish’s Style has many gold and emerald details, and is comfortable to even swim in (because shark). Vegetta’s Style resembles Trunks/Bulla from Dragon Ball because haha funny. While not being a parental figure, Leo does have a Roier Style, with heavy details of Cellbit. They have semi-red horns (Bad), black accents in their clothes (Bad and Max), and fingerless gloves (Cellbit)

-----

Ramon - Duo and Spreen Style has nearly fully faded, but Fit’s Style, similar to Bad and Dapper, is very much like Fit himself. Lot’s of warping from Bad, charcoal skin goes up past his knees and elbows, horns are almost fully red, and eyes are also nearly fully white. He wears fingerless gloves and has a white streak in his hair (White streak earlier resembled Spreen, but is now closer to Cellbit’s hair)

-----

Tilin - Never formed a Luzu or Duo Style, and his Quackity style barely resembled Quackity. Bright purple eyes and accents in clothing (Jaiden), bright red accents and spider web details (Roier), red/white shoes and green under shirt (Slimcicle)

-----

Trumpet - Dan and Duo Styles vaguely resemble Dan at all, but it was still noticeable. On the other hand, Maximus’ Style was very defined. Had pure white eyes and red horns (Bad)

-----

Tallulah - Again, Wilbur’s Style resembles Wilbur exactly, even after all this time. She doesn’t use his Style since he left, but it’s still exactly how it was since then (aside from warping). She had HEAVY warping from Phil, but since asking him to refer to her as his daughter, she now has a Philza Style. She has a lot of colors in her clothing, im gonna have fun designing her (i say, through gritted teeth) Her hair is now a lighter brown, nearly a dirty blond, and is braided back (Forever), eyes are fully white, hands are becoming that pure black, and she has many black accents in her clothing (Bad), a white streak in her hair and some dark brown accents in clothing (Cellbit), previously had dark brown eyes, still has light brown/blue accents (Fit), previously had dark blue accents(Quackity, not anymore tho), and her horns are purple (Jaiden). I’m gonna regret doing this once I get to drawing her design but its ok i’ll survive. maybe.

-----

Richarlyson - Style for all five parents, Felps is the least defined but still there, and TazerCraft does have a Duo Style. He also has a Quackity Style, but that has been slowly fading since the arrival of El Quackity. Red horns and black accents (Bad), yellow accents (Baghera), and a few emerald details (Foolish)

-----

Pomme - Has five Styles, but Kameto’s is basically just a dark blue dress since he was barely there, all others are very defined. Consistently has bright blond hair in all Styles (Forever), red accents in clothing (Forever and Bad), and has some black accents (Bad)

-----

This is gonna be the death of me but I just needed to get these ideas and designs out of my head, I draw so slowly and I didn’t wanna forget anything so spitting them out in text form was my best bet, once i finish this kirakira precure drawings, i’ll start drawing these out, some of the wording might be confusing, i apologize, but it’ll all make sense once i draw them out

[templegate]

Why ate you brainrotting me into a ship that dosen't doesn't exist nooooooooo

Imposter×izuru my beloved

YEAH. I AGREE. Here I'll talk more about it and drag you deeper into the hole

I feel like im despair Izuru hated the Imposter because they had become a perfect imitator. Any of their actual personality being suppressed for the sake of imitation. Like a sort of Ego Death. Izuru hated it because it was too reminiscent of himself. But after the NWP I think they begin to bond.

I mean this is all headcanon-

but I always saw Izuru as a pretty subservient being. I mean the Hope's Peak people probably wanted a good amount of control over him. So he's not really an active person. Needing someone to point him in whatever direction.

Contrasted with the Imposter who is naturally a leader. They care a whole lot about people because they're so good at reading people. And despite their feeling that they lack an identity, they still have aspects that shine through.

Izuru is supposed to be a new personality. A metamorphosis after Hajime Hinata had been completely erased. But Izuru cannot seem to form an identity. Think about it. He never really has anything he cares about, people he cares about, likes or dislikes. Even his constant stating that hes bored is just a statement of fact. Not really said with any malice

While the Imposter is supposed to be nothing. Supposed to be someone who can become anything. And despite it. They have so much personality. They care about people, have a pension for leadership, love food and love their body. This isn't a person with no personality.

So they both fucked up what they were supposed to do. A person meant to be a void cares, and the person meant to care is a void.

That might be a source of jealousy between the two. It might not. But they're kind of polar opposites. The Imposter's understanding of people leads to them caring more for them. Willing to sacrifice themselves to save someone who they knew was dangerous. While Izuru understands people on such a deep level that he finds them boring. Disliking most people he interacts with and being generally apathetic. Being perfectly willing to sacrifice people around him.

And I think after the NWP, The Imposter starts to come into their own, since constantly pretending to be someone else is terrible for your mental health. They're not used to it at all. They take up a leadership role and kind of have a workaholic duo with Hajime and Izuru. Maybe the imposter also has a better time dealing with the Despair version of themself. Since they already are pretty good at compartmentalizing their identity.

While Izuru- I've spoken before how I think the return of Hajime Hinata to his headspace causes Izuru to like... Be able to be someone. Since the parts of his brain that were suppressed to destroy Hajime are reactivated- suddenly Izuru is like... Capable of feeling and caring for people, and having opinions and a personality. And i see them as a system too. So now Izuru is feeling all these things- is super overwhelmed and can't interpret any of them. And his headmate is there too and his emotions are even stronger.

And i imagine that Izuru has only one person who can possibly understand what it's like- The Imposter. So they have weird conversations with 12 layers of context and subterfuge. And then maybe they kiss as well.

It's literally because they are such great foils to eachother too. Like i wish it was brought up in canon cause they're sooooo similar and yet so different.

[genesislovers]

hi! can i request a denji x hybrid! reader who can turn into the death devil and he’s just like in awe of how powerful they are? thank you<3

hi ofc u can ! i think this is interesting because i haven’t seen much of the four horsemen but would like to know more.

im gonna do this in a hc style i hope you don’t mind 😇

- you two have been dating awhile and he is always concerned for u in battle

- his main goal of fighting is to keep u safe bc u give him food and a house

- first time he sees u transform he stops fighting and just stares

- after the battle he asks u a bunch of questions on how u were able to get so powerful

- due to his improper understanding of emotions he doesn’t know if he feels jealous or proud

- he would feel like you could do his job better than him and that he no longer had a purpose for fighting

- after many long talks and hugs tho he would come to the understanding that he wasn’t jealous of you, he was feeling proud of the way u can handle yourself

- he would probably think you looked rlly good beating people up too

- he would flaunt u around to power and aki like “hah my partners so cool”

- in all honesty he loves the way you fight and thinks you look amazing doing it

- he’s totally head over heels for u and he will admit it

- he would probably still be a little worried for u tho

- he also flaunts around how good of a duo you two are on the battlefield

- brags abt it all the time like “huh this devils super strong and killed hundreds of people? well me and ___ have it covered no sweat”

- he is a little slow so you’d have to come up with all the plans

i hope u enjoyed this it’s my first time writing like this so if it’s bad i’m sorry ☠️

[paraphwrites]

@carpediemma made a poll post about which characters would be who in an alice in wonderland au and none of the one's winning are the ones i want so i will now be justifying my thesis

alice - niko. above all else, alice must be curious and kind. she is also afraid, a lot, because she's in a wild new world - very similar of how niko is scared and in a new world (both ghost/supernatural, america, and a world without her father)

white rabbit - edwin. polite yet preoccupied, punctual yet anxious, obsessive yet unpredictable, always dressed smart... the similarities go on. and while i think some of their actions might not align entirely, i think there is a case to be made for edwin shewing someone along, insisting it must be done his own way

mad hatter - charles. playful, defiant to social norms, bit of an eccentric dress style! though charles is a bit less over the top, i feel that in the right environment, he could go totally mad. hatter has a lot of fun but there is this hint of despair to him which to me, entirely emulates charles

the dormouse - jenny. tired, confused, and underpaid, next question

the march hare - maxine. unpredictable, bizarre, reckless, excitable. not a huge character so not too much to go from but i see some loose similarities in the erratic nature - it's not that they're evil, it's that they're so invested in existence that they might stab you

please do not think of the implications of shipping the dormouse and the march hair i will not be held responsible for that

tweedledee and tweedledum - litty and kingham. petty?? childish?? looks similar??? guys come ON there is no more iconic duo in dbda! they're not very kind, they're not anti violence, they love attention- am i talking about the tweedles, or litty and kingham? you literally can't tell.

the caterpillar - tragic mick. appears when alice is uncertain and needs help, prompts her to reflect on her own identity. not particularly nice but is very helpful and kind, in his own way. calm, almost cryptic, slow manner of speech.

cheshire cat - the cat king. im not gonna explain this one

ok guys bare with me for the next two. they're kinda controversial. i could see them flipped and i did flip them many times but this is what i decided on

the duchess - esther. the duchess is abusive to her child (monty), but can be overly affectionate, as well. duchess is hella comedic in a dark way, she's got a fucked up relationship with power (duchess is a slave to the Queen, esther is a slave to the Snake), she's absurdly contradictory (like esther and her contradiction of wronging girls using lilith's gift)

the queen of hearts - the night nurse. the queen cannot see a way of life other than executions. i know she SEEMS hella emotional, but legit, i think it's more this desperate desire for feelings and sensations because she is so stuck in a loop of being listened to. the night nurse is similarly stuck in this loop of bureaucracy. neither are happy and neither have any true meaning to their lives. they both also seem to lack a nuance to empathy (nurse thinking ends justify the means so no need to feel guilty about the means, almost viewing finding the boys as a game in order to feel SOMETHING). neither would not survive a day in therapy

the king of hearts - kashi. foil to the queen of hearts, very minor character. gentle, soft spoken, trying his best, exists more in his own universe than anywhere else. the key difference is if they went to therapy, kashi's therapist would end up getting therapied, and king would just break down sobbing

the knave of hearts - monty. while if esther was the queen, maybe this would be more apt, but this is my analysis so i'll do what i want. the knave is a victim of absurd injustice, is somewhat sympathetic but ultimately a perpetuater of this same system. monty does the same thing with esther & her abuse. he is also young and handsome which, we've all seen joshua colley, i don't need to explain

the talking rose - crystal (with/pre-david.) haughty, mean, cruel, flirtatious. she's not a villain but she's definitely not on your side. she's critical, both of your looks, personality, and general vibe. but she's also just one of the many flowers, kind of how crystal was just one of the rich kids, not really doing all that much

in this version, i'd have when the flower's roots are freed be the same energy as the boy's getting rid of david. moment of self-transformation, free from curse. i will probably make a follow up post on how i'd do the plot, but i wanted to throw that bit on david out there.

[fatmaclover]

12,19 or 23 for mac :-3?

12: What's a headcanon you have for this character?

unibrow mac my beloved <33 if we're talking something more serious though i think itd be that hes got. COMICALLY gay music taste. fag club music is definitely his jam but hes got to get into gaga n shit for my own mental health. this is supported by the fact that in its a very sunny christmas (sorry to bring this ep up again) he literally has TWO rainbow jimi hendrix stickers on his closet door 😭 bud.... howd it take you this long youre literally making your own allegories 😭. sorry im gonna take this one to also say i think he should be More tatted up. rob you can rid yourself of your tats all you want but i know mac gets a tattoo for every boyfriend hes able to keep for longer than a week in my heart. their name right on his skin. this is Always what makes them break up with him.

19: A relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

i feel like "like" is a pretty broad thing for me. i can fucking despise something but it can still be interesting and i still like it. UNFORTUNATELY this is the case about mac and his parents. dear God actually a wretched family dynamic that attacks literally all of my insecurities with some of my own family. something about always making noise, always making a show but never being seen or heard really gets to me. the way even now mac makes it blatantly obvious what hes needing/wanting for emotional fulfillment, but his friends treat him just like his parents did because thats easier than sitting down and dealing with his issues. hes always been ignored so whats a little more?

theres a lot i could go into with this one. how being ronnie the rat was the only time mac would get seen, so of course he was incentivized to keep being a total snitch. how it seems that even joyce ended up adopting those methods against mac, being plenty apathetic towards things that were important to him (not even saying that her blowing him off is undeserved. its very much deserved even if its still a total dick move and heartbreaking that joyce would actively see the environment mac grew up in, and then decide to keep that cycle going for him). the way macs immediate family has interacted with him has affected. so much of his life that its insane. sorry that i wrote a lot about this one its just been on the mind.

oh i suppose i could also say him and carmen. i love you carmen i wish mac was normal you two would be unstoppable as a tgirl and her pet doberman fag duo. im glad youre happy just raising a kid with ur husband tho pls never come back and enjoy your life away from these freaks

23: Favorite picture of this character?

here are the jokey contenders oh my fucking god im sorry. theyre the like basic bitch mac images but theyre so fucking funny to me i think about them 24/7. literally whenever i bring up if im soying over something i want you to picture the second image thats what im doing

for a more serious answer, genuinely i adore nearly every scene fat mac is in. though i suppose the penultimate image of fat mac WOULD be the how mac got fat one

sorry hes like an angel to me here. in the grimy fuckin confessional n all.

i think this one is like. very easily first more than that other one but my shame makes it tied for first instead

sorry. ill stop. dont give me power by letting me post mac images i will empty my whole camera roll going "and isnt he so cute here? and here? and look at his smile here. and look how cute he and joyce are here" until literally every frame of fat mac or mac and joyce in frame together is posted.

fav img of mac and joyce together is them writing in mac and charlie write a movie. purely because i associate it with you and rambling about joyce and joymac for hours. without that association is the fucking cowboy photoshoot from mac and charlie die. sorry. basic answer there too