#my bro was the first one to make me like him

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[yaniluvs]

“nerds don't date , right?” ⎯ how to lose a bet and your heart in seven days.

[ 정인 ] ✷ ‎. . things just get more interesting when you're fake-dating the hot nerd and are involved in a bet with him.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , forced proximity , classmates to lovers , uni au , fake dating , skz ensemble . 64OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. suggestive , as of now . ┆ 📹 ⋮ a y.jg mini series .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihi >< so like, part two hehehehhehehe. this turned out to be literally double the wc from the previous one..... oh and i just crossed 8OO followers???? what???? like two posts ago i crossed 7OO, oh good lord, thank you so much!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

read the previous chapter here.

you had never seen jeongin this stressed in your uni year.

it had been barely a day since the dinner, and he was already acting like his life was spiraling out of control. not that you blamed him—you were a handful, after all. but still, the man looked like he was fighting for survival, while you?

you were thriving.

not only were you fake-dating him in front of his family, but thanks to him, you also had the perfect bet to keep things interesting.

and now? now, you were at the usual café on campus, sitting comfortably with your group—felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho—while absolutely basking in the aftermath of your deal with jeongin.

the blonde leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "so let me get this straight," he began, voice amused.

"you made a bet with the yang jeongin—topper, nerd, absolute try-hard—where you get to flirt with him for three whole months, and if he falls for you, you win?"

you grinned, stirring your latte lazily. "mhm."

ryujin raised a brow. "and if you lose?"

you waved a dismissive hand. "then he gets to ignore me forever, i guess."

yeji snorted. "as if he'd actually do that. boy’s definitely gonna lose."

minho, who had been silently observing all this time, sipped his americano before finally speaking. "you're really confident, huh?"

you flashed him a smirk. "min, have you met me? of course, i'm confident. i know he’s gonna fall for me. i learn from the best, you know."

felix grinned. "well, duh. everyone loves you."

yeji smirked. "hyunjin and jisung sure do."

ryujin laughed. "oh yeah, didn’t hyunjin say you were literally his type?"

you shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "maybe."

felix gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "oh my god. is this why jeongin is acting so feral? is he jealous?"

"no, he’s probably just pissed that i exist."

minho scoffed. "that’ll change soon enough."

"exactly," you said smugly. "so, obviously, i’m winning this bet. there’s no way i’m falling first."

your friends exchanged looks, all of them barely holding back their very obvious amusement.

"sure," yeji said, lips twitching.

"of course," ryujin agreed.

minho sipped his drink again. "i totally believe you."

felix just grinned. "this is gonna be fun."

meanwhile.

jeongin had never been this mentally exhausted in his life.

one dinner. one stupid dinner. that was all it was supposed to be.

now? now he was fake-dating y/n in front of his entire family and locked in a three-month bet that would undoubtedly ruin him.

and to make things worse? jisung, seungmin, hyunjin, aeri, and yunah were not helping.

"bro," hyunjin was saying, leaning against the café booth with a stupid grin, "you’re done for."

"over. finished." jisung added, looking way too entertained.

jeongin shot them both a glare. "i am not going to fall for her."

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. "really?"

seungmin, ever the realist, merely sighed. "jeongin, have you met y/n?"

"yes, seungmin," jeongin deadpanned. "i have. unfortunately.*"

yunah giggled, twirling her straw. "she’s really pretty, though."

aeri smirked. "and hot. and cute. and bold."

hyunjin nudged jeongin. "she literally calls you 'hot nerd.' i would’ve folded instantly." he said, dramatically putting a hand on his heart while pretending to faint.

jeongin shot him a disgusted look. "you have no standards."

jisung snorted. "and you have no chance."

"i hate all of you." (and we're back !!)

"no, you don’t," jisung said, grinning. "you hate that you know we’re right."

seungmin nodded. "statistically speaking, you're screwed."

"oh my god," jeongin muttered.

jisung clapped his hands together. "alright! place your bets! how long do we think it’ll take for jeongin to fall first?"

"two weeks," hyunjin said immediately.

"a month," aeri guessed.

yunah smirked. "three weeks, max."

"one week," jisung announced proudly.

jeongin slammed his drink down. "i hate every single one of you."

almost a week later.

you found jeongin in the library, because of course you did.

dressed in an oversized cream sweater, silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his nose, black slacks, and expensive-looking loafers, he looked annoyingly good for someone who spent all his time studying.

unfortunately for him, you were here to ruin his peace.

sliding into the seat across from him, you grinned. "morning, iyennie."

jeongin didn’t even look up. "no."

you gasped dramatically. "no? that’s all i get? where’s my 'good morning, beautiful?' my 'you look stunning today, y/n'?"

jeongin exhaled sharply. "why are you here?"

you leaned forward on your elbows, smirking. "to see my lovely boyfriend, obviously."

jeongin twitched. "we are not fake-dating at uni."

you shrugged. "doesn’t mean i can’t flirt with you."

jeongin dragged a hand down his face. "i hate this bet."

"you literally proposed it, genius."

his jaw clenched. "i hate you."

you batted your lashes. "no, you don’t."

jeongin physically recoiled. "oh my god."

across the library, hyunjin and jisung sat at another table, watching the interaction with matching grins.

hyunjin nudged jisung. "one week?"

jisung smirked. "one week."

. . .

“i’ve decided that i’m going to end you.”

jeongin barely looked up from his notes. “cool. try not to be too obvious about it.”

“no, really,” you said, leaning forward across the library table, resting your chin on your hands as you stared at him. “i’m going to make your life miserable.”

jeongin finally glanced up, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. “isn’t that what you’ve already been doing?”

you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “wow. that was hurtful, iyen.”

jeongin twitched. “stop calling me that.”

you grinned. “make me.”

his fingers curled around his pen, and for a second, you wondered if he was genuinely considering launching it at your forehead.

the library was quiet, aside from the occasional whispers of students flipping through books, the dull hum of the air conditioning, and the muffled sounds of footsteps against the carpeted floor. your table was nestled in the back corner, surrounded by towering bookshelves and dim lighting that gave the whole setting a very academic romance kind of vibe—not that jeongin would ever admit that.

and, of course, the two of you weren’t alone.

like said earlier, across from you, at another table, were felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho, watching with way too much amusement.

they can't miss good entertainment, right?

and a few tables away, jisung, hyunjin, seungmin, aeri, and yunah, were also watching with expressions that ranged from entertained to downright smug.

because, honestly? no one believed jeongin was going to win this bet.

not even jeongin himself.

"are you done?" he asked, voice clipped, flipping a page in his notes.

you smirked. "not even close."

leaning back in your chair, you crossed one leg over the other, watching him with open interest. he was dressed as he always was—annoyingly fashionable for someone who didn’t seem to care about fashion. a fitted black turtleneck, an oversized houndstooth blazer, tailored slacks, and his signature silver-rimmed glasses that rested so perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

his black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all morning (which, knowing you, he probably had).

"you know," you mused, tilting your head, "if you weren’t so insufferable, i’d probably have a crush on you."

his pen hovered mid-air, his lips parting slightly before he turned to glare at you. "what?"

you shrugged. "what? i’m just saying. you’re kind of my type. hot. smart. dresses well. severely grumpy. i like a challenge."

jeongin’s eye twitched. "w—"

"oh my god," hyunjin suddenly groaned from across the room, throwing his head back. "can you two just kiss already?"

jeongin immediately choked on air.

your lips twitched as you turned to hyunjin. "not yet, jinnie. i have a bet to win, remember?"

hyunjin smirked. "oh, you will win. no doubt about it."

jisung laughed. "he’s already halfway there."

"this is a library, hello?" the librarian hissed.

"but we're the only ones here, miss y-"

jeongin slammed his book shut, stood up, and turned to you with murder in his eyes. "we’re leaving."

you blinked innocently. "we are?"

"yes." he grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from your seat, ignoring the very loud, very obnoxious oooohhhhhs coming from both friend groups.

felix gasped. "look at him. so dominant."

"i didn’t know he had it in him."

"they grow up so fast."

seungmin merely shook his head, unimpressed. "he’s just running away."

jeongin glared at all of them before practically dragging you out of the library.

now playing, if you love me by colde

the late afternoon sun draped the campus in warm, honey-colored light, stretching long shadows across the pavement. the air was crisp but comfortable, carrying the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee from the campus café nearby. a few students walked past, caught up in their own conversations, but none of them paid much attention to the very mismatched pair walking down the sidepath.

jeongin was suffering.

because you were practically dragging him.

"y/n," he grumbled, his arm stiff as you held onto his wrist. "why are you like this?"

you hummed, pretending to think. "born this way, i guess?"

jeongin sighed, shaking his head. "no remorse. none at all."

"absolutely none," you confirmed cheerfully, still leading him forward.

he didn’t know where you were taking him. you probably didn’t either. but that didn’t seem to matter to you. it was just one of those things—where you decided something, and everyone else just had to go along with it.

he really should have thought this through before making that bet.

the sky was beginning to shift into soft hues of orange and almost blue when jeongin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and immediately stiffened.

his mom.

he stopped walking so abruptly that you almost crashed into him.

"whoa—" you blinked at him. "what’s wrong?"

he held up a finger. "be quiet."

you snorted. "like hell."

"y/n."

you grinned, unbothered, as he answered the call.

"hello?" jeongin said, his voice immediately shifting into something softer, more polite.

"oh, jeongin! how are you, sweetheart?"

you gasped dramatically beside him. sweetheart?

jeongin shot you a look. a warning. a plea.

you ignored it completely.

"hello, ms. yang!" you chirped before he could stop you, leaning in way too close to the phone. "how are you?"

there was a pause on the other end.

and then—

"oh, y/n, dear! how lovely to hear your voice!"

jeongin closed his eyes. no, no, no—

you beamed. "aw, you're so sweet. it's lovely to hear yours too!"

jeongin wanted to die.

his mother laughed. "such a charming girl! i hope my son is treating you well?"

you turned to him with the smuggest smile, tilting your head. "oh, he’s wonderful, ms. yang. so sweet. so attentive."

jeongin gave you a blank stare, deadpan. you? a menace.

his mother sighed happily. "ah, that's good to hear. oh! that reminds me—jeongin, darling, you haven’t forgotten about next weekend, have you?"

jeongin blinked. "uh… next weekend?"

you raised an eyebrow, watching him.

"the family gathering, jeongin!" his mom continued. "your uncle’s wedding anniversary celebration. you have to come. and of course, you must bring y/n!"

jeongin froze.

you?

you? (i'd be offended)

he turned to you so fast you almost thought his neck might snap.

you, on the other hand, were staring at him with way too much excitement in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay neutral. "oh… right. that."

you leaned in, lips parted in interest.

ms. yang laughed. "don't tell me you forgot?"

jeongin exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his temple. "i… might have."

you gasped. "baby!"

he glared.

"oh, don’t worry, dear," his mom said, brushing past his frustration entirely. "it’s going to be a lovely event! you must come with him, y/n! i won’t take no for an answer."

your grin widened.

jeongin knew that look.

it was the look of pure evil. the look of someone who had just won. (no he just read too many comics)

you placed a hand over your heart, feigning surprise. "oh my gosh, ms. yang, really? you’d want me there?"

"of course!" his mother said immediately. "you’re practically family now!"

jeongin almost choked for the umpteenth time that day.

you looked so pleased.

"well, in that case," you said sweetly, "i’d love to come. wouldn't want to disappoint a lovely lady like you, ms. yang."

ms. yang sighed, completely oblivious to his suffering. "wonderful! oh, i knew i liked this girl!"

jeongin shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. why him?

"alright, sweetheart, i won’t keep you two," his mom said. "make sure to text me later, okay?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, still trying to process what had just happened. "bye, mom."

"have a good evening, ms. yang!" you called cheerfully.

the call ended.

silence. and then—

"you evil, evil woman," jeongin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you grinned. "aw, is my baby upset?"

"don’t call me that."

"oh, but i must," you teased, tapping his arm. "we are dating, after all."

jeongin groaned.

you rocked back on your heels. "sooo. a family event, huh?"

"shut up."

"your entire family is gonna be there?"

"y/n—"

"and your relatives?"

jeongin exhaled slowly, praying for patience. "yes."

you beamed. "god, i love this bet."

jeongin stared at you. "why are you enjoying this?"

you shrugged. "because you're not."

his eye twitched. "i hate you." (.........yeah, yk the drill)

"you love me."

"shut up."

you giggled, nudging his arm as you started walking again. "come on, hot nerd. we have so much planning to do."

jeongin sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he followed after you.

he wasn't going to lose this bet.

he wasn't.

but, why did it feel like you had already won?

—

the city was beginning to glow.

golden streetlights flickered on, one by one, casting soft halos onto the pavement. neon signs buzzed to life in the distance, painting the skyline in hues of red, blue, and green. the cool evening air carried a mix of scents—freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the faint spice of street food stalls setting up for the night, and something softer, like rain on warm pavement.

and in the middle of it all—you and jeongin.

he was still following you, albeit begrudgingly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"are you actually planning on telling me where we're going?" jeongin asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

you only grinned, walking a little ahead of him, as you turned around, still walking backwards, facing him. "nope."

he sighed. "of course not."

as the two of you had left the campus a while ago, jeongin had expected you to stop at the nearest café, maybe a convenience store. but instead, you kept walking. past the busy streets, past the familiar landmarks, past the places where most students usually hung out.

and now?

now, you were leading him through quieter roads, where the buildings weren't as tall, where the sky was starting to open up above you, where the city lights didn’t drown out the stars entirely.

it was weirdly peaceful.

not that he'd admit it.

"you're too trusting," jeongin muttered, watching as you walked ahead of him without a care in the world.

you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "oh? and why's that?"

"you’re just… walking around at night, alone, dragging me—your supposed fake boyfriend—to some unknown location." he narrowed his eyes. "for all you know, i could be leading you into danger."

you let out a soft laugh. "oh, please. if anyone’s the danger here, it’s me."

jeongin rolled his eyes. "right."

"you think i'm scared of you, topper?" you smirked, nudging his shoulder. "you’re, like, the least threatening person i’ve ever met."

"good," he said flatly. "that means i can stop pretending to tolerate you."

you gasped dramatically. "so rude! and here i was, thinking we were bonding!"

"bonding?" jeongin scoffed. "you kidnapped me."

you hummed, tilting your head. "wouldn’t call it kidnapping. more like… involuntary adventuring."

"that’s literally just a fancier way of saying kidnapping."

"details, details." you waved a hand dismissively, your bracelets jingling softly.

jeongin shook his head, but there was a small—very small—curve to his lips.

for a while, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence. the only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement, the occasional passing car, and the distant chatter of city life.

"you come here often?" jeongin asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

you glanced at him, slightly surprised by the question. "hmm?"

"wherever it is we're going," he clarified, watching your expression closely. "you seem… familiar with the way."

you hesitated for a second, but then you smiled. "yeah. i do."

he studied you, noticing how your fingers fiddled with the strap of your bag—a small, almost absentminded gesture. "alone?"

"sometimes." you exhaled lightly, looking up at the sky. "other times, with my friends."

jeongin didn’t miss the slight shift in your tone. it was subtle, but it was there.

"and tonight?" he asked, glancing at you. "why me?"

you turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze.

and for a moment—just a moment—you didn’t say anything.

the city lights reflected in your eyes, turning them into something almost ethereal. the night breeze played with the loose strands of your hair, making them dance against your cheekbones. there was something unreadable in your expression, something jeongin couldn’t quite place.

but then— you grinned.

"because i felt like annoying you," you said simply.

jeongin blinked. and then scoffed. "wow. and here i thought i was special."

"oh, you are," you teased, looping your arm through his before he could react. "you're my favorite victim, actually."

he stiffened. "y/n—"

"you’re warm," you interrupted, pressing closer. "a human heater. i should keep you around more often."

jeongin let out a very long sigh, tilting his head toward the sky like he was asking some higher power for patience.

"you're insufferable," he muttered.

"and you are cute."

"shut up."

you giggled. "ooooh, that blush is telling me a different story."

jeongin groaned, refusing to meet your gaze. "i hate this bet."

"you love this bet."

he side-eyed you. "you know, i think you might be evil."

you only winked. "oh, honey. i'm very aware."

and the walk continued like that—small banter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of hands when neither of you were paying attention.

jeongin hated how natural it felt.

hated how easy it was to talk to you.

hated how, despite himself, he was actually curious about where you were taking him.

he didn’t get attached.

he didn’t, right?.

but with every teasing smile you threw his way, with every time your fingers lingered against his, with every moment you laughed at something he said—

he started to wonder.

maybe jisung had been right.

maybe this bet was a really, really bad idea.

the view you chose for me

the path sloped upward, curving gently along the hillside. the city behind you had slowly started to fade, the buzzing neon signs replaced by the soft hum of cicadas, the distant rustling of leaves, and the whisper of the evening breeze. the sky above stretched out like a painting, shifting from the last golden hues of sunset into the deepening blues of twilight.

jeongin slowed his steps, glancing at you. "are we almost there?"

"patience, iyennie," you hummed, walking ahead with a skip in your step. "good things take time."

he rolled his eyes, but a small, amused exhale escaped his lips.

then, finally, the world opened up.

the trees thinned, revealing an expansive hilltop that overlooked the city. a vast, open field of wild grass spread around you, swaying lightly in the wind. the horizon stretched endlessly, where the last golden threads of daylight kissed the deepening night. below, the city twinkled like scattered stars, a soft, pulsing glow of blues, oranges, and whites.

and above, the first stars had begun to appear.

tiny, glimmering specks against a sky that seemed endless. wisps of deep indigo melted into shades of violet, streaked with soft pinks from the remnants of the sun. there was something ethereal about it—something quiet, untouched, almost unreal.

jeongin exhaled, barely noticing how his breath caught for a second.

you, on the other hand, stretched your arms out with a dramatic sigh. "isn't it beautiful?"

he glanced at you.

the wind had tousled your hair, strands of it floating like silk against the dim light. your face, turned toward the sky, was bathed in soft twilight, the shadows curving gently along your cheekbones. your eyes reflected the distant stars, and when you smiled—

your lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin, and your eyes crinkled into tiny crescents.

something in jeongin’s chest lurched.

"yeah," he murmured before he could stop himself. "it is."

you turned to him, blinking. "see? told you it was worth it."

jeongin tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. "it’s… alright."

you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. "wow. that almost sounded like a compliment, yang."

"don’t push your luck," he muttered, walking past you.

you grinned, plopping down on the grass before patting the space next to you. "sit. enjoy the view."

he hesitated.

then, with a small sigh, he sat down beside you, the grass cool beneath his palms. the air smelled faintly of earth and rain, the breeze gentle as it curled around both of you.

a moment passed in silence, the two of you simply staring at the sky.

you reached into your bag, pulling out a small snack box.

jeongin glanced over. "what’s that?"

"food, obviously," you teased, opening the lid. inside, neatly packed, were a few triangular onigiris wrapped in seaweed. "can't survive without snacking every moment,"

you picked one up and held it out to him. "here. i made these this morning."

jeongin blinked. "you cooked?"

"is it so surprising? i'm a good chef, i'll have you know." you frown, and wiggled the rice ball in front of him. "c’mon. try it. first time making them, so i need honest feedback, topper."

he hesitated, eyeing you for a second before reaching out to take it.

and that’s when it happened.

you looked at him—waiting, expectant, your expression filled with the kind of excitement that was so genuine it almost startled him. the soft glow of the evening light traced the edges of your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the arch of your brow, the slight parting of your lips. your lashes cast tiny shadows against your skin, and when you smiled, your dimples deepened, your eyes turning into crescents once again.

jeongin—

forgot to breathe.

for a fraction of a second, he didn’t care about the stupid bet. didn’t care about the fake dating, or the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed by all of this.

all he could think about—

was how pretty you looked.

and then—

you turned your gaze back to the sky.

the moment broke, like ripples in a pond.

jeongin blinked rapidly, forcing himself to look anywhere else. he bit into the onigiri, trying to act normal.

it was good.

really good.

but he wasn’t about to inflate your ego, obviously.

"it’s… okay," he mumbled.

you frowned, clutching your chest. "just okay?"

he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m just being honest, like you asked."

you narrowed your eyes, then suddenly leaned in closer, way too close. "are you lying?"

jeongin stiffened.

you were right there, inches from his face, eyes locked onto his like you were searching for the truth. the scent of vanilla and something faintly floral drifted from you, and jeongin—

had to grip his knee to keep himself from leaning back.

"i—" he swallowed. "no."

you hummed, tilting your head. "hmm. suspicious."

then, before he could react, you grinned.

"well, i think i did an amazing job." you leaned back, stretching your arms behind you. "maybe i should become a chef. quit university. open a cute little café. i’d call it ‘y/n’s love bites.’"

"love bites?" jeongin actually choked on air this time.

"hey, careful!" your eyes widened, your hands immediately burying into your bag, pulling a bottle out. you hand it to him, after opening it.

"what? is it not a nice name?" you pout at the look he gave you after gulping down the entire bottle, still coughing.

"really though? love bites?"

"mhm." you laughed. "because.. love bites. and because i’m good at biting. and love. and actually, love b-"

"god forbid a man wants to have a snack in peace."

you burst out laughing. "jeez, relax, iyennie. i’m kidding."

"you’re really insufferable."

"and you are fun to tease." you winked.

jeongin groaned, looking away.

but his ears—

were very, very red.

—

the stars were out in full now, scattered across the endless stretch of the night sky. the city below twinkled in response, as if the lights of the world and the heavens were competing for brilliance. the grass beneath you both was soft, slightly damp from the evening air, but comforting in a way that made neither of you want to move.

the silence between you had settled into something familiar—not awkward, not tense. just there. a moment where neither of you had to fill the space with meaningless words.

but then again, you’d never been one for silence.

"so," you started, shifting slightly so you faced him, "i realized something."

jeongin barely glanced at you, still watching the stars. "what?"

"i don’t know anything about you."

he raised an eyebrow. "you know plenty."

"mm, do i?" you leaned back on your palms. "i know you're stinky smart. i know you have the ability to make even professors shut up with a single argument. i know you have the fashion sense of a pinterest model and the patience of a grandma stuck in traffic."

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "that’s oddly specific."

"am i wrong?"

"…no."

"exactly." you grinned before tilting your head. "but i mean, i don’t know you. like, i don’t know what makes you tick. what makes you.. you. i don’t know what you wanted to be when you were a kid, what your childhood was like, what your favorite memory is."

jeongin stayed quiet, eyes flickering toward you briefly.

you rested your chin on your knees, watching him. "i wanna know."

"you’re way too curious."

"and you’re way too closed off."

he sighed, shaking his head. "you don’t need to know all that. we’re only dating in front of my parents. not here."

"yeah, well, i want to get to know you," you said simply. "and this is completely unrelated to the whole fake dating thing. it can be platonic, you know? i just think it’s unfair that you probably know way more about me than i do about you."

jeongin looked at you, thoughtful. "do i?"

"you tell me, topper."

his lips twitched slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he was considering something. then, with a small sigh, he leaned back on his elbows.

"alright. what do you want to know?"

your eyes lit up. "anything?"

"within reason."

you hummed, thinking. "okay. what did you want to be when you were a kid?"

jeongin let out a short laugh. "you’re gonna make fun of me."

"oh, now i really have to know."

he rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. "i wanted to be a detective."

your eyebrows shot up. "no way. detective yang jeongin?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered. "i used to love mystery novels as a kid. thought i’d grow up solving impossible cases, catching criminals, the whole thing."

you grinned. "that’s actually kind of cute."

he scoffed. "yeah, well, then i realized i’d have to deal with actual crime, and i was like, ‘yeah, no thanks.’"

you burst out laughing. "you wanted to be sherlock holmes but without the danger?"

"pretty much." he shrugged. "so i settled for something else."

"which is?"

"business and english."

you made a face. "oh so we're almost twinning?"

"i thought you knew?"

"um no? we barely share any other sessions, only sometimes, business."

"well that's because we have different batches, genius."

"huh. when's yours?"

"at nine."

you clicked your tongue. "good lord, typical topper behavior."

he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "alright, your turn. what did you want to be as a kid?"

you hummed. "i went through so many phases. i wanted to be a singer, a poet, an author, a fashion designer, a painter… i was all over the place."

jeongin’s eyes softened slightly. "you’re still kind of all those things."

you blinked, caught off guard, ready to fight. "excuse me?"

"no, i mean, you write. you sing. you compose. you’re always dressed like you just walked out of a magazine." his voice was casual, as if he wasn’t just casually complimenting you without thinking.

and for some reason—

your heart stumbled a little.

you quickly recovered, clearing your throat. "well. somebody is paying attention."

he smirked. "unfortunately."

you gasped, nudging his shoulder. "and here i thought we were having a moment."

"you should know better by now," he teased, but there was something gentle in the way he said it.

you huffed dramatically. "fine, whatever. but i thought walking out of a magazine was your thing?"

"i wouldn't mind someone appreciating fashion, darling."

"...moving on. next question. what’s your favorite memory?"

jeongin hesitated for a second. then, with a small exhale, he said, "when i was ten, my family took a trip to japan. we went during the cherry blossom season, and i remember standing under this huge tree, just watching the petals fall. it felt like…" he paused, searching for the word. "magic."

your lips parted slightly.

for a moment, you could see it—ten-year-old jeongin standing under a sea of pink, eyes wide with wonder, cherry blossoms falling around him like soft whispers of a dream.

"you still remember it that vividly?" you asked softly.

"yeah." he looked up at the sky. "some moments just… stick with you."

your chest ached a little at that.

you didn’t know why.

you shook off the feeling. "well. that’s a very wholesome memory."

he smirked. "what were you expecting? something embarrassing?"

"maybe," you admitted, grinning. "but i like this one, too."

a comfortable silence settled between you again.

"what about you?" he asked.

you blinked. "huh?"

"your favorite memory."

you smiled slightly, hugging your knees. "i have a lot of good ones. but, if i had to pick, maybe…" you trailed off, thinking.

jeongin waited patiently.

you finally spoke. "back home, we used to have power outages a lot. and whenever that happened, my mom and i would sit outside with candles, just talking. we’d make shadow animals on the wall, tell stories, and drink warm milk while waiting for the lights to come back."

jeongin listened intently, his expression unreadable.

"it was such a simple thing," you murmured, "but it always made me feel.. safe."

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

then, finally, he said, "that sounds.. comforting."

you glanced at him.

there was something warm in his eyes, something quiet and understanding.

and for the first time that night—

you weren’t thinking about the bet.

you weren’t thinking about how you were supposed to be fake dating in front of his parents.

it was just the two of you.

sitting under the stars.

sharing pieces of yourselves you never expected to.

and somehow— it didn’t feel fake at all.

it was peaceful.

you were still determined to learn everything about him.

not just for the bet.

not just for fun.

but because, if you were honest, he intrigued you.

and you always liked figuring people out.

so, after a few minutes of silence, you spoke again.

"so," you started, shifting slightly to face him, "we were talking about memories."

jeongin glanced at you. "we were."

"you know what we weren't talking about?" you raised an eyebrow. "your love life."

he scoffed. "love life? who said i have one?"

you gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "wait, no way. don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend before, iyennie."

"i literally told you i've never been on a date.. like on day one." he shot you a look. "also, don't call me that."

"i think you know that i don't believe that," you grinned. "also, i will always call you that."

he exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting ever agreeing to this conversation. "i’ve had one."

you perked up. "so you did!" your eyes lit up with curiousity. "so, one? as in, just one?"

"yeah."

"how long ago?"

he hesitated for a second. "three years."

your mouth dropped open. "damn, that’s—wait. that means you’ve been single since you were—"

"yeah, yeah," he cut you off, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just… haven’t really been interested in dating since."

"interesting," you mused. "so what happened?"

jeongin sighed, clearly debating whether to answer.

then, after a moment, he said, "she was.. nice. we just weren’t meant to be, i guess."

you narrowed your eyes. "that’s such a boring answer, yang. give me details."

he smirked slightly, shaking his head. "you’re really nosy, you know that?"

"and you're really secretive." you tilted your head, watching him. "it’s okay if it.. ended badly. you can tell me."

he was quiet for a beat, then finally spoke.

"it wasn’t bad, exactly. we just had different priorities," he admitted. "she wanted a lot more attention, a lot more time together. and i was…" he paused, exhaling. "i was too focused on school, my goals. she got frustrated. said i didn’t care about her enough."

you hummed. "did you?"

he frowned slightly. "i did care about her."

"but maybe not in the way she wanted," you guessed.

jeongin gave you a look, as if surprised at how quickly you caught on. "yeah."

you nodded, thoughtful. "so, you’re the kind of guy who expresses love in actions, not words, huh?"

he blinked. "i guess you could say that."

"noted." you grinned. "i’ll expect a bunch of favors and free tutoring sessions as proof of love."

he rolled his eyes. "we’re not in love."

"not yet," you teased.

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "you really think you’re gonna win this bet, huh?"

"oh, i know i will," you said smugly. "face it, topper, you like me."

"i tolerate you," he corrected.

"that's what they all say," you laughed. "give it time."

for a moment, he just watched you, his gaze unreadable. then, shaking his head, he muttered, "unbelievable."

you turned your attention back to the sky. "alright, next question."

"you’re not done interrogating me yet?"

"of course not. i’m just getting started." you shot him a smirk. "so, mr. future ceo, what’s something you’re actually passionate about? like, not just academically."

he hesitated.

you raised an eyebrow. "you do have hobbies, right? you don’t just study for fun?"

"of course i have hobbies," he muttered.

"well?"

"…i like music."

you blinked. "wait, really?"

he nodded. "yeah. i don’t do it as much now, but i used to sing trot with my grandparents all the time when i was younger."

you stared at him, genuinely surprised. "you? music?"

"what’s so shocking about that?"

"i don’t know! you just seem like ‘i only study and occasionally judge people’."

"well, i do judge people." he smirked. "i also kinda life photography, for some reason."

"really? so he likes singing and photography? what kinds?"

"mostly landscapes. architecture. things that don’t move too much."

you hummed. "so, no people?"

"not really." he glanced at you. "though… i think i’d like taking pictures of someone if they were interesting enough."

you tilted your head. "like who?"

for a second, jeongin didn’t answer. his eyes flickered over your face, something unreadable in his expression.

then, with a small smirk, he simply said, "dunno. haven’t found them yet."

your stomach did a weird little flip.

you cleared your throat. "huh. well. you should show me your pictures sometime."

he shrugged. "maybe."

you nudged his shoulder. "that means yes."

"that means maybe."

"sure, sure." you grinned before shifting topics. "alright, what’s your biggest ick in a person?"

he smirked slightly. "besides you?"

"rude," you huffed.

he pretended to think. "probably… people who pretend to be someone they’re not."

you nodded. "yeah, i get that. fake personalities are exhausting."

"what about you?"

you didn’t hesitate. "people who can’t communicate."

jeongin raised an eyebrow. "that’s… a very mature answer."

"right?" you sighed dramatically. "like, if you have a problem, just say it. why do people make everything so complicated?"

jeongin chuckled. "agreed."

there was a pause before you added, "also, people who wear socks to bed. they scare me."

he burst out laughing. "what? why?"

"i don't know, it just feels wrong!"

"you’re insane," he said, shaking his head.

"maybe. but at least i’m not a sock-sleeper."

jeongin laughed again, and for some reason, the sound made your chest feel warm.

the conversation continued, shifting from childhood stories to embarrassing moments, from random questions to deep musings.

at one point, you found yourself just… watching him.

the way his dimples appeared when he smiled.

the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

the way his gaze softened ever so slightly when he looked at you.

and maybe, just maybe—

you were in trouble.

but you weren’t going to admit that.

not yet.

for now, you were just a girl sitting under the stars with a boy who was supposed to be your fake boyfriend.

and yet, somehow—

it didn’t feel fake at all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[shapelytimber]

Gale nation I'm so sorry but one had to be last jffkdk to make it up to you all I'll give you your man being a pre worm mess and Tara is also here :D (don't spoil me ectect I'm starting moonrise let's gooo)

[COMMISSIONS]

Don't get me wrong I like him ! I like them all ! Huge nerd depressed wizard, awkward looser, what's not to love (even tho he sometimes has some of the worst takes in the world gkgk) ? But... He's too easy to romance- bro you're shacking in pain serving pathetic and about to explode of course I'm going to give you a magical item I don't care about ! And I'm not a monster so yes you can stay even tho you where shitty to your ex and about to blow up but by god stop installing this weird romantic tension istg- also I got spoiled the fact he marries you if you romance him and just no- not a fan of wedding (despite my shameful addiction to a certain french reality tvshow fbfjfk) sorry but it just takes off a lot of the fun of romance for me :( love the drama of divorce but not interested in the first step to get there fjfkf

[Astarion] - [Lae'zel] - [Wyll] - [Shadowheart] - [Karlach] - [Gale]

Sketch and more yapping below vvv

Don't ask me why this portrait ended up being a perfect mix of Jesus Christ and Harry du Bois fjkdkd I loved it too much to change it, so that's how Gale looks like in my heart now :)) also I need you to know I imagine him a bit chubby <3 because it's cute and a wizard with a six pack should be considered an offense to everything good and beautiful

[hrrtshape]

i want the tea emmaaa 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

✶ the latest report on my shift to my better cr (aka kind of a socialite dr)

◞ when i shifted : for way longer. way, way longer. i blinked and suddenly i had months’ worth of memories. time is fake, time is a performance, time is a dinner party where i am the guest of honour and also the mysterious figure slipping out the back door. the ratio? unknown. inconceivable. i went to sleep and woke up and lived. isn’t that enough? but the present in my better cr is currently the present in here !

◞ where i shifted : still new york, still my mom’s penthouse, still living in a pinterest board except this time i fully leaned into it. every single aesthetic touch, every candle, every casually draped cashmere throw. curated to perfection. we are talking "architectural digest home tour where the interviewer is quietly weeping over how good my taste is" levels of perfection. the google maps situation remains the same: in this reality, my house is a hotel. fate? simulation glitch? the universe keeping me humble? who knows.

◞ family dynamics : my older brother remains a tech bro of the most devastating calibre. the type who makes a billion-dollar deal on his phone in between espresso shots, then immediately gets distracted by an art heist conspiracy theory and disappears for a week. my younger brother (he's weirdly obsessed with filming cars for instagram) continues to reside with my dad in the west village, and their place is basically a salon for the emotionally sophisticated. like, picture cigars (unlit, for aesthetic), first edition books, and a record player that only plays vinyls of people arguing in french. my dad..... still at sotheby’s, still slightly overwhelmed, still one misplaced signature away from an auction-house disaster. my mom is still an empire-builder, still the queen of sugar-free decadence, still able to make a CEO cry in under five minutes. i am so obsessed with her.

◞ my friends : lily-rose remains my ride-or-die. our friendship has transcended words and become something closer to an art form. we communicate through glances, through impeccably timed laughter, through the shared knowledge that we are always, always the main characters. also, blair waldorf is STILL in my life, and i am STILL not over it. she tolerates me, which is the highest form of affection. the gossip girl universe continues to imprint itself onto my reality, and honestly? i welcome it. @chaaistained you're still the light of my life xxxx

◞ loml, coryo : mhm. mhm. mhm. (pause for applause). not writing how just yet, but let’s just say the universe finally got the memo. cutest cutie ever.

◞ food : the cafes remain exquisite. the hazelnut croissants remain life-altering. i have officially become one with my iced matcha. my bloodstream is no longer soy milk; it is pure, concentrated vibes. best meal.... one night my mum and i booked out an entire restaurant just to have a private dinner and discuss our enemies. just mother-daughter bonding things. le bernardin continues to serve food so good i nearly cried. and, of course, because i went to paris, we gorged on croissants.

◞ outfits : i wake up. my closet, endless. my options, infinite. every single piece of clothing i have ever wanted? there. there were DAYS i changed outfits purely because i could. there were NIGHTS i sat in front of my floor-length mirror, trying on silk dresses and whispering, "what’s the move tonight?" even if there was no move. just the illusion of one.

◞ school : st. lazarus remains the most iconic institution to ever exist. the uniforms are still perfect. the hierarchy is still thrilling. my classes are as follows !!! :

philosophy : my professor has officially lost his grip on reality. i am his nemesis and also his favourite student. i say things just to watch him spiral. it’s a sport. history : the battlefield. coryo is writing my history IA. i am having the time of my life. literature : divine. ethereal. my professor respects me too much. maths : a struggle but at least my notes look nice. but i did script that i atleast understand what's happening.

◞ social scene : parties, parties, PARTIES. penthouses, rooftops, spontaneous trips. people draped over velvet sofas, half-drunk champagne glasses abandoned on marble countertops. whispered secrets. dramatic exits. nights that felt like music videos.

◞ unforgettable moments : celebrated my younger brother’s 15th birthday. f1-themed, obviously, because he’s still in his karting prodigy era. the cake was a racetrack. the vibe was grand prix meets family sitcom. the whole paris trip. somewhere in the mix: a snowstorm, a museum date, a night spent on the roof because the city looked too beautiful to go inside. got recognised at least once in public. tried a new restaurant where the shakshuka made me question my entire existence. there were art gallery openings where the champagne was free-flowing and the conversations were like a linguistic fencing match. sunday brunches that spiraled into entire days out. afternoons spent trying on impractical dresses just to twirl in fitting rooms. soft launches of new perfumes (because every era needs a signature scent).

◞ books i read : ulysses (continued). the secret history ( i read it in my cr...but...c'mon. it was time ). a collection of sapphic poetry that made me feel like i was floating.

◞ the details that made it real : the way my pen scratched against my notebook in class. the exact weight of my chloé tote in my hand. the way my breath fogged up the glass of my balcony doors when i pressed my forehead against them in the early morning. the quiet click of my mum’s marc jacobs' boots on marble floors.

◞ oh !!! and christmas !!! : christmas in my better cr was in lithuania, obviously. flew out on the 23rd, spent it with the extended family. my grandma made dubai chocolate (not that kind of dubai chocolate...she lives in karoliniškės, ok). my makeup artist aunt got me a lip tint, very on brand. my one-year-old cousin nora is in her cherubic era. we were besties for the week. played with her nonstop. got my younger brother every f1 lego car in existence. my mum got me archival miu miu. my great-grandma saw me, got sentimental, cried a little, made me eat an ungodly amount of cepelinai. very lithuanian of her. left early, landed at jfk at a stupid hour. 1 am. coryo was there in sweatpants, threw his car at the curb like he was in some noir film, very dramatic, very romantic. nearly tackled me. i was gone for less than a week but he missed me like it had been years. got me presents too. he is so lovesick it’s almost embarrassing.

that’s it for now, lovies. i have MORE, obviously, but let’s pace ourselves. mwah xxxxxxx

[v6quewrlds]

joe x dr wife basically i cant think of what joe would say first that would make reader say this but like

"it's DR. reader last name to you burrow"

and that jus really turns joe on or smth

"I don't know why you're freaking out on me," she muttered under her breath as she pushed past Joe. She reached the bathroom counter, glaring daggers at the back of his head through the mirror before he turned around.

Joe's sleepy eyes squinted at her in the soft glow of the bathroom light. "Babe, I'm not freaking out," he huffed, running a hand through his fluffy, dirty blonde hair. "But my routine's important to me. You know that."

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "It's called a 'bye' week for a reason. You're supposed to rest," she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and affection. "This is the one week you have to give that knee a break. I'm not saying you can't work out, but maybe chill out a little?"

Joe's jaw tightened, but he knew she had a point. "I'm just… I need to stay in shape," he murmured, his voice trailing off as he sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Waking up at the ass crack of dawn won't get you in better shape," she said lowly, focusing on brushing her teeth instead of soothing Joe's tantrum.

"Whatever, bro," Joe grumbled, yawning widely and stretching his arms over his head. "I'm still going," he added under his breath, a hint of stubbornness seeping into his words.

She rinsed her mouth and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's Doctor to you, and you're not going to the facility tomorrow morning, end of story." The tone of her voice made his ears perk up. It was a rare moment when she used her professional title to assert authority in their personal lives; a quiet assertion of greater knowledge that she knew he found strangely appealing.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Joe's mouth as he met her gaze. He knew she was right, but that didn't mean he had to make it easy for her. "Is that so, Doctor?" Any prior hint of exhausted inflexibility vanished, replaced by a playful spark in his blue eyes.

Her eyes narrowed, but she felt a smoldering warmth in her core as she recognized the shift in their conversation. She couldn't help but return his interest. "Yes, it is," she said with mock formality, turning to leave the bathroom.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Brolder

Debut: Super Mario 3D World

This is Brolder. What is it brolder than? I don't know, to be honest. But to make it up to Brolder, I made its name up there bolder than usual. I hope it likes it!

Brolder is one of those hexagonal-scale-patterned boulders that I'm not completely sure exist. I've only seen them in videos the game. Do they exist? If so, please tell me! I'm being lowered into a vat of acid and my kooky captor will only let me go if I get this question right!

But honestly, I don't really care. I keep finding myself lost in Brolder's beautiful eyes! They are just like the 👀 eyes emoji. Just like the emoji, Brolder's eyes convey that it is Lookin', and it is Lookin' over that way. Such wide-eyed innocence... or, I guess, tall-eyed innocence! A lot of extra distance for its eyelids to cover with each blink. Put your Pokewalker on a Brolder's eyelid! Gaming Tip!

But enough about eyes. Brolder is a spherical boulder, and that means it rolls! And actually I take it back! More about the eyes! That poor thing is going to roll right over its own eyes. Yeowch! Ok, now you can spray me with water if I mention the eyes again. But don't worry. I am not done discussing Brolder's moist biological functions.

Look at this guy on the map screen. Bro thinks he's a location. Well, he is, because he is a Blockade level! Sadly classified as World 4-A rather than World 4-Brolder, but ah well. No one actually cares that much about that. Not even me! I'm ok with it. I'm reasonable.

When jumped upon, Brolders retract their eyes and limbs, but look at that above it... sweat! These rocks can sweat! Awesome? I think Brolders travel outside of the volcanic regions to drink water, just so they can sweat it out when picked up, in hopes that their captor will go "eww" and drop them.

Perhaps my favorite part of Brolder, however, are its arms! Its very yellow arms. QUITE a bit like SpongeBob arms! That's probably why I once saw a Miiverse post of the Brolder stamp edited to have Spunch features. As you can see, I never forgot that post! The arms also remind me very much of plastic toy parts, as if they would have a peg to stick into a hole on Brolder's side. Wouldn't it make sense for the arms to be made of lava or something? That would probably go so hard.

And what do you know! Boss Brolder, the boss of the Brolders, the broldest of them all, has lava arms! And it indeed goes hard. His whole design goes hard, really! His fiery glowing eyes, his shining rock shell, his CRYSTALS... what brold fashion choices! He looks really genuinely cool, and that makes it even funnier to see the regular Brolders in front of him. His goofy bodyguards who get thrown at his face to defeat him. But he keeps them around, because he cares. He has a warm heart, but don't touch it, because it's made of magma! Much safer to touch someone's flesh heart instead, but be sure to always ask first!

[43501]

Opened my copy of Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases for the first time in a decade and man, I forgot this is a goldmine of info and Mello characterization. It lets us know what kind of person Mello is almost more than the source material. Every time he's on panel/screen he's always so intense, it's fascinating to see him write and kind of get this feeling of "oh, he is also a normal guy outside of those situations".

He says he had one extensive in-person meeting with L, which is backed up by this other post of mine where I point out that, in the anime at least, Mello references having spoken to L personally. If we take it as canon it means L and Mello met at some point between Kira emerging and L leaving England for Japan.

He expresses a strong sense he might die. I've seen people say that he's "narrating from beyond (heh) the grave" and it's nonsensical, but that's not what's happening here. He's just writing while anticipating his death and writing as if these notes may be discovered posthumously.

He thinks that, in the event he dies, Near is the one who will discover his writings. This is interesting to me because it suggests Mello either knows Near knows his whereabouts, or would figure it out and recover his belongings. I actually think this is outright supported by canon - we see Near eating Mello's chocolate in the manga's epilogue. I don't think he instructed his staff to go out and buy that same chocolate, I think that's straight up Mello's stash.

At some point he started identifying less with the "Mello" alias and calling himself Mihael.

He's so sentimental... ending the prologue simply with "Good memories and nightmares". Bro.

"Imagine you were going to kill someone. What do you think would be the most difficult part? .... The correct answer: killing someone." Damn, I love you Mello lol. Also fascinating when you remember that he achieved his status in the mafia by beheading someone. Yes, he would know how hard it is to kill a person.

Mello states that he and Near belong to the "fourth generation" of Wammy's House kids.

He expresses open sympathy for Beyond and his state, twice... based on his own narration and how he portrays B in the course of the story, he definitely relates to B's emotions.

"Perhaps these gods actually wanted a blood soaked world of betrayal and false accusation. Perhaps the entire episode exists as a lesson to teach us the difference between the Almighty and the shinigami." I can't entirely make sense of this, and I don't want to get ahead of myself, but is "Almighty" capitalized here to definitely refer to the divine? Like, the Christian God but in a bit of a sidestepped, roundabout way? Wish I could see the original Japanese text for this line. If anyone has essays/posts about it, please show me.

And on a meta-textual level, the ambiguity of our role/perspective as the reader of these notes is also interesting. We're probably just an omniscient, unmoored observer being told about this set of notes Mello wrote and his line to the effect of "if it happens to turn into [a book]" is tongue-in-cheek. I know there's a slight, hanging implication that Near did in fact publish his notes, but I think that's unlikely since they contain so much sensitive/classified information.

[bitchinbarzal]

Wearing her down | M Barzal

summary: mat just needs to wear you down to date him.

-

Mat has never been good at taking no for an answer.

The first time he asks you out, it’s casual.

“So, dinner tonight?” he says, leaning against the counter in the media room like he owns the place. He’s sweaty from practice, hair damp and curling at the ends. You don’t look up from your laptop.

“Not happening, Barzal.”

He frowns “Why not?”

You sigh, finally giving him a glance. “Because I like my life how it is. And dating you?” You shake your head “That sounds like unnecessary stress.”

Mat clutches his chest like you’ve stabbed him “Stress? I’m a delight.”

You roll your eyes and get back to work, effectively ending the conversation.

Mat, to his credit, doesn’t give up.

The second time he asks you out, he brings coffee. Your usual order, because he’s been paying attention.

“Bribery?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he sets it on your desk.

“Persuasion,” he corrects. “It’s Friday. You, me, somewhere nice. No hockey talk.”

You pick up the coffee, take a slow sip, and let him stew in silence before finally saying, “Still no.”

He groans. “You’re killing me, Y/N.”

“Then stop asking.”

But he doesn’t.

Over the next few weeks, he tries everything.

• He casually drops hints in interviews, smirking at you behind the camera when he says he’s “working on something big.”

• He enlists Tito to help, which backfires spectacularly when Tito blurts out “She’s way out of your league, bro”

By the time the team holiday party rolls around, he’s still striking out.

You’re standing by the bar when he slides up next to you, looking unfairly good in a suit. “Alright, new tactic” he announces.

You take a sip of your drink. “Oh, this should be good.”

Mat grins. “One date. If you don’t have fun, I’ll never ask again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’ll have fun?”

“Because I’m me.” He winks. “And you like me more than you let on.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, but he’s right. As much as you hate to admit it, you do like him—his charm, his persistence, the way he lights up whenever you’re in the room.

And maybe, just maybe, one date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. One date.”

Mat blinks. “Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His whole face lights up, and for the first time in weeks, he’s speechless.

And maybe that’s why you finally agreed — because for once, you got him to shut up.

[earlgreylatte]

Nothing to Declare

You and Mark try not to sync up your breakdowns.

Watching Mark solemnly gaze at his phone, his call with Amber cut because of the ship’s rising altitude, you shift, fiddling with your camera’s settings.

“It’s not too late to back out,” you suggest, “I should be fine to go on my own. Honestly, this might be overkill.”

“No way,” he immediately refutes, looking back at you, “I’m not letting you go to a planet that’s who knows where by yourself. And, honestly? You should still be resting. You can only now just eat solids—“

You press a hand to your abdomen. It’s been months now since your dad impaled you with his bare hand and took off. If you weren’t you, you’d be killed instantly.

You brought back into reality when Mark places a hand on your shoulder, “I just mean…you shouldn’t be pushing yourself back into work so soon. You’ve been going at it for years now.”

You grimace at the reminder, “I could say the same to you. You don’t need to put others before yourself all the time. You’re missing your first week of lectures, for god’s sake.”

“It’s fine, William will cover for me,” he shakes his head.

“You better take him flying when you get back.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“You guess?”

You and Mark take a seat as you see stars shine outside the ship’s windows.

The Thraxan piloting the ship, speaks up, “Are you comfortable, Mark Gray—sorry, Invincible, Singularity?”

“Very plush seats,” you compliment.

“Yeah, thanks,” Mark responds, sullenly. “How long until we get to Thraxa?”

“Approximately six of your Earth days!” The alien informs.

You eye your brother as he sighs and slumps into his seat. “Space sucks…”

You don’t disagree.

Mark shakes you awake, you try to batt your hand at him, “We’re here. Finally.”

Staring out the windows, you immediately notice the violet colour of the planet and its architecture, maybe you’ll take a picture or two. When the planetary threat was extinguished, of course.

Exiting the ship, you and Mark find yourselves surrounded by Thraxans starting at you two in awe, whispers of excitement filling the air. You take a picture. You can multitask.

“Uh, hi?” Mark offered.

Your alien guide, leans in, “Don’t mind them! The monarch wants to meet you at once!”

Mark steps forward first, into the direction of the purple palace at the centre of the city, cubic and with waterfalls. You snap another photo as two children duck under Mark’s arm, laughter filling the air as they eagerly try to take the lead.

For a planet on the cusp of supposed doom, they sure are cheerful.

“It’s certainly tranquil here,” you murmur.

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving?” Mark questions, looking around. “What about the meteors?”

“Meteors? What meteors?”

You and Mark stop walking, and blankly stare at the Thraxan.

“The ones that are killing billions?”

“Ah, those meteors! Must be a touch of dementia, we age much quicker than you humans, you know! Don’t worry, the monarch will explain all!”

You and Mark exchange a look.

“Bro.”

Finally making your way in the Monarch’s abode, the outer-worldly architecture now filling up your camera’s gallery, you notice Mark softening at the serene aura encompassing your surroundings.

Approaching a grand and very red staircase, you observe what must be a throne like area above.

“Your Majesty,” the alien beckons making way for you, three Thraxans turning to look down at your party. “May I present Invincible and Singularity of Earth.”

You and Mark take a kneel, awkwardly lowering your heads in respect.

The Thraxans part, and your hear heavy footsteps sound against the floor. The ruler.

“Hello, kids,” A warm and agonizingly familiar voice greets.

Mark gasps and jolts up but you keep your head down for a second before slowly lifting your head up.

Your father, with his hand outstretched, smiles down at you two, “It’s been a while.”

“…Dad?”

You pull off your mask, letting it fell to the floor.

“Dad?” You call, as your brother clenches his fists next to you, breath shuttering, “Dad!”

You fly to embrace him, tears burning your eyes. He catches you, like he always does, strong arms wrapping around your form, bring a hand up to cradle your head that’s buried against his shoulder. You hear his heartbeat thump, slow and calm. You can almost pretend things are normal again.

“I…missed you two,” he admits.

Mark shouts your name, a thunder you’ve never heard in his voice before. The spectating Thraxans flinch, as Mark rips off his mask, approaching you with measured steps, grabbing you by the arm to pull you away and behind him as he stares down your father.

“This was all you? Bringing us here?” He grits out, “The Thraxans told us they needed help, but that was another one of your lies?”

“They do need your help,” your dad responds.

“Why?” He squeezes out, his grip on your arm tightening.

“It’s complicated. Come with me—“

“No, WHY did you lie to us again?” Your brother’s glare hardens, “You killed thousands of people. You nearly killed your own daughter after scaring her into silence! Who knows what else you did to her! You stuck a hand through her, like—-like she was nothing!”

You bite your lip, “Mark—“

“Why would you think we would ever want to see you again? That you would even deserve it. You called mom a pet,” his voice breaks.

“You broke her heart,” you whisper, backing away.

Your dad calls your names, “I need your help—“

Mark sighs, tired, before gesturing to the aliens standing behind your father, “And you made them lie to us?”

“Just listen—“

“I don’t need to listen to anything you say,” he retorts, turning away and pulling you with him.

“Look, I made a mistake. I thought about you two every day—“

“A mistake!?” Mark shouts, twisting around to face your father.

“Son—“

“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore!”

“What do you want me to say?” Your father looks defeated.

“You could have started with ‘I’m sorry’!”

A moment of silence passes over you.

“You know what? Don’t bother, alright? It wouldn’t mean anything anyways. I hope you like it here with your new friends,” Mark asserted, “Guess they don’t know you the way we do.”

You breathe out, “We can’t go back to how things were, dad. Not after everything.”

You follow Mark as he makes to leave, the latter glancing behind him.

“Fuck you.” Were his final words before you two took off into the sky.

You hear your father follow.

“You’ll never make it back on your own. It’s millions of miles, and you don’t know the way. Navigation was neither of yours strong suit. Come back, and we’ll talk,” your father explained, “Please.”

“And what are you going to do if we don’t? Knock out all my teeth again? Strand her in another planet with you to make a point?” he asks venomously, gesturing towards you before speeding up, you and your father following.

“I’ll get you a ship home, but there’s something you need to see first.” Your father bargains.

“No,” Mark refuses.

“Nol’Zak wasn’t lying to you, his people do need your help. Let me tell you why.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know that’s not true,” your father refutes.

“Mark,” you speak up, “If we leave now, we could risk being stranded for years or even forever without a way home. Let’s just help this planet and we can go home.”

Your brother slows to a stop with you, “Five minutes. For them, not you.”

He descends back down. You and your father hover for a moment.

“Dad,” you speak up, “If you try to do anything to Mark, I won’t hesitate this time.”

“I know.”

“So, you conquered this place, instead of Earth?” Mark notes.

“I didn’t conquer this planet, the Thraxans asked me to be their emperor.” Your father rebuffs, leading you through the palace halls before stopping at a door.

“Conqueror, emperor, what’s the difference?” Your brother mumbles.

“Consent, I guess?” You answer as you three enter a pastel coloured room, a lone female Thraxan standing within.

You and Mark watch in horror as your father… tongues her. You tried to step out of the room, but your back meets the door that closed automatically, the traitor.

The Thraxan turns to warmly greet you two, your father’s arm on her waist, oblivious to the looks on your faces, “Welcome to our home, my husband’s told me so much about you two.”

“Andressa,” your father near chides.

“What the fuck is going on,” Mark whispers, a second away from bursting.

With your back still against the door, you slowly slide down until you’re sitting on your knees.

“Did I mispeak?” Your stepmother asks as your father silently gestures for her to give you some space.

“I know this comes as a surprise—“

Your brother immediately interrupts him, “No shit, we’re surprised! What about mom?”

“I can’t go back to Earth, Mark. Not ever. That life is over.”

You and Mark stare at him, hurt, before your brother scoffs, “Alright, you’re all done with Earth. Super glad you got to show us how great your life is without us!”

You rise to your feet, “She’s still mourning you, beating herself up for not seeing you for what you really are, and you just—start over?”

You shake your head before moving a hand against the door to try to open it, Mark following behind you.

“That’s not what I wanted to show you.”

You bump your head against the door. “Fucking seriously…”

Mark whips around, “What else could you possibly mean—“

Nothing could prepare you for the sight of your dad holding a purple, but very human—-no, Viltrumite looking baby, his wife proudly at his side.

“Who is that?” Mark asks, denial etched on his face as you slowly raise your camera.

“This is your little brother,” your father introduces.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Your brother explodes as your shutter goes off, before turning to you, “Sis, what the fuck!?”

“Instinct,” you say, a little shellshocked, blankly staring at the trio in front of you.

You stare as your…new little brother coos, cradled to his mother’s chest. Mark continues to berate your father, who explains that Thraxans ages faster than humans, which is why he’s so big for what should be a newborn.

Mark shakes your shoulder before pointing at your dad, “Are you even paying attention!? He literally—-with a grasshopper! Say something!”

“He kinda looks like you,” you observe, “When you were that young.”

He stares at you incredulously.

Debbie: Who’s the father!?

Singularity, holding baby Oliver: The better question is ‘who’s the mother?’

Debbie: Oh, honey, I’ve always known—

Singularity: Excuse me?

Mark: Yeah, things are looking up, I think.

*

Donald: The Graysons are back on Earth, but Singularity seems to have a purple baby??

Cecil: The kid has a kid now? They’ve only been gone for two months!

Donald: That’s what Debbie seems to be saying right now, at least. Well, we don’t have any information on how pregnancy works for female Viltrumites—

Cecil: Listen in!

*

Mark: I can’t believe the last thing he says to us is to read his books—

Singularity: Huh?

Mark: You were passed out, and what books??

Singularity: …is Space Rider real?

*

Singularity: If anything happens to this baby, I will actually end it

*

Mark: You got a lot of nice photos when we weren’t being beaten to death.

Singularity: Yeah, I’ll probably get a decent amount for them, Thraxa is a pretty place.

Mark: What are you going to tell them when they ask where the photos are from?

Singularity: That’s the neat thing; I won’t.

Mark:

Lol, Singularity took a family photo for Nolan, instinct from doing baby showers and family photos as a freelancer…

Yes, we do see some canon divergence here with Mark being abrasive with Omni-man from the start! He literally saw his dad stick a hand through his sister’s stomach and then found out their dynamic was a lot more harmful than he could have ever known! Mark seems to hold Nolan’s actions towards others against him more than his own pain.

And, have you noticed a pattern where sometimes the eldest child will be the nicest/most forgiving to bad parents while the younger one is more unhinged? I’m the younger sibling hehe

I would describe Mark’s weakness to be his inexperience while Singularity’s weakness is because of her experience, being unable to handle violence and responsibility, starting out as a hero at such a young age. If she were a computer, she’d have really good hardware that could run Elden Ring without overheating but software from the 2000s.

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

[lucidheart3]

Here is my movie SonAmy hc’s because even though they didn’t even talk yet I LOVE THEM ALREADY

- Looking at the moon used to remind Sonic of how he failed badly against Gerald and Shadow. How he lost himself, and almost did unspeakavle things, and failed to save Shadow even though it was his choice to sacrifice himself and Sonic told him he always had a choice. That’s until he met Amy under that full moon. Now he is reminded of his meeting with her instead. She made the moon beautiful for him again.

(I know this is cheesy but this also reminds me that ‘Moon is beautiful, isn’t it? means I love you in Japan lol)

- They adore each other equally. Amy loves the blue of his quills and how they shine when he uses his power. Sonic is mesmerized by her eyes because they are gorgeus even though ythey have the same eye color (because he has the seaweed eyes lol, obligatory call back to this post )

- Amy has similar interests with him. When they listen to music she has as much fun as him. She enjoys doing silly dances with him and they have a thousand videos of them just dancing and fooling around. He enjoys spending time with his brothers too, but this things in particular weren’t really appealing to Tails and Knuckles so it’s a huge deal for him that Amy enjoys music and dancing as much as he does.

- It’s so funny to Amy when Sonic fools around. When the others would be exasperated with this blue doofus she’d be laughing her pink butt off.

- Sonic has attempted to use Amy’s hammer several times and failed at every single one. I imagine him swinging her hammer around and collapse on the ground because it’s so heavy for him. But he is never frustrated and doesn’t feel like she makes fun of him when she laughs because her giggles are music to his ears.

- If the team ( that Amy is a part of now) ever has arguments, like in Sonic 3 with Sonic refusing to come around, she’d be PISSED at him. No holding herself back like Knuckles did, no offence to Knuckles he is the best big bro ever, but she would be making that cocky heghehog a pancake on the ground because they are a team, damn it! I imagine her in the Team’s argument when Sonic gets angry at Tails she’d be like ‘how dare you!!’ and telling him to get a grip quickly. Sonic is angry and scared at the same time. He’d be like ‘yes Ma’am.’ So I imagine her as the glue that holds the team together.

-Once Sonic shows her his favourite movies she is quick to get any reference from that point onward, and makes several of her own.

-She adores sweets so Sonic attempts to make her a Strawberry Shortcake (read; nearly sets the house on fire) so he is banned to use kitchen without someone overseeing him.She appreciates the sentiment though

- Amy teaches everyone to make flower crowns. Of course gives Sonic the one she makes first, and accepts his wonky one with pleasure and wears it with pride.

- Amy has a beautiful voice so Sonic learns how to play a guitar just to be able to perform with her.

- Amy is the first one that can get Sonic to wear clothes.She thinks brown suits him the best, he thinks it is boring (but all his clothes are brown now)

-Amy sucks at baseball so Sonic tries to teach her.But accidentally touching hands make them unable to continuate because they are so flustered.

That’s all for now, let me know if you guys would like to see a part two!!!

[daysoftheyears]

This is my first Hamzah fic ayeeee!! based off a request I got: "OKAY! what if helping Hamzah bleach his hair and it became something domestic. the reader thinks it would be ugly, but then the reader did not expect it to be so good 🙏"

Please let me know if you like this or theres anything I can change or fix

words: 700

Enjoy!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆

It had been a month and a few weeks after Hamzah had shaved his head and his hair had started to grow back pretty fast. You and him went out for dinner and he proposed an idea. 

“So babe, I was thinking that since my hair is growing back-” He paused and looked at you, as you bit into a burger. He continued his sentence, “Would you perhaps bleach my hair for me?” He smiled awkwardly at you, not knowing what you would say. You stopped chewing and looked at him. “Bleach? Your hair? Hamzah-” You went to go lecture him but he had cut you off. “Look babe I know what you're going to say but it would be cool and it would look good for the fight.”

You looked at him, almost a look of pity., “Hamzah I think it's going to look bad and like if im the one doing it I don't want to be responsible for making you ugly.” 

“It wont look ugly bro I promise! Pleaseee.” He jokingly made a pouty face like a kid would make after you told them no to candy. “We’ll see Hamzah” the rest of the night went smoothly and the subject wasn't brought up again.

The next morning you awoke to Hamzah shaking you up. 

“Babe c’mon get up bruh” You had sat up and rubbed your eyes, picked up your phone to read the time. 11:06 AM. “What do you need Hamzah?” He ran into the other room to grab something. He came back not even a minute later with a grocery bag with mystery items. 

“Look what I got.” He said with a smirk. He pulled out a bleach kit and some extra gloves. He threw them in your hands and smiled. “Bleach my hair now please.” Your tense shoulders had dropped following up with a sigh. “Hamzah, ill do it but I don't want to look at you after.”

“It wont look bad trust, I put a blond tiktok filter on last night so I basically know.” You held in a laugh and told him to wait 30 minutes. 

You sat him down in the bathroom and read the instructions for the bleach. “You’re gonna look like that one wig you have.” You laughed, “Stop you’re scaring me!” 

You put on the gloves and mixed the bleach together with the end of the brush. “Im not ready for this baby.” 

“Just dont fuck it up please.” He smiled in the mirror as you applied the bleach all over his hair. You wouldn't say it out loud, but you thought it was coming out nice. You took some pictures as he let the bleach sit in for half an hour. “Are you ready to wash it out?” you asked him as you started the shower. “Yea, do you think I'm gonna need to tone it?”

“I don't know, I've never bleached my hair before.” 

He stuck his head in the shower and you began to scrub his hair and wash the extra bleach out, 

“Hamzah, it's actually looking pretty good so far.” He couldn’t see you, due to his head being held under water, but you were smiling ear to ear. 

You finished washing it out and he dried his hair with a towel. Once it was fully dry you took a good look at him and his new era. “Yea you're definitely going to need some toner.”

“But it looks good tho, no?” He asked you with a goofy smile. “I guess.” You jokingly eye rolled giving him some sass. “Girl bye.” He copied your gesture, rolling his eyes playfully. “Im just joking! I think it looks handsome.” You whispered the last part and he put his hand next to his ear as if he didn't hear you. “Im sorry, you said what” His face was filled with amusement. 

“I said I think you look handsome.” You repeated louder. “And you thought it would look bad boi.” He leans down and kisses you, walking out the bathroom and into your shared room to facetime Martin about his hair. You looked in the mirror and sighed happily that you were wrong about it looking ugly.

[namgyusbeastbaby]

Don't take things that aren't yours

hello!! this is my first fic, please be mindful :)

based off of a request from @luvfordaeho that wanted lee!nam-gyu and ler!thanos, thank you for requesting it, by the way! <3

!! sorry if its mischaracterised, im not as good as interpreting characters like before !!

~~~

{[summary]} : nam gyu is bored, very bored, and needs entertainment. so, he pulls a prank on thanos to see if he notices any pills going missing, and he does. he thinks he knows who the culprit is, but needs to test something!

~~~

After the Six-Legged-Pentathlon, Nam-Gyu was bored out of his fucking mind. He'd usually have Thanos to talk to, but Thanos was with stupid Min-Su and that Se-Mi bitch (his words, not mine!).

He went to Thanos' bunk to see if he could rile him up or piss him off somehow, and then he came across the older man's necklace. It was a surprise, really, Thanos never left his cross unattended, but it seemed this was a rare and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Smirking to himself, Nam-Gyu picked the cross up delicately, as if it was the most fragile, ancient artifact known to man, and analysed it with a hungry gaze. Gosh, he had found the perfect thing.

Without thinking, he popped it open and took a few out. Surely Thanos wouldn't notice, right? I mean, he was oblivious to most things.

If this was a gameshow the biggest, fattest incorrect buzzer would be played, ever. EVERR

Because, well, Nam-Gyu was sneaky, and quite naive, as he took 2 pills. One for now, one for later. He ate one, stuffed one in his pocket and then went to go join the others.

"Hey, guys." Nam-Gyu sat next to Thanos casually, the both exchanging glances.

"What's up, my boy? Finally got out of your bunk?" The purple-haired rapper said in a teasing tone, a slight hint of skepticism in it that Nam-Gyu couldn't quite catch because he was under the pills influence.

"Yeah.. Figured I'd join you guys, got nothing to do." The younger said, boredom laced into his tone as he manspread a bit, listening to the others talk as he just fidgeted with his sweater paws, something he didn't usually do unless high. Thanos noticed this, and glanced at him.

"You good, bro?" He asked, gesturing to his hands. When Thanos was skeptical, he'd always find an answer.

"Mhm.." Nam-Gyu weakly nodded, not paying attention to Thanos. Although, he did look at him when he stood up. "Where are you going, Than?" He asked, using a little nickname on him.

"To get my cross."

Shit.

"But, why? It's not like anyone wants it, they don't know what's inside." Nam-Gyu attempted to seem nonchalant, shrugging. Although, inside, he knew he was fucked. It was inevitable.

"I need to recount my pills, you know? Just to make sure no one's taken them, yeah?"

Nam-Gyu went pale.

"Just wait here, yeah?" Thanos patted Nam-Gyu's thigh with a gentle squeeze. He smirked as Nam-Gyu covered his mouth, and walked off. It seemed Nam-Gyu was holding back a squeal, but, he wasn't that ticklish on his thighs?

The culprit had revealed himself quite easily, and Thanos couldn't have been happier. He then recounted his pills; 17 left, he had 19 before. That little shit took two!

Whatever, he couldn't be mad at Nam-Gyu. For one, he knew the younger was bored, second of all, he had done the same with some of his friends before. And, thirdly, he'd have his revenge soon.

He then waltzed other to Nam-Gyu calmly, and told him to follow him. Nam-Gyu nervously followed him. Thanos knew Nam-Gyu wasn't a fan of being publicly tickled, so, he took him to his (Thanos') bunk, a more private area.

"So, bro, care to explain where two of my pills went?"

He asked, sitting Nam-Gyu on the bed with a smirk. He wasn't made really. He was impressed, impressed that Nam-Gyu had the guts, and that he managed to pull it off.

"I don't know, maybe you swallowed them without thinking?" He tried to make up excuses, but he knew it was futile. Denial isn't always bad, is it?

"Then, you don't mind me testing your sensitivity, yeah, boy? I know your nerves, top to bottom! Being high causes sensitivity, hm?"

Nam-Gyu felt his heart in his throat. But, otherwise, he bravely accepted the challenge. He wasn't a pussy, and, plus, he could keep his reactions in, right?

"Fine."

"Great then, I'll be gentle!"

Ooh, how Nam-Gyu was so sensitive to gentle tickles. He tensed up when he felt Thanos gently tracing his ribs through the fabric of his jumper and shirt. Gosh, despite how thick they were, nothing would protect him from the older man's tickles. He almost burst out laughing right then and there, so he had to cover his mouth.

"Nuh-uh, Nam-Su. No covering your mouth, need to hear if your sensitivity is boosted or not, hm?"

He gently held Nam-Gyu's hand down, continuing to trace his ribs. Thanos knew how to break him, because he kept on nearing that one rib. It was driving him crazy.

"C-C'mon, Thaha- Thanos, I didn't take them-"

"Are you sure?" He asked with a grin, finding the younger man adorable, stopping the tickling on his ribs to pick his hands up in his and take his hands from his sleeves. He then started to gently trace his palms, and Nam-Gyu burst into soft, high-pitched giggles. He couldn't help it, his palms were already so sensitive!

"Stahaha- Stohop! Thahanos, you cahahan't-" He protested, trying to move away, but was also melting into the tickles. Smiling brightly, he leaned against Thanos, giggling his little heart out as Thanos raised an eyebrow. He had never seen Nam-Gyu so affectionate when high, it was a bit uncharacteristic.

"What's this about not taking my pills, then, boy? Did you lie to me?"

Thanos pried gently, mocking the lee softly as he didn't tease too much. It seemed Nam-Gyu was in an affectionate mood, and he wouldn't ruin that moment. And, plus, he knew what it was like to feel this way. He had been bored in his 20's and around ages 17-19. He knew what it was like to want to provoke somebody, and he knew it well.

"Nohoho, duhude! IhI- I dihihidn't!" Nam-Gyu was about to say something else, but, his protest was cut off and overtaken by a squeal. He was glad Thanos was sober, or he'd be fucked. Absolutely fucked.

Well, he still was.

Just not as much! Because, well, Thanos knew his limits here, and-

"THAHANOHOHOHOS!"

Nam-Gyu was cut out of his train of thoughts as he felt tracing on his bare skin, on his stomach. Thanos knew that was a bad spot, and planned to exploit it.

"SHIHIT- DUHUHUDE! OKAHAHAHAY- MAHAHAHAYBE I TOOK OHOHONE!"

"Maybe? One? I don't know, Nam-"

"OKAHAHAY- TWOHOHO! I TOHOHOOK TWOHOHO! DEHEHEFINITELYHEHE!-"

"Hm. Thank you, for admitting it."

Thanos smirked a bit, before letting Nam-Gyu go, ruffling his hair. He noticed how the younger seemed to want need a bit more affection, so Thanos wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him closer.

"You're lucky I'm sober, or I would've kept on going, Gyu."

He rubbed his back gently, making sure Nam-Gyu was okay. He passed him some leftover water he had.

"Just don't take my pills without permission again, alright, bro? Or, I'll take a pill before I see you squirm."

He watched as Nam-Gyu flushed a bit, a rare sight.

"Yeah, yeah, w-whatever."

Despite acting quite upset, he wasn't. He leaned into Thanos' touch, the touch reminding him of a friend or two he used to have.

He felt safe.

So, maybe this place wasn't so bad after all?

@secretly-tword-obsessed

[4eunoia]

Romantic Feelings? Ehh Cringe

Technoblade tries cheering you up in his own way

The cabin was quiet.

Not peaceful. Not comfortable. Just quiet.

You sat at the wooden table, hands wrapped around a half-finished cup of tea that had long since gone cold. You weren’t drinking it. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting here, staring at the knots in the wood grain, listening to the wind howl outside. It had been hours, probably. Maybe less. Maybe more.

It didn’t matter.

Somewhere behind you, Techno sat in his chair by the fire, pretending to read. You could feel his eyes on you—subtle, watchful. He wasn’t obvious about it, but you knew him well enough by now. He had noticed the way you barely spoke today, how you moved slower, how the usual sharpness in your eyes had dulled into something distant and hollow.

You took a slow breath, trying to push past the weight in your chest. It didn't work.

Your fingers trembled. You clenched them into fists. Your thoughts were spiraling and you knew they were. The war, you almost dying, all the good people who got hurt.

Then—before you could stop it—the first tear fell, hitting the table with a barely audible pat.

Shit.

You inhaled sharply, willing yourself to stop, to push it down, to not do this right now. But your body didn’t listen. Your breath hitched. Your shoulders tensed as another tear slipped free, then another.

Behind you, the sound of a page turning stopped.

Techno had noticed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the heel of your palm against them. You hated this. Hated crying like this—weak, quiet, with no control over it. You had been fine for so long. You needed to be fine.

You heard the chair creak as Techno shifted. Then, his voice—low, uncertain.

“You uhh…You want me to leave?”

You flinched slightly, shaking your head, voice hoarse.

“No—” A pause. Then, quieter, “No. Just… don’t say anything.”

A beat of silence.

“…Alright.”

And he didn’t.

For a while, there was nothing but the crackling of the fire, the muffled howl of wind against the windows, and the occasional sound of Techno shifting in his seat. He wasn’t reading anymore. Just there. Not saying anything. Not leaving, either.

You sniffled, rubbing at your eyes.

Then, out of nowhere—

“... Pygmalion and Galatea. Ever heard of them?” 

Your brow furrowed. You blinked, wiping your sleeve over your red and puffy face as you turned slightly toward him. “…What?”

As if this were the most natural segue in the world. His tone was casual, unaffected. "Some sculptor guy from ancient Greece— I've forgotten where exactly. He was kinda a loner. Didn't wanna deal with real people, especially women— Guy spent ages on this one statue. Carving, supposedly, the perfect woman out of ivory. Like, obsessed over it. Chiseled every little detail, made her perfect in his eyes. And then, uh—he kinda just…fell in love with her." He paused, shifting slightly in his chair. 

You blinked at him.

“It was like his life’s work or whatever…” He suddenly found it hard to look in your general direction. “Dude looked at real women and was like, ‘Nahhh, y’all suck, I’ll just make my own instead.’ So, yeah. He starts treating this statue like a real person. Talks to it, gives it gifts, probably took it on dates—I dunno, weird guy behavior. And then, get this—he begs Aphrodite to make her real.” Techno paused, shifting in his chair, gaze flickering away for half a second before he cleared his throat.

“She, uh…actually does it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She what?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Aphrodite, for some reason, sees all this and goes, ‘Wow, that’s so romantic,’ and just—bam���brings the statue to life. No questions asked. No ‘bro, you good?’ Just—instant dream girl. And then in some versions they have a kid or something, I’ve forgotten.” He suddenly found it hard to look into your general direction.

A beat of silence. Then, in a flat voice, you muttered, “He chose a statue over a real person?” You paused again, “That’s… the most depressing shit i've ever heard.”

Techno huffed a quiet chuckle. “I know right? Isn't it great?” His smile quirked upwards a little as his arms crossed, nudging you with his elbow.

Despite yourself, despite the exhaustion and the weight of everything pressing down on you, a small, tired laugh slipped from your lips. You shook your head, rubbing at your eyes again. “That’s your idea of cheering me up?”

“I mean, it’s a good story.” Techno shrugged, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Figured I’d tell it ‘cause… it kinda reminded me of uhh…” He trailed off, his voice tapering into silence. His gaze flickered away, almost like he had lost his train of thought.  He suddenly found his book a whole lot more interesting.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Of…?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the color in his face deepened just a shade.

“...uhhh—” He cleared his throat, suddenly finding the fire very interesting. “I mean, y’know. It’s, uh… a classic tale! Dedication. Mastery in art. Real inspiring, all that.”

You stared at him. He was so full of shit.

“…Right.” You dragged out the word, tilting your head, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. “That’s totally why you told it.” 

His ears twitched, his jaw tightening. “Hey, don't make fun of me.”

That only made you grin harder. You exhaled through your nose, something almost like amusement breaking through the sadness. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Another pause. You took a breath, deeper this time. The lump in your throat was still there, but… lighter. A little easier to bear.

Then, to your surprise, Techno stood. You expected him to walk away, to give you space, but instead, he grabbed something from the back of his chair—his red cloak.

Before you could question it, he stepped over and draped it over your shoulders.

The fabric was warm, heavy, smelling like smoke and steel and something distinctly him. Even if it was just the cloak, it held the weight, smell and looked as if he were giving you a hug. Your fingers curled around the edges instinctively. You blinked up at him.

Techno just crossed his arms. “Try not to cry on it. It’s my only one.”

You scoffed lightly, a breathy, half-hearted sound. “No promises.”

He hummed, stepping back toward his chair. Before he sat, he hesitated—then, reaching out, he gave your shoulder a firm squeeze. Just once. Just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Then he plopped back down, flipping open his book.

The fire crackled. The storm raged outside.

You tugged his cloak tighter around yourself, eyes dropping to your cold, untouched tea.

“…Thanks,” you murmured after a long pause.

Techno didn’t look up.

“Don’t mention it.”

[bnyf]

sharing is caring ♡

yandere best friends x female reader

can you imagine?

yandere invites his closest friend over, they're both hanging out and talking.

yandere goes to get a few more refreshments and that's when you took your oppurtunity to try and catch his friend's attention.

you were locked up in a little cage in your yandere's closet, only big enough for you to move some of your limbs.

you started shifting about and making noise to catch the friend's attention and eventually you did it!

your heart was pounding in your chest when he'd notice the strange sound coming from the closet, and when he got up to go investigate, the taste of freedom had finally graced your lips. what do they say? "it's so close i can taste it?"

and when he opened the closet, to his surprise, a girl trapped in a cage meant for a small animal with pleading teary eyes was begging for him to call the police, the save her! please! please save me!

he was shocked, his pupils dilated. and for a few split seconds, as you beg and try to explain the horrifc things his best friend did to you, he'd only stare at you blankly.

before smiling, of course.

"awe, so cute, now i'm jealous! why wasn't i the one to kidnap such a cutie like yourself first. bro, why didn't you tell me about your pretty little secret?"

he tilt his head and exclaimed, with a siniter chuckle and wide grin. his monolid eyes now slanted looked like they were almost closed.

your yandere's sick laughter also echoed along with his friend's as he entered the room, placing the refreshements down on the table and coming over to the closet.

"i don't like sharing, plus i don't think she can handle both of us"

they laughed.

they both kneel down at you, petting you like some sort of house animal. they both looked like nothing was happening, like you were just a cute pet to observe and play with, to stroke and feed, like this was all normal. nothing unusual of course.

your heart sank.

this... can't be real right?! the has to be some sick joke, some twisted nightmare... right?!

no...

nononono.

NO! NO! FUCK, GOD PLEASE SAVE ME!

that's when you lost all sanity and started screaming at the top of your lungs for someone, anyone, please, just hear and save you.

"there's no use, the walls are heavily sound proofed and our nearest neighbour is 10 acres of land away. so give up, and just allow yourself to be mines completely, darling."

your whole world crashed, along with any last hopes you had. here? forever, till i die?... your mind was splitting, you just starred dully at them like a broken doll.

this made your blood boil but there was nothing you could do, and now, you were trapped with not just one, but two sick manics.

"well not like i'm going home and minding my own business after this, i want her too~"

"can you really be a good girl for both of us, princess? i mean, not like you have much of a choice anyway."

"that's mean. do it again lol"

"bro don't encourage me, i already have such little self control."

"oh my bad for supporting your ideals, i'll call the police then."

they may absolutely no mind to the way your shaking, and the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. rather, they're making light of the situation, touching you wherever they'd like to, trailing your skin with their cold fingers.

"darling, you have every right to crash out right about now..."

[aller-geez]

Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Wow, geezie can write fics that AREN’T Remi or Vaelyn? I know, I’m shocked too. "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა saw @mew31 ‘s prompt (found here) and after a lovely anon encouraged me, (love you, Nonny 🖤) this fic was born. 4.3K words with a follow up fic in progress already..... @thekinkyleopard owns Elex 🖤

The stream started like any other—well, mostly. S7en leaned back in his chair, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm as his other hand clicked through his usual startup routine. His teal and orange hair was a little more ruffled than usual, sticking up in odd places like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes before going live. Which, to be fair, he had.

The camera feed flickered on, revealing his usual setup: LED-lit walls casting a dim glow over his desk, a collection of figures and posters crammed haphazardly onto shelves in the background, and of course, the telltale flick of his fluffy orange tail behind him. Normally, it swayed lazily or curled in satisfaction when he was vibing, but tonight it twitched with silent irritation. Not that he acknowledged it.

S7en dragged his mic closer, exhaling through his nose before finally addressing chat.

"Alright, you motherfuckers, 1Shot9Lives here and we’re live," he muttered, voice slightly raspier than usual as he adjusted his headset. He didn’t give the change much thought. Probably just needed water. Or caffeine. Maybe both.

He clicked through a few things on his second monitor, setting up the game as his chat flooded in with their usual chaos. "We’re playing Ghost’s Gambit today because—uh, because I said so. Also, Elex bailed on our co-op stream last second, so everyone bully him when you see him."

The messages scrolled at lightning speed.

[MOD] REXBURN: u sound like shit dude

VOIDGREMLIN: bro did u sleep at all

STYXORRI: uhhh yeah S7en u good?

CATTITUDE69: u look kinda rough tonight lmao

S7en rolled his eyes, clearing his throat sharply before speaking again. "I always sound like shit, thanks. That’s my brand.” He sniffled for dramatic effect, shooting a look at chat before continuing. "Y’all need to chill. I’m fine. Let’s start."

And that was that. He powered through, ignoring the mild scratch at the back of his throat, the slight congestion creeping into his words. It was nothing. Just one of those days where talking felt rough. Nothing new.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

For a while, things went smoothly. He played through the first section of the game, making sarcastic commentary about the haunted mansion’s ridiculously dramatic soundtrack and the protagonist’s questionable life choices. But every few minutes, he had to pause to clear his throat or take a sip of his drink. The rasp in his voice wasn’t going away—it was getting worse.

Chat, of course, noticed.

GHOSTBEE: ur voice is actually breaking dude

LOSTLAMB: are u dying or

[MOD] REXBURN: drink water. now.

S7en squinted at the chat, then at his can of soda. Technically, that was liquid. Good enough. He took a swig, wincing as the carbonation stung the rawness in his throat.

He barely acknowledged chat’s growing concern, too focused on the game—or at least, that’s what he wanted them to think. In reality, he was starting to feel it. That creeping, telltale tightness in his throat, the way his words felt just slightly too rough, like they were catching on sandpaper. He swallowed, grimacing at the lingering scratch, and reached for his drink again.

But carbonation and a sore throat? Not exactly a winning combination. The first sip stung enough to make him wince, and he had to bite back a cough. He set the can down with a little more force than necessary, shaking his head. "Geezus. That was a mistake."

VOIDGREMLIN: u good there, my guy?

CATTITUDE69: literally why do u drink soda when ur voice is dying lmao

[MOD] REXBURN: I SAID WATER. WATER, DUMBASS.

S7en rolled his eyes but still didn’t move to grab anything else. Instead, he cleared his throat again—harder this time—forcing his voice back to something more manageable. "I said relax. My voice is just doing that thing where it sounds like I’ve been chain-smoking for forty years. It’s fine."

It wasn’t fine.

He knew it wasn’t fine.

His throat felt tight, raw, and somehow both dry and congested at the same time. His sinuses had started to ache—not enough to be distracting yet, but enough to be annoying. He exhaled sharply through his nose, sniffling once before refocusing on the screen.

But chat wasn’t about to let it go.

STYXORRI: Uhhhh u sound worse than u did 10 min ago???

GHOSTBEE: Does this man even have a water bottle? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by your own bad decisions.

VOIDGREMLIN: definitely getting sick lol

S7en scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all?—" He cut himself off with another sharp sniff, his nose twitching slightly. A brief pause, his brows pulling together like he was trying to focus on something just out of reach. Then he suddenly turned his head, breath catching in a sharp, desperate inhale.

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!"

The sneezes snapped him forward, harsh and congested, forcing him to duck his head into his arm at the last second. He stayed there for a beat, sniffling, before straightening up with a heavy sigh.

Chat immediately lost it.

STYXORRI: OH HE’S GONE

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAO THAT WAS WET AS HELL

[MOD] REXBURN: fucking called it. called it.

CATTITUDE69: lmao he sneezes like an anime girl

S7en groaned, rubbing a knuckle under his nose as he sniffled again. "Okay, fuck you guys. That was—ugh—that was nothin’."

Another sniff. Another irritated twitch of his nose.

Yeah. This was definitely not nothin’.

S7en barely had time to blink before his breath caught again, his whole body tensing as another sneeze clawed its way to the surface. He gasped—sharp and desperate, his head tipping back slightly before he was wrenched forward once more.

“Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!”

The force of it practically shook his frame, leaving him momentarily dazed as he blinked blearily at his screen. His ears flattened slightly, tail flicking behind him in a telltale sign of irritation—whether at himself or chat, he wasn’t sure.

And chat? Chat was feral.

VOIDGREMLIN: HOLY SHIT

CATTITUDE69: BRO U GOOD?

STYXORRI: this is the sickest catboy streamer arc we’ve ever seen

[MOD] REXBURN: called it AGAIN. y’all owe me money.

S7en groaned dramatically, scrubbing at his nose with the heel of his hand. It did nothing. If anything, the congestion just laughed at his attempt at relief, settling even deeper in his sinuses like it had set up camp there permanently. He sniffled, but it was weak, ineffective. The sheer stuffiness was making his voice even raspier when he finally muttered, "You guys are the worst."

GHOSTBEE: says the guy actively sneezing himself into an early grave on stream

VOIDGREMLIN: honestly impressive at this point

CATTITUDE69: u literally sound like a dying cartoon character lmfao

S7en exhaled sharply through his nose—immediately regretting it when the movement made his breath hitch again. “Oh, fuck m—hhHh!—me.”

His hands barely got up in time before he was thrown into another sudden, wrenching sneeze.

"HH’AHPT’TSSCHIIEW!!"

The force of it made his shoulders jerk violently, ears flattening even more as he sniffled miserably into his sleeve. His brain felt like it had short-circuited. He blinked a few times, dazed, before shooting chat an exhausted, half-lidded glare. "This is your fault, by the way."

[MOD] REXBURN: how the fuck is this OUR fault

GHOSTBEE: yeah bro I don’t remember being the one rolling around in a pile of pollen or whatever the fuck u did to yourself

STYXORRI: nah he just has the immune system of a wet paper bag

VOIDGREMLIN: get wrecked, nerd

S7en opened his mouth, fully prepared to snap back at chat, but the sharp inhale that followed cut him off completely. His breath hitched—quick, frantic gasps pulling his chest upward as his nostrils flared helplessly. He was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of release, his head already tilting back as his body prepared for the inevitable.

And then—nothing.

The sensation fizzled out entirely, leaving him stranded in the worst possible limbo. His nose twitched furiously, a cruel, lingering tickle buzzing deep in his sinuses like static electricity with no release in sight. His breath wavered once more, teasing at another attempt, only to leave him stuck in place, helpless and miserable.

Chat immediately exploded.

CATTITUDE69: oh my god he’s stuck

STYXORRI: SOMEONE PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY

VOIDGREMLIN: bro buffering like a dial-up connection

[MOD] REXBURN: this is just embarrassing now

S7en let out a strangled groan, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in pure frustration. "I hate you all," he muttered, voice thick with congestion, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed the way chat’s relentless teasing was getting to him.

He sniffled, thick and wet, scrubbing at his nose with the side of his hand in a fruitless attempt to banish the stubborn tickle. His fluffy tail flicked behind himk in irritation, but he quickly straightened up and forced a nonchalant shrug, trying to redirect the focus back to literally anything else.

"Anyway!" he rasped, voice still wrecked, but he powered through, picking up his controller again like nothing had happened. "We’re not gonna sit here and analyze my respiratory system, alright? Let’s get back to me carrying this game—since we all know I’m cracked as hell, even while dying."

He pressed a button to unpause, but his nose twitched again, a rapid series of sniffles betraying him before he could fully recover. Chat was still absolutely losing it, and he knew—he knew—they weren’t going to let him live this down.

For a while, he managed to power through. His fingers moved on autopilot across the controller, leading his character through dimly lit hallways and flickering candlelit rooms, his voice providing commentary—albeit raspier and more strained than usual. He made sure to keep the energy up, even as he had to stop every couple of minutes to sniffle or swipe a knuckle under his nose.

If he ignored it, it wasn’t happening. That was the rule.

But his throat was starting to itch. Not just a little tickle, not just something he could clear away—it was deep, an irritating scratch that no amount of swallowing or subtle throat-clearing could shake.

Still, he tried.

"Ahem." He coughed lightly into his fist, barely audible over the game’s ominous soundtrack.

Chat noticed immediately.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro you’re actually falling apart rn

GHOSTBEE: is it me or is he literally getting worse every five minutes

CATTITUDE69: cough once if you’re dying, cough twice if ur in denial

[MOD] REXBURN: just grab some water before you get stuck like that forever

S7en rolled his eyes, but his ears gave him away. The orange, tufted tips had started to sag, drooping ever so slightly as the irritation in his sinuses and throat mounted. He sniffled sharply, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter as if better posture would somehow help.

"Y’all are dramatic," he muttered, his voice definitely dipping further into hoarseness, but he just forced a cough and kept playing.

The itch in his throat lingered. It crept deeper, settling into his chest like a slow burn, and he knew—he knew—that if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna start coughing for real. He muttered another useless, half-hearted cough, barely suppressing a grimace when it rattled weakly in his lungs.

God, his eyes were getting blurry.

His vision kept swimming, the words on screen harder to focus on as his slitted pupils narrowed in an attempt to adjust. He blinked quickly, rubbing at his face with the palm of his hand to chase away the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.

He knew the solution. He just really didn’t want to grab his damn glasses.

It wasn’t even about comfort—they just made him look nerdy, and not in a cool, hot-guy-who-reads way, but in an I’m-an-insufferable-know-it-all way. Not a look he was going for.

Still, his ears flicked back, half-pinned against his head as he tried to ignore the way his vision kept going fuzzy around the edges.

This was fine. Totally fine.

He just had to hold out a little longer.

S7en blinked hard, rubbing at his temple with the heel of his hand as the dull ache behind his eyes slowly tightened its grip. His brightly lit screen wasn’t helping. The artificial glow pressed against his already blurry vision, and he caught himself squinting just to make out the text at the bottom of the screen. His ears twitched, then flicked backward slightly in irritation.

Still, he kept his usual energy up.

“Well, this guy’s an idiot,” he quipped as his in-game character opened a door that was very obviously a trap. “Yeah, lemme just step into the most ominous room possible, what could possibly go wrong—OH okay, yep, cool, immediate ghost attack. Love that.”

Chat scrolled fast, a mix of reactions ranging from LMAOOO to we tried to warn you to bro is squinting so hard right now, grab the damn glasses.

S7en ignored them.

He wasn’t even in that bad of shape, really. Sure, his throat felt like sandpaper and his nose was definitely trying to ruin his night, but he’d gotten through worse. He just needed to push through a little longer, keep the energy up, keep—

CLOUDHOPPER24: DUDE, hop on ESO, let’s run some dungeons.

S7en scoffed. “Yeah, no—”

STYXORRI: WAIT YES ESO TIME

VOIDGREMLIN: oh my god yes dungeon run let’s goooo

GHOSTBEE: don’t be lame get in nerd

[MOD] REXBURN: you’re outnumbered bro, just give in

S7en huffed, dragging a hand down his face before reluctantly exhaling through his nose. He already knew there was no getting out of this. The second chat got attached to an idea, they latched onto it like leeches.

"Fine,” he sighed, feigning great suffering as he exited his current game. “But if we’re playing ESO, I have to get my glasses or I’m not gonna be able to read shit.”

Chat didn’t seem to mind…

CATTITUDE69: GLASSES ARC LET’S GOOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nerdification incoming

STYXORRI: I REPEAT WE ARE ENTERING THE GLASSES ERA

He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly, peeling his headset off and pushing his chair back from the desk.

Before stepping away, he quickly pressed the mute button on his mic—at least, he thought he did.

His nose was still running. He sniffled thickly, pressing the heel of his palm against his septum before finally giving in and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk. He tried to be discreet, turning away slightly as he blew his nose, but the sound was way thicker and wetter than he anticipated—loud, congested, a full-on mess.

And apparently, his sinuses were not ready to be cleared out all at once.

A maddening itch flared to life deep inside his nasal passages, raw and unrelenting. His breath caught, his chest stuttering through sharp, gasping build-ups as the sneeze took its time wrecking him.

“Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

The force rocked him forward, leaving him dazed for half a second before the itch surged right back up.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!!"

He sniffled hard, rubbing his nose roughly with his palm before finally slumping forward against the desk, exhaling sharply. God, that was miserable. But at least it was out.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, grabbed his glasses from the shelf, and finally slid back into his chair. He adjusted the frames on his nose, pressed the power button on the monitor—

—and was immediately greeted by absolute chaos in the chat.

S7en’s brain took a solid three seconds to process what he was looking at.

The chat was moving so fast it was practically a blur. His orange ears twitched, then pressed flat against his head as he stiffened in realization.

CLOUDHOPPER24: BROOO WE HEARD ALL OF THAT

VOIDGREMLIN: THAT WAS UNHOLY

GHOSTBEE: unmute challenge (failed)

[MOD] REXBURN: you absolute dumbass.

CATTITUDE69: I THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA DIE FOR A SECOND LMAOOO

STYXORRI: new ringtone just dropped

S7en blinked.

“…What?”

That was all he could manage.

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAOOOO HE DOESN’T KNOW

STYXORRI: MY GUY. MY DUDE. YOU LEFT YOUR MIC ON.

GHOSTBEE: THE WHOLE THING. LIVE. UNFILTERED. IN HD.

[MOD] REXBURN: chat has been enlightened by the ancient knowledge of your waifu-esque sneezes.

S7en paled. His hand shot up to check his mic settings, only for his stomach to drop when he saw it. The mute button was still unpressed.

No.No. No. No.

Slowly, he turned his gaze back to chat, his tail flicking erratically behind him.

“…You guys heard that?…”

STYXORRI: YUP.

CLOUDHOPPER24: EVERY SINGLE SECOND.

VOIDGREMLIN: including the part where you DIED midway through the buildup

CATTITUDE69: top ten tragic anime deaths

GHOSTBEE: bro got done in by his own sinuses

[MOD] REXBURN: bro you took, like, a FULL ten seconds to die

S7en groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh, my god.”

He was never going to live this down.

His head thunked against the desk in pure, unfiltered misery. “This is literally the worst day of my life,” he muttered into the woodgrain, voice muffled.

STYXORRI: no, this is the best day of OUR lives

VOIDGREMLIN: actual best content we’ve ever gotten from you, 10/10

CATTITUDE69: sneeze tier list when

GHOSTBEE: top ten streams that changed history

S7en groaned again, lifting his head just enough to glare at his screen. His nose twitched, still red and visibly irritated.

“You’re all the worst,” he sniffled, rubbing his knuckles under his nose as he slumped back in his chair. “Swear to god, I could die on stream and you’d just clip it.”

[MOD] REXBURN: correct.

CLOUDHOPPER24: exactly. that’s what the clip button is for.

STYXORRI: ‘local streamer perishes in real time, audience eats popcorn’

VOIDGREMLIN: ‘thoughts and prayers (clipped for later)’

S7en huffed, shaking his head as he reached for his controller, ears still half-flattened in lingering embarrassment. “Remind me why I stream, again?” he grumbled, clicking through the ESO title screen.

But even as chat continued to roast him mercilessly, he couldn’t quite stop the tiny, amused smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

S7en settled into his chair, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to shake off the stiffness creeping into his muscles. The chat scrolled rapidly beside him, a chaotic mix of mocking comments, dramatic sympathy, and the occasional unsolicited health advice. He skimmed over it absently, only half-registering the words as he adjusted his headset.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, loading into the game. His voice was rougher now, a rasping undertone slipping in that hadn’t been there at the start of the stream. He cleared his throat sharply, but it only aggravated the scratchiness, sending a brief, irritated shudder down his spine.

The dungeon queue popped, and as the loading screen flickered, he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself. It didn’t help. His sinuses were a mess of static, an unbearable, crawling sensation burrowing deep behind his septum. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, willing the feeling away, but it only grew stronger, teasing at the edges of his control.

The dungeon started, and S7en forced himself to refocus. He tightened his grip on the controller and sent his character charging into battle—only to immediately regret it. His timing was off. His dodges felt sluggish. His fingers barely seemed to respond to his brain’s commands. He sniffled sharply, but even that felt like it took effort.

This was fine.

He could push through.

Except—he was already pushing too hard. And his body? It was beginning to push back.

His fingers fumbled over the controls, barely registering the vibrations in the controller as his character staggered from another mistimed dodge. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, the bright colors of the game screen bleeding together, making it harder to track what was happening. The chat continued to roll, but he could only make out scattered words between the rising noise in his head—something about him playing like shit, a few half-serious “get well soon” messages, and Rexar demanding he take a damn break.

S7en ignored them.

Or, at least, he tried to.

The static in his sinuses had evolved into something sharper, a deep, pulsing itch winding its way from the bridge of his nose down into his throat, clawing at his lungs. He sucked in a careful breath through his mouth, but it only made the irritation worse, sending a raw prickle skittering down his airways. His ears twitched in frustration before flattening again, his tail curling tightly against the back of his chair.

“hHh—! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

The sneeze tore through him without warning, snapping him forward so fast his headphones nearly slipped from his head. He barely had time to catch his breath before another struck—"HhHAPTT’tchhiEW!!"—leaving him dazed, blinking against the sudden dampness in his eyes.

A quick glance at chat told him all he needed to know. They were already losing their minds.

“Dude, shut up,” he croaked, scrubbing a sleeve under his nose before sniffing sharply, only to regret it immediately when his breath hitched again. He groaned, dropping his forehead against the edge of his desk, gripping the controller weakly in one hand.

This was bad.

His head was thick with congestion, the weight of exhaustion settling into his limbs like lead. Every movement felt sluggish, every blink heavier than the last. He sniffled again, but it barely did anything, his sinuses clogged beyond saving.

S7en was losing it.

Not just in the game—though, yeah, that too—but in general.

His entire body felt like it was made of damp cement, each movement slower than the last. His reactions were sluggish, his dodges mistimed, his attacks weak. He knew he should have been moving—ESO dungeon bosses weren’t that hard—but every time he tried to focus, his head swam, a dull, pulsing ache pressing against the backs of his eyes like someone had wedged cotton into his skull.

His ears remained half-down, twitching every so often when the congestion shifted in his sinuses. He was hyper-aware of everything—the scratchy dryness spreading through his throat, the constant, prickling tickle that bloomed behind his nose and refused to either build or dissipate, the way his nostril chain swayed whenever he sniffled, brushing against the irritated skin of his nose and making everything so much worse—

He was also hyper-aware of chat absolutely clowning on him for standing in yet another AoE.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro. MOVE.

STYXORRI: S7EN. YOU ARE LITERALLY DYING.

CLOUDHOPPER24: I’ve never seen someone eat this much damage in my life.

GHOSTBEE: watching him tank this boss like he’s a healer main is making me sweat.

[MOD] REXBURN: you are getting bullied in a video game. please pull it together.

S7en sniffled, slumping forward slightly in his chair as his character hit the floor again. His hand lifted sluggishly, rubbing at his pink-rimmed nostrils with the back of his hand before his tail flicked in frustration.

“Tch… shut the fuck up, you all suck so much dick it’s not even funny.” he muttered, voice rough and hoarse. He cleared his throat again, trying to chase away the itch, but all that did was send him into a brief fit of unproductive, breathless coughs.

The chat immediately jumped on him.

CATTITUDE69: nuh UH what was that.

VOIDGREMLIN: ?? HELLO??

STYXORRI: sir. sir you are literally dying live on air.

[MOD] REXBURN: LOG OFF.

S7en ignored them, waving a lazy hand at the screen as he tried—and failed—to get his character back to the fight in time. His vision blurred slightly, and he blinked hard, trying to refocus, but it only made his sinuses throb. His breathing was getting shallower, his chest starting to ache in a way he really didn’t want to think about.

Then, just as the dungeon boss was finally, finally defeated, his entire world was shaken—literally—by the front door slamming open.

“Yo, I’m home—what the fuck are you still doing awake?”

S7en physically cringed.

His fluffy orange ears pinned flat against his skull as he slowly turned his head, as if that would somehow make him seem less guilty.

Elex stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring him down like he was a parent catching their kid sneaking an energy drink at 2 AM. His dark green brows furrowed slightly, his mismatched eyes scanning him for a second before narrowing further.

S7en knew that look.

That was the you look like shit look.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Calm down, I’b—hh—! hhHAHPT’tSCHHhhuue!!!!”

The sneeze absolutely wrecked him. His already weak frame pitched forward with the force of it, his headset nearly slipping off as he ducked down into his sleeve. His breath barely had time to hitch before another one overtook him.

“hH! HAHDT’tschhhiuuue!!”

The second left him dazed. He sniffled thickly, blinking blearily as his ears drooped even lower.

Elex just stared.

“…Uh huh. Yeah. No. You’re done,” he announced, marching over without hesitation.

“Dude, I’b fide—“

“You’re not fine.” Elex cut him off, reaching around him and—without a second thought—closed the game.

S7en gawked. “EXCUSE ME—”

Chat, meanwhile, lost their minds.

STYXORRI: EL EX JUST STRAIGHT UP LOGGED HIM OUT LMAOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nah bc that’s actually so funny

[MOD] REXBURN: thank fuck, finally.

CLOUDHOPPER24: you have been evicted from the internet.

Elex turned to the screen, squinting at the chat before promptly leaning in and—click—ending the stream entirely.

S7en could only sit there, stunned.

“…Okay, rude.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose against his sleeve again. His voice was wrecked, all rough edges and stuffy vowels.

Elex huffed, eyes still sharp but softening just slightly as he took in the way S7en’s ears stayed pinned, how his shoulders drooped with exhaustion, how his breaths were already starting to wheeze.

“…How bad is it?” he asked, quieter this time.

S7en hesitated.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t have the energy to lie.

“…Bad.”

The end~

[just-null]

wrestling to be the first to greet you (they broke into your house)