#its like something you find at 4 am lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shinysobi · 4 months ago

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pretty u

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

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

A/N: uhh..hi? this is the first time i've written rpf, and it makes all the more sense for it to be centred around woozi, my svt bias. this has no plot at all, and i just wrote it for fun and vibes...also unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes, no u did not :)) shout out to my twitter gc for cheering me on as i wrote this hehe u guys are the best

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

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 1

Whoever said that every love story is universal, was not lying, unfortunately. Every good love story is a mix of tropes that unfortunately work well together to form a coherent plot. And the longer you read books, the easier it becomes for you to identify (or avoid) these tropes.

The enemies turn into lovers.

The friends turn into lovers.

The inn only has one available bed.

Your brother’s best friend is somehow smoking hot and doesn’t see you as an annoying little sibling anymore.

Your one-night stand is your new boss, and he is inexplicably obsessed with you.

Your parents have forced you into an arranged marriage, and your partner is a. incredibly hot and b. also obsessed with you. You get the gist, so on, and so forth.

All love stories go for a trope that becomes the central conceit of the story, no matter how unique they try to be. The small-town girl/boy falls for the hotshot city lawyer/businessman/vague marketing executive and shows them the importance of family, and of course, of love, because without it, business is notoriously low. People need romance to feel something other than hatred in their already terrible lives, and books offer escapism. Escapism and on some other level, a sense of belonging. You can identify yourself with the girl who falls in love with her brother’s best friend, or the man who has feelings for his sworn enemy, or the person who has, surprise, fallen in love, with their best friend. Or their best friend’s brother. Take your pick.

And unfortunately, as a critic, reading romance implies wading through the countless reiterations of trope-y goodness on offer at every bookstore, and trying to find something that strikes a chord. It is a given, that one has to kiss some proverbial frogs in the meantime, and of course, any professional mishap has to be accompanied with a gossip session with one’s friends, where any complaints you might have about your work, is unloaded onto the brunch table, for my friends to laugh about.

Because at the end of the day, everyone is a character in their own kind of romance novel. A victim of the tropes, if you will. In my case, I am the perpetual single childhood best friend, who puts up with every single antic of the main character. In of course, an enemies-to-lovers romance. Apparently unrequited love sells too, if its written well. If not, then it just becomes one of many repetitive marketing gimmicks that frankly, don’t sit well with anyone, let alone someone like me, who critiques books for a living.

“It’s your attitude that’s a problem.” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you’ve been writing for the newsdesk for years and I have never seen you actually be satisfied with a book. There’s always something that could have been better. Maybe this is why you are so—”

“I am so?” I say, eyes narrowed, “finish that sentence, Jihoon.”

“You want me to?”

“Do you really have to fight every time we meet?”

Both Jihoon and I turn our head to the third person at the table, Joshua. Dressed impeccably in a freshly ironed pair of shirt and trousers, he looks far better than either me or Jihoon, because both of us look as though we have been through botched murder attempts. I am in a hoodie and sweatpants, and Jihoon is somehow worse than me, wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. His abandoned khaki bomber jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, but he actually looks worse when wearing the jacket. Joshua looks as though he has been seated at our table by mistake. I’m slightly annoyed by this, but it seems as though Jihoon is more annoyed than me, “what do you mean we fight every time we meet?”

Joshua makes a vague hand gesture, “really? Look at us. You both are dressed as though you’ve been through a typhoon. I feel horribly overdressed.”

“I had a long night.” I reply, “worked overtime at the desk for the Sunday paper.”

“I came here straight from the studio.” Jihoon says, “I didn’t even go home to shower.”

“See, this, this is what I am talking about.” Joshua groans, “both of you dress like homeless people, and then when you come to brunch, you fight all the time. Do you guys never get tired of fighting?”

“Never.” Both Jihoon and I say in unison.

Joshua sighs, before picking up his knife and fork, “I give up. I can never get you two to agree on anything apart from the fact that you guys, apparently, don’t fight.”

“She needs to quit complaining about her job.” Jihoon points his fork at me, “she’s got the cushiest job imaginable, and she manages to complain about it all the time. Every week, she’s here complaining about something at her job.”

“As if you don’t complain about your job all the time too,” I reply, not one to back down from a fight, “you complain about the people at your job all the time as well. And it’s not as though your job is shitty; you literally work at the biggest music corporation in the country—”

“Guys!” Joshua half-yells, and I stop. Everyone is looking at the three of us, and unlike the two of us, he looks embarrassed. “Guys, if you have to fight every time we meet, maybe I suggest we stop this weekly brunch. Jesus—”

“Oh, he swore,” Jihoon whispers, and I giggle, “we finally made him take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“—it’s like you’re kids all over again. This isn’t freshman year of university, for heaven’s sake,” he takes an elegant sip of his coffee, “and for your information, Jesus isn’t the Lord. I’m not letting you guys get the satisfaction of hearing me fucking swear.”

“Does he hear himself?” Jihoon mutters. “I don’t think he does.” I whisper in response.

“Yes, I’m aware I said ‘fuck’, thank you very much.” Joshua sits back in his chair, “I’m proposing to Eunseo tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jihoon yells, bolting upright from his chair, and everyone in the restaurant looks at us, “you’re proposing to her tonight?”

Joshua grabs his hand to drag him back onto his chair, “yes, tonight. Are you stupid? Everyone is looking at us now.” He looks at me, “what do you think about it?”

Oh. Oh.

Remember when I said that my role in a romance novel is that of the eternally-spurned childhood friend? The one who has loved the main character from a distance, never really daring to express their feelings? Well, I’ve not known Joshua since my childhood, we met at high school, and it hasn’t been that long since I discovered that I might have a tiny, the most miniscule of crushes on him. But I’m that trope. The childhood friend who gets spurned, and the main character turns away to the actual love of their life, leaving only a broken heart behind. Too little, too late.

Well, who wouldn’t?

He’s tall, good-looking, gentlemanly, with just the right amount of unhinged, has a good, stable, get-off-at-the-right-time government job, and above all, he’s unflinchingly kind to everyone. Yes, including me and Jihoon, even though we make his life a living hell on most days. Realistically, it was only a moment of time before either Jihoon or I had any feelings for him. And I was betting on Jihoon too. Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice is soft, insisting, and all I can see when I break out of my reverie is the swoop of his collarbones as they disappear under the shirt, and suddenly I feel very dirty. Not just dirty, but also simply awful. Why am I out here thinking about his collarbones when he’s thinking about how to propose to his girlfriend? His very nice, very beautiful girlfriend?

“I’m fine,” I nod my head, “have you picked out a ring for her?”

“Not yet, but I have a kind of ring in mind already.” He says, turning to Jihoon and starting to talk about the different cuts of diamonds that are present at Tiffany’s, and how they suit different kinds of people. Eunseo, I learn, is partial to a pear cut. Jihoon, the idiot, who can’t shut up when it comes to arguments with me, is unnaturally quiet, only offering comments here and there. It’s very uncharacteristic.

And then he gets that look on his face which is a signal for both me and Jihoon that we are about to hear an hour’s worth of praises of Eunseo, and I step in. Making a vague sign towards my completed plate of fish and chips (not that great, the fish was soggy) I say, “before he begins singing praises of his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé, can we get the check?”

“You keep saying it as though you don’t know how much I love her.” Joshua sounds annoyed but unfortunately, I can see through his mask of fake annoyance, “I already paid.”

“Thank goodness, I forgot my wallet.” Jihoon smiles, “for a moment, I thought I would have to use my online wallet.”

“Aren’t you ashamed?” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. Apparently, music producers these days have to be certified gym rats, or they won’t let them into the building, “you’ve mooched off of Joshua and me for the past twelve years, maybe it’s time to start paying.”

“Maybe I do pay, but I just don’t like you.” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his tone, “so I don’t want to pay for your meal.”

“You little—” I’m about to commit a murder in broad daylight, but Joshua, the sweet angel that he is, stops both of us, waving his card in between like a bullfighting matador.

“You guys just don’t stop, do you?” He grins, evidently thinking about how he’s going to propose to his loving girlfriend this evening. Nauseating. It makes me want to throw up. Because Joshua is not going to wake up one morning and decide that he wants to throw away his living relationship of five years to—to pursue his unfortunate best friend, who has nursed an unfortunate attraction towards him for the past year. That is never going to happen. So, let’s scratch that. That should not happen.

Because apart from being unfairly gorgeous and rich and beautiful and did I mention gorgeous? Eunseo is also unflinchingly nice, the kind of nice that leaves other people wondering if the person in front of them is real or not, or if they have some kind of hidden intentions that border on murderous or at the very least, fraudulent. She’s the one who took me under her wing when I was a freshman and had no friends except the two weird guys in my required sociology class, and thanks to her, at the end of four years of university, I had friends in the journalism club, people I come into contact on occasion such as weddings and the odd reunion.

Her niceness is also the reason why Joshua fell for her at first sight.

“I’m out.” Jihoon picks up the abomination of a bomber jacket from his chair, “and before you ask, no, hyung, I’m not helping you with picking out a ring for your girlfriend. You can do that yourself. Or ask her for help.”

And before Joshua can look at me and before I make a fool out of myself (yet again), I turn away, rejecting his proposal for looking at pear-cut diamond rings on a Sunday morning, “I’m ideologically against the institution of marriage. Do it yourself.”

Joshua sighs, because of course he has anticipated this. The fucker. “cannot believe you’re still on your Dworkin streak. Fine,” he says, getting up from his chair and walking out of the café, “I’ll get Eunseo’s ring myself. And when she asks, I’ll tell her that none of you helped me.”

“Ooh, threatening your girlfriend on us, I’m shaking in my boots,” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice, digging through his pockets to get his car keys, “when are you planning to get the ring?”

“Later, in the afternoon,” Joshua is opening the door to his car, and looking at me, “do you want me to give you a ride? Your house is on the way.”

“She only takes buses and the subway,” Jihoon grins, “don’t you remember the time in university when she kept saying about how much she likes welfare policies and transportation benefits?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I reply, elbowing him, harder this time, and Jihoon flinches, “I’ll just go to the office. Jihoon will give me a ride.”

“When did I say that I’ll give you a ride?” Jihoon looks like he wants to begin an argument with me in front of the café, but he acquiesces, “ugh, fine. I’ll give you a ride. Your office is on the way.”

—

“I’m still not convinced that you simply wanted to ‘spend time with me’.” Jihoon grumbles an hour later, seated at his studio and fiddling with his computer. “You’ve been lying there and scrolling twitter for hours now.”

“Your couch is much better than my office chair,” I hum a non-committal reply, before making myself further comfortable into the soft plush material of his couch, “and I’m not scrolling on twitter, I’m trying to find another flat to move into.”

“Lease up?” Jihoon asks, “wasn’t your agreement still valid for at least another few months?”

“I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve,” I reply, “if I start looking from now, maybe I’ll get a better flat by the time the lease is up. My current flat is—”

“A shithole.” Jihoon finishes my sentence for me, “seriously, I don’t know how you manage to live there. And you’ve been holding onto that flat for the past seven years. everyone moved out of their university flats, but you managed to hold onto yours for so long.”

“That’s because it’s a good deal,” I mutter, “ugh, I can’t manage to find a single good deal on any of the flats.”

“Because you’re never satisfied with any deal,” Jihoon replies, “your ideal deal is if everything was free.”

“And I still maintain that housing should not be monetised.”

“Why thank you for that insight, comrade.” Jihoon puts a finger to his mouth, “shut up for a while, I’m trying to concentrate on this song.

“Who’s it for?” I sit up, intrigued, “a new artist?”

“The company’s new girl group.” Jihoon says, “I was asked to produce the title track for their debut. I only have four months on hand, and I still haven’t finished the track. The higher-ups are going to have my head for this.”

“No, they won’t,” I reply, “they like you too much. Speaking of—”

“—if you want me to give you an interview, I won’t, I’ve already told you five times,” Jihoon cuts me off, wheeling his chair away from me, “jeez, you’re tenacious.”

“Oh, but come on, it’ll be fun,” with an extra emphasis on come on, I think I’ve got Jihoon’s attention, “people keep speculating on the kind of person you are. I mean, people know Woozi, but do they know what kind of person he is, underneath all that secrecy? You’ve never given an interview, and you keep avoiding any kind of public appearance. One might think you hate the spotlight.”

“Even if I were to give an interview, I wouldn’t be giving it to you. Who knows how you’re going to spin my words.”

“I’m hurt, Lee Jihoon. This has hurt me.”

Jihoon turns around and blows me a raspberry. I roll my eyes. Is he twenty-eight, or just eight? “whatever you say won’t affect the way I think. I still won’t give you an interview.”

“Just so you know, I’m known to be an excellent interviewer.” I say, walking over to his chair, “come on, Jihoon-ah, give me an interview. Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Pwease?”

He turns around at that, fixing me with a stare, “don’t you ever fucking do aegyo in front of me. I’m going to kill you if you do that again.”

“See, if you gave me an interview like I’m asking you to, then I would not have a reason to subject you to aegyo, but as things stand, you really give me nothing else to work with.”

“Ask Joshua for an interview then, if you’re so desperate for one,” the words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have given me enough reason to walk out of the room, but Jihoon made them sound softer, almost romantic. It was funny, how he managed to change the intonations of every word, changing them to his whims. I suppose that’s what I do with words, and that’s what he does with sounds.

“Joshua is not the elusive Woozi,” I flop back onto the sofa as I counter, trying actively to not think about Joshua picking out a ring at Tiffany’s for Eunseo right at that moment, “he’s an adjunct professor. Not the most interview-friendly of all occupations.”

Jihoon looks at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ask me a very uncomfortable and difficult question, but at that moment, both our phones buzz simultaneously. I check the phone, and it’s a single message in the shared chatroom. Joshua has sent a message, a single picture of a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring (don’t ask me how I know the cut of the diamond) with an attached message;

joshuji: picked up her ring! <3

“Damn, an exclamation point, and an emoji,” Jihoon says, typing out a reply in the chatroom, “our joshuji is entirely too far gone, isn’t he?”

I don’t say anything. Its far easier to pretend that you’re typing out a reply and can’t hear anything, especially when it comes to Jihoon. He’ll take anything in stride.

hoon: wow Eunseo has you whipped

big dick (canon): hey I think it’s cute

Jihoon sets his phone down with an audible clack, and fuck, I’ve messed up. Joshua is oblivious and blissfully happy in his own little life, but Jihoon? The Jihoon that I’ve known ever since our seats were beside each other in the sociology class that made me develop an irrational fear of surveyors? He’s single-minded whenever it comes to pursuing anything. One doesn’t become the most sought-after music producer in the industry with just talent, they need to be dogged in their pursuit of success. And unfortunately, when Lee Jihoon turns his mind to something, he accomplishes it, whether it’s producing a Billboard Hot 100 hit, or, judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, getting words out of my mouth.

“Okay, spill, I’ve seen this go on for long enough,” he says, getting up from the chair and walking over to the sofa, where I am currently hiding behind a throw pillow, “you’ve been weird for months now, and we need to talk about it.”

“We, don’t need to do anything,” I reply, “I’m perfectly fine. If something happened, I would tell you. Or Joshua. Or both of you, at the same time.”

“Like you inform us after every breakup of yours?” Jihoon laughs, “you mean to say you’re going to hold another one of your ‘meetings’ to tell me and Joshua about how some poor bastard made the mistake of trying to date you?”

“I’m actually nice when I date, and I can hold down a relationship for more than two weeks, Mr I-don’t-like-commitment. Tell me, how did your last date go? Did she walk out of the date itself, or did you ghost her?”

Jihoon blinks at me, and then, a slow, catlike smile passes over his features. Fuck.

“You’re being combative today,” he grins, and fuck, its infuriating how predictable I am, and how absolutely incapable I am of not taking his bait, “so, there is something that you’re hiding.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the damn bait,” he replies, “do you want to tell me yourself, or do you want me to guess your little secret?”

“I’m not telling you anything, and its nothing you can suss out either.”

“I can just beat it out of you,” he smiles, flexing his arms, and I belatedly remember that Jihoon, to my disadvantage, had decided at the early age of twenty-one, that he was going to make up for his height by being The Broadest Man on Earth, and now carried a protein shake in his bag everywhere he went, that somehow tasted more disgusting than it looked. He could easily beat me to a pulp. And he would do it too, the little shit.

“Jihoon, remember the time I carried you home when you were drunk?” I don’t know how to do the specific variant of the thing they call ‘puppy eyes’, but I try my absolute best to emulate the little I know, “and you threw up all over my clothes? Remember? It was at Mingyu’s birthday party, and you got drunk on an empty stomach—”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he throws a pillow at me, “fuck, that’s creepy. Also, I got drunk and threw up on your clothes in my second year of university, damn, how long are you going to milk it for?”

“As long as I can,” I reply, “please, Jihoon, just this once.”

“Damn, fine, weirdo,” he stands up, going back to his chair, his back now towards me, “isn’t as though you like Joshua or something.”

I freeze, hoping that the intake of breath at that last sentence hasn’t been heard by Jihoon. I know I’m an atheist, I pray fervently, to whichever god that’s listening, God, Allah, Buddha, Jesus, if anyone’s listening, please, please, please, let Jihoon not notice—

“You like Joshua?”

Fuck.

“No.” I lie brightly, “I just—stubbed my toe on the table.”

Jihoon looks at me in a way that screams bitch, I know you’re a liar so don’t even try. “You know you’re a horrible liar, right?”

“I am?”

He nods, “its one of the many endearing things about you. But unfortunately, you’ve given yourself away now. Really, Joshua? The Joshua Hong we know?”

“Really, it isn’t like that,” I’m sweating, and praying Jihoon doesn’t notice that I’m sweating, “its nothing, and besides, I don’t even like him in that kind of way—”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

I choke on a breath and begin coughing. “What?” I manage to say, after I recover enough to breathe properly, “I don’t want to fuck anyone!”

“Great, because if you wanted to fuck him, it would have become massively awkward.” Jihoon shrugs, “since it’s one of those passing feelings, you can take care of it; it happens all the time. I once had a crush on you too. It’s bound to happen.”

“You had a crush on me?” I screech, “what the fuck, Lee Jihoon, you’re supposed to wait before dropping this kind of information on me!”

“Dude, its long gone,” Jihoon places a hand on my shoulder, a touch that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only suffices to make me angrier, “it was during my military service. I remember that you came with my parents to see me off, and it was—nice. So, I had a crush on you. I got over it when I got out of the military, though. Turns out seeing your best friend live in a hovel really does wonders for your lingering feelings.”

“For eighteen months?” I hold my head in my hands, “you had a crush on me for eighteen months? What the fuck kind of information is that? And you got out of the military three years ago!”

“M-hmm, see, that’s what I mean when I say these feelings will go away.” Jihoon looks sage, as if he’s imparting the secret to life and how to be a good Buddhist, and not bombarding my mind with information I would rather not know, “wait, have you masturbated to Joshua?”

“What the fuck?” I stand up, pacing the room at a speed that would closely rival that of an Olympian, “why would I masturbate to Joshua Hong?”

Jihoon shrugs, “people masturbate. You are a person. Hence the question.”

“Of course, I haven’t masturbated to—wait did you masturbate while thinking of me?” I’m yelling now, yelling and pacing the room like a woman possessed, because of course, Jihoon has made me lose my mind, “Lee Jihoon, did you jerk off to my pictures?”

He shrugs. “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill myself,” I say, grabbing his shoulders, “you know what, Jihoon, lets do that. Let’s both die.”

“Why would I consent to a murder-suicide with you?” he sounds terribly composed, which again, does not bode well for the numerous murderous thoughts I have currently running through my head, “its just a little masturbation. I was twenty-three, I was bored to tears at the military camp, and I had a crush on you, so, I did what I did.”

“Which was apparently, masturbation.” I flop facedown on the couch, “I want to castrate you, you know that, right?”

“Figures. You’ve always been weird about sex.” Jihoon makes a face, “So, you didn’t tell me. do you want to fuck Joshua or not? Because if you do, then it just means that you want sex. If you don’t, then I can’t help you.”

“How can you help me in any way if I say I want to have sex with Joshua?” I ask, “even if I do, which I don’t, just by the way—”

“You want to jump his bones. Right.”

“—how can you even help me, short of getting me a male prostitute.” I pause, horror spreading through my features, “oh fuck. Jihoon, are you going to hire a gigolo?”

To his credit, Jihoon looks appropriately disgusted, “why would I hire a prostitute? No, I would set you up with one of my friends.”

“Who?”

He thinks for a while, then says, “Soonyoung.”

“No offence, but I’m about 90% convinced that Soonyoung is a furry.”

“Jeonghan-hyung, then.”

“He’s too similar to Joshua,” I groan, “why am I going along with this idea? This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Then do you want to help yourself?”

“Masturbate to thoughts of Joshua? Yeah, like that’s gonna work.” I hold my head in my hands, “fuck, I have to sleep with Soonyoung, don’t I? I’m half-convinced he will do a tiger impression in bed.”

“I’m fairly convinced he mimics a roar when he orgasms.” Jihoon mutters.

“Oh, fuck, now I have to talk about orgasms with you,” I say, face buried in one of the pillows, “I have to sleep with one of your weird friends and then everyone will know about my crush on Joshua and I’ll be shunned from our three-person group forever and ever—”

“Calm down, no one is going to spill your secrets,” Jihoon says, “and I have other friends too, you know. They don’t talk as much as those idiots, but they are good people.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”

Jihoon stares at me.

“Okay fine, maybe a little bit.” I concede, “but still, not enough to warrant a setting-up. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.”

“Then go fuck someone!”

“It isn’t that easy!” I snap, and Jihoon looks surprised, because its so unlike me to be incandescent over something as stupid as this, but I can’t help the shiver of anger running over me, “it isn’t so fucking easy. If it were, I would have gone and slept with a stranger from a bar. Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but I would have done it. But I’m telling you now, its difficult for me to even know if I’m attracted to Joshua, and if my attraction means I want to jump him or whatever.”

“Then what does it mean?” Jihoon, it seems, is also incapable of not reacting to my moods and temper, he gets angry easily sometimes, “What does it mean when you tell me you’re attracted to someone? We’re twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck else do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” I half-yell, half-sob, “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want to sleep with anyone, least of all Joshua. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do, and all I want is a little acceptance, not you rattling of a list of people I should sleep with in order to get over my feelings for Joshua—”

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“—and you can’t even give me that, Jihoon,” I finish lamely, looking at his concerned expression, “yeah fine, I’m leaving.”

The door is loud when I close it behind me. to his credit, Jihoon doesn’t pursue me, because even if he’s abnormally idiotic in matters like these, he’s got some sense.

—

I deeply regret befriending either of them, because both Joshua and Jihoon have apparently no sense of boundaries between people. Joshua keeps assaulting my inbox with messages along the lines of oh look how much I love my girlfriend and how much I can’t wait to see you guys and celebrate my engagement because I’ve got my life sorted out unlike YOU fuckers, and Jihoon has rewarded me with radio silence ever since I blew up in his face about his idiotic idea regarding me having sex with one of his friends.

And, as a testament to my misfortunes in life, Joshua has decided that his proposal to Eunseo must be followed up with a party thrown in her honour, or at least a dinner as per his last text message; which of course, he has to send to the shared chatroom with a variety of threatening and non-threatening messages.

joshuji: just saying if you guys aren’t here for the dinner, I’m never talking to you

hoon: aren’t proposals supposed to be an intimate thing? For couples??? Why are you asking us to be there????

joshuji: Eunseo wanted you guys to celebrate, too

joshuji: also, I’m proposing to her in the afternoon. I’m asking you guys to come over for dinner

hoon: maybe we should ask Eunseo about her feelings?

hoon: idk if she would want two others celebrating her engagement. Maybe we should stage an intervention and try to convince her to leave you. Its not too late already

big dick (canon): idk if I can make it guys

joshuji: I told u I wouldn’t be forgiving you if you don’t attend

hoon: you also tell us that every other week, I think we’ll be fine

joshuji: please?

hoon: don’t you fucking dare

big dick (canon): send us the location. Also, you’re paying

hoon: that’s the least he can do, after inflicting all this on us, and on her

joshuji: don’t worry, dinner is on me. [location attached] be there.

Fuck. Fuck my life, and fuck the two other people also in my life, and also, fuck Eunseo for good measure, because if it hadn’t been for her coming over to the mixer in third year, Joshua would never have fallen head over heels with her at first sight, and he wouldn’t have asked her out, and then I wouldn’t have had to deal with my conflicting feelings in the middle of a random Sunday. In the middle of me contemplating whether to clean my flat or not, too. If you look at it, its all her fault. Her fault for being so flawless and lovely and gorgeous that even I cannot bring myself to be jealous. The woman volunteers her free time at an animal shelter, for god’s sake. She’s the kind of person you write rambling horrible love sonnets about, and inflict them on your best friends after getting drunk and vomiting on a sidewalk at three in the morning. I should know, because that was Joshua when he was twenty-five.

Everything seems to go to shit at the same time, so of course, my landlord has to make an appearance when I’m in the middle of a neurotic episode over whether or not to do my laundry and contemplating hurling myself out of the window. His knocks are rhythmic, three seconds apart, which gives me enough time to prepare with a butcher’s knife in my hand. To ensure my safety, of course, in all my good conscience, I could never murder someone.

“Ah, yes, if it isn’t my favourite tenant,” he smiles, wide enough for me to see the gold tooth he had put in four years ago, “don’t worry, I’m only here for a routine check.”

“I bet you say that to all your tenants, Mr Kim.” I mutter, not moving from the doorway. If this man can sell me a glorified hovel posturing as a flat, I can disrespect him as much as I want. “I’ll get back to you on the renewal on my lease as soon as possible.”

The nosy bastard (man) that he is, Mr Kim cranes his neck around me to take a look inside my flat, “don’t worry, you’ve been one of my longest-running tenants for a while, you can take your time.” Then he looks at me, and the gold tooth is again on display. Ugh, I fucking hate it, “Is there a man inside? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, Mr Kim, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply, suppressing my urge to bury the knife held in my hand in his chest, “I was cooking, if you want to know that badly.”

“No boyfriend?” he tuts at me as though my dating life (or its lack thereof) is a personal slight against him, “but there are men coming over to your house all the time?”

“Those are my friends, Mr Kim,” I grit out, fake smile getting more brittle by the second, “men and women can be friends, you know.”

“Ah yes, I know, I know,” he nods, before clapping his hands like he’s received some sort of epiphany, “I forgot to tell you, but if you do decide to renew,” here he takes a deep breath, as if he’s bestowing upon me some great honour, “the rent will be raised. By twenty.”

“Twenty percent?” I screech, and the student in the flat next to me has probably heard it, “is that even legal?”

From the smile on his face, I don’t have to hear anything else. It probably is.

Mr Kim goes away from my line of sight (my kitchen knife’s line of attack) with another, equally insufferable, smile, and I close the door with a loud enough bang that the hinges rattle. I lied to Jihoon, because I only have two months left on my contract, and I still have had no luck in finding a new flat to move into. Everywhere I go, its either overpriced, or the facilities are too shitty, or the vibes are off.

Back in the room, I try to busy myself with laundry, when my phone rings. Its Jihoon, who’s apparently decided that making me angry is a full-time job for him. He’s making use of the private chat, which is rare for him, and somehow, equally annoying for me.

hoon: sorry about what happened in the studio this morning

hoon: offer still stands though

big dick (canon): that’s not how you apologise to someone

hoon: what? I’m trying to help my bestie get some

hoon: is that such a scandalous thing to ask for

big dick (canon): yes. Yes, it is

big dick (canon): also, fyi, I’m not sleeping with any of your friends. They’re all too weird for me

hoon: Mingyu? I remember you saying once that you’d motorboat him

big dick (canon): platonically

hoon: not sure how you’d motorboat someone platonically

big dick (canon): he’s too outgoing for me. cannot imagine I’d ever have a moment to myself if I ever dated him

hoon: Wonwoo? Everyone liked him back in university

big dick (canon): unfortunately, all he seems to talk about is gaming. I don’t mind gaming once or twice, but talking about it all the time? That bores me

hoon: Chan? He’s younger than you, but you could be a cougar, for all I know

big dick (canon): I’ve seen Jeonghan beg on his knees for him to go home after a drinking session

hoon: Minghao?

big dick (canon): He once teased me for my curtain bangs for a week straight

hoon: fine then, Cheol?

big dick (canon): Too competitive

hoon: Seungkwan?

big dick (canon): Too athletic. Also, isn’t he joining the culture desk soon?

hoon: Seokmin?

big dick (canon): Too outgoing

hoon: Vernon?

big dick (canon): Too quiet

hoon: Jun?

big dick (canon): Too weird

hoon: Jesus, fuck, woman, what kind of person do you want to date?

big dick (canon): ykw, just set me up with Mingyu. If nothing I can still get to say I motorboated some great pecs

big dick (canon): seriously, his pecs are bigger than my boobs

big dick (canon): how does he do it

big dick (canon): can I hold them

big dick (canon): respectfully

big dick (canon): in a non-sexual way

big dick (canon): please

hoon: I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that

big dick (canon): please ask him

big dick (canon): how does one get that kind of pectoral muscles

big dick (canon): wow

hoon: my pecs are bigger than his

big dick (canon): is this some new sort of dick-measuring contest idk yet

big dick (canon): if it is

big dick (canon): you’re losing

big dick (canon): I need to take a bite from his tits

big dick (canon): One

big dick (canon): Teensy tiny

big dick (canon): Munch

hoon: I’m so close to blocking u

big dick (canon): They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth

hoon: maybe you need to consider that Jesus had very bad vibes

hoon: so, you want to go on a date with Mingyu?

hoon: I feel like I should tell you that he eats the equivalent of three people

hoon: at the same time

big dick (canon): As long as he lets me motorboat him

big dick (canon): I don’t care

big dick (canon): He can eat as much as he wants

hoon: why must you be so horny over Mingyu of all people

hoon: he’s not even that attractive

hoon: and I’ve got bigger pecs than him

big dick (canon): congratulations on having bigger pecs, but I’m still gonna motorboat Mingyu

big dick (canon): going to gently hold his tits

hoon: between you going feral and Joshua badgering me about his engagement party dinner

hoon: I can’t help but feel as though both of u are out to make me go insane

big dick (canon): are you gonna go to that?

hoon: he’s already made plans at the barbecue place where we go to

hoon: even got a whole discount coupon and everything

hoon: normally I’d be upset that he’s being cheap, but after researching the price of that ring, I’m prepared to forgive him this once

hoon: next time I’m forcing him to take us out to a good dinner place

big dick (canon): are you planning to spend all his salary

big dick (canon): I’m in

big dick (canon): Ugh I haven’t eaten anything since the morning

big dick (canon): Can you ask Mingyu to bring me food

hoon: you’re incorrigible

hoon: have you been able to maintain eye contact with him?

big dick (canon): UNFAIR

big dick (canon): You know I can only do that with you

big dick (canon): Since you’re exactly my height

big dick (canon): Hehe

hoon: I’m blocking u and this number right NEOW

hoon: cannot believe I’m conversing WILLINGLY with someone who slanders my height

big dick (canon): see u at the barbecue place tonight

big dick (canon): have fun on the song

hoon: I’m trying to finish it

hoon: cannot believe I’ve gone into a slump

big dick (canon): you know how this can be cured?

big dick (canon): An INTERVIEW

big dick (canon): With yours truly

big dick (canon): Please

hoon: ask someone else

hoon: Soonyoung

big dick (canon): he’s an idol, yes but

big dick (canon): I’m terrified he’s going to do at least three tiger impressions

hoon: wrong, he’s going to do at least five

hoon: ugh gotta go

hoon: see u at the dinner

I stare at the dark phone screen for about five minutes after I’ve finished texting Jihoon. His interest in setting me up with one of his friends aside, he’s not wrong. I’m sexually frustrated, which means I’m just projecting my desires onto the closest available person, which in this case, happens to be Joshua.

Okay, fair enough, then why not anyone else? The people at my workplace aren’t that bad, and some of them are fairly good-looking, so why not them?

As soon as that thought comes into my mind, I shake it away violently. To willingly date someone in the workplace is inviting a whole host of problems, HR notwithstanding. And to imagine the fallout when I eventually break up with them, while still having to work with them in the same office—no, I’d rather take a transfer. The only option that remains are Jihoon’s friends, and while they’re all nice, they can also be terrifying, and therefore, not the best options for dating. Or sleeping around, which is what Jihoon wants me to do.

“Ugh, why do I have to have these feelings,” I moan into my pillow. It would have been great if I were born as an amoeba. Or as a plant. No need for my feelings to take centre stage, no need to maintain friendships with annoying people like Jihoon or Joshua. Just peaceful photosynthesis, and being eaten by a random goat on a random Tuesday. I wouldn’t even need to go to university. Nothing required. Just basking in the sun.

And unfortunately, because my mind is a little traitor, it focuses on the one thing that I don’t want to focus on: Jihoon’s offhand comment about his pecs being bigger than Mingyu’s; which, if I know Jihoon as well as I do, is a blatant lie, but even the thought of it is enough to send me into a downward spiral. What the hell does he mean, he has bigger pecs than Mingyu? Its not as if I want to see them, and let this be known, and made into public record, that I’ve never once wanted to see Jihoon’s pecs.

But.

Of course, its not as if I haven’t thought about it. not as far as Jihoon, who apparently masturbated to the thought of me, but of course I have idly wondered, what it would be like. When he came back from the military, its all I could think about for a couple days, before I had to physically slap myself back into reality. Unfortunately for me, his one petty comment about the size of his pectoral muscles, threatens to throw me back into the pits of desperation yet again.

Ugh. I slam my face into the pile of fresh laundry, hoping for it to soothe my nerves. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

Its at that moment that the chatroom pings again, this time with a message from Joshua.

joshuji: SHE SAID YES!!!!

hoon: congratulations!

big dick (canon): Congratulations!!!

—

The barbecue place is good enough for us, but for a dinner celebrating Joshua’s engagement to Eunseo, it seems a little too shabby. Although given the amount of money he’s spent on an engagement ring (I saw the prices, and I had to stifle a gasp) it can be forgiven. Just this once, as Jihoon said.

I’ve come here late, on purpose. Between the excited texts from Eunseo, who texted me a picture of her ring, and I had to act appropriately surprised, and Joshua’s infamous enthusiasm for a. showing the world how much he loves his girlfriend and b. to torment his friends, I’m feeling drained. I’m dressed for a night of eating greasy food and drinking cheap alcohol: a hoodie borrowed (stolen) from either Jihoon or Joshua, and jeans. I can’t even lie to myself and give myself a reason to dress up, because even I can’t delude myself into doing that. Jihoon once saw me with day-old vomit on my shirt, and Joshua has seen me dress in my sleepwear for exams week.

The place is filled with smoke, emanating from the meat being cooked on the grills, and it takes me a moment to adjust myself to it all, before I look for the other three. They have all arrived, and according to Jihoon, who’s sent a message out of his own accord on the chatroom in a long time, they’re all eating lots of beef.

“You’re late,” Jihoon grumbles as I approach the table, “I had to sit through half an hour of these two being happy and in love.”

“You’re a liar,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, “you enjoy romance movies.”

“Wow, that’s something I didn’t know about him,” Joshua says, with a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t want to decode, “how come you know everything about Jihoon?”

“Occupational hazard,” I reply, reaching for a piece of meat, “every time you bailed on us to go on a date with Eunseo, Jihoon and I would be forced to hang out together.”

“It was horrible,” Jihoon agrees, “she’d force me to watch all these romance movies.”

“Says the man who cried while watching Love Actually.”

Eunseo giggles at that, almost doubling over herself. I narrow my eyes at Joshua, “have you both been drinking since the afternoon?”

“No, no, I haven’t,” Eunseo wheezes, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she is while laughing, too. She’s wearing an apron to prevent grease falling on her expensive clothes, and she’s still gorgeous. I snort when I laugh, and once Jihoon saw me with mango juice coming out of my nose, “it’s just funny.”

“What is?”

She points at the two of us, “you know, the both of you keep talking about how annoying you find each other, and yet you’re both closer to each other than anyone else. It’s just so funny to me.”

“Joshua,” Jihoon says, very seriously, “I think your fiancée has been taking drugs.”

“At the very least, she’s insane,” I supply helpfully, “no one in their right minds would date Joshua. Not to mention agreeing to marry him.”

Joshua puts an arm around Eunseo, “stop slandering my fiancée.”

Jihoon puts a piece of meat into his mouth, trying to change the topic, “have I mentioned I’m helping her hook up with someone?”

I cough violently, while Eunseo and Joshua wear twin expressions of confusion. “Wait, Jihoon,” Joshua says, “I thought you—”

“I told you not to talk about that!” I wail, a noise that’s fortunately covered by all the meat-grilling around me, “no, I’m not going to hook up with any of your friends. Jihoon has terrible taste in people, not to mention that all your friends aren’t exactly hook-up material.”

“You take that back,” he gasps, “weren’t you talking about how you’d like to motorboat Mingyu?”

“That was platonically!”

“I’m sorry,” Joshua interjects, looking at me as though I’ve sprouted another head, “how can you, and I’m just going off on a limb here, motorboat someone platonically?”

“That’s what I said,” Jihoon grumbles, “she keeps asking me to set them up once.”

“That’s because he’s the hottest out of all your friends.” The soju is bitter as I drink it, “if I have to engage in a night of mindless sex, might as well do it with the hottest guy around.”

“Knew it,” Jihoon wags one of his fingers at me, “knew you only wanted Mingyu for his body. How dare you do that to my friend.”

“You once stole his socks.”

“Once.”

“For a whole semester.”

“Fair enough.”

“Both of you,” Joshua says loud enough for us to stop bickering, “explain it to us properly. What do you mean you’re helping her hook up with one of our friends? And why are you letting him hook you up with one of our friends?”

I shrug, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you heard us. It’s only going to be one time.”

“Do I need to give you the talk?”

Jihoon laughs, “you do realise she’s an adult?”

“I’m not saying she can’t do anything; I’m just saying she needs to be careful!

“If I have to be careful around the rest of the guys, then maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“What do you mean she should be careful around the people who have known her for so long?”

“All of you!” Eunseo claps her hands, and like kindergarten children, we all turn to look at her, sheepish, “Josh,” she turns to the man in question, who looks sufficiently contrite, “let me have a word.”

As they leave, Jihoon pulls a face. “asshole.”

I take another shot of the soju, “he’s just looking out for me.”

“Then he shouldn’t be so overbearing about it.” Jihoon takes a look at me downing another shot, “should you be drinking this fast?”

“Don’t you start.” I say, shaking my head, “I’m going to drink enough to wipe out Joshua’s bank account.”

Jihoon says nothing, just looks at me, and then, after ten seconds, “do you want to do it?”

“Do what?”

“The date. With Mingyu.”

Maybe its just the alcohol getting to my head, or maybe its all this smoke, but his voice seems different. Is he concerned, or is he joking, as per usual? It’s confusing. Should I blame the alcohol? That seems easier, given how it’s getting to my head. “I don’t know.”

“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good listener, and if you want him to shut up, he will. He’s great that way.”

I stare at him. Jihoon has a strange look on his face, one that I can’t really place. Alcohol. Yes. Blame it on the alcohol. I take another shot, but before I can form a reply to him, Eunseo and Joshua are walking back to the table, hand-in-hand, identical smiles on their faces. As soon as it had come, the look in Jihoon’s eyes is gone, replaced by the usual, blasé attitude he has perfected.

“Sorry for being late,” Eunseo breezes as she settles into the table, “Joshua needed to be reminded of adult boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.” Joshua offers by way of an apology, “I overstepped.”

“Damn right you did.” Jihoon mutters.

“Apology accepted,” I smile, picking up a piece of meat, “can you order some more?”

—

Mondays are, unfortunately, the worst. Especially if one spent their Sunday evening drinking enough alcohol to lose half their memories. I slide into my seat at work, yawning as I inspect the things I have to finish working on before the end of the day.

“Morning, sunbae,” a cheery voice says, placing a cup of coffee on my desk, “you look like shit.”

“Not the time, Seungkwan,” I mutter, pressing two fingers to my forehead, “too loud, too loud.”

“Heard you got shitfaced with Jihoon and the others last night,” Seungkwan says louder, “Jihoon texted the chat with the others at two in the morning, saying how he was going to take you home.”

“He did?” thankfully, I have no recollection of this happening, so I just let him fill me in on the details, “all I remember is drinking too much at the barbecue place.”

“Celebrating Joshua’s engagement, right?” Seungkwan’s smile is irritating, and I hate how cheery he is in the morning, “he texted about that, too. The pear-cut diamond was, oof, it was something to see.”

“Why do you know about diamond cuts?”

“I grew up with sisters,” he shrugs, as if growing up with sisters imbued one with all the hidden knowledge of womankind, including, but not limited to, engagement ring diamonds and their specific cuts, “you pick up stuff from listening.”

“Jihoon told you all he took me home?” I ask, “he doesn’t usually say that kind of stuff.”

“You got especially drunk last night, so he made an exception for you.” Seungkwan grins, leaning in, “what do you think about Jihoon?”

“He’s a pain in my ass.” I mutter, switching on my computer, “also, go back to work, Seungkwan. You’re not even supposed to be here until next week!”

“Yoo-min quit, so they asked me to join a week early,” he gives me a grin that again, I try not to decode (what is it with all these men and their mysterious grins?) before settling down into the seat next to me, and promptly jumping up to subject me to a ninety-degree bow, “Boo Seungkwan, at your service!”

“Ugh,” I wince, waving at him, “sit down, for the love of god, no one needs to be that loud in the mornings.”

“You are my senior, as it happens, and I’m very keen on maintaining proper relations.”

“Get me one of those hangover cures.”

“I like the American style.”

—

To no one’s surprise, Seungkwan is a very competent worker. He’s a social butterfly, which means that he quickly endears himself to everyone at work, and by the time lunch rolls around, I have to hear praises of Seungkwan from everyone. It’s terrifying, how competent he is.

Being one of the associate editors, means I have to mostly edit the articles sent in by the reporters on ground, not to mention I get to pick and choose which issue I want to cover. I maintain as much of my professionalism as I can, while having a raging headache.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan approaches me right before lunch, “will you be going out to cover an article?”

“I have an interview with an author after lunch, so not yet,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on a report sent in by one of our field staff, on some celebrity’s rash driving case, “I have some time.”

“Do you want to have lunch with the rest of us?” he asks, gesturing the group of five waiting behind him, “we’re going to have naengmyeon at the place down the block.”

“I have enough sense to not butt into the affairs of my juniors, Seungkwan,” I say, standing up from my chair, “here, have the card. Since its your first day here, the office should treat you.”

Seungkwan takes the offered card with a bow, and smiles brightly, “oh, but the editor said we’re having a company dinner tonight? Won’t you be joining us for that?”

“A group dinner?” I ask, and the group behind him nods their head, all in unison. It makes them look like little bobbleheads, for some reason. “Sure, I’ll join in.”

“Yes!” he seems unusually cheerful about the company dinner, which in my own experience is nothing but a pain that I had to accustom myself with when I joined the paper, “see you tonight, sunbae!”

“This kid,” I groan, picking up my coat. The prospect of lunch makes my stomach turn, and now I have to contend with dinner?

I text Jihoon while walking out of the offices. Joshua is busy with his new fiancée, and Jihoon’s building is far closer to mine that it is to Joshua’s place of work.

big dick (canon): Are u free

big dick (canon): For lunch

Unless Jihoon texts first, he takes an hour to respond at best, but as soon as I send the message, he’s typing a reply.

hoon: lunch?

hoon: if it isn’t lunch I’m killing u

hoon: dude I’ve never had a block this bad I think I’m going to go crazy

hoon: not to mention the hangover from last night is crazy

big dick (canon): it is for lunch, you idiot, why would I text u otherwise

big dick (canon): and I can agree on that, my head is killing me

hoon: is hangover soup cool with u

hoon: I know a good place

hoon: meet u at the front of your building in five

hoon: please tell me all the details about Seungkwan

“He took five minutes to get the editor to warm up to him?” Jihoon cackles, as the lady serves us two steaming bowls of seollongtang, “of course, it’s Seungkwan. He can make anyone warm up to him in minutes.”

“I fear he takes it as a challenge.” I say, spooning the milky broth into my mouth, “ah! Its hot!”

“Why can’t you just wait for a while, before eating your food?” Jihoon pours me a glass of water, “did you die of starvation in your previous life?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Atheist. Tell me what else our little dongsaeng get up to in the meantime.”

“He’s not been given a lot of work, given that it’s his first day,” I take another, more tentative sip of the broth, “but unfortunately, I’ve got to attend another company dinner tomorrow night.”

“Another company dinner? Haven’t you gone through enough pain to consider drinking again, what, barely twenty-four hours later?”

“Twenty-fours is pushing it,” I say, wincing at the sound of my own voice, “ugh, this damn hangover. I can’t even function. Let’s just eat in silence.”

“You want a cider?” Jihoon asks, looking around for the owner to ask for two cans of cider, but the owner is faster than him, setting down two cans of soda in front of us with a smile on her face.

“Your boyfriend is very caring.” She tells me, “its so nice to see someone taking care of their girlfriend so well. The sodas are on the house, okay?”

“Oh, but he’s not—” even before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s gone again, tending to her other customers. Jihoon opens one of the cans for me without saying a word.

“We should stop coming here.” I say, accepting the can from him, “why would anyone think that we’re a couple?”

“They can’t accept that men and women can just be friends, that’s why.”

“Too bad the food is great.”

Jihoon pauses for a moment, then a slow, sly smile spreads all over his face. I know that look. That look does not bode well for me, or for anyone else involved. The first time I saw Jihoon have that look on his face, Seungcheol embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of first-year students, he refused to come out to any events where Jihoon was invited, for almost a month. This look means that he’s got some sort of evil plan in his mind, one that involves another person and their total embarrassment. He takes a look around the restaurant, and sits up straight. The words that come out of his mouth next, however—

“Babe,” Jihoon says, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, “don’t you think this place is great?”

What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what are you doing?” my voice is a whisper, “they’re all looking at us!”

“That’s the point.” He whispers, before smiling, “you should say something too, you know. Make the whole thing more believable.”

“I don’t want to!”

“They gave us free sodas; they deserve a special performance at least.” He points to the owner, who looks like she’s about to break her face from smiling so damn broad, “sorry, my girlfriend is a very shy.”

“Oh,” the lady waves it away, “anyone can see you are in love!”

In the end, when Jihoon is paying for our lunches, she takes a final look at the two of us, and croons, “you two make a lovely couple!”

“What the fuck was that?” I turn on Jihoon as soon as we are safely out of the restaurant and far enough for anyone to eavesdrop, “Why the hell would you tell her that we’re dating?”

“Thought you needed a pick-me-up,” Jihoon grins, “at least I got you to stop worrying about things so much.”

“There are better ways of going about that than telling unsuspecting diner owners that we are dating!”

“It was funny, you have to admit,” he smiles, and I have to begrudgingly agree, “see, told you we’d make a cute couple.”

I would rather die than tell Jihoon that I agree with him on anything, so I keep quiet. Thing is; it was rather funny. Especially with how the owner reacted to us.

“And later on,” Jihoon says, holding on to my arm as we cross the road, “when you come to this place with someone else, you can just tell her that we broke up.”

“You need to stop talking about how I’m going to start dating other people.” I mutter, “just because I’ve got some frustrations I need to work out, doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into the arms of whoever it is who offers first.”

“Careful with that,” he says, standing at the crossroads where he’s supposed to walk towards his building, “you might end up regretting it.”

And with a single wave, he’s gone. I stand for about five minutes, like an idiot, while the busy crowd walks past me, trying to decode his words. Why would I regret my decision to not date someone just because I need to get over myself? Not to mention Jihoon has been behaving strangely since the previous night.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan materialises next to me, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Jesus!” I narrowly escape jumping three feet into the air, “give a girl a warning!”

“I did call out,” he pouts. Its disconcerting how adorable he is. “You were pretty engrossed in looking into the distance to even notice my presence.”

“Are you upset?”

Seungkwan smiles, “if you agree to a badminton match with me over the weekend, I’ll overlook this slight.”

I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, making my way into the building, “see you at the dinner, then.”

—

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lovebvni · 6 months ago

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intuitive messages pac !!

THIS IS FROM 2023!! BE FOREWARNED

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│ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ...

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[ 🖊 ] created ⋮ 7.31.23

[ ] published ⋮ 7.31.23

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Arsyn ⋆ ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

┊ ⋆ welcome to my blog !

┊ °

hello earthlings, its been a while since i've done a pac, mainly because of MANY personal issues - but thats not important. i thought for a while and went back to my old pac's and i found an older one i made and i remembered, my intuition is just as powerful as ever - so why do i need tarot cards now?

today i'm just going to have 10 messages/sentences the universe wants you to hear. they can be specific or general. remember, take everything can be taken with a grain of salt, and your future can be changed. you are in control.

now please, find your inner peace, connect to your soul.

understand these messages were meant to find you, and see what is left for you.

inhale, exhale, and pick a pile

Pile 1 - Watching

confirmation :

procrastinating, pushing things off, turning the other cheek, tumblr, the colour purple (show or the actual colour), spacing out, spirits, double meaning, two faced, gemini, hidden meanings/words, red eyes (tired, puffy), burnt out, music, 'good night, sleep tight, don't let the demons fight.', the letter s, sharks, 'the grass is greener'.

side note : the month of august (summer in general) be significant for your shifting/spiritual journey.

Your messages

1. Why would you wait when you could just grab at it? It's right there. Don't let it rot.

2. "Hello? Are you there, listening? Listen to me. I'm here to help. I promise." (this could be an inner voice or a spirit guide)

3. Be your own boss. Keep going.

4. Pass on to the next step (Death to life)

5. You know what's there, talk to it. "I wont hurt you."

6. Listen, don't speak.

7. Let it go. Be like Elsa, don't let it bother you anymore.

8. Mind, Body and Soul. You're in harmony. Use it to your advantage.

9. Advise and criticize. And use the same techniques on yourself.

10. Peace and love. You deserve it. You know you do. And you will find it, soon.

Pile 2 - Renew

conformation :

saiki k, giving up, letting go, leaving things behind, mental overload, 'Jesus fucking Christ', jealous, letting go of that person, shadow work, yellow, outlook, aries, the moon, big lips, 333, the number 3.

Your messages

1. Bite down. Let it flow into your veins, your soul, your spirit. Its part of you now.

2. Is it a real worry, or just something from your past you don't want to let go of?

3. Jail. Time to rest. Now.

4. Eat and care for your physical body. You can't idolize shifting. You're not getting anywhere doing that.

5. Look in the mirror - no. Not at the past. At who you are now. Who you've become.

6. You have the balls. Go fucking do it.

7. Don't accept the truth from other people, find and make your own. That's what they see, not what you know.

8. Her claws. Her teeth. She's manipulating you. Let her go. Rip away from her. She's wasting your time, energy and draining your soul.

9. "I DO love you. That doesn't mean I'll let you hurt yourself."

10. I am watching. Always. In your good times and bad. I'm here for you. Just ask for help.

Pile 3 - Love

confirmation :

wrist and elbow, jumpscares/ being scared, saturn, planets, fnaf, cycles, broken cycles, love watch, soulmate reuniting, mha (lmao bro idek at this point), drawing, heartache, feeling lonely, barbie, hip dips, trios.

1. Wake up from that dream and make it a reality, you know what you have to do, so go do it.

2. "Beg for my mercy." - This had a VERY sexual undertone... Obviously from a dominant partner or something

3. 'Hello again, my friend! What do you have to tell me now?"

4. You know that thing you asked for? Yeah. It's coming. Keep your eyes pealed (for some I heard it's even coming tomorrow!)

5. Sit in silence, you know what it is. You hear the voices.

6. Pack your bags and go.

7. Grab on, I'll lead you to where you need to be.

8. Don't chase what you're attracting, that will only lead to disaster. (A manifestation you wanted is coming, this is basically saying don't overwork and beat yourself up over it. It's coming and nothing will stop it.)

9. Nature is your friend. Go out and ground yourself. Lay in the grass, smell the rain.

10. If you want to learn, you need the knowledge. Search for what you want to find. You can see it. Ask around. You'll find it. Look, look, look, search, look look, search, find.

I hope this pac resonated for everyone! remember, this will find you when you need it, take what relates, leave what doesnt. remember you are in charge of your future.

i love you. new things are coming.

dont give up.

1111

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mod-jazzy · 5 months ago

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I was asked so! Here are my silly lil prompts for my personal month challenge thing!!!

NOTE: This is not a official thing or what have you, I was just asked to share the prompts for my lil self challenge, so I am! This is my own personal little challenge because I've had these prompts since 2019 and I want to use them

I'll put under a readmore because it is... like. 30 things lmao

Day 1: First Askblog OC The first blog OC you made! Day 2: Most recent askblog OC Can be a side or main character, just the most recent OC you've made for a blog! Day 3: The Modsona Draw your modsona! Self love n all that Day 4: Redraw a silly/funny askblog panel Find a old silly/funny or shitpost panel from one of your blogs and redraw it! Day 5: Evolution scene Draw your OC evolving! Can be past event, future event or something that already happened for a silly redraw! Day 6: Blog Swap Draw one of your blog OCs as a character on one of your other blogs! If don't have more than one blog, switch up their role with someone else on your current blog! Day 7: Favoritism wins Draw your absolute favorite OC from your blog! Indulge a little Day 8: "Nothing bad happens" What would your OC look like if their plot had nothing bad happen Day 9: Redraw a sad panel Redraw a old sad panel! Last prompt was too cheery, redraw that angst with your updated abilities! Day 10: Favorite Magic Anon Blast from the past, relive that glorious magic anon Day 11: Easiest OC to draw Draw that easy fellow, relax a little! Day 12: Difficult OC to draw Back on that grind, draw that one guy who is the absolute most difficult for you!! Day 13: Redraw your least favorite panel We all have that one panel that just, didn't come out right. Try again! Maybe it'll be nice to see your improvement.. or maybe you'll hate it again. Anyways, chop chop Day 14: Injury Draw that dramatic/important injury your character went through. Past, present or future! Day 15: Beach episode What it says on the tin, we love a filler episode. Can be plot relevant but hey, they deserve to relax too Day 16: Favorite blog Draw some fan art for your favorite blogger! Whether they are a friend, inspiration or what have you! Extra challenge: redraw some old fan art you did for them Day 17: Plot Changer That one moment... the thing that made everything twist. That really hit a hard turn in your storyline! Can be past, present or possible future! Day 18: Scrapped Idea What was that scrapped concept again? Or was it a character.. or even something as silly as a slight design change? Day 19: What's a God to a Blogger Most of us have that one god. That one important guy in the sky... or the ocean.. or under a truck... man pokemon is weird. Day 20: Canon Compliant Stylization is so interesting and unique!... but strip that away. Be close to pokemon canon. Day 21: Shiny Beam A easy one... make that little guy shiny!!... Oh they are already shiny?... well then undo that. Silly. Day 22: Dream interaction What's a interaction with your characters that you would really love to see or are excited for? Can be within your own storyline or a interaction with someone else Day 23: Real World Sighting Draw your OC(s) in a real life photo! Bonus points if its a photo you took. Take this chance to go for a nice walk and take some pretty pictures!.... touch grass. Day 24: A spoiler that.. wouldn't make sense to others That's right. Be vague. Spoil a little bit in the most vague manner. It's always fun to see others speculate. Day 25: In blog ship Draw your favorite ship within your own blog! Friendship/romantic ship/hate ship... Just whatever one makes you smile Day 26: Out of blog ship Same prompt as 25.. But with your OC and someone ELSE'S! again, friendship/romantic ship/etc etc! Day 27: Different Art Medium! That's right. Draw/sculpt/etc your OC in a different art medium than normal. This will either be fun or horrifying for you Day 28: The Inspiration VS the OC Draw your OC with their inspiration! Can be the storyline that inspired them... or the character that desired them! Etc etc Day 29: Song drawing Yeah that's right. Draw your OC/Blog with the song that you associate them with! As a treat Day 30: Redraw first blog post / Thank you Cliche ending alert!! Redraw your first ever askblog panel you have ever made. Not the first post on a more recent blog.. no. THE FIRST ONE. EVER. Or be corny and draw a heartfelt thank you to all of your friends and followers you made Or hell.. maybe even both

#BlogTember

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ellewritesalright · 2 years ago

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Nine Long Years - Part 3

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 2 --- Masterlist --- Part 4

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Hello and welcome to one of the saddest things I've ever written. The next part will be a little lighter I promise. Also the next part will not be the last, this story might go one for another like three or four parts lmao.

Warnings: Death, Lots Of Angst, mentions of vomiting, panic attacks, firepox and illness, mentions of the Hertzoon con.

Word Count: 6,000

..........

FOURTH YEAR

"You're lost, and I'm the one who will pay for it!"

"I am not lost. We're in the woods of West Ravka," Sturmhond said plainly.

"Oh, really?" You exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to smack him upside the head. "I didn't know that, Captain. And here I thought we were in the Wandering Isle!"

He ignored your sarcasm, forging ahead. You followed like an idiot with nothing better to do. No, only one of you was an idiot, and it wasn't you, the person who'd said to steer clear of those Drüskelle for Tolya and Tamar's sake. Your captain was very much the idiot, and now you were separated from the twins and wandering in what felt like an entirely aimless manner.

You had objected to the trip from the very start. Sturmhond wanted to go to Ravka to expand his communication network--for what reason, you did not know. He seemed to already know everything that happened in the Grand Palace even when he was thousands of miles away; surely there was a line of communication to his family, if that's what he was worried about.

But no, he insisted that he needed informants from all over Ravka, not only Os Alta. So he decided to rope you, Tolya, and Tamar into a little "business trip" as he put it. You didn't want to go, but he made it seem vital that you be there as his trusted second in command. Part of you only agreed because you wanted to see more of Ravka than just its ports; you had a fascination with the country. The interest stemmed from your time with Old Lady Trokowsky and the stories she told of her homeland. She made the vast country sound beautiful with its rivers and mountains and forests and tundra; you had only ever known the field and the city between your youth at your family's farm and the bustle of Ketterdam.

Still–despite your excitement at seeing Ravka–the fact that he dragged you out here only to get you lost and split up from the twins made you want to wring his neck.

"Fucking scoundrel," you muttered to yourself in your native tongue.

"You swear like a sailor," Sturmhond said in Kerch, slipping into the language with the refined lilt of a well-tutored prince. His words made your blood boil, and you sent him a glare. Honestly, it was like he made it his job to irritate you.

"I am a sailor."

He dared to laugh. "An apt assessment."

The two of you traveled until the woods gave way to a field of overgrown grass and miserable-looking crops. You stopped at a barn that looked like it might collapse at any moment as you looked past the field at the main house. It looked just as decrepit as the barn.

"You stay here, I'll check out the house," he said.

"Like hell I'm staying here," you argued, starting off towards the house.

Sturmhond muttered something snippy beneath his breath, and you glared at him over your shoulder. Despite his muttering, he still followed you.

You took the main floor as Sturmhond took the upstairs. There was nothing useful to you inside, but through the front window you spotted a well. You went outside and drank and splashed your face with the water before Sturmhond emerged with some blankets and a few dry matches.

"The place is pretty picked over," he said after taking a turn drinking the water. "But it looked like someone might have been squatting there recently, so I'd rather not run into them if they come back."

You gave him a sour look which he easily deflected. "You want us to stay in the barn, don't you?"

He made no apology or a sheepish look of any sort, though he really should have. This was all his fault.

You shook your head and went back to the field. The crops were mostly unsalvageable, but once you searched the grass you found some gourds that had managed to survive without care. You cut them from their stems and brought them to the barn where Sturmhond had travelled off to.

He was setting the blankets over two beds of hay. You sighed at the sleeping arrangement. You were so used to your cabin on the Volkvolny now, and you dearly missed your real bed.

"I haven't been camped out like this since my army days," he said. "The nostalgia is almost nice."

The last time you'd slept without a real roof over your head was when you were on the streets of the Barrel, and you had no desire to reminisce on those days. You started building a fire with some scraps of wood Sturmhond must have gathered.

"Do you miss the army?" You asked him this question to keep your mind off the cold cobbles of Ketterdam.

"Sometimes. My family was proud of me then," he confessed. "They liked that their son was fighting for his country, but they liked it even more because I was good at it. My mother would brag to the court about how her son was the youngest Major in the First Army."

He sat beside the fire you started.

"What about you? Does this barn remind you of your home?"

You pursed your lips. "Our barn wasn't quite as big."

He nodded, letting the topic lapse as he knew you wouldn't divulge more information.

It was completely silent–save for the crickets–as you ate. The sun slowly set in an orange haze, and you had to admit the view was pretty. But once it was gone the air turned cold, a tell-tale of a long and miserable night.

……….

You shivered awake. The cold was something you hadn't borne since the nights you and your brothers spent on the streets of the Barrel. It leeched through your veins like the freezing northern waters of the True Sea. You were too numb to move your body, and you could only rub your arms to keep warm. Then you heard Sturmhond speak.

"We're going to freeze to death out here," he said, his teeth chattering.

"An apt assessment," you responded.

"I shouldn't have made our beds so far from each other."

"I'm not moving them now. I think my legs are frozen through."

You heard him get up, and in the next moment he was standing beside your bed, his blanket around him. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he nudged you.

You snapped at him, “What?”

“Move over,” he said, nudging you again.

“You’re not sleeping beside me on this shitty little bed.”

“I made that shitty little bed, thank you very much, and it’s either I sleep beside you or we both spend a night in frozen agony on separate beds and get killed on our travels tomorrow because we're too exhausted to think properly." He nudged you once more. “Now, move over.”

With a frown, you rolled onto your side, making space for Sturmhond to lay down beside you. He pulled his blanket over the two of you and huddled closer to you. His hand was shaking as he slowly brought his arm around you. When you didn't elbow him in the ribs he slunk closer to you.

He gave you some warmth as he rested against you, but he was still shivering and it made sleeping beside him more than a little uncomfortable. So with extreme hesitancy, you grabbed his shaky hand in yours and drew it close to your chest. He stilled for a second, but then you felt him chuckle, his arms softening. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the cold in your veins ebbed.

“Not so bad, now is it?” He said lowly, his voice close to your ear.

“Shut up, you twat.”

……….

In the morning, neither of you spoke about the night before, though you could tell Sturmhond wanted to. He kept staring at you and then looking away when you caught him.

You woke up with your face in his chest and your hands gripping his shirt for dear life. He was still asleep, and you thanked the saints that you were spared the humiliation of being caught in that position. You slipped away from your bed before he awoke and went to find food. The whole morning was spent dancing around the sleeping arrangements of the prior night.

You had no idea how you'd survive the rest of this unexpected journey.

After you ate, the pair of you packed up your things and took to a road off of the farm. It was a long and lonely walk, but after forty minutes you reached a village.

Sturmhond posted a letter to an address in Novokribirsk, a contact in the network that he had been building before your untimely encounter with Drüskelle. The contact would reach Tolya and Tamar and the four of you would be reunited soon enough, or so Sturmhond assured you. But, for now, you were to lay low in the village.

There was the issue of where you would stay, but Sturmhond left you in a pub to order food and said he would sort it out. When he returned the first thing he did was grab your hand. You narrowed your eyes at him as he slipped a ring on your finger and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had half a mind to punch him with your new ring, but you held off because of the people around you. There was no need to attract attention, especially when you were supposed to be laying low.

"Hello, my dear," he said, sitting down. "You should be more excited that I found your misplaced wedding ring, you know."

"I'm over the moon," you told him, rubbing a thumb over the flat gold band. Sturmhond had worn it since the first day you met him, but it fit you surprisingly well for a hand-me-down.

He hummed in response, picking up his knife and fork. You followed suit, suspicious and slightly confused, but too hungry to bother.

On the walk through the village, he held your hand and explained to you that he told the innkeeper he was spending a few days in town with his wife.

"He seemed the old-fashioned type so I thought he might start asking questions about the two young people sharing a room." He gave your hand a squeeze. "This was easier."

"Alright, but why did you have to kiss my hand in the pub and why insist on holding hands now?"

He flashed you a smile, his green eyes crinkling a bit. "We'll be stuck here for who knows how long; we have to keep up appearances."

You weren't thrilled about this, but you nodded to yourself. "Fine. What are we to be called?"

"Pytor and Ilse Ivanov. I gave you a Kerch name to explain away your accent."

"And here I thought my Ravkan accent was perfect."

"It's passable at best."

"Now you tell me."

When you arrived at the inn, you learned that Sturmhond was right about the innkeeper. The man had a razor-sharp stare on your hand, eager to spot a ring. Only then did he give you a polite nod.

When you got to your room you weren't surprised to find a double bed instead of two singles, yet the sight of it still made you frown. You didn't want a repeat of last night in the barn and the embarrassment that came along with it.

"One bed," you commented.

"It's more cost-effective." He took off his drab coat; brown was an odd colour for him. "Plus, I thought you wouldn't mind seeing as we've slept together before."

He phrased it like that just to see you squirm, you were sure of it, but instead of giving him a reaction, you walked into the bathroom where you promptly began muttering swears at him in Kerch; he would still understand them, and you would still be giving him some kind of reaction, but you were too tired to bottle it up completely.

You were glad to scrub off your travels with a warm bath. While you were at the pub, Sturmhond booked this room and went to a nearby shop to pick out an outfit for the both of you, so you were able to change into something clean, thank the saints. Once finished, you sat in a chair by the window as Sturmhond took your place in the bathroom. You started reading a slim book he also purchased.

He'd spoken of cost-efficiency, and yet here he was making unnecessary purchases.

When he came out of the bathroom he looked rather put-together. The sight wasn't what you were used to from him. He was usually a rugged scoundrel, but right now he looked almost respectable with his face clean and his hair slicked back from the water. It wasn't a bad change, especially not when the ties at the top of his shirt were open and you could see droplets trailing his chest.

What was it about him with his shirt undone that sought to poison your mind? You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck as best as you could and returned your attention to the book.

He was your captain–your employer–and you would not get more involved with him than you already were. A freezing night spent in each other's arms was one thing, but actually pining over him was something else entirely.

And then there was the issue of his feelings toward you. You knew he liked you as more than a captain liked their second--he had practically told you that night in the Ketterdam harbours--but you couldn't encourage his crush. It wouldn't be right to lead him on when you did not intend to be with him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning against the bed post.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I mean, how are you--a lovely sailor from Kerch--reading a book in Old Ravkan?"

You turned your page. "Because I know Old Ravkan."

He chuckled to himself, laying down on the bed. "Never a real answer with you, is it?" Once he was settled against the pillows he spoke, "Read to me."

"Was that a request or an order?"

"That book is the entirety of our entertainment budget and I'm frightfully bored just sitting here with nothing to do, so read it to me, please."

You rolled your eyes and flipped back to the beginning, reading it aloud this time. He listened peacefully, staring at the ceiling as he laid back. After a while, you peered over and his eyes were shut, so you closed the book and climbed into your side of the bed.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, definitely not asleep.

"It's late and that book isn't very long. We have to pace ourselves since we're stuck here until further notice."

"It should only be a few days, a week at the most."

"Still," you said, "it'll be done and we'll be bored out of our minds."

"It's nice being read to." He turned on his side to face you. "It didn't happen much in my childhood; the nanny said I was too impatient to sit still and listen, though I suspect she just didn't want to read through the boring histories that collected dust on the shelf. But besides that, your voice is pleasant to listen to."

"I used to read to one of our neighbours. She was Ravkan."

"And I presume she's the reason you know Old Ravkan," he speculated, a light smile tracing his lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you teased.

"That's the thing," he said, his hand reaching for yours. "I'd like to know everything about you."

The sincerity in his eyes had you at a loss, and you pulled your hand away. Facing the wall, you murmured goodnight and turned out your lantern.

……….

You started your second day in the village with arms around you. Sturmhond couldn't keep to himself when he slept, and he was leaning the entirety of his weight into your side as you lay there on your back. Your head was tilted towards him when you opened your eyes, and you could see the top of his head from this position. His red roots were no longer red, a blond colour bleeding into his hair.

It seemed strange to you that his real hair colour was blond, but you supposed it wouldn't not suit him; he seemed like he could sport any look.

A part of you was interested to see his real face and hair. Though it might pose problems if the people in the village caught on to his changing appearance. Worse still, they could recognize him as prince Nikolai and ransom him or commit some other terrible act. You were stuck in West Ravka, after all, and there was not as much support for the royal family to be found on this side of the fold.

When he woke up he didn't immediately remove himself from you. He slowly looked up at you, meeting your waiting stare.

"I'm surprised you didn't push me away," he said, a smirk encroaching on his features.

"My arm is numb from being trapped by you, how could I ever manage to push you away?" You asked. He still hadn't shifted, but you moved the conversation along anyways. "There's an issue with your hair."

"I've only just woken up," he grumbled. "You should see your hair."

You glared at him. "That's not what I meant, idiot. You're going blond."

That got him up. He hurried to the mirror in the corner of the room and peered at his hair. "Tolya re-tailors my hair and face every week. I'll probably be back to myself by the time we see him again."

"Will people here recognize you if you look like yourself?" you asked, rubbing the feeling back into your arm.

"They might."

"Then maybe you should stay inside. I can bring you meals and--"

"I can't stay inside," he complained. "I'll go crazy being pent up in here."

"What other choice is there?"

He pursed his lips. "You could get me a hat. And a scarf for my face. Maybe some glasses for when my eyes change."

"We'll be spending too much money."

"How about we stay here one more night so we can hear back from Tolya and Tamar then move on to another village tomorrow?" He sat down beside you on the bed, reaching for your hand again. What was it with him and holding your hand?

"How many nights did you pay the innkeeper for?"

"Two."

You gave him a look. "You knew we would be leaving."

"Preposterous." He waved you off with a smile. "It's nothing but a happy coincidence, my dear."

You stood and went into the bathroom. His antics were getting on your nerves.

He called after you, "I wasn't joking about that hat, though. By tomorrow I'll be blond again."

..........

FIRST YEAR

Sleeping on the streets was less than ideal, but it was the only way you could stay with your brothers.

Working reception at the Exchange barely afforded you lodgings with one bed, and the houses you had looked at were strict with their tenants. Lodging houses were either split in gender, meaning your brothers wouldn't be allowed to join you, or they had a ratio rule of beds to people so renting for three was impossible. You were saving your money for a sufficient room for your family, and the Kruge that would help you do so felt heavy in your pockets.

After the Hertzoon scheme that Jordie talked you into fell through you insisted that you should be the one responsible for what little money the Rietvelds had left. Jordie couldn't argue much, and the money he and Kaz scrounged in odd jobs always went straight to you.

Tonight as you shivered on a bridge, staring at the Barrel flash and hoping for one moment of rest, you felt particularly run-down. You had to look presentable and clean for your office job, yet it was easier said than done when you were living on the streets. You knew a woman from work who was kind enough to let you get ready at her house every morning, but she was not kind enough to do more than that. She had once offered you a room in her home, but when you asked if your brothers could come with you she shook her head.

"Not enough space for rambunctious boys," she'd said.

"But they're not like that," you defended. "They behave very well."

"Look, I can take you alone or I can't take you at all."

In the end, you chose to stay with your brothers. They needed you, and you wouldn't leave them. You couldn't.

Kaz was slumped over in your lap, and even Jordie was leaning against your arm. The elder of the two wasn't asleep, but he had lost enough pride that he was no longer too good to cuddle up to his big sister. He would pass into a realm of bad dreams soon enough, though, and it would only be you staring at the gaudy lights.

It was the early morning, and in a few hours you would make your way to the more respectable neighbourhoods and enter through a backdoor so that none of the neighbours saw a Barrel rat coming into your associate's house. You would emerge respectable-looking, walk to the Exchange and scribe letters and brew coffee all day, then you would meet your brothers at the abandoned coffeehouse and try to find a safe place to sleep for the night.

It was the same as it always was, and you left as the sun started rising, shifting Kaz into Jordie's arms. They would try to find work during the day, but you imagined all they would find was trouble. It was the Barrel, after all, and there was no place there for little boys with decent hearts.

When you met up with them the sun was setting. There was the issue of dinner, and you shared something unfulfilling from a street vendor. You took the smallest portion because you always did. They fed you lunch at your work, but you never knew what your brothers might have had during the day. Every morning you left them enough money for one meal shared but it was hard to say what they could have gotten.

Kaz was against your side as soon as he saw you, and he barely separated himself once you were eating your dinner. He sat next to you, packing food into his mouth like a squirrel about to hole up for winter; you had to remind him to slow down.

Jordie didn't have that issue tonight. He ate with small bites, as though the taste of it was abhorrent. It wasn't particularly bad, and saints knew you all had eaten worse from the street vendors of the Barrel, so you looked your brother over with wary eyes. When you pressed your hand to his forehead and he barely swatted at you, you knew something was amiss. He was burning up, and in the dim light you could see a patch of inflamed skin on his neck.

Firepox.

You had contracted it as an infant and survived, meaning you would be immune to it now, but Kaz and Jordie had never been exposed to the detrimental disease. You tried to contain your panic as you watched Jordie's eyes gloss over.

He was sick, and there was only so much you would be able to do for him. When you were sick with it, your parents had paid an arm and a leg for a Grisha Healer to keep you alive, but it cost them for many years. Now your remaining family was impoverished and without so much as a roof over your heads, and there was no way you would be able to pay for a Healer or university medik.

You just prayed that Kaz wasn't infected yet, but it was unlikely he would be unscathed. They spent every day together. You let Kaz sleep in his brother's arms, for saint’s sake. There was no way that if Jordie was sick then Kaz wouldn't soon be sick as well.

"I can't finish this," Jordie said, pushing his portion away from himself. "It hurts my throat."

You scooped up his food before your littlest brother could reach for it, mixing it in with yours. Kaz frowned but said nothing as you kept eating.

You couldn't sleep at all that night. Tucked away in a narrow alcove, you kept Kaz on one side and Jordie on the other. He was coughing, a raspy noise that only got worse as the night went on. It was keeping him up, too, even though he needed the sleep if he was to recover. Kaz was safe in your arms, with no symptoms popping up yet but plenty of time for them to make an appearance.

"It's firepox, isn't it?" Jordie wheezed as a gondel of masked revellers passed.

"It is," you said, grabbing his hand. "But don't worry, we'll figure something out."

You had no idea what you could do for your brother but your reassurance was enough at that moment, and when you left the boys in the early morning they were both asleep, propped against opposite sides of the alcove.

When you saw them again at the end of the next day, Kaz was sluggish and Jordie was still glossy-eyed. They sat on the ground in front of the coffeehouse, skin burning up. You brought them dinner, but neither of them ate much. For once, you had a full belly, but you felt so sick with worry that you could have emptied it into the canals.

You slept in the cover of a wall of wooden crates for the rest of the week, and you didn't bother trying to keep your brothers apart. As much as it pained you to think about it, there wasn't much hope for them to survive. You figured if they were going to die they might as well die in familiar arms. You couldn’t give them much, but you could at least give them the comfort of each other.

From then on your family stayed beside the piled-up crates your brothers had named the Nest. You would finish work every day and hurry to them, checking on their worsening conditions before finding dinner and forcing them to eat.

Kaz still attached himself to you like a leech, but his arms were weaker now and when he coughed you could feel his little body shake from head to toe. Jordie had abandoned all his pride and allowed himself the comfort of your arms in his last days. He seemed to know better than Kaz that you wouldn't be able to do anything more for them besides bringing hot chocolate and reciting old bedtime stories. One day you bought a vial of pain relief made by an alkemi, slipped it in their hot chocolates and prayed that it would do something to help them, but it only numbed some of their pain.

The fever did not wane and the cough did not subside. They were still terribly sick, and it was your fault. You hadn't kept them safe like Da had told you to. And now you would lose your brothers in a matter of days, maybe even hours; they were completely pale and clammy, and they both could hardly stay awake.

Every time you approached them after work or when you were bringing them food you had to brace yourself for the fact that they could be dead. And yet, all the preparation in the world couldn’t have made the sight of it any less terrifying.

It was only a week after Jordie had initially fallen ill; you were coming back from the university where you unsuccessfully begged a medik for aid. There was dread in your step, and you had taken to speaking to any saint who might be listening to protect your brothers. Your family wasn’t raised religious, yet you recited every blessing and prayer Old Lady Trokowsky had uttered in front of you. They were made in vain, though, you realized as you finally saw their lifeless bodies. A sob struck you and you fell to your knees, trying to rouse them awake, trying to bring them back to life, but it was no use.

They were dead.

Though they were limp in your arms, you couldn’t help but hold your brothers. You should have been there when they passed, should have kissed their sweaty foreheads and whispered that it would be alright. But you weren’t there.

You added this to the long list of things you would never forgive yourself for; it would be right at the top.

You huddled close to them for a long time, breathing in grime and sweat and the residual filth of the Barrel; it was the smell of death.

When the body men came through you had trouble parting with your only family, but after a bit of coaxing, you let go of them. No matter how badly you wanted to look away, to focus on anything besides their limp bodies, you forced yourself to watch them be rolled onto the sickboat. They deserved your attention at that moment, even if it pained you to see them rowed away.

Then–hours after they were gone and you felt strong enough to move–you wandered up the streets, stopping only to vomit into the canal every so often. It was pitch dark by the time you reached the abandoned fifth harbour, and you were only dry-heaving. You sat there and stared at the boats. Your vision was blurry, your tears had not dried, but that didn’t matter. There was no one to remain strong for, so for the first time in forever, you were allowed to fall apart.

..........

FOURTH YEAR

Trembling awake, you sucked in a halting breath. You could see the dull blue wallpaper on the walls. You weren’t in Ketterdam, you weren't huddled against some crates in the streets of the Barrel; you were in a cheap little inn settled in a small town just outside of Novokribirsk.

A hand met your shoulder, and you turned to see Sturmhond's worried eyes in the dark. Without a second thought, you clambered into his arms, welcoming the comfort of his embrace. He smelled of soap and pine, and you were able to shake the scent of death from your head. You couldn't get the image of them being nudged onto the sickboat out of your mind though. How they rolled along the cobbles at the prodding of the bodymen's hooks.

Another shudder went through you and you squeezed Sturmhond tighter. He was sitting up, so you were practically in his lap, but you couldn't care less at that moment.

As always, you were completely unprepared for the nightmare recount of your brothers' deaths. It happened every so often, and you would normally cry alone and wait until morning for things to get better, but this time someone was willing to help you through it.

He leaned his cheek against your head, whispering to you that it would be okay.

"I'm here," he kept repeating. "I'm here."

He held you as your breathing slowly levelled out and you opened your teary eyes. He rubbed circles into your back and swayed back and forth in gentle motions.

It had been so long since you were held this way. Even when you had a living family it was usually you who was doing the cradling, whether that be Kaz on a stormy night, or Jordie when you were kids and he'd broken his arm. Or when they died, you thought with a near-retch.

You swallowed the bile in your throat and forced yourself not to think of that. Focusing instead on the lull of Sturmhond's heartbeat, you were able to distract yourself. It was more than unprofessional to be in his arms like this, yet you didn’t want to be anywhere else. He felt so warm, and after the bitter chill of your memories, you could do with some of that warmth.

……….

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you must have because suddenly it was morning and you were still lying in Sturmhond's arms. He had barely moved, simply settling the two of you down against the pillows. His shirt was soft against your face, and you pinched the fabric between your fingers, tethering yourself to the world around you through the white linen. Despite how small they were, your movements woke him, and his grip tightened around you for a second then relaxed again. He was a light sleeper.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his cheek resting against your head as it had in the night.

You should have slipped out of his arms and asserted that it was wrong to be so close to each other for the sake of your working relationship, but your position on the matter hadn’t changed since last night when you hurriedly sought his arms.

Maybe it was a defect of being away from the ship for too long, but you simply didn't care anymore about your working relationship. It was a crazy notion–a notion that made so little sense to you yet somehow made more sense than breathing. Suddenly it didn't matter if things would become awkward or stilted between the two of you; he was cozy and warm, and for the first time in so long you were completely comfortable.

Sturmhond shifted, moving down the mattress so that he could be at eye level with you. He studied your face like a book, reading every line with careful consideration. You thought you might collapse under the weight of his stare, but you held steady. When he finally spoke his voice was low and calm.

“Can I ask you about last night?” He inquired.

Dropping your eyes, you let out a breath. You knew there was an explanation to be had, but you weren’t sure you could give it. For so long you had hidden your past, and now it was jumping out at you.

“I only want to help you,” he said, closing a hand around yours. “You were thrashing and kept repeating ‘don't die, don't die.’ If I'm being honest, it scared me. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

A heavy breath escaped you and you clamped your eyes shut. He wanted to know why you had woken up in the dead of the night, thrashing and sick to your stomach. He wouldn't have to pry–though you were sure he was too polite to pry anyway--because he deserved an explanation for the circumstance in which you willingly sought his arms.

And so you buried your face in his shoulder as you slowly told him everything. You outlined your move to Ketterdam with your brothers, how you had been swindled out of your money, how they’d gotten sick, and how you were powerless to help them.

It took a while, especially since you began crying halfway through. It came out in stuttered, breathy sobs, and you couldn’t look at him the entire time. His shoulder was wet with tears, and you held tight to his shirt.

"It's not your fault," he said once you had finished.

"Didn't you hear a word I said?" You rubbed your eyes. "It is my fault."

"It was an outbreak of firepox. You were in no way responsible for that."

"But I was supposed to look out for my brothers, Sturmhond." You sat up, slipping from his grip. "I should have kept them away from it!"

"You did everything you could," he insisted, leaning forward and gently setting his hand on your back. "I've read about firepox. It's not easily contained or cured. You did the best you could in a bad situation."

"It wasn't enough."

You slumped back down in resignation and he followed. After a moment you sought his arms again. He sighed and gave up trying to convince you of your innocence in the situation. For now, he just held you as he had for hours and hours.

……….

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! The next part should be out in like a week. If you want to be tagged please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Part 4

Taglist:

@babyblue-chaos @mischiefmanaged71 @red-ace-in-space @almostjollypizza @gabby10100 @rosexdenis @tayswiftlovebot @cecebridgerton @houseoftwistedspirits @gxdsmonsters @sweet0pia-uw @starrynightsil @ell0ra-br3kk3r @knmendiola @lyria-skyfall @adharanotfound @kato-ptris @unicornfairytail @milkshake0 @inluvkai @wwwlusspace @for-writing-shit @stickyfictioninwriting @4-everm-0-re @reidwritess @fallonaurr @lollulroofl @meg-the-second-greatest @justsomecreaturewandering @madnessinwrighting @goldenpoison @theghostofshadows @bilesxbilinskixlahey @wolfmoonmusic @nyctophiliiiiaaa @avengers-assemble123456 @catzpawn @angelhxneyy @alinasmcu @itshardtopickaname @pomagranteseeds

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x sister!reader #nine long years #grishaverse fanfic

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one-squash-one-end · 11 months ago

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I wrote a giant Raven Cycle analysis

Hi! Over the last year or so I've been working on a sort of essay about various themes in the raven cycle series, and I finally finished it a few weeks ago.

It is titled: "Why I love The Raven Cycle - An excessive analysis of the themes of friendship, queerness and growing up".

And since tumblr loves its meta (and bc I love peer validation) I've decided to start uploading it bit by bit here, making this the masterpost (if I can figure out the logistics of the linking lmao, bear with me)

(beware of spoilers up to greywaren starting at like 3b!)

Introduction

What even is the Raven Cycle?

Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it a) Blue Sargent b) Gansey c) Adam Parrish d) Ronan Lynch e) Noah f) Henry Cheng g) Honorary mentions

The Gangsey is a polycule

Analyzing the reoccurring themes a) Friendship b) Being a teen/growing up c) (Found) Family d) Magic (as a metaphor) e) Further themes I appreciate

Drawing a conclusion

Click here to start with the introductory parts!

1. Introduction

So here’s the thing: I love fiction almost as much as I love my friends. There’s something deeply comforting about the escapism, even if the book actually makes me want to scream and throw it on the floor (only one book has been thrown so far, I promise!). Fiction is a healthy thing to occupy my thoughts with: headcanons! Quotes being on loop in my brain! Just fandoms!

And for me, if I am hooked on a book (series), it does not even need a good plot where a lot of things happen. In fact, I would say that my enjoyment of a book is made up of 30% plot and about 70% characters and vibes. If the characters are bland, if they do not make me feel much emotion, it likely won’t be more than 4 stars (additional info: I am way too nice rating books!). I really, really need to love the characters, to be able to relate to some aspects of them, or it just won’t become an obsession.

Since I have already started explaining that a bit, let’s look at this question: What is important to make a book special to me? 1. I need to cry reading it. 2. I have to think about it often, even weeks to months after having read it. 3. Obviously, I need to love the characters. 4. I need to be in the fandom! This can be hard with some books, but the internet is a whimsical space allowing you to find at least a small number of people who are obsessed with a work of fiction to a similar extent as you are.

Now, why am I elaborating on this so much? It’s because The Raven Cycle did all that for me. It is my favorite comfort book series at the moment, for all those aspects mentioned, but of course I cannot just leave it at that. No, I wrote a whole-ass analysis on headcanons and some of its themes. You’re welcome.

2. What even is The Raven Cycle?

The Raven Cycle is all I adore and live for (next to my friends). So, naturally, it’s a book series, specifically a four book young adult contemporary fantasy series by American author Maggie Stiefvater. The books in question are: The Raven Boys (2012), The Dream Thieves (2013), Blue Lily, Lily Blue (2014) and The Raven King (2016), and yes I will admit that the publishing dates are a bit of a red flag. There is also the very relevant follow-up series called The Dreamer Trilogy (Call Down The Hawk, Mister Impossible, Greywaren), but it’s a lot less easy to get into that here as I do not know these entire books by heart, so I’ll stick to the original tetralogy here.

To stick to red flags, the books are set in the fictional Henrietta, a rural town in non-fictional Virginia, US, in the 2010s. However, that doesn’t really say *that* much about the plot, so let me summarize that really quick, because I can do better than the official synopsis! (Or let’s pretend I can.)

Blue Sargent comes from a family of psychics, yet she does not have any powers of her own. Even worse, she is a bit of an amplifier for the others, meaning she is always somehow but never directly involved in the business. As if that isn’t enough for an identity crisis, every psychic she has ever met has told her that her kiss would kill her true love. Yikes.

But because she is that amplifier, she comes to a church watch on St. Mark’s Eve, where psychics see the spirits of those to die within the following year. It’s important business, but to her it’s really just staring into the dark. Until she does actually see a spirit: That of Gansey. Of course this is not a coincidence. No, to add to this teen’s mount of problems, there are only two reasons why a non-seer would see someone’s spirit: They are their true love, or they killed them. Or, in Blue’s case, maybe both.

The aforementioned Gansey is Henrietta’s Golden Boy, the son of politicians (read: he’s fucking loaded). He does not run with the Republicans though, he runs with dead Welsh kings, meaning he has been searching for the probably dead, presumably sleeping Welsh king Glendower (*1350; †1416; yikes) for the past like seven years. Why the fuck would he do that? Well, legend says that he will grant a wish to whoever wakes him, and our favorite PTSD-ridden guy really wants that favor.

Aiding him are fellow Aglionby students Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch and Noah Czerny, plus Henry Cheng, though only a lot later in the series, but I really did not want to leave out that menace (affectionately) here. The paths of Blue and the boys cross because of Gansey’s search for Glendower, plus the fact that Blue works at a popular pizza place, but that’s a lot less whimsical. And, well, there’s the implication that Gansey might also be her true love, but perhaps she just kills him because of his bad fashion sense, it would be justified. Anyway, in true Famous Five fashion (Ronan is the dog; I won’t elaborate, the girls that get it, get it) they are of course not the only ones searching for the king, so it’s not completely a wholesome friend bonding activity all the way through.

Be prepared for: friendship and growing up, lots of treasure hunting, family mysteries, magical forests, illegal and slightly distasteful activities (our favorite of course), but most of all, heavily queer-coded (or even canonically queer) characters. Be Gay, Do Crime.

#y'all better like this it took a while #trc #the raven cycle #gansey #blue sargent #ronan lynch #adam parrish #noah czerny #henry cheng #the raven king #the raven boys #blue lily lily blue #the dream thieves #let's hope i don't forget about this after the first part #please talk to me about your thoughts

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junpei-iori-ace-defective · 9 months ago

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Thoughts about Hades 2 as a tech test player

Everything is under a read more bc. 1. Long post. 2. Spoilers for Hades 2.

1. The game is fucking s m o o t h. Loads quicker and everything feels more stream lined.

2. It’s somewhat harder than Hades 1. Idk if it’s bc of not having a super buffed character but I am definitely finding it a little more challenging. Not a bad thing though!

3. Melinoë plays a little different from Zag which is to be expected! We now have a sprint, spells, and new weapons. Already loving how regular casts and specials don’t have a cast limit. Also love the twin blades. Fast weapon go brrrrrrr.

4. I’m definitely interested in seeing what they do with gathering, farming, ect. Great way to add more stuff to do in and after runs.

5. This ties into 4 but, I love how there’s a bunch of stuff to do in Crossroads! In Hades 1, I never spent too much time in the house. I was always dashing through to do another run when not stopping to talk to people. The Crossroads is definitely a nice cool down area for after runs!

6. THE ART. Man everyone looks so good!!!! I can tell some of the sprites are still being worked on but everything still looks so damn clean. I love how everyone has backgrounds in their portraits!

7. APOLLO, HEPHAESTUS, HESTIA, SELENE. All of them look and sound so cool. Really looking forward to seeing their full boon lists and how they play with different weapons ect.

8. I’m really happy to see some of the OG gods returning. All of them look so sick and every time I see a boon from the first game I go “YOOOOOO”. Also Artemis physically appearing is sick as hell.

9. Really excited to get to know the new crew better! They’re all really compelling already!

10. The areas seem to be shorter. Like, I’m going through less rooms to hit the boss room. Idk if it’s bc it’s a tech test or if it’s intentional.

Speculation and questions

1. WHAT DID CHRONOS DO. ARE THEY DEAD? WHERE ARE THEY? Istg if Zag is dead I am going to c r y.

2. WHERE IS THAN, MEG, ACHILLES, NYX, EVERYONE FROM THE FIRST GAME? WHERE ARE THEY?

3. Hecate said something about Hermes trying to find a way to get from the underworld to Olympus. There was also some stairs going blocked by a ward in the weapon/training room. I wonder if there’s gonna be more areas to go through. Like. Erebus, Elysium, Asphodel, Tartarus, House, then Olympus? Maybe Olympus is gonna have its own areas completely. This would make sense for why the areas are shorter. Really interested to see what they do.

4. If the game looks like this already in its tech test stage….. this might be my game of the year if it gets a full release this year. (I love you P3RE but holy shit Hades 2).

There’s a lot more I could talk about, but I am tired and this is a long post lmao.

#l.txt #hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades #hades 2 technical test #idk how I even managed to get accepted into the tech test but I’m really glad I did!#its super fun!#long post

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wileys-russo · 6 months ago

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i have LOTS of questions so i decided to write them all at once (hope you don’t mind)😭

1. where do they go to their first vacation? i can imagine eli being okay with it but how do ale, alba, mapi and ingrid react? i can imagine alba and mapi being like all calm and like “ahh just let them be young and have fun” and alexia and ingrid all stressed out thinking about everything that could go wrong😭

2. not a question but kind of a question? (and also this is more for @girlgenius1111 but since she is recovering from surgery and you will have free time i decided to write to you) but, I need a fic with fresa is looking after scout. like is this happening when fresa and sol still don’t know each other (and mapi just asks fresa to look after scout for sol)? like when they met while mapi was giving fresa the car tattoo? and is sol still incredibly shy when handing over scout? like when they first met? or are they friends already? or maybe even girlfriends? i NEED to know the tea!!

3. do you know the olive theory? like the one that hates olives and the other that loves them so they take them? (in the end both hate olives) is this applicable to sol and fresa (maybe with other foods)??

4 what is their absolute favorite thing to watch together? and similarly do they show each other some cliché Tv shows in spanish/norwegian? (in my country we have a tv show called family affairs and tbh it’s the cringiest thing i have ever seen, and if i ever have a girlfriend this is the first thing i am going to show her because she NEEDS to experience the cringe of other cultures)

5. who is the one to wake up super early and who is to one to go to sleep at an ungodly hour?

6. another question that very much involves @girlgenius1111 but let’s suppose that sol makes up with her mom and wants to meet with her, how does fresa react? is she super protective? is she supportive? is she a mix of both? does she freak out? is she ready to take out box gloves and beat everyone?

7. once again the opinion of the queen herself @girlgenius1111 is needed but how does sol react to finding out that the relationship between fresa and alexia/alba is very stranded? obviously sol likes alexia but she doesn’t know her on a personal level super well, what does she do when she finds out that it’s not as perfect as it seems? that they may have more in common that she initially thought? the same goes for fresa finding out about sol’s relationship with ingrid, like it’s different but in some ways very similar. i suppose both feel very abandoned? how do they get through that?

ok i have even more questions but i need to stop now or i may yap till the end of the day. anyway sorry for such a long ask. feel free to not answer (if i were you i would just ignore this tbh) or “not answering, find out later” is just as acceptable. whatever you feel like tbh!!!

anyway i love this story that you and k! have created together, you both are very special writers and i VERY much appreciate what you do and write, anyway take care and lots of love🍓☀️❤️ (if anything i have written doesn’t make sense i had a bottle of wine and my first language isn’t english😭)

idk if it counts as a vacation but early on into knowing one another but not yet quite dating they go to madrid together alone for a concert! you are absolutely correct lmao alba and mapi help them get their train tickets and drive them to the station, meanwhile alexia and ingrid are too busy stressing they're too young to go alone and they'll wind up kidnapped or something dramatic

K and I were talking about this literally yesterday and trying to work out a timeline for all the blurb ideas we have for Sol and Fres + how it all ties into filling the void and family line! but yes fresa looks after scout for a week (he comes to stay with her and Eli) when Sol goes to Norway with Ingrid and Mapi, but thats after they've been dating for awhile. the first time Fresa meets Scout its before she even realises she likes Sol, but Sol is shocked at how much Scout seems to love Fresa (aka dog whisperer putellas)

they actually both like pickles on burgers but pretend not to when they think the other doesn't, so neither of them end up eating the pickles despite actually having a mutual love for them (same goes for olives)

mmm i don't know a whole lot about tv shows outside of where i'm from but i imagine both Sol and Fres have a mutual love of trashy reality tv shows. specifically the kardashians and any sort of dating show like love island, too hot to handle etc. they both spend the entire time complaining about how awful the show is but also, never miss an episode. they also love to binge true crime dramas together, and Fresa loves medical programs but she knows she can't watch them around Sol because Sol faints at even the slightest sign of blood

Fresa is a morning person (Alexia's influence) and Sol is a night owl!

Fresa is very cautious how she speaks about Sol and Ingrids mum, obviously she knows whats happened and it breaks her heart that anyone could treat such a perfect human like that. but she also knows theres parts of Sol that still love her mum and Fresa doesn't want to go too hard on the 'your mum is such a piece of shit for treating you like that' train and upset her girlfriend. so she lets Sol take the lead in conversations about her mum and is careful how she responds!

By the time Sol and Fresa start to properly interact its after everything has gone down between Fresa and her sisters and they're well on track back to being as close as they used to be. But when Sol first opens up to Fresa about how she ended up in Spain living with her sister and the strains of their relationship early on in her stay, Fresa opens up about her own struggles with that and they bond over it. Fresa is a lot more forthcoming with information but Sol doesn't trust as easily so it takes a little longer for Fresa to really understand the extent of the struggles in her life when she lived in Norway thank you for all of these they really made me (and K) think!! i know some people might think its stupid to go so in depth about creating a life for a made up character but it really is a fun escape and i love creating Fresa's little universe, and its nice to write about a wholesome queer teenage relationship because they get done so dirty in tv shows most of the time! 🍓🍓 @girlgenius1111

#answered asks #🍓☀️

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nadianova · 4 months ago

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im sorry if anyones asked this before but! what's your process for planning out your vns? it might be too open-ended a question but playing malmaid its clear that you have a lot of skill and really have the medium nailed, so like... what does your workflow look like? how do you piece together whatever beginning idea fragments you have into something so coherent and well put together as this? what kinds of things do you prioritize? have you written about your process before?

i should tag my shit better i had to scroll forever to find these

but uhhhhhh i think. i seriously think the biggest misconception is that i somehow know what I'm doing like consistently the moments that people like in my games are moments i wsnt even thinking about and instead i put my effort into some entirely dismissed location.

i dont know what im doing but if i am to point at a skill my skill is the fact that i can in fact complete games and that gives people an opportunity to enjoy them

if you go read my first vns you'll notice they are not malmaid but after having made so many its just helped me build a repertoire of scripting abilities and knowledge on how to express myself in a visual novel format.. ultimately i am kinda writing the same thing over and over again in my vns cause that's just what i like to do

so its just trial and error really while having fun with the process

but yeah theres two other links wheere itry to go in the details but everything is so vague and shifting i might be doing something entirely different for my next game I'm already learning that i HATE planning so much as I've done for NAOMIDA and i have way more fun just winging it like i did with hopeless junction and dddeviance

my notes are actually insane like

lmao

look at these are my current notes and starting baseline for my lina side story in my game

like srly i just throw shit in be it memes or tweets or snippets of my own thoughts i wrote half asleep at 4 am and then figure out the details later and when i feel like my story is clear enough in my brain from shit like this i just start writing it hopping from scene to scene usually writing the fun scenes first and then suffering when i gotta string everything together

#asked

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machiten · 2 years ago

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thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

#genshin impact #scaramouche #genshin headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #angst #sumeru #kaedehara kazuha #aether #genshin kazuha #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact imagines #wanderer #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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