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100vern · 5 months ago

Text

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie�� like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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subjectsix · 2 months ago

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KIP'S BIG POST OF THINGS TO MAKE THE INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY SUCK A LITTLE LESS

Post last updated November 23, 2024. Will continue to update!

Here are my favorite things to use to navigate technology my own way:

A refurbished iPod loaded with Rockbox OS (Rockbox is free, iPods range in price. I linked the site I got mine from. Note that iPods get finicky about syncing and the kind of cord it has— it may still charge but might not recognize the device to sync. Getting an original Apple cord sometimes helps). Rockbox has ports for other MP3 players as well.

This Windows debloater program (there are viable alternatives out there, this one works for me). It has a powershell script that give you a little UI and buttons to press, which I appreciate, as I'm still a bit shy with tech.

Firefox with the following extensions: - Consent-O-Matic (set your responses to ALL privacy/cookie pop-ups in the extension, and it will answer all pop-ups for you. I can see reasons to not use it, but I appreciate it) - Facebook Container ("contains" Meta on Facebook and Instagram pages to keep it from tracking you or getting third party cookies, since Meta is fairly egregious about it) - Redirect Amp to HTML (AMP is designed for mobile phones, this forces pages to go to their HTML version) - A WebP/AVIF image converter - uBlock Origin and uBlacklist, with the AI blacklist loaded in to kill any generative AI results from appearing in search engines or anywhere.

Handbrake for ripping DVDs— I haven’t used this in awhile as I haven’t been making video edits. I used this back when I had a Mac OS

VLC Media Player (ol’ reliable)

Unsplash & Pexels for free-to-use images

A password manager (these often are paid. I use Dashlane. There are many options, feel free to search around and ask for recs!). There is a lot that goes into cybersecurity— find the option you feel is best for you.

Things I suggest:

Understanding Royalty Free and the Creative Commons licenses

Familiarity with boolean operators for searching

Investing in a backup drive and external drive

A few good USBs, including one that has a backup of your OS on it

Adapter cables

Avoiding Fandom “wikias” (as in the brand “Fandom”) and supporting other, fan-run or supported wikis. Consider contributing if its something you find yourself passionate or joyful about.

Finding Forums for the things you like, or creating your own*

Create an email specifically for ads/shopping— use it to receive all promotional emails to keep your inbox clean. Upkeep it.

Stop putting so much of your personal information online— be willing to separate your personal online identity from your “online identity”. You don’t owe people your name, location, pronouns, diagnoses, or any of that. It’s your choice, but be discerning in what you give and why. I recommend avoiding providing your phone number to sites as much as possible.

Be intentional

Ask questions

Talk to people

Remember that you can lurk all you want

Things that are fun to check out:

BBSes-- here's a portal to access them.

Neocities

*Forums-- find some to join, or maybe host your own? The system I was most familiar with was vbulletin.

MMM.page

Things that have worked well for me but might work for you, YMMV:

Limit your app usage time on your smartphone if you’re prone to going back to them— this is a tangible way to “practice mindfulness”, a term I find frustratingly vague ansjdbdj

Things I’m looking into:

The “Pi Hole”— a raspberry pi set up to block all ads on a specific internet connection

VPNs-- this is one that was recommended to me.

How to use computers (I mean it): Resources on how to understand your machine and what you’re doing, even if your skill and knowledge level is currently 0:

This section I'll come back an add to. I know that messing with computers can be intimidating, especially if you feel out of your depth. HTML and regedits and especially things like dualbooting or linux feel impossible. So I want to put things here that explain exactly how the internet and your computer functions, and how you can learn and work with that. Yippee!

#old internet #computer tag #resource post

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falmerbrook · 8 months ago

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Falmer appearance and attire headcanons

(click on drawings for more details and notes!)

Hair

In Skyrim, we pretty much only see two hair styles to go off of: completely bald and the hair the "shaman" have (which are also the only females we see (a post for another day)).

In concept art, particularly Adam Adamowicz's, we see more potential hairstyles. He draws it as wispy and messy, as well as containing braids and the ties we see in the shaman in the game. This art is largely what defines my own interpretation of their hair.

I picture the typical Falmer hair as wavy, thin, wispy, and looking frizzy. Given the high number of hairless Falmer we see, I imagine baldness is common, particularly among males, and sometimes among females. Their hair can be commonly styled into braids or knots to keep it under control.

The ability to grow long, thick hair is less common, but those who can tend to style it in other unique ways. Especially among females, long hair is commonly styled into large dense locs (akin to a Polish plait) and held into shapes using ropes or leather ties.

(While I think the intention with the way their hair is drawn and modelled in the game models and concept art was that it was braided and held up with those ties, before looking at it closely I always sorta interpreted it as too stiff to just be braided. As a result, I developed the locs headcanon and have become kinda attached to it even though I have 0 in game or lore support for it)

Materials

The material used in their clothing is obviously dependent on what is accessible to them, and given their unique situation that makes the materials they use and value unique as well. In Skyrim, we see that almost all of their armor (which is mostly what we see them wearing) and homes are made of chaurus chitin (and potentially shellbug chitin), so this is likely the most common resource available to them for non-combative coverings as well. Other materials from their arthropods companions could include their cocoons, unhatched eggs, etc.

Bones from other creatures (draugr, skeevers, trolls, adventurers, bandits, etc.) underground or from aboveground raids could also be used fairly often. These could also provide a source of leather or fur, albeit not a lot of it.

Falmer groups and subcultures inside or in close proximity to Dwemer ruins probably make regular use of the materials present in those ruins as well. With all the metal and machinery present in Dwemer ruins, metal probably makes regular appearances in their clothing (and general decorations) even if they can't manipulate it themselves. Falmer more separated from Dwemer ruins would make much lesser use of these materials, however. Additionally, We see implications of Falmer preparing, cooking, and potentially cultivating fungus in-game, but see nothing indicating they have any plants in their diet, and therefore it is unlikely they regularly make or use textiles or fabrics in their clothing, and if they do they likely come form Dwemer ruins or raided adventurers/bandits/settlements from the surface.

On that note, we know that there have supposedly been incidents of Falmer coming to the surface to attack its inhabitants and travelers, as well as instances of them killing bandits, adventurers, and researchers who venture below, so it's not far fetched to believe that they have access to some materials from the surface. This could give them some access to furs from surface animals, beads, glass, jewelry, textiles, metal objects, etc. they might not otherwise have access to. The rarity of these material among the Falmer would depend on the amount of access any given group of Falmer have to the surface, but among many of them these materials could be seen as more valuable for their rarity and the difficulty to gain them.

While gemstones and ore might be accessible from both natural deposits and underground ruins, unless they had some kind of auditory function or unique texture, they might not have much value to Falmer.

General Attire/Accessories

I like to imagine that the Snow Elves, and by extension the Falmer, have an innate cold resistance in the same way Nords do, and therefore don't require clothes for the purpose of warmth even in the chilly caves of Skyrim. Additionally, their blindness likely means that wouldn't dress for visual aesthetic either. My thoughts are that they are then left with the sense of sound and touch to communicate with each other, and their clothing and accessories could reflect that.

Falmer clothing, decoration, and society in general is very heavily based on touch and texture and little on appearances. They touch each other very often for both communication, movement, and just general day-to-day interactions, and their clothes isn’t very modest, but the tactile patterns and materials used can communicate certain things such as position in society, “wealth”/power, whether they are taken, single, pregnant, with a child, etc., their roles, their age, notable achievements/skills, who is who, etc. on both their clothes and buildings. The more noise one makes, the more attention they draw and the more they drown out other noises, and the more noise making things they can “afford” to have, so the amount of noise one makes in a Falmer settlement is a status symbol. Certain types of noises or noise makers are more coveted than others (chitin beads are common, while furs are less common, and materials only gained from raiding the surface are rare and coveted).

Some noise making accessories could include:

Dangling metal, bones, beads, chitin, etc. that hangs off of their clothing or ears and jingle/clank against each other (in my drawing I show them as pretty uniform in shape and size, but they would probably be much more irregular than I depicted them)

Bells (metal or other materials) that are affixed to or dangle off of their clothing or as earrings.

Hollow bracelets, anklets, necklaces, or other accessories that are filled with rocks or beads.

Rattles tied to the body (made of chitin, dried hollow chaurus eggs, dried chaurus cocoons, beads, etc.) with leather or rope.

Flute or whistle like tubes made of metal, chitin, or dried and treated tube-like fungus that makes a woodwind-esque noise when air passes through it in a certain way. They have been designed to make noise easily from even the slightest movements.

Dried grasses (more temporary) tied to the body that make a swishy noise. More permanently, a similar thing can be achieved with hair. The hair can be sourced from Falmer (either through just cutting hair or through taking it from fallen enemies) or killed humans/mer/draugr. That sort of thing can also act as a kind of trophy.

Necklaces with various materials dangling close together that jingle against each other.

Various materials can be tied into braids or the leather ties in their hair as well.

Some textural accessories could include:

Beads. Since they wouldn't have the ability to tell the color of the beads, the patterning of beadwork would be based on the roughness, material, size, or shape of the beads. (I'm sorry I suck as drawing beads)

Furs. This wouldn't be as common since the Falmer likely don't have too much interaction with furry mammals, but some they may have access to that are big enough to make clothing/accessories out of include skeevers or trolls (and potentially rarely animals from the surface). A potential meaning of wearing furs could be as hunting trophies, but it could have other meanings as well.

Chaurus chitin would like be the most common material in Falmer attire, and depending on the part of the chaurus body, the size of the chaurus, or the life stage of the chaurus it was sourced from it could have different textures. Some chitin parts could include large spikes and deep groves, while other parts could be smoother and less rough. The use of this chitin in clothing could take advantage of this contrast in textures. Additionally, chitin or shells from shell bugs might be a different texture from the chaurus chitin. (it's unclear to me whether shell bugs are exclusive to the caves around the Forgotten Vale or if we should consider them distributed throughout Skyrim's underground)

The placement of textured components on the body could have their own meaning to it alongside what accessories or textures are being used.

Specific Falmer Subcultures

While most Falmer settlements we see in Skyrim are just a small-ish collection of huts and chaurus corrals, there are two distinctive settlements that are larger, seemingly more organized, and I like to think have their own distinct subcultures worth mentioning: Blackreach and the Forgotten Vale. The unique scope and environment of these Falmer cities (as I like to think of them) could lend to unique clothing cultures as well.

The Falmer of Blackreach have access to a vast Dwemer settlement and have has the space to spread out throughout it more fully since it seems to be more in tact than other Dwemer ruins we see. These guys would likely have a clothing culture much more heavily based on what the can access from these Dwemer ruins (metal scraps, leftover fabrics, etc.)

The Falmer of the Forgotten Vale would also have access to unique resources, such as Vale deer, Vale sabre cats, and frost giants for fur and leather. Additionally, materials accessed from the Chantry of Auri-El such as textiles from clothing, bedding, tapestries, etc. could give them a greater access to fabrics than other Falmer groups. We don't see many close Dwemer settlements to the Vale, so they would have less Dwemeri influence in their clothing than other Falmer groups.

I like to think that the Falmer's evolution exclusively underground has made them poorly equipped to handle the outdoors during the day and has made them particularly susceptible to sunburn, necessitating the need for covering for those in the Forgotten Vale who have significant settlements outdoors. With greater access to textiles and leather, they could use them as coverings when outdoors.

Armor

I actually have very few notes on armor, for two reasons. 1) I hate designing and drawing armor. It is the bane of my existence. 2) I really like the armor they have in game! I think they look awesome aesthetically, and I like how clearly they are made from chaurus chitin. Per usual, Adam Adamowicz's designs seem to have been the major inspiration for the Falmer armor, and he did a great jobs (even if it isn't the most functional looking armor ever).

(off topic but I also just want to add that he draws them with little hairs and tufts on their ears and I love it. ok that is all)

I do have a few thoughts about armor though.

Even attire made of textiles make noise when someone moves in them, and I can imagine moving around in armor, especially armor made of hard, insect shells would make a lot of noise when someone moves around in it. When you're relying on sound to navigate your environment and pinpoint potential threats or targets, wearing something making a lot of noise would not be ideal. On the other hand, getting into a fight unarmored would be a problem.

So here's my solution: heavy armor (see below) would only be worm within the camps/settlements where noise was already high and space is more cramped (and therefore more risky in a fight) as a sort of guard in case they were attacked. Those guarding the settlements along the outside might still wear armor as well, but less of it. Those going out to scout or hunt (if they do hunt) would wear as little armor as possible, and try to wear it strategically so that it wouldn't rub against itself and make noise. This is why most Falmer we encounter in the game are wearing little except for loin cloths and kneepads.

One more idea I have for armor is a specific armor piece. On the note of guarding or protecting a camp or settlement, I imagine the noises of it all (especially with the noise based headcanons I've laid out here) would make it hard to actually catch any potential threats when you can't see. A large slightly concave piece of armor worn behind the head could block out noises from behind the wearer, as well as a help focus sounds ahead of them.

That is all! Thank you for reading! A lot of these concepts around the culture of sound I think could also be applied to their buildings and even a culture of music, but those are posts for another time.

All of the concept art I used was taken from here and all of the Skyrim screenshots are from UESP.

#skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #falmer #skyrim headcanon #tes headcanons #headcanon #sorry this is long (but not really)#i just cant express my thoughts like a normal person. college conditioned me to format everything like an essay where i have to provide #sources and shit lol #also im kinda autistic about falmer #i appreciate those of you who read it all!#mine #adam's concept art makes me feel very validated in my echolocation headcanon because its very obvious he references bats in their face #which is another post idea i have for another day #my art

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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no. 1 party anthem — geto suguru.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?” You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.” “A song?” “My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: post hidden inventory, pre-jjk 0, heavy angst, romance, falling in love, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, break up, slice of life, timeskip, depression, hurt, mourning, loneliness, trauma, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, profanity, depiction of break up, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of events post hidden inventory, mention of events in jjk 0, cursed user! suguru, jujutsu sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words

NOTE: i've been getting into arctic monkeys again (as you can tell) and i have to say, no. 1 party anthem has done things to me these past few weeks. AM is such a good album. i really don't think that one can get any rawer in story telling about the sorrows of parting the way AM had depicted it. so i hope you listen to it one of these days, if you haven't already. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this. i love you all so much!!! see you on the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS A SURPRISE, TO SEE HIM TONIGHT. It had been nearly five years since you last saw Geto Suguru, but the weight of his absence still lingered in the quiet moments of your life. And it had taken your breath away, you knew that much. Because you had already resigned yourself to never seeing him again since that night.

But you can’t help but wonder about all the suffering and grief that had carved its way through those five years, shaping the person who stands here now.

The you of the present feels like a stranger sometimes, a mosaic pieced together from shattered moments, each shard reflecting a memory too painful to hold but too significant to discard.

There were nights when you lay awake, your mind replaying fragments of what once were half-formed smiles, laughter that now seemed like it belonged to someone else, and the weight of a bond that had been torn apart, leaving jagged, unclean edges that never truly healed.

You’d press your fingers against the raw places, testing their tenderness, reminding yourself that the pain was real. That he was real. But he wasn’t here anymore. He had chosen his life. He had made his bed with his reality. And so must you.

It all felt like another lifetime, one so distant it seemed almost like a dream. The person you were then, the one who loved him, trusted him, believed in him. That person feels impossibly far away now. You’d convinced yourself you’d buried that version of you alongside the memory of him. And with time, you believed it.

You never expected to see him again.

And yet, there he was.

The sight of him felt like a blow, like the ground had shifted beneath you and left you unsteady. His presence unraveled the delicate stitches you’d used to bind your wounds, pulling them loose thread by thread. He looked both the same and different, an unsettling contradiction that left you breathless.

Time has not been kind to either of you. You knew that much. Geto Suguru was a handsome man, he always was and he always will be. But you could see things that people wouldn’t. You see everything, you know everything about him. Maybe more than himself.

If time had not been kind to him, you could only judge from afar about things that had happened to him. You could see it in the lines etched into his face, the heaviness in his gaze. But what struck you most was the familiar ache you thought you’d buried. it resurfaced all at once, sharp and unforgiving.

You told yourself you’d moved on. You told yourself he was a ghost, a memory that had no power over you anymore. But standing here now, your heart betrays you.

And for a moment, all the pain, all the nights spent grieving, all the years spent rebuilding—none of it seems to matter. For a moment, you forget the hurt and only remember how it felt to love him.

It happened on a random Friday night at a bar you frequented with your other sorcerer friends. It was a hub for sorcerers to gather after missions. With how Satoru and Shoko were also getting too busy to hang out with you, and Nanami not frequenting such a place, you had no other choice but to find yourself some new people to mingle around too when they weren’t free. Life doesn’t stop when you lose someone.

So, you ended up finding this bar. And over the years, you have become a regular. Even more so, you found new people to meddle life with. You all of course still can’t meet everyday. But it was more regular than most of your other relationships. That gets you through the day most of the time.

The bar in itself wasn’t special. It was a cozy, dimly lit spot with just enough charm to make it feel like a second home. But it was yours, a place where you could laugh, unwind, and forget the world outside. It was ironic that he of all people would show up here. Perhaps the universe had a cruel sense of humor, or maybe fate had finally decided to intervene.

Geto Suguru hadn’t been looking for you that night. Or maybe he had, in some subconscious, desperate way. His sources, mutual acquaintances, whispers from insiders had led him here, for business.

It’s why he had a special grade glamour on. But even he didn’t fully understand why he had stayed for a while. He didn’t need to. Someone else could have done this for him.

But when he stepped into the inner corners of the bar, his purple eyes scanned the room almost out of habit. Nothing much intrigued him in this place. It was too common, too crowded. It wasn’t his fashion. It wasn’t his scene.

But then, he looked further away and stopped.

In that moment, he knew that he saw you.

The moment froze. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in the warmth of your friends’ laughter. But he noticed everything. The way your smile lit up the room, the easy way you leaned into your conversation, the carefree aura you carried.

It was a stark contrast to the image he had of you locked in his mind: the you who had walked away from him, or maybe the you he had walked away from. He couldn’t decide anymore. He never made up his mind about that. Perhaps doing so would have hurt more.

When your eyes finally met, it hit you like a tidal wave. Recognition. Shock. Something unnameable. No one else would see the cursed energy glamour the way you would. You would notice.

You would see him. All of him. Only you could do that in a way people will never know how to. No one else could tear apart Geto Suguru the way you have, the way you will for all his life.

For a heartbeat, it felt like no time had passed, like you were back in that shared moment before everything fell apart. But then reality set in, and you turned away. Too quickly, too deliberately. You excused yourself from the table, and when you returned, he was gone.

Geto Suguru had fled back to the club he’d come from, his chest tight with a cocktail of emotions he couldn’t untangle. He should’ve known better. You were no longer a part of his life. He’d lost the right to be. And yet, he couldn’t let it go.

After downing two more drinks, the gnawing need to see you again overpowered him. He left the club and returned to the bar, heart pounding, searching. Asking the bartender if they’d seen you, scanning every corner of the room for a glimpse of your face. But you were gone.

Suguru wasn’t sure what hurt more: the hope that had flared in his chest when he saw you or the emptiness left in its place when you disappeared.

He hadn’t planned on this—on seeing you, on unraveling in public like this. Life after you had been a blur of responsibility and regret. You’d moved to Fukuoka to teach to get as far away from Tokyo as possible and he focused on his new family, his new vision.

Geto Suguru poured himself into work, convincing himself that distance was the answer. Just as much as you had thought the same thing. Out of sight, out of mind. But you were never truly gone from his thoughts, and the years only deepened the hollow ache. And perhaps, neither was he.

Now, both of you are back in Tokyo, perhaps even just for tonight. He was sitting alone at the bar, he stared into his glass, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edges. He was alone, so far away from you and your warmth, and your smiles and you who was everything.

The laughter of strangers around him was a cruel echo of the joy you’d shared with your friends just hours ago. He drank to dull the pain, but it only sharpened the edges of his misery. Each sip dragged him further into the pit he’d been clawing his way out of for years.

Suguru hated himself for the way he felt, for the way his chest still tightened at the thought of you, for the way he still longed for something he’d already destroyed. He had made his choices, he stood by them firmly.

And yet as the night wore on, his mind spiraled further into the what-ifs and could-have-beens, until he was too far gone to remember why he started drinking in the first place, he could only think how miserable he truly was.

By the time Suguru stumbled out of the bar, the night had deepened into an eerie quiet. The streets were nearly empty, save for the faint hum of passing cars and the distant laughter of people heading home.

The cold air stung his skin, but it didn’t sober him. Nothing could cut through the fog in his mind, the haze of alcohol and regret that weighed him down.

He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts circling back to you like a cruel refrain. How could you look so happy? How had you moved on so effortlessly when he was still stuck in the wreckage of what you once shared? Part of him wanted to be angry, but the anger never came. All that remained was the bitter taste of self-loathing.

When Suguru finally stopped walking, he found himself at a familiar park; a place you’d both loved. The benches were worn, the trees towering silhouettes against the starless sky. He sank onto a bench and buried his face in his hands, the chill of the night pressing against his flushed skin.

Memories rushed in unbidden, as vivid as the night you first kissed under those very trees. He could almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his.

It was unbearable, the way the past clung to him like a second skin. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the sheer weight of his emotions, but his chest heaved, and he let out a strangled sob, his breath fogging in the cold air.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had convinced himself that leaving had been the right thing to do, that the distance would save you both from the inevitable pain of being together.

But in his effort to protect you, he had only condemned himself. And now, seeing you happy, surrounded by friends, made him realize just how deeply he had failed.

Meanwhile, you ended up back at your friend’s apartment, all the laughter and enjoyment had come fading as the events of the night replayed in your mind. Seeing Geto Suguru again had been a shock you weren’t prepared for. None else noticed but you. If anything, it was as if he had wanted you to know that it was him.

You couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought. He’d come back. But for what? Why have he come back? You’d been doing fine for the past ten years. And now in an instant, you find yourself unable to do anything about these tears that just pours out.

You’d spent years trying to bury the memories, to build a life that didn’t revolve around the void Suguru had left behind. And for the most part, you’d succeeded. But tonight had cracked something so deep within you, like a breaking dam. It was that wound you thought had healed. A wound so deep that maybe you never noticed it never healed.

Your friends noticed your distraction and tried to coax you back into the lighthearted energy of the evening, but it was no use. When it comes to Suguru, you knew you would never be able to pull yourself back from the brink. You left early, along with your friend and retreated to the quiet of your own space in her house.

Sitting in the dim glow of your living room, you stared at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. It had been years since you’d last spoken, and the silence between you was deafening. But tonight, it felt heavier, like it was begging to be broken.

Suguru, in his drunken haze, finally pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled as he stared at the empty message thread between you from all those years ago. He never changed phones. He just couldn’t.

Not when this held so much of you, more than you could ever know. And he’d hate to part with it. He hates parting with you. The cursor blinked at him mockingly, daring him to say something, anything. But what could he say? What words could possibly bridge the chasm he had created?

You both sat in separate silences, even far away from each other. Even then, you both carry the weight of your shared history hanging in the air, stifling you both whole. Somewhere between the spaces of what was and what could never be, a thread still connected the two of you in the frayed, fragile, but unbroken echoes of life.

And for the first time in years, you both wondered what it would have been like to say hello.

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IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO, FLASHING IN YOUR MIND SO CLEARLY. Your relationship with Geto Suguru began like a slow sunrise—gentle, almost imperceptible at first. Everyone could see something beautiful about it. You could too.

But it wasn’t something either of you could pinpoint, the exact moment it started, but before long, the light of it had crept in, filling the cracks and chasing away the cold.

At first, you were just kids, thrown together in the chaotic, unforgiving world of jujutsu sorcery. Life and death weren’t just abstract concepts; they were constant, hovering over every breath you took, lurking in the shadows of every mission. But with him, there was something different. Something softer.

It started with stolen glances in the classroom, shared smirks over jokes that only you two seemed to find funny. Then came the late-night conversations that stretched far too long, but neither of you cared. You’d sit on the temple steps, the world silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“You ever think about what we’d be doing if we weren’t... this?” he asked one night, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looked at you then, his dark eyes searching yours like he might find some hidden answer there.

“Sometimes, when I have some time. I think about it. With you, me, Satoru and Shoko.” you admitted. “But then I think... would we have ever met? If we were just ordinary people?”

He smiled, that small, almost private smile he saved just for you. “I don’t think the universe would’ve let us miss each other.”

“Even just the two of us?” You wondered at him.

“Especially the two of us.” He grinned even wider, patting your head.

Those words lingered with you long after that night, as did the quiet weight of his presence. Suguru wasn’t just your teammate or your classmate; he became your confidant, your safe place. The one person who could make you feel human, even when the world tried to strip that away.

There was lightness in your connection, a reprieve from the heaviness that came with your lives. The warmth of his laugh, the way his shoulders relaxed when you were around. It was as if the two of you carried pieces of each other’s burdens without ever having to say it out loud.

Everytime you were with him, you felt like everything was whole.

The world made sense when you were with him.

And you were proven right each and every single time.

He was the only one for you in this world.

It had been a long day, and exhaustion lingered in the edges of your mind, but he sat across from you, legs crossed lazily, and the smallest smile teased at his lips. You remember telling a joke.

You don’t remember it in its entirety but you knew it was something about the absurdity of the higher-ups’ newest “ingenious” strategy and for a moment, his guarded composure shattered.

He laughed.

It wasn’t just a chuckle or a polite hum. No, it was a real laugh. It was as though life had existed the first time he laughed. It was so bright, unrestrained, and utterly disarming.

The sound was pure, and for a moment, you could almost forget the weight he carried, the things he wouldn’t talk about late at night when the shadows seemed to pull closer.

“God, that laugh.” you murmured, half to yourself, but he caught it.

“What about it?” His voice held a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice. Unexpected.” you said, and you could feel your cheeks warming under his steady gaze.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?”

You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.”

“A song?”

“My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

That was the beginning. That laugh became your favorite sound, a lifeline in the chaos. It became the thing you sought, the thing you tried to coax out of him in fleeting moments between missions or during those rare stretches of quiet.

You had stolen moments, the two of you. Too many to count, too many to want to forget. It was when life wasn’t pressing its cruelty upon you. Late nights stretched into early mornings, both of you lying in the grass, the stars above almost as bright as his gaze.

“You see that one?” you whispered once, pointing to a cluster of stars. “It reminds me of you.”

“Oh? How’s that?” he asked, smirking slightly, his head tilted in mock challenge.

“It burns so brightly you can’t help but stare,” you said without thinking, and the smirk faded into something softer, something almost shy.

“Careful, I might start believing you, you know?” he murmured, looking away, but not before you caught the blush dusting his cheeks.

“But aren’t I correct with what I said?”

“Ah, you’re just as cheeky as Satoru.”

You grinned at him. “But I’m better than him, aren’t I? Because I’m your favorite!”

Suguru laughed, his cheeks warm like a scarlet sunrise. “Yeah, yeah. You are my favorite.”

And then there was the kiss. It happened on an evening like any other. It was only a normal day. A day like any other. Nothing special at all.

You had been talking, your words flowing so easily it felt as if you were spinning threads of a tapestry you had both been weaving for years. Somehow, you just belonged together.

When he leaned in, his hand brushing the side of your face, it wasn’t a surprise. It felt inevitable, like the tides meeting the shore. Like destiny itself had been guiding you here. You felt like you were home as you found yourself overtaken by him.

When his lips met yours, it was as if the world stopped turning. It wasn’t fireworks or an explosion. It was just warmth that was familiar. The breeze of evening moonlight. it was a sigh, a soft release of tension you didn’t realize you had been carrying. Everything else fell away. It was just him and you.

And in that moment, you knew.

He was the one for you.

He was the love of your life.

“This feels... right, don’t you think?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“It does. Perfect.” you whispered back. “Like it was always supposed to happen.”

You didn’t just love him. No, you recognized him. Across time, across lives, across every distance imaginable. You had found him, and you would find him again.

Every time. Every lifetime. And you would love him, fiercely, until it burned you alive. Because he wasn’t just a part of your world—he was your world.

For a while, it was perfect. Together, you built a fragile sanctuary amidst the chaos. Even as the missions grew harder and the burden of protecting the world loomed heavier, you found solace in each other.

Geto Suguru would hold you close on nights when the horrors of your work were too much to bear, whispering reassurances that tomorrow would be better.

But tomorrow wasn’t better.

The world began to crack around him. He had blamed himself for Amanai Riko. For Satoru’s brush with death. For failure of a mission that relied so much on him. And that had buried him under, even before he had come and gone to the grim reaper’s arms.

Everything you had loved about him slowly faded, like memories of yesterday. You saw it in the way his smiles became rarer, in the way his laughter came less easily. He grew quieter, more distant, and when he came back from missions, he wouldn’t talk about them anymore.

Instead, he’d sit in silence, staring at nothing, as if the weight of what he’d seen was too much to put into words. As if nothing in this world mattered at all. As if nothing was worth living for.

At first, you tried to pull him out of it. You were the only person that could do something like that, if Satoru couldn’t. You have tried hard. You really did.

You did as much as you could to remind him of the ideals that had driven you both to fight in the first place. Of the future that you could have together, where you could be happy.

But Suguru wasn’t just tired of everything—he was angry.

And he didn’t want to hear anything more about those ideas.

They had failed him, as much as the adults had already done.

He wasn’t in the mind to talk anymore, he was tired of talking.

“They don’t deserve it.” he said harshly, that one night, his voice low and simmering. “The people we save—they don’t even know what we sacrifice for them. They go about their lives while we bleed for them. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not about fairness, Suguru.” you said, reaching for his hand. “It’s about doing what’s right. They are weaker than us. They don’t know the world of such suffering. But we do. Suguru—”

But he pulled away, shaking his head at you. “Maybe what’s right is letting them fend for themselves. Maybe what’s right is taking back control.”

“Suguru, you can’t—”

“I have had enough of it. I can’t….I can’t have any more of this bullshit. Please.”

You didn’t recognize the man sitting before you. His words were sharp, edged with bitterness that scared you. You tried to argue, to bring him back to the man you had fallen in love with, but Geto Suguru was slipping through your fingers, and no matter how tightly you held on, you couldn’t stop it. The more you tried, the more he pulled away.

The breaking point came on a mission, one you didn’t share with him. You weren’t there to see the moment he made his choice—the moment he decided that humanity was no longer worth saving.

You only heard the aftermath: Suguru Geto, once a protector, had killed. He had killed too many people. Even his own parents. He had turned his back on everything he once stood for. And all to be free. All to stop those voices in his head. All to stop being miserable.

When you confronted him that day, you were trembling. A part from anger, part from heartbreak. You looked at him, eyes so brimming with tears as he stood there with those dark purple orbs narrowing at you.

Almost as though he couldn’t care less about it all. It was as if he didn’t carry the world on his shoulders anymore. In that moment, it was better that their suffering freed him. That’s what it looked like to you. And that broke you. More than you could even say. More than you could even understand.

“Tell me it’s not true, Suguru.” you said, your voice cracking. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

But Geto Suguru didn’t lie. He’s never been good at lying. If anything, you didn’t need him to say anything. You already knew the truth. You’ve seen the bodies. You’ve seen the reports. But somehow, hearing him say it.

Perhaps that’s the only way to make it real. That’s the only way to know the truth. He looked at you with calm, unflinching purple eyes, the same eyes that used to hold so much warmth. How could such warm eyes feel so cold, so lifeless, so devoid of the will to live?

“They deserved it.” he said simply, his hands resting on his pockets. “The world needs to change. And I’m going to change it.”

You stepped back, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. “This isn’t you, Suguru. This isn’t who you are.I know…I know who you are. Please, just…Just…”

“It’s who I’ve always been.” he said, and the certainty in his voice shattered you.

Tears fell from your eyes, to the point that you couldn’t see anymore. You let out a guttering cry, your hand covering your lips as though you know you can’t let it out anymore. You can’t stand like this in front of him. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t stop staring at him. Where did your Suguru go? Where was he?

“I don’t know you anymore.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You sobbed, looking at the ground. “Who are you? Where’s my Suguru? Where is he?”

For a moment, just a moment, his mask slipped. You saw the guilt in his eyes, the pain he was trying so hard to bury. Not because he’s hurt others, no. But because he’s hurt you. That burns him more.

That kills him more. But then it was gone, replaced by the resolute facade he had built to shield himself. He knew he couldn't come back. He’s gone too far for him to walk away from it.

“I hope you know that….I’m sorry.” he said to you, watching you close your eyes. As though wanting to pretend that this was just a bad dream. “But this is the only way.”

You wanted to scream, to grab him and shake him until he saw reason. But you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. You always knew better than that. He was resolute. He always has been. And so, he would not turn back. Not even for you.

The Geto Suguru you loved was gone. He was killed. He was consumed by the darkness he couldn’t escape. And you will never get him back. The last time you saw him, he was walking away, his silhouette fading into the distance. You stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his absence crushing you.

In the days and weeks that followed, you replayed every moment, every conversation, every sign you had missed. You blamed yourself, even though you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.

But that knowledge didn’t make the loss any easier. You were sure that he was the love of your life. Geto Suguru has been your love, your partner, your everything.

And now he was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and the ghost of what could have been. And now you had to pick up what’s left from the desolation that swallowed everything whole. If not you, who will?

In the weeks that followed, life moved on around you, but you felt like you were frozen in place. The routines of being a jujutsu sorcerer continued. Day in day out, it was missions, training, meetings. But somehow, it all felt hollow.

Every face you saved, every curse you exorcised, felt like a mockery of what you had lost. How could you keep protecting a world that had taken Geto Suguru from you? How could you keep meeting with faces that didn’t know how to protect a child? How could you keep finding yourself living like this over and over?

But you still did it anyway.

You knew it was the right thing to do.

Suffering or not, you had to live.

You had to continue on.

Your nights were the hardest. Sleep became a distant memory, replaced by endless hours of replaying the past. You found yourself going back to the places you had shared with him.

The quiet park where you used to sit and watch the stars, the ramen shop where he’d always order extra broth, the training grounds where you’d spar until you were both breathless with laughter.

But those places were empty now, stripped of their meaning. Without him, they were just shadows of something you could never get back. Things that were just gone, forever lost in the abyss of his own making. An abyss you had sealed just as much, by continuing to live the way you have.

The news of Geto Suguru’s defection spread quickly. Whispers followed you wherever you went, people looking at you with pity, like you were some tragic figure in a story they couldn’t stop retelling.

Some were kind, offering empty condolences that only made you feel worse. Others were cruel, blaming you for not seeing the signs, for not stopping him before it was too late.

But the worst were the people who said nothing, who looked at you like you were a ticking time bomb, as if Suguru’s choices had tainted you by association. You could feel their looks, you could always hear the double entendre in their words. But you could hardly care at that point.

You tried to drown it all out, focusing on your missions, on anything that would keep your mind occupied. But no matter how hard you worked, no matter how many curses you destroyed, the weight of Suguru’s absence clung to you like a second skin.

And then, one day, you saw him again.

It was purely by accident, something you couldn’t expect.

It had only been a mere few months after he had left.

It was on a mission in a remote village, where rumors of a powerful curse had been reported. You had gone in prepared for anything—or so you thought. What you weren’t prepared for was the sight of Geto Suguru standing in the center of the chaos, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable.

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He looked the same, and yet so different. There was an edge to him now, a coldness that hadn’t been there before. A brutish layer that protected him from the world.

“Suguru.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He turned to you, and for a split second, something flickered in his purple eyes—recognition, maybe even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the calm detachment you had come to fear.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, his tone almost gentle.

“You don’t get to tell me where I should be. you shot back, your voice trembling. “Not after what you’ve done.” After what you’ve done to me.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come here to fight you. Leave, and I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go?” you echoed, anger bubbling up inside you. “You don’t get to ‘let me go’ for shit, Suguru. You left. You broke everything, and now you’re standing here like none of it matters. I should kill you right now where you stand like the kill order says.”

“It does matter. Everything I do, it matters. To me, to the world I’m building.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “More than you’ll ever understand. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“No, Suguru. You aren’t.” you said, stepping closer to him. “You’re doing this because you gave up. Because you let the worst parts of this world consume you. And now you’re trying to justify it by pretending. And I just….I have had enough of that excuse. Even when we fought, you used that excuse.”

He flinched at your words, the only crack in his otherwise unshakable composure. For a moment, you thought you had reached him. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back from you.

“This isn’t about us, you know that.” he said. “It’s bigger than that. Bigger than you or me.”

“It was never just about us, you idiot.” you said, your voice breaking. “But we could have fought for something better—together. Instead, you threw it all away. You threw me away.”

He didn’t respond. He knew you were right. You could see it in your eyes. He tried to open his mouth, to say something. But instead, he turned and began to walk away, his figure fading into the distance once more.

You wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay, to fight for the man you once knew. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you knew that man was gone. You would just be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend that it would work.

And as you stood there, watching him disappear, you realized something: this was the last time you would let him break you. Geto Suguru had chosen his path, and now it was time for you to choose yours. You had to.

Even if it meant living with the weight of his absence for the rest of your life, you would carry it. Because that was what it meant to keep going. He wasn’t willing to live with you, for you. He wasn’t willing to do that. And so, you had to. You had to do it for you. To survive.

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HE FELT LIKE HE WAS GOING TO THROW UP. Geto Suguru stumbled into another bar, his head swimming with alcohol and frustration. The neon lights buzzed overhead, casting garish colors onto the crowd of strangers.

It was a different place, but it might as well have been the same. Everywhere he went, it felt the same: loud, crowded, meaningless. He was chasing something he couldn’t name, knowing full well it wouldn’t fix the hollow ache inside him.

He spotted a girl at the bar, standing alone for just a moment, and something in him shifted. It wasn't an attraction—not really. It was desperation. I may suggest there’s somewhere I might know her, he thought, smirking to himself, just to get the ball to roll.

He approached her with a feigned air of confidence, the kind that only comes from being far beyond tipsy. His words slurred slightly as he said something about a shared connection, a vague memory he knew didn’t exist. She tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.

Suguru leaned in closer, his voice low and coaxing. “Come on, before the moment’s gone.”

It wasn’t like he was falling in love. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want her heart or her promises. He just wanted her to do him no good, to help him forget for a while. The girl gave him a look—soft, inviting, a subtle tilt of her lips that sent a rush of blood through his veins.

It turned him on more than it should have. He didn’t care about her name, her life, or her story. It was the thrill of the chase, the electric jolt of fleeting desire. But before he could take another step, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“She’s with me.”

Suguru turned to see a man standing there, tall and stern, his presence like a wall between them. The girl stepped back toward her boyfriend, her gaze dropping in awkward apology. Suguru laughed bitterly, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to intrude.” he said, though the sting of rejection burned.

He retreated to the edge of the dance floor, his drink in hand, watching the pulsing crowd around him. The music was deafening, the lights dizzying. The club was a house of fun—or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. People were laughing, dancing, losing themselves in the moment. But for Suguru, it was a prison. A trap.

The room spun, not from the alcohol but from the crushing realization that it wasn’t enough. This place wasn’t enough. These people weren’t enough. She’s not you. No, she isn’t. She never will be. No one else can ever be like you.

No matter how many drinks he had, no matter how many strangers he flirted with, the truth was inescapable. You and he weren’t together anymore. You had been the only thing that made sense in the chaos of his life, and now, without you, everything felt hollow.

The club blurred into a mess of sound and light, but all Suguru could feel was the emptiness gnawing at him. He was trapped in this cycle of meaningless nights, trying to fill the void you left behind. And deep down, he knew it would never work. Because no matter how hard he tried, no one could be you.

Nothing here was worth staying for.

So he comes outside, the cold greeting him.

But he could barely feel it stab through him.

The alcohol in his veins dulled everything except the gnawing ache in his chest. He stumbled down the street, the neon lights of the club fading behind him, replaced by the harsh glow of streetlights. His breath came out in uneven puffs, his mind swimming with thoughts he didn’t want to face.

His phone was a familiar weight in his pocket. He pulled it out, his fingers fumbling over the screen until he found your name. He was too drunk to be a coward now. He wasn’t going to let the cursor mock him this time. Not again.

Somehow, it was muscle memory—he didn’t even have to think about it. You were still in his contacts, still in his life in the smallest, cruelest way. If anything, he memorized your phone number. He knew it too well, he’d never forget it. He stared at your name for a long moment, the cursor blinking on the call button.

The voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to put the phone away and walk home.He didn’t need to do this. Not right now. Not ever. But the alcohol silenced that voice, replacing it with raw, unfiltered need. And seeing you tonight….what more did he need to be an excuse? He had to call you. Even if it was wrong, he had to.

Before he could stop himself, he hit the button. The phone rang. Once, twice. With every passing second, his heart raced, his breathing shallow and unsteady. He almost hung up, almost let the moment slip away, but then you answered.

“Hello?” Your voice was soft, confused. You had changed phones. But you still used the same number. He knew that. But you probably, over time, had forgotten his phone number. He had expected it. He was after all, worth forgetting. “Who is this?”

It was late, and you hadn’t expected to hear from him—hadn’t heard from him in years. If anything, you never should expect anything from him. But the sound of you made his chest tighten, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He leaned against a lamppost, the phone pressed to his ear like it was his last lifeline.

“S’me again, babe.” he slurred finally, his voice thick with alcohol and emotion. “Suguru.”

There was a pause on your end, heavy and loaded. He could almost feel the weight of your hesitation, the way your breath hitched as you processed his call. It had been a long time. Ten long years. And now, just now, he called.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone cautious, guarded. It wasn’t the warmth he remembered, but it wasn’t cold either. It was somewhere in between, and that hurt more than anything.

“I don’t know, honestly.” he admitted, his voice breaking. He laughed bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “No, that’s a lie. I know. I just… And I just….I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop… missing you.”

“Suguru…” Your voice softened, but there was something else there too—sadness, maybe even pity.

He hated it. He didn’t want your pity. You had known that even when you were younger. But he knew you couldn't help it. Still, just maybe, even just tonight, you’d drop it. You’d pretend, just as he was. He wanted you to tell him that you missed him too, that you still thought about him late at night, that he wasn’t the only one trapped in this endless spiral.

“I saw you tonight.” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “At that bar. Can’t remember the name, honestly. But you just….You looked so happy. Like you don’t even think about me anymore. Like I’m nothing.”

You sighed on the other end of the line, and it cut through him like a knife. “Suguru, it’s been ten years. What did you expect? I….I didn’t expect my life to be frozen, waiting for an impossibility that will never come.”

“I don’t know. I just…” he said again, his voice rising with frustration. “I thought maybe—maybe you’d feel the same. Like… like this thing between us isn’t over. Like it’s still there.”

“It’s not. And you…you know this.” you said quietly, and the finality in your tone made his knees buckle. He sank onto the curb, his head in his hands.

“It is for you, maybe…. he whispered, his voice cracking. “But not for me. It’s not over for me, and I don’t know how to let it be. Babe, I loved you. I still do. Maybe for the rest of my fucking life. But I…I don’t know what to do.”

The silence on your end was deafening, and he filled it with a broken laugh. You had the right to your silence, you always will. After what he had done, even just last night? Why shouldn’t you just be quiet? Why shouldn’t you just hang up right now?

But on the other side of the line, you were bitterly weeping in the quiet. Just taking in his words. Everything about your lives had been a tragedy, a tragedy that you could never forget. Both of you were living those past lives that can never come back. And you shouldn’t. You can’t. Not now, not ever.

“I’m drunk, you know?” he said, as if that excused everything, as if it would make you forget the raw, painful truth he’d just laid bare. “I shouldn’t have called. I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“You need to go home, Suguru.” you said gently. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was what he expected.”You have daughters to go home too, remember?”

You’d always been kind, even when you were hurting. Even to people that hurt you. He’d always known that. But somehow, he wondered if that kindness was why you’d stayed in his contacts all these years—because part of you knew he might need it someday.

Because he knows you’d be merciful to him, no matter what he’d done. No matter what he’d caused you. You’d pick up that phone and answer him. You’d let him hear your voice, like you used to do for hours and hours when you were younger.

“Yeah, you’re right.” he said, dragging himself to his feet. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go home.”

But as he stumbled down the street, the phone still pressed to his ear, he couldn’t help but say one last thing. “You were the best thing I ever had, you know that? The only thing that ever made sense. In all of my life. And I love you. I’ll love you forever for it.”

He heard you inhale sharply, but you didn’t respond. Not for a while. You took a moment to let out a small sob, as though trying to hold yourself together. And Suguru could imagine it. How it shatters him. Ah, he had made you cry again like this.

“You were the best of my life, Suguru.” You finally say, almost the saddest he’s ever heard you talk. You were still mourning him, he supposed. “The love of my life. You always will be, Suguru.”

The line went quiet, and then, mercifully, you hung up.

Suguru stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, the word “Disconnected” flashing at him in a cruel, mocking rhythm. His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white as the fury bubbled beneath the surface. He nodded to himself.

He wanted to scream, to hurl the phone into the street and watch it shatter into irreparable pieces, as if that would somehow undo the splintering inside him. But instead, his anger collapsed inward, folding into a hollow resignation.

He shoved the phone into his pocket with a rough, jerking motion, his breaths shallow and uneven. He reached for a cigarette with the same hand, fingers trembling as they pulled it free. His lighter almost instantly lit the edge into a fiery smoke.

The first drag burned, the bitter smoke searing his throat and filling his lungs. It didn’t matter. He needed the distraction, needed something to keep him grounded when it felt like the world had slipped from beneath his feet. He lit the next one before the first was even finished, the acrid haze curling around him like a suffocating ghost.

He kept walking. The city stretched out before him, a labyrinth of muted lights and shadows that felt more hostile than familiar. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional distant wail of a siren or the shuffle of a stray figure in the dark. Cold wind bit at his skin, cutting through the thin jacket he hadn’t bothered to zip up.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

This was the last time you’ll see each other.

He was going to do his plan soon enough.

And you won’t see him again, not ever again.

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akirathedramaqueen · 5 months ago

Text

The bias is not always conscious

And that's the case with Stolas. That's it, that's basically the post, so you can count it as your tl;dr, but let me elaborate. :)

(A little gratitude note! Sorry @tealvenetianmask, I failed being concise here, but I thank you for encouraging me to put it all together :3 I also thank you for our conversations about Stolas and about museums in particular which heavily contributed to it)

I think there's some misunderstanding when people get offended by the suggestion that Stolas acts classist/racist. It seems that people assume we’re implying he is malicious and intentional with it, but the actual problem is that he doesn't think.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 1:29

The problematic behavior we're discussing is reflexive and internalized. Stolas was raised in an environment where the lower demon class is looked down upon, and while he believes he expresses nothing but deep respect for Blitzø and treats him as an equal…

Goodnight, Blitzø. S1EP7, Ozzie's, 14:50

And while you can see from this bow that this intention is sincere, which is both wonderful and fascinating—he preserved this profound gesture ever since he was a kid, despite being actively discouraged from doing so!...

[Stolas]: I'm Stolas! It's nice... Ouch! [Paimon]: Don't bow to that one! He bows to us! Idiot! S2EP1, The Circus, 7:40

He was still raised in privilege and influenced by the narratives around him. For him, it's acceptable because that's what he was taught is fine. It's part of his everyday speech, and he never actually asks Blitzø, or anyone else, how they feel about the literally belittling nicknames (like literally—do you notice how often he uses the word "little" when referring to imps?).

I mean... there's a lot, okay? I'm just going to pull out some examples off the top of my head. All of them are from Season 1, and I'll explain why later.

I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 5:15

Ugh, that's better... Where's Blitzy? He's my knight in shining armor, not you, littler ones! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 13:22

And it [grimoire] isn't supposed to be lent out to itty-bitty imps like yourself. S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 0:30

Greetings, tiny Wrath Ring imps! S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 8:22

[Stolas, in the background]: Who dares threaten my little impish plaything? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 18:20

How the fuck did you get caught by humans? Are you little creatures not being careful up here? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 19:38

He also takes pride in being part of Ars Goetia. That pride seeps into his mind whether he wants it to or not. He lives in a huge palace, never worries about money, can arrange a seat in a club that’s always booked out, and gets admitted to a hospital immediately, while hellhounds wait five years for a Hellbies shot.

Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:39

Most of these examples come from Season 1 because, after the disastrous Ozzie’s date, Stolas begins to unconsciously cut back on this language. He seems to sense that something is wrong, though he doesn’t fully understand why. However, he is acutely aware of the problems with the transaction and the unfair dynamics it creates, and he is serious about putting Blitzø on equal ground by providing him with the means to run his business independently of Stolas.

And still, he maintains full control over the conversation during the Full Moon meeting, immediately dismisses Blitzø after one mistake, and throws him out. He continues to impose his narrative on Blitzø and…

I don't look down on you! How many times do I— When have I ever?! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:45

When have you ever indeed, Stolas? You literally look down on Blitzø saying that. This moment illustrates the problem clearly. He isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t look down on Blitzø because he genuinely believes he doesn’t.

Despite all said, Stolas is making a tremendous effort and is progressing, and he is far ahead of Stella, who is openly classist/racist and very conscious of her biases. So I believe—no, I know—he will get there one day. But not today.

This is something I take quite seriously, and I think people need to understand how dangerous this subtlety can be, as it happens all the time in real life too.

How often do you ask yourself why medical research groups are predominantly represented by white, cis, upper-middle-class males, and how this affects the efficiency of treatments suggested in these studies for everyone else—women, people of color, non-binary folks, and those who struggle financially?

How often do you visit museums and see art created by wealthy aristocrats who defined what constitutes 'fine art,' while 'folk art'—often created by marginalized communities—is overlooked and lost to time?

I could elaborate further on how deep and cruel this bias is, but I’ll stop here. I just ask you to consider why you might get offended when someone points out Stolas's subtle bigotry and why you might downplay it compared to the loud, aggressive Blitzø, whose anger and avoidant issues are obvious.

Just sit with it.

#and again let's exhale and repeat #Stolas's privilege doesn't mean his trauma or the bad side of being a royal don't matter #the only point is that he is just as flawed as everyone else #and if he isn't loud about it and is generally nice it doesn't mean the problem doesn't exist -- ACTUALLY IT MAKES IT A BIGGER PROBLEM #I actually relate to him in many ways just as I do to Blitzø #so please don't get at me trying to say I hate on him #I wish all the best to this owl and I love him as a character profoundly #helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #stolas #stolas goetia #stolitz #stolas x blitz #blitz x stolas #helluva boss meta #akira's whimpery metas #it got kinda personal at the end lol

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funkbun · 8 months ago

Text

made some adjustments to my "How many people could’ve died based on the in-game actions they've taken" list, now including some explanations from least to most possible kills. All based on my memory and sometimes looking in the dialogue files.

Starting with the "0 people could've died" tier we have Beffica, Cromdo, Triffany, Shelda, and Wiggle. Their in-game actions realistically wouldn't have lead to the death of anybody

With "1 person could've died" we have Filbo, Floofty, and Clumby. Filbo because he made The Journalist eat a strabby, something they're allergic to and they easily could've died from that. Floofty because they tried cutting their own head off. Clumby because she allowed The Journalist go to Snaktooth, fully expecting them to die there.

"2 people could've died" has Chandlo. You shouldn't try lifting an entire cabin with someone in it above your head.

"3 people could've died" with Wambus. 1. Filbo could've died of a concussion because he made that Bunger ram him into a tree across the map. 2. Threw Cromdo 31 feet as of last Tuesday. 3. Probably would've straight up killed Gramble after Liz n Egg went missing.

"5 people could've died" has Snorpy. While putting a hidden flash bang on someone's body that could be activated by a code word the person doesn't know isn't automatically lethal, as that person was on a raft with 4 other people and could've easily said that code word at any point during that ride on accident, that could disorient everyone and make everyone fall out of that raft and drown n die.

"9 people could've died" with Gramble. Hoarding the singular food source on a island from everyone because you don't want them to them is bad I Think.

"11 people could've died" has Eggabell and The Journalist. Eggabell cause she was the only doctor on the island and when she went missing everyone in town could've caught the worst disease on earth and died, and also the avalanche with Liz (which she didn't cause, but she was the reason why Liz went to try n save her n fell). The Journalist because the Bad Ending exists and they fell head first into a boulder.

And last, but not at all least, we have Elizabert Megafig with 14 to 15 possible deaths! As the Queen of Bugsnax, she could've lost her grip on the island for a moment and cause Everything Bad To Happen At Once. This one is ranged because it depends on whether or not Alegander's on the island at the time (he was shown to go back onto the island in that post credit dialogue scene)

if i got anything wrong here ramble about it in the notes cause again, memory. also this isn't about how "bad" a grump is either btw im just thinking about possibilities lmao

#once again Hashtag Liz Sweep #this is a long ass post oh my goddddd #bug game #you have to pretend that these muppets aren't tanks

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i-may-be-an-emu · 3 months ago

Note

TELL ME ABOUT THE MEN!!!!!!

HELLO!!!

GLADLY :DD

THE MEN. :)

They’re called shoot from the hip (sfth) and are @shootimpro on youtube, tiktok, instagram, facebook, x/twitter, Bluesky, as well as on linktree, patreon and ko-fi.

(Hi just a note that I’ve updated this post a bit :))

They’re London based but have done shows outside london like in Scotland (Edinburgh Fringe) and even to Spain. They want to hopefully go to other countries in the future too!!

From left to right they’re Sam, Tom, AJ and Luke :)))

Ok, so. They do improvised comedy and their shows have two halves (generally with a break in the middle) they play lots of short drama games in the first half and then improvise 20-30 minute (on average) plays in the second half, sometimes with another game at the end.

The plays are so much fun (they’ve got 43 of them up on youtube so far!! (< updated January 2025)) and they’ve also released three full specials (full shows) which you can find on their channel :)

For a few of the older ones (apart from the first one) they were filming on an iphone and just projecting their voices, so the the audio and image quality can be hard to deal with (but all their videos are subtitled by the AMAZING volunteer subtitlers!!!) the older videos are well worth watching, though!!!

They have SO MUCH CONTENT because during covid they did zoom-style improv shows with eachother and you can watch those as a patreon. (To find out what else you get with patreon go to my pinned post :))

They also have SO MANY VIDEOS that are just the regular public ones!!!! They upload short ones of the games and some 5-10min ones of the games too, as well as the long forms (plays)

Now some info about the guys :D

Samuel Thomas Russell-Holmes:

Birthday 21st July 1989 (35)

Married this year and expecting a baby!!! :)

wears a red flannel a LOT (less recently, but still a LOT, it’s his Thing)

he says some very risky things sometimes but also has the audacity to look shocked when the others do it lol

Fav colour is green

he’s 5”10

brown eyes

currently producing a radio show for the bbc called wing it (available in December!)

if he were a Disney Princess he said he’d be Rapunzel

VERY GOOD AT ANIMAL (specifically goat/sheep) NOISES

initiates kisses with the others a lot (all of them do but I’ve counted and he kisses Luke the most and initiates kisses with all of them the most overall) (in the videos they’ve posted at least))

great at talking in Spanish gibberish, often paired with opening his shirt buttons

loves fantasy things

interested in Greco Roman mythology

wrote an audiobook called “Evergreen”

his mother and grandfather are/were successful actors

Has a drama degree

Low spice tolerance

has eaten raw egg live on camera

likes to cook

Thomas Mayo-Woodman/Hodgson-Mayo:

HES SO TALL (this man is almost 2m tall- he’s 6”5.5 :0)

brown eyes

his birthday is 10th July 1989 (35)

Married to a drag king (@pipdream on insta, tiktok, youtube, ect.) whose pronouns are they/them (they’re an icon and we love them)

Wrote a graphic novel (it’s called Future it’s about space lesbians)

literally one of the sweetest and kindest souls on this planet I’ve never met him but every time he says anything it’s like WOW OK YOURE SO NICE AND KIND AND WONDERFUL (everything I’ve heard from people who’ve met him is SO NICE)

SO GOOD AT IMPROVISING (specifically Shakespearian-style) MONOLOGUES

his favourite colour is red

has two english degrees (very good with grammar and words)

has adhd

makes a garbled choking noise very well (you have to hear it to get what I mean I guess lol)

has eaten a teabag live on camera

He’s referred to as the “dad” of the group a bit

Very hard to make him laugh on stage (but he’s been laughing more, recently!!) and each one is treasured

He’s so kind did I mention he is so kind

lovingly called a squid or squidboi by the fandom because of one time (a few times actually) he like stuck his hands in his sleeves and was like “I’m a squid”

does a lot of admin work for sfth and handles the finances (at least he did, they might have someone for that now I’m not sure) and takes care of the patreon

Makes a lot of spreadsheets

DID I MENTION HOW NICE AND KIND HE IS

Alexander Thomas Jeremy (AJ):

Birthday on 4th November 1991 (32)

CONFUSION KING /aff (he gets confused easily but we love him for it)

He’s bald and gets made fun of for it RELENTLESSLY (again, lovingly)

Absolutely ANGELIC singing voice

Blue eyes

born in Manchester(UK) but grew up in France (fluent in French)

makes movies/short films on youtube!! He’s working on a new one now and you can find them @lofi_film25 on youtube (that’s also his film insta)

does a lot of the editing for sfth and has a lot of input into which longforms to upload apparently

he’s such a himbo (/aff)

fav colour is blue

He’s 6 foot tall

On their covid livestreams would always forget to get costuming ready “I don’t do costumes” (king <3)

his rapping is BEAUTIFUL (words that barely rhyme at all and make NO sense 😌)

He delivers GREAT one liners

so good at playing children it’s crazy

can do magnificent cartwheels and loves to jump on the others with no warning

lots of muscles but lost an arm wrestle against Tom

Thinks he can’t do an Irish accent but I think it’s pretty good

also has a drama degree

He creates such amazing characters in the longforms

this is more just my opinion but I love his laugh

VOLDEMORT IMPRESSION IS SPOT ON

Luke Christopher Manning

Birthday is the 23rd October 1989 (currently 34 about to be 35)

Hazel eyes

hes not short but he’s the short-EST, 5”7.5

gets made fun of for his height a LOT (lovingly!!)

SO good at accents

so good at playing women

also so good at playing children

such a good actor overall (the only one of them currently perusing acting I believe)

says THE MOST UNHINGED THINGS

people think he’s innocent (somehow) but he’s SO unhinged

took his pants off live on stage (wearing underwear but still lol 😭 he’s a menace)

lives in Spain with his long term girlfriend (can speak very competently in Spanish)

so much attitude in such a small guy (/aff)

sometimes compared to Macaulay Caulkin looks-wise

plays bass guitar in a band

Teaches acting (to kids??) in Spain

also has adhd

also has a drama degree

His favourite film is back to the future I’m pretty sure?

So confident in himself I aspire to be like that

people say he “doesn’t age” and looks really young but I personally think he does look his age

sometimes called “Luke Womanning” as a play on his last name because of how amazing all his female characters are

They’re all really close friends and met at uni and started doing improv around 13 years ago together! Started gaining popularity in 2022 on tiktok and are gaining more and more fans every day!

Um. Whoops I wrote a lot lol. (It totally hasn’t been an hour of me just writing this hahahaha)

anyway I love them so much :)))) (as you can probably tell)

anyway!

THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON THIS ASK MEANS SO MUCH TO ME :DDDDD

#shoot from the hip #Sfth asks #Shootimpro #thank you for the ask!#AAAAAAAA :)))))))#This is so nice #theres probably more I could say but tumblr almost killed this post three times cause it couldn’t handle the sheer power of my autism lol #so I’ll leave it be for now :)#Thank you so much anon #sfthposting #sam russell #tom mayo #alexander jeremy #luke manning #:))))))#long post #Post has been updated Jan 2025

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deezbignutz · 1 month ago

Text

REDACTED TUMBLR AWARDS INFO AAAGHHHHHHHH

okay, since majority chose to start from the top again (again, I am sorry for those who didn't want that), I'm gonna restate the rules, prize, category stuff and all that shit here in this post.

Da Rulez (literally just the same rules plaqii had):

you can nominate yourself for as many categories as you like

don't vote for yourself in the polls, play fair

only nominate yourself for categories you feel you fit, for example, if you don’t create Redacted art, don’t nominate yourself for the artist category

if you feel like someone should be nominated for a category, tag them! you cannot nominate anyone other than yourself

if you are tagged, you need to reply to confirm being nominated!

please try and put your nominations in replies and not reblogs!

if a character doesn’t get any nominations, then their will be no award, but if one person nominates themself for a character they will win the award, so make sure to nominate yourself!

if someone wins 2 or more polls, i’ll get them to choose and give the title to the runner up of the poll of the character they didn’t chose the title, cuz if the original winner didn’t pick that character then they ain’t that characters no1 can after all!

have fun with it! if you don’t win, don’t get too upset! this is just a load of silly fun!

Ze Prize (again, still the same prize plaqii had offered):

winners will get personalised userboxes! they’ll look something like this

(this was made by plaqii, not me. all the credit for this (and honestly the whole awards event) goes to them!!)

you can choose the colours (they’ll probably look better than this) (hopefully)

Le Categories:

these are the categories that are currently in place, but if there is a character or extra category you would like added, please reply what you would like added!

Creatives -

best artist

best fic writer

best hc writer

best ocs (not listener designs)

best listener designs (this is for listener designs :))) )

coolest listener/oc cassettes/icons

best canon roleplay blog (idk if this is the category to put it in, but oh welp)

best oc roleplay blog

‘THE’ fans (note - if a character doesn’t get any nominations, then their will be no award, but if one person nominates themselves for a character they will win the award, so make sure to nominate yourself!)-

Aaron

Anton

Asher

Avior

Azmidi

Blake

Brachium

Caelum

Cam

Christian

Damien

David

Elliot

Gavin

Geordi

Guy

Hush

Huxley

Ivan

James

Kody

Lasko

Milo

Ollie

Porter

Regulus

Sam

Vega

Vincent

Xavier

misc -

the most 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

As stated in Da Rulez, please reply to this post to nominate yourself or tag others if you feel like they should nominate themselves!

You do NOT have to make a whole new nomination post for this, you can just use the one you made before. But if you really want to make another one or if you are in a new category you weren't in before, then feel free to make a new other one or just add more info into your old one.

this even might take a while for me to actually flesh out and stuff, so I'm sorry in advanced if there'll be any bumps along the way

I am only a mere man, and I also have a life outside of this (sadly), so pls understand if I end up making a few mistakes or run into any problems

NOMINATIONS WILL BE OPENED UNTIL DECEMBER 30TH (yes, i know then it would technically not be the '2024 Redacted Tumblr Awards', but that's okay we can discus that later)

0 MORE DAYS TILL NOMINATIONS END

NOMINATIONS HAVE ENDED YALL!!!!

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :))))

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fandom #redacted awards 2024 #shit bro #this is gonna take some time #and some bran space #I'm prepared to make that sacrifice #/ref #:D)))))))))

115 notes · View notes

peachyfnaf · 5 months ago

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sun and moon show tumblr dashboard simulator. because i find these hilarious and this fandom needs one. assume this takes place in a "bad shit happens, but everyone's still on speaking terms" au for it to make the most sense kfjhsfd

0 notes

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

when the nightmare goes so hard when you wake up you have to walk into the ocean just to make sure

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Lunar, are you okay..?

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

guess

22 notes

👤 sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

ok but the creator is kind of a dilf tho

🦙 TSAJSwillprevail Follow

he's killed hundreds

👤sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

is a man not allowed to be a manic pixie dream girl in this day and age

🛸 moonenjoyer9315 Follow

guys are we just ignoring op's url

536 notes

☣️ mellorinefuega Follow

coming across montgomery gator in the wild is crazy. like i was just trying to make a deposit at the bank one time and he came up behind me and punched the teller in the face

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

op my girlfriend went thru a similar experience a few months ago. this dude sounds like a menace, fr. so happy hes not near me.

🐊 trustmewithyourinformation Follow

182.62.250.90

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

is that my fukcign ip address

1,102 notes

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

This is a gentle reminder that everything will be okay, you just have to give it time!!!

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

im seriously at my limit

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Just give it time, everyone!!!

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

earth are you okay

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

guess

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

nexus NO

179 notes

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

eclipse v2 and nexus are one in the same. hit post. and go to bed

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

i just woke up. ive never been this scared to look at notes in my life

979 notes

💡 ballogmore Follow

i love going to the pizzaplex with my little sister bc she's there for the glamrocks. i'm there to see if i can get my hands on that twinky little jester

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

Which twinky little jester op

💡 ballogmore Follow

the daycare attendant model??? whomst the fuck else?????

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

You'd be surprised how little that narrows it down, actually

34,343 notes

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

🗡️ leavethatlittleguyalone Follow

bro what did v2 do to you

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

exist

557 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every day i try to not let my brother rob a bank, and then every day he provides me good reasons as to why i should let him

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

sun do yuo know what you could do with the money

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

i dont want to know, moon

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

do you need a getaway diver

52 notes

🌊 themagicwawa Follow

"sun is so cute!! solar's such a dilf. nexus being insane is so ho-"

absolutely none of you can handle what i have to say about him

99 notes

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

god help me, hes so fine

🏝 chronicappleeater-deactiaved062324

yeah, him and all 5 pixels

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

i see god smited you for this one

😈 itsme-fromthebible

wrong deity, but appreciate it regardless

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

THE DEVIL FROM THE BIBLE??!?!

823,383 notes

🦌 dailydazzledeer Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

if anything happens to this blog i genuinely hope taurus destroys the planet

55,932 notes

🦫 elchipichipichapachapa Follow

it's taken months, but i've finally finished it. the document explaining everything wrong with the sun and moon show

here's the link. enjoy

732 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every time one of us makes them mad, moon and nexus get closer to becoming the Hitachiin twins from ohshc to retaliate, and i fear the day they decide to just do it

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

HOW DID YOU BOTH REBLOG AT THE EXACT SAME TIME THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR 4 MINUTES

18 notes

🟦 woobificationofthesillies Follow

"we need more evil women in the world!!!" you people cant even handle miku

932,382 notes

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

starting a conspiracy theory that we're all just puppets in a youtube show's script and that's why our lives are so miserable

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

hey guys why was i shadowbanned after posting this

8 notes

#tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #sun and moon show #the lunar and earth show #tlaes #lunar and earth show #laes #tumblr dashboard simulator #funny things tag #lunar (tsbs)#earth (tsbs)#sun (tsbs)#old moon (tsbs)#new moon/nexus (tsbs)#solar (tsbs)#'why isnt eclipse in this?' hes too busy with the two Leash Children in the new dimension fdkjsdf

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xanasaurusrex · 1 year ago

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ zeus cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

a/n: these are my headcanons for the children of zeus! i love thinking about what traits kids of certain gods and goddesses would have, and since zeus is the king of the gods, i thought it would only be fitting to start with zeus! these are less about like powers and stuff like that and more just about how they would be as people!

zeus kids can get kinda crazy

they're always the life of the party, and yet somehow they also shut down the party?

they're just good at knowing when things are getting too out of hand

speaking of knowing things

it's almost as if they have a sixth sense in knowing things, just like general things

oh this person liked this other person

the zeus kids already knew

you cheated on your math test?

yeah, they had a feeling

that kinda stuff

zeus kids also all weirdly have this universal little tic where when they're really bored, they'll rub their hands against something that can create static, and then play with the static in their hands

they can do the thing where they kind of roll it from one finger to another, and then back again

they can also utilize this to shock people, but only ever so slightly

technically they could summon a whole storm and electrocute someone, but very rarely do they have that urge

another thing to mention:

zeus children can hold a grudge

they're masters at being mad at someone for something they did days, weeks, months, or even years in the past that likely they forgot they did

but zeus kids didn't

they never forget

honestly even a bad first impression can really affect your relationship with a child of zeus, because they don't forget things easily

their minds are steel traps

children of zeus are also natural born leaders

this can cause quite the scene when there are multiple zeus kids up for a leadership position because they all fall into a leader role just naturally

a lot of people appreciate this because they're saved from having to lead themselves

but others find this incredibly annoying, and think that zeus kids are all very arrogant and full of themselves

there are some that are like that, thinking they're better because their dad is zeus

but that kind of reaction to being a child of zeus is pretty rare

most of the time it brings them great annoyance because monsters can smell them from farther away, and it makes them much more eligible for dangerous quests, which sometimes is a good thing, but when the mortality rate for a quest that dangerous is usually 0, it can be a little daunting

probably the best trait that children of zeus possess is their loyalty

i understand that this probably doesn't make much sense, considering the fact that zeus was never really known for being very loyal to pretty much anyone in his life

but zeus kids are

this is observed the best during battle, when they would do anything and everything for the people fighting alongside them

they're loyal friends and lovers, too

which, again, doesn't make a lot of sense when looking at who their dad is

but a lot of their lives have been negatively affected by him being disloyal, so a lot of them have a tendency to make sure they're loyal so that they don't end up like him

as amazing as zeus thinks he is, a lot of his kids aren't his biggest fans

in conclusion, zeus kids are pretty cool

they definitely have their flaws

(such as having a tendency to flake last minute when it comes to making plans with other people)

but ultimately they're pretty good people

they're very skilled when it comes to battle, and they're good friends

basically just good people to surround yourself with

a/n: so i won't be doing author's notes at the end of everything, but i just wanted to thank you for reading my very first official post! i'm going to be doing headcanons for the other gods and goddesses, both major and minor, because i just find writing for that kinda stuff really fun! also i really love headcanons (totally not because they're easier to write than full fics, definitely not at all)

anyways, thanks for reading, and be on a lookout for more stuff in the future!

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #demigods #demigod stuff #zeus #children of zeus #zeus kids #jason grace x reader #percy jackson x reader #thalia grace x reader #zeus x reader

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siffrins-therapist · 1 year ago

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🦄unihorns4salenotscam follow

can the nation-people rpf shippers STOP posting their headcanons and fic in the main tag????? People use the main tag for REAL information and news about the reps!

🚬fruityfag follow

says the person wiht a link to their scotnor fics in their pinned

��unihorns4salenotscam follow

did I say anything about NOT writing nation-people rpf AT ALL?? No?? I said to keep it out of the 👏MAIN👏 TAG. piss on the poor ass website I swear.

🌋hallgrimskirkjafucksnotredame follow

Yo guys? I think one of the nation-people found this post. Mr France literally posted this an hour ago:

🥑anavocadothaaaaaaaanks follow

NOT EVEN A THOUSAND NOTES??? I FEEL LIKE I'VE SEEN THIS EVERYWHERE

9123 Notes

🧭lostwanderer69

Hey uh........... did anyone tell the US rep that those panera bred lemonades are hella caffeinated??

🧟zombie--davie

how. how many did he drink?

🐗40to50wildhogs follow

He's literally immortal he's fine.

🦬alfredfjoneshater follow

FUCKING 12????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

👻givemeblueflowers follow

He was in the middle of drinking lemonade 13 when he kicked the bucket. Some tiktoker was recording him on a Live

👑lotrmonarchist

apparently he was with m. Denmark. who. kept drinking more lemonades until the manager cut him off...

🥀valentinorose follow

P sure dude said once he ate hellebore like salad. Not surprised.

👑lotrmonarchist

i thought he only said that to make historians leave him alone

🧭lostwanderer69

No no, I believe it

869 Notes

🪆theinn3rm3

OK. Let's settle this.

3 Notes

🎪thenightcircusstolemylunchmoney follow

🏴stopdraininmeswamp-deactivated

Anyone else notice he does this when some senator or w/e pisses him off?

🏒ruscanhockeyrpf follow

the fbi got him

#war thunder #nation people bs

10.8K Notes

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

not the swifties acting racist af after mr. korea called taylor "that one a-pop artist" 💀💀💀

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

me looking at the notes ONE FUCKING HOUR after i hit post:

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

I'm convinced tswifts has mind control powers like how england sees fairies or miss belarus sees ghosts

🥐iaminlepain follow

Everyone needs to stop spreading around that the nation people have magic powers it's been proven again and again that it's fake.

☕blackcoffeegayweexist follow

realzombiedavie why'd you use an honorific for Miss Belarus but not Mr. England?

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

Cuz I actually respect Miss Belarus lmao

#RIP to OPs notes #turning off my asks in case england stans come after me again

14.2K Notes

📰nationrep-rpf-confessions follow

Dear god wtf is up with all the colonizer/colony (or ex-colony) ships lately??! I know RPF is already a gray area morally, but can we at least not be gross about it?!

✂️ausprutoxicyuriscissoring

This is some of the most low effort bait I've ever seen.

12 Notes

📎cl1ppyrev1val follow

Thanks for using my correct pronouns tho ig?

📍geoguessr-lowscore follow

the "schrodinger's country person" is sending me

🗡️teutonicsword follow

#negative tag #nation people mention #doesn't op write liechtenstein x reader? why's anon salty about the pruliech?

if anon's the person i'm thinking of, they selfship with Miss Liechtenstein and harrass anyone else that selfships with her or ships her with another cuntry-person

#oh god i'm p sure i know who anon is #hasn't staff termed them like 6 times? #how many accounts have they made?

593 Notes

🐻‍❄️hibernatingkumaku follow

@ everyone asking me for the link here it is enjoy.

#hetalia #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator #i spent too much time on this

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 1 year ago

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My Top 10 Fics Of 2023

So, because it is the 'wrapped' time of year where everyone looks back on their year through playlists and other types of stats - I thought that I would look back on my year through something completely nonobjective and based on exactly 0 data - my favourite fics I have written this year that are based completely on my personal enjoyment of them.

Last year, I did something similar to this where I counted down the top ten fics based completely on data - how many notes each fic had gotten on tumblr. But most of the posts were shorter fics that I hadn't spent a lot of time working on that I wasn't very proud of. (Like the fact that my current most popular fanfic on my sideblog for fanfiction is the shortest in word count.) So I have decided to go over the fics that are the most popular in my heart - countdown style.

This year I have written 39 different fics and I have written over 395,000 words, and these are my favourite fics that I have written.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Suit - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (2,900 words). One of the most well-rounded fics I have written in such a short word count. And just - look at her.

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (3,400 words). I have never used Death Eaters as the basis for angst in a fic and I had so much fun with it. Plus the kidfic fluff at the end was really fun too.

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (8,100 words). So @holy-minseok made a post about how there isn't enough fics with reader characters that aren't nice and sweet and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Because I have so many fics with rude, toxic readers and this is absolutely one of them. This reader is a Grade A Bitch and that's a huge reason why I had so much fun writing it.

Better Than Sleeping - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (5,300 words). This is some of the best quality smut I have written this year, hands down.

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (8,200 words). I love writing fics based on specific episodes of a show, and this definitely helped to fulfil my whump quota for the year.

Sweet Revenge - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (16,200 words). This is a fic that definitely converted me from a hardcore Abby girl into an Ellie girl. I am very proud of it. (And eventually I became an EllAbs girl, as god intended.)

Free Use Day - Poly!OG!Titans x Fem!Reader (14,300 words). This is probably my most epic and honorable of the honorable mentions. This is the first time in years that I have written such a long pwp, and it's written about some of my ult favs. So I fucking love it. (It came so, so close to making the top ten.)

(Now, onto the top ten.)

The Top Ten:

10. Dreaming Of You - Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Reader (31,300 words)

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship. Nothing except maybe… your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn’t possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right? Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

At first I wasn't even sure if I should put this one on the list, because it's technically a re-post, but I was like fuck it, I make the rules here. And the reason it's at 10 is because technically I wrote most of this in 2021 originally (though it feels like longer ago than that omg), but this year I heavily updated the fic, including writing some new scenes for it that flesh it out very nicely. To me, this is everything a good re-post should be. It cleans up what was already there and amazing about the fic and it enhances it so much.

I loved the concept of this fic from its core, and now I get to be so, so proud of the way I have enhanced it years later. To me, this will always be my core Gar fic (as much as I will always write more for him) - and it is something I am truly, genuinely proud of. If you love Gar and you love smutty fantasies involving him, I highly recommend checking this fic out.

9. No Brainer - Derek Cho x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Mayhem (2017)) (7,100 words)

When the ID-7 Virus, aka the Red Eye Virus hits Towers and Smythe Consulting, it throws the entire office building into chaos. With a mandatory quarantine from the CDC in action, that chaos builds in on itself, and somehow, you, Derek, and Melanie get everything that you want. aka You have something Derek and Melanie need. Derek and Melanie have something you want. You all agree to make an exchange, and everyone ends up more than happy. Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Works to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017.

This is one of my personal favourite fics of mine that I believe very few people following me have ever read. I absolutely love writing fics based on random one-off horror movies - I have way more in my drafts, and one of my goals for 2024 is to complete and post more of them. But one night I was laying in bed and I randomly watched this film because I knew Steven Yeun was in it. I had seen a lot of clips of him covered in blood and yelling, and I found him really hot in those clips, so I knew that I would enjoy the film. And I absolutely fucking did. Not just based on his hotness, but just - the entire film was so, so enjoyable.

Also, the ID-7 Virus, a fictional sickness that lowers your inhibitions (something that is shown in the film to work like sex pollen) is the perfect basis for a fic. So I literally started writing this on my phone before I had even finished watching the film. And I posted it a few days later. I think it's just pure fun. One of my favourite things to write about is a healthy combination of horror and sex, and this is definitely toeing the line perfectly in my opinion. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - watch it, and then come back and read this fic.

8. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (9,600 words)

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free. Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort.

This is a fic that is very close to my heart. Not only is named after a tragically underrated Fall Out Boy B-Side, one of my favourite songs ever, but it is a fic about conquering the abuse of a family member - and when I wrote this, it was coming from a place of the utmost sincerity.

I am someone who has experienced abuse from a family member, and it felt so entirely empowering to write this - to write about someone coming to your rescue so honestly. Someone rescuing you out of pure want, not because it's an obligation or a burden. But because they are compelled by their own morals and they feel that your abuse is a cruel injustice against the world. This and the companion fic I wrote for Abby with a similar storyline are two of the most important fics that I have written this year.

7. Ghosting - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader (3,700 words)

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you. Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I didn't pick at least one of the FNAF fics that I wrote (and two of them ended up on here). With how much it was delayed, it was actually wild to see the FNAF Movie actually come to life before our very eyes, and it was amazing to actually write some fics about it. This is the first time (in a very long time) that I have written pure angst with no sense of fluff at the ending, and it was actually so much fun - it's fun to give into the darker side of a fic, and to write about the most torturous human emotions with absolutely no relief.

Also, I think dying in someone's arms (especially holding your lover or your would-be lover) is such a compelling trope and I loved writing about it. This was so much fun for me to write, and it was something so interesting to explore aside from the usual smut that I write.

6. From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader (3,000 words)

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind. Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

This year, I had another large foray into the Criminal Minds fandom, and I wrote a JJ fic for the first time. And just in general, I am so proud of this fic. I think even for a short fic, it has such a great essence - again, I love setting fics during specific episodes, and I found it so fun to play around with the religious imagery and the religious themes already in this episode, as well as the imagery of rabid dogs.

To me, this is what truly makes fanfiction great - taking details of the canon, chewing them up like bubblegum and then adding something else in to make them your own. I had so much fun writing this fic, 10/10.

5. Love From The Other Side (aka The Golf Club Fic) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (5,600 words)

Abby kills the man that has been haunting your nightmares for years. You find it only fitting to give her a proper reward. Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Set during The Last of Us Part II. (aka - the fic where Abby fucks the reader's pussy with the golf club that she used to kill Joel.)

So, as you will notice with this fic and the next one, 2023 was the year I truly said fuck it. There used to be a time when I was afraid to admit my weirder kinks and fantasies (like, I used to be afraid to even say that I read A/B/O), but then I realized that this is the freak-nasty website. And way too many people are shy. So I must be the one to provide the freak-nasty fics.

This is a fic I had in mind since the very first time I watched TLOU2 gameplay. And originally, it was going to be a simple, purely pornopraphic fic about Abby fucking the reader with the golf club - but as I was writing it, it turned into something that I find oddly beautiful. And (again, just like with the next fic) I find that writing about kinks in long-term relationships, especially the kind of relationships that have come to be co-dependent - it's like writing this toxic, cathartic poetry.

It's writing about two people who need each other but can be so horrible for each other - and it is one of my favourite things to write about because it's so damn interesting. This was a slay, and generally awesome because it was getting out an idea that's been in my head for years.

4. Damn The Man, Save The Empire - Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (6,100 words)

Vanessa has always taken care of you. Since the two of you were kids, she has put her neck on the line for you, and you rarely knew how to return that epic kindness. One night, while both of you are raw and on-edge, the dark cloud of your strange past looming over both of you nearly swallows both of you whole - and once again, Vanessa is right there, taking care of you. (Dark)Dom!Vanessa Shelly x Sub!Gender Neutral Reader. Toxic Co-Dependent Relationship. Smut and Angst. Takes place before the main timeline of the film (features spoilers for the movie).

Again, like I said with the previous fic - this was one of my favourite fics to write because it is so delightfully unhinged. I really enjoy exploring toxic relationships through fiction because - for one, writing healthy, functioning relationships is not always interesting. And there is something so beautifully dark and poetic about writing two people who have grown into each other like twisted tree branches and need each other, but are so bad for each other.

And this year I have been exploring gender neutral smut a lot more. I used to always write fem reader smut as my default, but I have been having a lot of fun with the creativity of writing smut without describing the reader's body in detail. I love coming up with metaphors and describing around the body parts. I find it to be a fun creative challenge. Anyway - this was a lot of fun to write, and I highly recommend it if you enjoy reading darker fics.

3. Lessons For A Genius (Lesson One) - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (17,200 words)

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot. And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on. Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

I feel like it would be a miss to make this list without mentioning a fic that I obsessed over for two weeks straight - a fic that drove me insane in the best way. Of course, there is also the sequel, but I personally prefer the first lesson. This fic has been brewing in my mind for a very long time, because it is painfully obvious to me that Spencer (in the early seasons) is an awkward virgin, and I have always wanted to ruin him.

This fic is a lot of my fantasies brought to life, and I feel like it's a really masterful painting of those fantasies - for once, without overly focusing on the murder mystery aspect of Criminal Minds fanfiction (which I have a tendency to get distracted by). I am really, really proud of this fic, and I know you guys enjoyed it. It is definitely a highlight of my writing this year.

2. Emergency Contact - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (10,500 words)

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

This is a fic I have talked about a lot recently, because I have been working on the sequel. (I was hoping to get the sequel finished and posted before the end of December, but it's gonna be a longer fic, so it's looking like it's gonna be one of the first fics of January instead.) Anyway - to me, this is by far one of my best fics and one of my most important fics of 2023. This was battling for the top spot.

But even if it's second place, I am so incredibly proud of this fic. I think it's beautifully written, I am incredibly proud of the literary references I worked in with The Great Gatsby - especially because I feel like Jason would be the type to read Gatsby and compare himself to someone tragic and doomed like Gatsby (he would soo compare himself to Gatsby, especially because he was also a poor kid who was randomly sponsored by a rich man who saw potential in him). Overall, I just had a very distinct vision when writing the fic, and that vision came to life. And I really, really hope that my vision comes to life in the sequel too.

1. King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (22,400 words)

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter. When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic. Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too. Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

And finally, we get to my favourite fic of the year!!

So, I'm gonna be honest, a huge reason that this fic gets the top slot is because of my nostalgia for Harry Potter. This year was the first time in a long time that I have written Harry Potter fanfiction, and it felt like a reawakening of my soul. I was genuinely happy, and I was spending time enjoying concepts and characters that I have not thought about for a long time.

This fic in particular, I feel like I have been working on it for years in my mind. This fic is a culmination of all my thoughts about these characters, all my time in the Harry Potter fandom, and generally, I am so, so proud of it. I am proud that my love for Harry Potter has come to fruition in this form - a poly smut fic, something that is just so me.

Overall - I had such a great year chasing fic ideas that make me happy, despite the popularity of the characters or the fandoms, and I encourage you guys to spend 2024 doing the same. Cheers!

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #gar logan x reader #emily prentiss x reader #draco malfoy x reader #abby anderson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #mike schmidt x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #vanessa shelly x reader

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