#please tell me your thoughts on these lmao

[onlygarden]

[quietly, baby] - yang jungwon

genre: smut

description: when you bring jungwon into the fitting room as you try on the lingerie he chose for you, he shows his appreciation through more than just words. jungwon x female reader, unprotected sex, public sex (but it's in a fitting room), dom jungwon, oral sex (male receiving), jungwon just can't wait

a/n: i've had this idea for a while and it's FINALLY come to fruition. i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did while writing it (and imagining it lmao). at first, i planned to only do oral sex but i just couldn't resist adding more hehe. again, i hope this is an enjoyable read !!!

the delicate sound of the last of your clothing falling into a heap on the floor of the fitting room nearly escapes jungwon’s ears. every fragment of his focus was captivated by the event being painted before him. from his position, settled upon the small bench of the modestly confined space, it seemed as though he only just began to relax. the sight of you — bearing nothing aside from your undergarments, slipping sinfully into the black silk he chose for you — acted as his captor. any remnants of relaxation sailed helplessly away from his body; a certain tension now resides in each of his muscles, igniting his body with a need which can only be met by you. 

“how does this look, baby? do you like it?” you ask casually, a hopeful smile decorating your face. 

the question, seemingly simple enough, lingers in jungwon’s mind for a moment. he swallows, a desperate attempt to soothe the sudden spell of dryness in his throat. goodness, of course he likes it. no composition of words in all of existence can ever truly describe just how much he ‘likes’ it.  

he exhales softly, hoping to unwind his taut muscles even a fraction. “baby… you look fucking hot,” he tells you, freely betraying the indecency of his thoughts. 

“can i touch you?” he immediately follows up, hardly giving you enough time to react to the boldness of his first statement.   

an almost inaudible gasp drifts from your lips, and a pang of insistent arousal runs through your body from the sight of his desperation and shamelessness alone. 

much too impatient for a blatant answer, jungwon stands up, breaching the hardly acknowledgeable distance between the two of you. his fingers travel wispily along the curve of your waist, and settle in a hard, possessive grip on your hips. he pulls your body towards his, his hands now roaming the silk of your lingerie slip in a feverish manner.

“just remember baby… we’re in public,” you remind him, a breathless attempt to reign in his barely-contained desire. 

that’s right — public. in jungwon’s erotically corrupted mind, the two of you were concealed enough. surely, no one would happen to overhear if he decided to cage you against the wall and drive himself deep inside of you with feral intensity. surely, the both of you can maintain enough control to hold in any moans, gasps, or grunts. more importantly, however, jungwon didn’t even care. 

he leans down to kiss you without a moment of hesitation, his lips melding and dancing with yours in a flurry of silkiness and roughness. as you moan softly in response to the feeling of his lips and his body against yours, he walks you backwards until he’s pressing you against the wall. he’s surely got you now.

all of your adamant concerns with the risk of nearby shoppers or staff hearing the two of you seemed so trivial now — the way jungwon’s hands slid down your body to grope the soft flesh of your ass snatched any importance away from anything else. in this moment, all your mind could helplessly muster was a need for the delicious stretch that only jungwon could provide you with. you wanted to give your body to him in any manner you could to please him, too. 

“fuck, baby… you’re making me so hard,” he says, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks. 

god, his hard cock always felt so divine when his body was pressed up against yours. the sensation alone is more than enough to ignite your body with an undeniable impulse to urge streams of cum from him.

you wordlessly coerce him into changing positions with you, his body now pressed against the wall as your lips begin to place kisses down his neck. jungwon’s head tilts back in a subtle thud against the wall behind him as a quiet, throaty moan drifts past his lusciously plush lips. his hands squeeze your ass, his body subconsciously giving into all impulses and doing little to hide the desperate ache in his cock.  

your hands move to his pants, settling upon his belt and unbuckling it with haste. your eyes were hungrily fixed on the way his cock strained impatiently against the fabric. jungwon’s heavy eyes immediately widen as you fall to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in tandem. 

“baby, are you going to…?” his voice trails off in a sharp inhale as you wrap your hand around his cock and lick up his underside. 

“fuck, baby…” he breathes out quietly, a shudder running ruthlessly through his body. 

you lean up just enough to spit on his cock, beginning to stroke him languidly with the lubrication. as you envelop him in your mouth, jungwon’s hands rest tightly in your hair, his cock throbbing so delectably in the back of your throat as it constricts around him. 

“baby, oh god, so fucking good…” he moans softly, his hips thrusting subtly into your mouth. 

you begin to bob along his length, moving up and down so wickedly, your hand twisting around him in a dizzying combination. 

a low, narrowly restrained moan escapes his parted lips, his eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted in the heavenly pleasure your mouth is providing him with.

his chest heaves gently, his fingers massage your scalp eagerly, and his body can no longer brawl with the compulsion to thrust into your mouth once more. 

“baby… just like that,” he manages, his voice helplessly strained with pleasure. 

as your movements gain speed, and your free hand wanders up to fondle his balls, jungwon’s hips jerk forward in an irresistible itch for more. his cock throbs fervently against the wet silkiness of your tongue, and his stomach begins to ripple delicately as shivers of pleasure force through his body. 

“yes, oh god, yes…” he utters in a breathy, strangled moan. in hesitant defiance of the unspeakable bliss rising within him, he pulls your mouth from his length. jungwon would much prefer to plunge himself uninhibitedly within the silky, glossy, indescribably wet palace of your pussy. 

“stand up, baby. i wanna destroy your tight little pussy,” he throws at you. 

the raspy desperation and authority in his voice commands your body to oblige, and you rise to your feet. he pushes you toward the wall, pulling your hips back towards him just enough to allow him to enter you. he pulls your panties down with the same intentions — and the same haste — and he slides his hand under the silky fabric of your slip, effectively unveiling your glistening pussy. 

jungwon’s eyes darken to an intense shade at the sight of your pussy, soaking wet, begging to be stretched and obliterated. “god, baby… you’re so fucking wet,” he says lowly, his hand already wrapped around his shaft, sliding his cockhead teasingly between your folds. 

as you shiver pitifully at such a modest sensation, jungwon forces himself into you. he sinks rapidly into the slick, velvety confines and his cock demands you open as he buries himself to the hilt.

“mmm… fuck, baby. gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight,” he mutters, his words laced with blinding pleasure. as his cock begins to pound you tenderly, assessing just how pronounced the sounds of your gasps and your pussy would be, his hand travels fiercely along the silk decorating your back, eventually settling in yet another harsh grip on your hip. 

a prominent smack echoes through the tight walls of the fitting room as jungwon’s hand meets the flesh of your ass. as rapidly as the sound reaches your ears, the pace of jungwon’s thrusts quicken with drastic measure, and he absolutely succumbs to the desire to pummel you into a daze. 

jungwon’s thrusts are erratic, his cock plowing in and out of you wildly, leaving your body feeble, staggered, and as good as helpless.

you try, god, you try to keep your moans breathy and suppressed, but the way jungwon’s cock mishandled and tortured your insides was much too sweet to rein in. your fervent, hardly controlled, and stuttered moans and whimpers chime lewdly within the confined space, resonating deeply in jungwon’s pistoning cock. he reluctantly stifles the sounds of your moans with his hand, hating to mute such an enthralling reaction to the way his cock tore through you.

“mmm, baby… you like that?” he asks crudely, knowing the answer all too familiarly.

the indescribable drag of his length along your walls, the utterly enticing sound of his muffled grunts and quiet whines, the way his fingers dig into your hips in an urgent declaration of ownership — it all sends each of your senses and nerves spiraling defenselessly into an electrifying pool of delight beyond description. 

as jungwon frantically observes the evidence of your orgasm — your softened cries vibrating against his hand, your body shuddering under the intensity of the pleasure, your pussy convulsing and spasming around him — his cock begins to pulse within you. 

“oh god, gonna fill you up so good- fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he spills freely inside you, streams of his cum flooding your pussy abundantly, his cock buried as deep as your battered pussy would allow. a gentle shudder travels through him from the magnitude of the pleasure you so willingly provided, and he loosens his rigid grasp on your hips. 

“you think anyone heard?” he asks playfully, his deep, short breaths tangling with your own.

a gentle laugh escapes him as you immediately nod, and he begins to withdraw his cock from you, thoroughly enjoying the squelches he receives in return.

neither of you are quite ready to return to the store, reluctant to face the impending shame.

but in truth — jungwon doesn’t really care.

[arlertwhore]

pairing: caitlin clark x fem! reader

synopsis: driver, roll up the partition please! — limo sex w loml cc!

warning(s): 18+/nsfw, strap, riding, nipple sucking, clit play, cait is lit the most encouraging girlfriend. word count: 412. Author Note: the clark cravings have been SO intense, i am actually in-love with cait & she is my wife but there's barely good smut fics of her so girly had to come out of hiatus and find this in the vault #cclover4L

"Bounce on it, pretty girl," she whispered against your neck, her long fingers teasing your sensitive clit, driving you wild.

Driving you indeed is Cait's personal driver, who has rolled up the partition at Cait's discreet request. You already know that means to settle on her expansive lap, perfectly shaped and just for you.

You're straddling her, her strap buried snugly in your cunt, little dress hiked up around your waist, and her breath hot against your neck, marking you up so nobody else thinks about how hot you are and tries to get with you tonight at the event. "Too much, C—I-I—fuck..!" you gasp, faltering into her arms as Caitlin hugs you tightly, her hips thrusting into your aching cunt—filling you thoroughly.

"What’d I tell you, baby?" she breathes, thrusts growing more urgent and insistent as she leans closer, "Hm?"

"I can do anything I put my mind to," you reply with determination.

"Good girl... you fuckin' love it when I call you that, right?" she murmurs, and you nod, eager to kiss her as a thank you—Cait teaches you to always show your gratitude. She pulls away, eyes sparkling with a question. "Can you do something for me, babe?"

You nod in agreement. "Can you cum for me? Can you put your mind to that?"

You tilt your face up. "Yeah, I—I wanna give you my cum, Cait, keep fucking me," you plead breathlessly.

She clutches your waist with her big hands, pulling you down hard like a fucktoy. "Like that, princess? Wanna tell me what you're gonna do on my dick?"

Your hands clench her button-down shirt, and within seconds, it's peeled down accidentally to reveal her tits, firm and inviting. You lean forward to lick at them. "I'm gonna cum, Caity..."

"On what, baby, on what? Tell me, gorgeous, c'mon, I wanna hear it." she moans softly, her eyes focalled in on the sight of your tongue pleasing her, both of you neglecting the thought of your driver.

"O-on you—on your dick."

You gasp, and her hands slide back down to your ass, gripping it firmly as she bounces you. "Do it, then."

You do, body shuddering and moans silenced by your mouth against her tits, trembling and sucking uncontrollably. You're almost scrambling to get off her, overstimulated, but Cait is quick to pull you back down, her voice low and steady, "It's a long drive."

And subsequently, it seems it's going to be an even longer ride. MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: please tell me you understood the "longer ride" LMAO, i love my cheeky lil endings i think it rly makes this blog THIS blog yk? speaking of this blog, thank you for 1.2k?! i promise u i was lit just doing this for fun i can't believe yall mfs rly care but ty anyway <33!! inbox me, message me, reply idk i like to force y'all to interact w me lol. bye!

[shinysobi]

pretty u

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

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: this time we're bringing the trauma folks, im not sorry at all hehe >.< also this is dedicated to vaish and gigi, truly my biggest cheerleaders.

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

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Chapter 2

Someone yells as soon as I enter the restaurant, and I almost turn back on my heels and walk out of there. The culture desk is huddled around a large table, and judging from the empty bottles, half of them were well on their way to drunkenness already. I can spot Seungkwan at the end of the table, being the newbie, he must have been plied with alcohol by the rest of us. His entire face is slowly going red, and if I hadn’t been consumed with hatred over Jihoon being a weirdo, I would feel sorry for him too. But, he’s Jihoon’s friend, and any friend of Jihoon is an enemy of mine.

“The Associate Editor is here!” someone shouts, and I look on, horrified, as my editor, the boring, staid old man who wears the same style of suits five days in a row, waves and giggles at me, holding up a new glass of soju, “my, I thought you would never arrive. We’re all having a party without you!”

“Yes, I can see that,” I accept the offered glass, “sorry, the interview went on for much longer than I expected it to be, and the bus was stuck in traffic for a long time.”

“Just say that you didn’t want to come hang out with us,” the Assistant Editor, a woman in her forties, giggles, “we missed you so much!”

My breath is almost knocked out by the way she hugs me right after that statement, “no, I can assure you I wanted to come here. If not nothing, then just to congratulate the maknae on joining.”

“Huh?” the Editor blinks around, “oh yes, there’s Seungkwan!”

“Haven’t you given him too much to drink?” I ask, standing up to pour Seungkwan another glass, “Seungkwan, have fun in this department, okay?”

Seungkwan, drunk as he is, only mumbles something unintelligible, by way of a reply. Still, he accepts the drink and knocks it back, while the person next to him, Haewon, smiles drunkenly at me, “sunbae,” she says, “won’t you give me a drink?”

Haewon, unfortunately, has the habit of getting cutesy when she drinks, so I wordlessly extend the bottle to pour her another one. The Editor and the Assistant Editor are boisterous, singing a drinking song off-key.

“Can I get another bottle of soju here?” I call, and the surly-looking part-timer slams a bottle. He doesn’t even offer me a smile. Jerk.

“Drink up, drink up,” the Editor smiles happily, addressing the whole table, “did you know, she’s the only one who Mr Hong does an interview with?”

“Really?” Seungkwan perks up at that, “isn’t he famous for not giving any interviews?”

“He is, but she’s the only person who can get an interview with him.”

“Whoa, sunbae,” Seungkwan is all starry-eyed, which means he is definitely drunk, “I’ve always heard praises about you from the hyungs, but it’s all true! You’re legit.” And to drive home the point of my legitimacy, he hugs me, planting a huge, wet kiss on my cheek, “you’re my inspiration, sunbae.”

“Seungkwan, maybe the inspiration is a bit too much,” I reply, pouring myself a tall glass, “but I’ll accept it either way.”

“Wait, wait,” the Editor is suddenly interested in whatever Seungkwan is saying, “who are these people you’re talking about?”

“Oh, the hyungs?” Seungkwan is talkative even when he is not drunk, but alcohol has made him into one of the most loose-lipped people I’ve ever seen, “Jihoon-hyung, and Joshua-hyung. They’ve been friends since university, you know. They still hang out together.”

“Really?” Haewon looks interested, “are any of them the person you had lunch with this afternoon?”

“You had lunch with Joshua-hyung?”

“No, it was Jihoon,” I correct Seungkwan even though I don’t really need to, but it’s the alcohol, “Joshua doesn’t like the same things that I do.”

“Oh, is he your boyfriend?” Haewon giggles, and I sputter, “was that why he walked you to the company door?”

“No, Haewon, he isn’t my boyfriend, please drink some water.”

“No, no, I’m interested,” it’s a testament to how jobless we all are at the culture desk, because the Editor suddenly turns to Seungkwan with barely hidden glee in his eyes, “Jihoon, that’s his name?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan, who normally is the most tight-lipped out of all my acquaintances, is surprisingly talkative when drunk, “yes, Lee Jihoon. He’s the closest with her, out of all his friends. They even hang out all the time.”

I pour out some soju in a shot glass, then rethink it, drinking the rest of the bottle in one go. If this dinner goes on for any moment longer, they’re going to start speculating on my dating life. And based on what I’ve seen from the diner owner this afternoon, they’re going to assume that Jihoon and I are dating.

“Ah, so he’s the man you used to skip company dinners for,” the Associate editor says, “bring him around sometime! We’d all have fun!”

I’d rather stick my head in a vat of boiling acid than bring Jihoon to any place even remotely associated with my work, so I just nod and smile. Seungkwan, however, perks right up at this, saying, “do you want to see a picture of them?”

Enthusiastic cheers follow, from everyone at the table. I drink another half-bottle of soju.

“There you go!” does Seungkwan have all these pictures at the ready, or was he planning to make my life hell before participating in this dinner? Because the photo he’s pulled up is from the final year of university, when Jihoon and I were working on both our senior theses, and we’d spend a fair amount of that time huddled in between the stacks at the library, or over at each other’s apartments. The picture Seungkwan is brandishing around is from one of those days, and I would die before I admitted it to Jihoon, but I had a printout of it stuck on my wall. It’s a simple picture: Jihoon and I have our arms around each other, wide smiles on our faces, something that comes only after successfully finishing a gruelling paper, or from consuming too many snacks. Our cheeks are touching, and my free hand is thrown up in a victory sign.

“Ah, so you guys dated,” Haewon nods sagely, “that’s not a picture one takes with their friend.”

“No, this is—this is a very friendly picture,” I sputter, drinking more alcohol in an effort to dull the embarrassment that’s running through my veins, “we’re just friends.”

“I’ve seen couples who have less skinship than this.” The Assistant Editor says, “you both look very cute, I must say.”

On and on it goes, until both my ears have gone red, and still they go on, fuelled entirely by Seungkwan, who’s apparently a savant when it comes to remembering embarrassing incidents from university. Seungkwan. I’m gripped by a desire to commit murder, and it plainly shows on my face, but he goes on, unfazed by the looks I’m giving him, “they used to be practically inseparable during their university days! You could never see her without Jihoon-hyung, and if she wasn’t around, he would be irritable and angry all the time.”

“He’s still irritable and angry,” I murmur, senses highly dulled by the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve consumed. What’s my limit? One? Two bottles? I’ve drunk far more than that. My vision is swimming in front of my eyes, and everyone else’s words are coming slowly to my ears, as though filtered through sand. Is this how it feels to hear underwater? “he’s never—he’s never once been nice to me, you know that?”

“Really? He always takes care of you, though.” Seungkwan isn’t one to back down from an argument when its beginning, “I’ve always seen hyung take such good care of you.”

“Well, he doesn’t anymore!” I say, waving for another bottle, “He’s a little shit nowadays, have I told you that?”

“No, you haven’t. you don’t talk a lot.”

“That’s true.”

The third bottle (or is this the fourth) goes down far easier than the rest, and before I know, I’m stumbling out of the restaurant with the others, bundling the Editor into his car and the Assistant Editor into a taxi.

“Do all of you have money to go back home?” I ask the rest of them, but they’re already making plans to go on to the next spot. My watch says its midnight, but for people younger than me, it must be easier.

“Sunbae, do you want me to call you a taxi?” Seungkwan asks, but he’s tottering on unsteady feet, and I can see the longing looks he’s throwing the group of people who’ve started to move on without him.

“Go on, Seungkwan, I’m going to be fine by myself.” I wave a hand across my face, “it takes me ten minutes to walk back home, I’ll manage.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Seungkwan doesn’t need much convincing, and trots off to his colleagues. I sit there on the sidewalk for a long while, as the night sky swirls around me. I want to ask myself, why do I have to put myself through these situations? Why couldn’t I, like every other person, be normal about finding love and romance and relationships, and have a perfectly average life?

I dial the first number that comes on my screen, and a few moments later, Jihoon’s scratchy voice comes through, “you’re calling awfully late.”

“I’m bored.” I say, settling back onto the sidewalk, “Seungkwan and the others went for round two of the company dinner.”

“And they left you all alone?” Jihoon sounds irritated, “shit, he should have at least called you a cab.”

“I’m old enough to get home on my own, Lee Jihoon, and besides, I’m also sensible enough to not come in between the affairs of my juniors.”

“You’re slurring, I bet you can’t even stand up properly.” Jihoon says, “hey, give me your address.”

“I can stand up!” I protest, “why would I give you, my address?”

“So that, I can go pick you up.”

“Why are you suddenly doing this? It isn’t as though I’ve never gone home drunk from a dinner before.”

“Yes, but you’ve also never called me before, so, I’m going to pick you up.” I can hear other people talking in the background, “hey, wait there, I got the location from Seungkwan. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Seriously, Jihoon, you don’t have to.”

“Well, thank goodness I don’t listen to you very much.”

And he’s gone. All at once, I feel terribly alone. Why didn’t I go along with Seungkwan and the others? Why did I have to be a good senior and leave the youngsters alone? All that I can do now, is to sit alone, and contemplate.

When I was in school, and studying for the college entrance exams, all I could think about was how to get into university. When I got into university, all I could think about was how to get a job. Now that I have a job, all I can think about are the banal, everyday details of my everyday life, what to eat for dinner, what clothes to wear, whether I’m getting a promotion or not.

“You look like a drowned cat.”

I look up. Jihoon is dressed for the studio, wearing a comfortable jacket over comfortable pants and plush slippers on his feet. Its evident he’s rushed over here from the company. I want to feel sorry for him, but all I can think about is how much he looks like a steamed dumpling, all cozied up in his studio clothes.

“I look nice.” I say feebly, looking at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt and trousers, and a coat that I haphazardly threw on before leaving my home; he’s right.

“Get up.”

“No.”

Jihoon doesn’t waste any time, he leans down, forcing me to stand. “The car is right there,” he says, hauling me towards the direction of his new car, “if you vomit, I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“I don’t vomit after I drink. That’s on you.”

“That was once,” he sighs, as though he’s some long-suffering saint, “please wear your seatbelt. I’m not about to get a ticket because of you.”

“Hey, Jihoon?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we have a sleepover?”

He stares at me, halfway through fixing my seatbelt. Its funny, how pretty his features are. If I could extend my fingers just a little bit, I could touch him, feel exactly how many lashes he has, see if his skin is as smooth as it seems to be. My hands remain firmly at my sides. “What do you mean a sleepover?”

“I don’t want to bring you to my house,” I reply, settling into the seat, “it’s a mess.”

“Because you can’t keep a house.”

“No, I’m moving.”

“I thought you had time?”

“I’m being evicted, Jihoon,” I yawn, “Kim’s hiked the rent again.”

Jihoon sighs, before getting into the driver’s seat, “I’ll get you some of my clothes.”

“Hey, Jihoon,” I ask, as soon as the car begins to run, “why are we stuck?”

“Stuck?” he seems confused, “I thought I was the one who was stuck, not you.”

“I’m stuck too, just that I haven’t told anyone.”

“You’re not making any sense, you know.”

I sigh, “I’ve been running my entire life, you know. When I was younger, I’d constantly worry about what kind of university I would get into, what course I’d get to study. I was so busy with my studies that I didn’t notice that my school life was slipping past me.”

“When I came to university in Seoul, I thought I had achieved something, but everything I did, my sister had already done it before me; for my parents, I was just following the footsteps of my sister. In university, I thought so much about my grades and how to get a good job right out of university, that I forgot to enjoy the fleeting moments of my youth. Even now, even when I’m worrying about how to get ahead in life and how to get ahead in my workplace, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped for a single moment to think, am I doing this correctly? Is this how I want to live my life?”

“Did you waste your youth? Is that how you think about it?” Jihoon asks, “really, truly, is that how you think you spent your university life?”

“I worried about grades, I worried about how to pay my university fees, I worried about so many things. I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Is that why you didn’t join the others?”

“I’m jealous.” I admit. Its easier now, when one has said the words that have been bothering them, “I’m jealous of their youth. No, I’m jealous of how carefree they are.”

“Everything I do, I think twice, thrice, and four times, before I settle on it, and even then, something always goes wrong.”

“What if you could do it all over again?” Jihoon asks, and I’ve never seen him this serious outside of the studio, “what if you could do it all over again. High school, university, meeting us. Would you have done it differently?”

I shake my head, “Its not that I’ve never thought about it, everyone has. But honestly? If I could do it all over again, I’d do the same. Perhaps a little more honestly, but I’d still be the same person I was in university. I’d still like to meet you and Joshua and the others, even if I can’t get as close to them as they want me to.”

“They’re very respectful of the face that you’re an introvert, just by the way.” Jihoon parks his car, “I think Jeonghan-hyung would commit some serious crimes if you asked him to.”

“He’d commit them either way. He likes the chaos.”

Jihoon’s apartment building is far larger than mine, and he holds my hand to stabilise me as we walk to the elevator. I’ve been here before, it’s a building populated entirely by old people who like to take walks at six in the morning, and young married couples who like to stroll with their children at night. His hand is warm, perhaps from the car.

The elevator is empty as we walk in, and Jihoon punches in the number for his floor, “do you need anything? A hangover cure?”

“I’m fine.”

His apartment is much bigger than mine, with a separate room for his recording equipment, and I’ve been here many times before. I know the couch has a  spot where the spring digs into your skin, I know the perfect spot from where the television hurts less on your eyes, I’ve spent hours in here divvying up the banchan his mother had sent from Busan, arguing with him about what movies we would watch. Everything is the same, and at the same time, different.

Jihoon is standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking in his refrigerator for something to eat. I make myself comfortable in one of the chairs, looking at him work. Jihoon looks strange in this light, a change that I can’t put my finger on. He’s dressed in a white shirt, and from here, he looks lonely. Lonely like someone who has lost all sense of their being, like someone who’s barely hanging on. Do I look the same, from behind? I want to ask him, how I look when I walk away.

“Would you really not change anything? If you went back?”

“What do you mean?”

He pauses, still with his back turned to me, then continues, “I guess we were all immature in our university days. If I could go back, I would change some things at least.”

“Not take that sociology class?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’d still take it; even though it gave you an irrational fear of surveyors, I’d still take it. for me, that sociology class was one of the brightest moments of my university life.”

He turns to me, and under the bright lights of the kitchen, he looks strange, as though he has been restraining himself from doing something, “would you have changed anything?”

“I’d still take the sociology class,” I admit, “I met you and Joshua in that class after all.”

“And?”

“And it’s one of the brightest moments of my youth,” I say, “that class, it was the brightest spot in my university life.”

“Because of me, or because of Joshua?”

I scoff, “that’s a weird question, Lee Jihoon.”

“Answer the question.”

“I can’t choose.”

Jihoon sighs, before holding out a glass of water. “Its lemon water, drink up,” he says, “you can’t drink honey water.”

“You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you, you idiot,” Jihoon points towards the bedroom, “you’re going to hurt your back if you sleep on the couch, so take the bed.”

The bedroom seems inviting. So’s the bed, if I’m being honest. White sheets with an embarrassingly high thread count, with Jihoon’s books all arranged neatly in a bookshelf. There are pictures too, of us, hung up on a corkboard, half of them from university when we were too out of it to remember anything.

“This one is my favourite,” I say, pointing to a polaroid shot of the two of us, in one of Seungkwan’s birthday parties, me with my arms around Jihoon and Jihoon pulling a face, as though the last thing he wanted to do was take a picture with me, “we look so cute.”

“You and your ideas about cuteness.” Jihoon scoffs, throwing a pile of clothes onto the bed, “get changed. Or don’t, I’m going to be washing these sheets anyway.”

“You didn’t tell me which one’s your favourite,” I say, taking off my shirt and putting on Jihoon’s, “where do you even buy these shirts from? They’re so comfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Jihoon, who had been walking out of the door into the living room, walks back, “What the fuck! Don’t change your clothes anywhere, you idiot?”

I frown, “I’m changing in front of you because I trust you enough to not take advantage of me, is that not obvious? And besides, don’t act as though we haven’t changed in front of each other before.”

“There were circumstances, not you stripping in the middle of the bedroom like this.”

“Excuses,” I say, slipping on a pair of his shorts. They’re at least two sizes too big for me, “you still didn’t tell me which picture is your favourite.”

“You’re going to get killed one day, mark my words,” Jihoon mutters, pointing to a picture on the corkboard, “there, that’s my favourite picture of us. Happy?”

I lean forward, observing the picture. It’s a printout of a picture taken on the Jihoon went to the military, his head hidden under a flat cap that I had gifted after watching Peaky Blinders, and although Jihoon had hated it, he wore it all the same. It’s a simple picture, him with a bored expression on his face, and me, beside him, putting on a smile for the world to see.

“This was on the day of your entrance ceremony, right?”

“Hmm. You were the first to come. The others almost couldn’t make it.”

I look at Jihoon out of the corner of my eye. He has a strange, wistful expression on his face. I’ve never seen this expression on his face. Jihoon seems smaller than he is, vulnerable. The military wasn’t a great experience for him, I know that, but perhaps talking about it is too much.

“Hey, do you have any other pictures from university around?” I ask, looking at the corkboard, “or have you put up some of our new pictures?”

“I was happy in there, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s serious, “I mean, it was difficult, but I got through it. I had my friends, and I had you.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t even in the military.”

“You used to come visit me every month or something.”

“And I remember you used to get annoyed by me.”

“I lied.”

“What?” now its my turn to be surprised, because all I remember is Jihoon getting angry with me over jajangmyeon, “You used to get pissed off all the time!”

“I lied,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, “truth be told, those visits were one of the bright sports in my military service. You and I, fighting over food, like we were back in university again. It made me feel, ah, I can tolerate this. I can get over this.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Is this what they say ‘lost for words?’ Jihoon shakes his head, “hey, go to bed. Its late enough that you’ll need to take a leave of absence tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Hey, Jihoon?” I call behind him.

“What now?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol. I’m not as drunk as I was before, but I’m still drunk, right? Or maybe it’s the way Jihoon looks from behind, sad and lonely, someone struggling to hold onto his sanity, in a world that continually squeezes every last drop of humanity from us. Or maybe its both.

“Do you want to sleep here with me?”

Jihoon stares at me for a moment. “You’re still drunk.”

“I’m not! The couch is very uncomfortable, and I’d hate for you to sleep badly because of me.”

“Dude, I’m used to this.”

“Is it because ‘you’re a guy’? Jihoon, you have thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets. You’re clearly going to be more uncomfortable.”

Jihoon sighs, then climbs into the bed, “don’t try anything funny.”

I laugh, “shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I don’t trust you.”

I laugh, before climbing into bed beside Jihoon. Its awkward, but that’s simply because we haven’t done this in so long. Jihoon is warm beside me, his body heat permeating the thin fabric of the bedsheets. This is why I should not make decisions when blind drunk.

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“Hm?” I turn my head to see Jihoon, his eyes closed, “you’re thinking about it too hard. Don’t think so much. This is fine. We’re friends. Friends can do this once in a while.”

I nod my head. We’re friends, right. Friends do these kind of things, friends come over to each other’s homes, friends comfort each other when drunk. Its what friends do.

“Hey, have I told you something?”

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Jihoon groans, “go on.”

“Have I ever told you that my dream was to be a writer?”

“Not really. It was?”

“Yes. When I was a child, I’d write stories all the time, and I’d read them out to my parents. They were really encouraging when I was younger, but as I grew older, I had other things to think about, and I suppose I lost that dream somewhere along the way.”

Jihoon says nothing, so I continue, “it makes me jealous sometimes, when I see people following their dreams. I keep thinking to myself, ah, if only I had more courage, if only I could stick to my dreams, I would have been able to fulfil them; and then I look at my parents, the people who have stuck beside me and supported me, and I think to myself, would I have been able to support them as well as I do now, if I had followed my dreams?”

“Even me?”

I pause, “Especially you.”

Jihoon sighs, and for five minutes, all I can hear is his breathing, steady and slow. Did he fall asleep? I want to ask him what he thinks, but before I can open my mouth, he begins, “You still have that dream, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s eyes are closed, but he’s speaking, softly, as though he’s scared that if he raises his voice, all this would disappear, “you can take a break. Its okay to take a break. But your dream is your own. It’ll always be there for you.”

“And what if I decide to give up?”

“Then that’s okay too. Just because you gave up on it doesn’t mean it didn’t give you happiness for a time.”

I fall silent, because really, what else is there for me to say after this? In the dark room, the moonlight filters in through the curtains, and Jihoon is there, beside me, his presence solid as a rock. In between us, my dreams lie, scattered and broken, a space that neither of us can cross. We’d always be on opposite sides of the river, me and Jihoon, despite how close we are. I’ll always resent him for being brave enough to follow his dreams, and he’ll always fail to understand who I am. Its better this way. Better to be far apart and resentful than be close and drift apart anyway. I’ll take this emotional distance over a physical one.

—

I wake up in the morning to find Jihoon gone, and a cooked breakfast waiting for me on the table with an attached note: don’t think too much about it.

“He’s the one who needs to think less,” I mutter, settling down to finish the omurice he’s made, (the onions were raw and the egg was rubbery) but it has been a long time since I’ve had anyone make me a meal, and I finish the entire dish, washing up in return. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to see me, its fine if he doesn’t even want to talk to me after I said that I was jealous of him; its common nature to avoid the other person if they are jealous of you, or if they are envious of you. “Still, he could have said good morning.” I murmur, putting on my shoes.

 For all Jihoon’s posturing about how much he loves his private space and how much he hates the chaos the rest of the boys bring, he still lives in the same building as Mingyu, whose door I tiptoe past on the way to the elevator. Wait, why am I ashamed? I’ve spent a lot of time in Jihoon’s apartment, and he’s spent an equal amount of time in mine. Then why am I treating this as a walk of shame?

I press the button to the elevator, and Mingyu’s door opens. Oh shit, now he’s going to see me—wait, I thought we were going to be normal about this? Before I can hide in the stairs, Mingyu’s walking over to the elevator, dressed for the day, his face lighting up when he sees me, “hi, noona. Crashed at Jihoon-hyung’s house?”

“Ah. Ah, yes, yes, I did. I simply slept over. Nothing else.” I manage to say, stumbling through my words. Great, now he’s going to think Jihoon and I had sex.

Fortunately for me, Mingyu doesn’t seem like the sort of person to take things to heart. “I didn’t imply anything else,” he says equally brightly, showing no signs of being awkward, “Seungkwan told me you all got wasted on a Monday night. Do you want me to give you a lift?”

“Yeah, that would be really nice, thank you. Also, blame our editor and assistant editor,” I reply, “they seem to have no sense of how to host company dinners. At least this time I didn’t have to pay out of my own pocket.”

“You had to pay out of your own pocket?” Mingyu looks aghast, as though my loss of funds is a personal slight, “that would never fly in my company.”

“Yeah, that tracks. Minghao always hated large get-togethers.”

“No, he didn’t.”

I roll my eyes, “he didn’t hate them when it was you guys. He absolutely hated them when he was forced together with a group of people he didn’t like.”

“Oh, you’re talking about that. He’s much better now, I can assure you.” Mingyu says, as the elevator dings to a stop, “noona, did you get the new clothes from the autumn collection? I sent you the women’s collection. I didn’t know what size you were, so I asked Jihoon-hyung for help. Did they fit well?”

“Kim Mingyu, if you give me new clothes from every collection, then how the hell are you going to  make any profit?” I ask, and he just laughs, “you’ve been sending me all these clothes when I don’t even post on Instagram! Minghao would have your head if he knew about this.”

“That’s his idea,” Mingyu replies, walking ahead of me to the parking lot, “you spent so much on us during university, then when M.M launched, you wrote a good review of us too.”

“I’m going to be accused of biased reporting, you jerk, I only said the truth. And besides, I left the job at the fashion magazine.”

“Still, you helped us a lot. And besides,” he opens the door to his car for me, “step in.”

“And besides?” I ask, putting on the seatbelt.

“Besides,” Mingyu gets into the car, “I like you a lot, noona.”

I smack him on the back of his head.

—

The office is empty when I walk in, which means I get to have five minutes of peace before the Editor walks in and demands all the articles of the week laid out in front of him, because of course, who else would take on all the jobs of the culture desk if its not for me, the Associate editor, the one who’s supposed to be happy to be included? Every week, the culture desk does a special feature, and usually, the assistant editor is in charge of it, unless, they decided to tack it onto my ever-growing list of things that need to be done.

“Sunbae,” I swivel around my chair to find a haggard-looking Seungkwan, “you’re here already?”

“Yes, I am, Seungkwan,” I tease, “are you feeling better?”

“Ugh, my brain feels as though it’s about to leak out of my ears.” Seungkwan mutters, sliding into his desk, “and we have the weekly meeting too, unless the editor isn’t feeling well enough to come in.”

“He’s got an iron stomach,” I wave, “he once came in after being blackout drunk, this isn’t even a big deal.”

Seungkwan groans, then opens his mouth to say something, stopping abruptly at the sight of my clothes. “Sunbae,” he says, “did you borrow those clothes from Jihoon-hyung?”

“What? I’m wearing my own clothes—” I look down at my shirt. Sure enough, its Jihoon’s shirt, the one he made to give as presents to give out to famous people who visited his studio. I can’t even lie and say that it’s from a former boyfriend. Fuck. “Yes, I crashed at Jihoon’s place last night. Was too drunk to take a cab, and he let me stay over at his place.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Yes, yes it does. wait, why am I even explaining it to you? You were the one who ditched me to go for a second round at the karaoke bar.”

At the mention of the karaoke bar, Seungkwan presses two fingers to his temple, “don’t even start me on that. The people here drink so much, its sickening.”

“Who drinks a lot?” it’s the editor, with a pained smile on his face, “remind me never to host company dinners on Monday evenings.”

“I could have told you this before, sir, except you didn’t really listen to me.”

He shakes a finger, “then remind me to listen to you on matters of company dinners. God, my head hurts so much.”

Soon enough, people start filtering into the office; Haewon comes in with dark circles underneath her eyes that are barely hidden by makeup, the assistant editor walks in soon after that, nursing a bottle of hangover cure. The seven of us pile into the meeting room, where the editor looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here.

“The bosses have asked me to start a new column,” he says, after the larger part of the meeting is over, “just a general column, but new ideas will be appreciated.”

“A column on new books?” Haneul asks, “we could have a dedicated column on books.”

“We review every new book when it comes out, there’s no need to have a dedicated column for book releases.”

“Relationship advice?” Changmin raises his hand, “we could have readers send in their concerns, and one of us could write about them.”

“This isn’t Sex and The City, Changmin,” Haewon says, “stop trying to be Carrie Bradshaw.”

Changmin deflates, looking exactly like the stock photo of a blobfish, and Seungkwan decides to step in, “what if we did a comparative study of cultures across Korea? We could talk about provinces that aren’t really explored in media.”

An excellent idea, I think to myself, but too research-heavy for Seungkwan to do it himself. And sure enough, the editor shoots it down, saying, “we can’t spare two people going around Korea to find out about traditional villages. We don’t have the money, nor the manpower for it.”

Everyone sighs, and the editor looks at me, “any ideas?”

[Here we take a small break from our regular programming to tell readers that the following stunts were performed by a professional, under medical supervision, and must not be replicated in real-life situations.]

“What about—dreams?” I say, scrunching up my face and hoping the editor doesn’t notice my lack of preparation for this meeting, “what if, we had a weekly column where we talked about our dreams. Whether we have managed to achieve them, or whether we have only gone further away from it; like a confessional. One of us could write it, or we could have readers send in their entries. Like Hong Seung-Hee’s Suicide Diaries.”

The editor ponders over it for a minute, then looks to the assistant editor, who nods appreciatively. Great, I think, I’ve managed to save my ass. If there was anyone being reprimanded at this meeting it would not be me.

“You do it.” the editor says.

“Huh?”

“The column on dreams, you do it, since its your idea.” The assistant editor smiles encouragingly at me, “I think it’ll be something really good.”

“No, but,” I sputter, even as the rest of them shuffle out of the meeting room, “Editor! Why can’t you just take credit for my work like the rest of bosses?”

The editor looks at me, “why would you want me to do that?”

“I don’t know, it’s what others do!”

“Look,” the editor says, voice gentle, as though he’s speaking to a fragile toddler, which I can’t even blame him for, “if the workload is getting too much, you can always offload some of it onto us.”

“No, I can do it.”

Back at my desk, I groan, before almost smacking my head open on it. Seungkwan offers me a smile, before setting down a coffee. Bless that boy. I knew pulling something out of my ass would get me into trouble. If I hadn’t spoken up, they would still be considering Seungkwan’s idea of going around the countryside. At least that would mean a vacation on office time and office money, this just means I have to work twice as hard.

And why the fuck did I talk about dreams? I could have talked about esoteric theatrical performances, or trends in trot music, or even the different kinds of marinated crabs they sell around the company building (there are seven different restaurants that offer it), why, why, did I have to go and open my mouth to talk about dreams? Out of all the people here, I’m perhaps the least qualified to talk about my dreams, given how spectacularly I’ve managed to fail at following them, and the deadline is in three days.

“What are you thinking about, sunbae?” Haewon asks, depositing another can of coffee on my desk around lunchtime, “you’ve been working like a maniac all morning, aren’t you going to take lunch?”

“Can’t, Haewon, still have to put finishing edits on the three articles that are supposed to release this afternoon. Then I have to start working on the column, because I know its going to take me a long time to finish it.”

“Wow, you sure work hard,” Haewon grimaces, “well, if you need me to pick up something for you at the convenience store, make sure to text me.”

“Hey, Haewon,” I call after her retreating back, “where’s the article on the new movie?”

“Its in your inbox, I just sent it to you,” she calls out, “should I get you a lunch set?”

“Thanks!”

My eyes are itching. Perhaps from having stared at the computer screen for too long, but I take out my contacts in the washroom, instead of putting in lubricating drops. While on the toilet seat, I make a mental note of all the things I’m supposed to do, just in this week. Edit articles as they come by. Write a review of the play I went to. Write a new column, get it approved by the editor. Make amends with Jihoon. Look for a new apartment that doesn’t bleed me dry.

I moan as I press my hands to my temples, “there’s no way I can get this done in a week.”

My phone pings, and it is embarrassing how quickly I reach for it, hoping it to be a text from Jihoon. Its not. Instead, its Mingyu, texting me about my health.

Gyu: noona, you didn’t seem well in the morning. Should I get some medicine for your hangover?

I crack a smile. Having Kim Mingyu show up on the doorstep of my company would imply him being accosted by thirty people at least, and have his photo taken without his consent. It’s bad enough I took his car to come to the office this morning.

big dick (canon): no, Mingyu, please don’t put yourself in harm’s way by bringing me medicine.

Gyu: Minghao can do it too

Gyu: he hasn’t seen you in a while so he said he was missing you

Gyu: should I send him?

big dick (canon): no, I’m fine, Seungkwan brought me a hangover drink from the convenience store.

This is a lie, but I figure Seungkwan doesn’t really have anything to lose by featuring as the Good Samaritan in my story.

Gyu: tell me if there’s something I can do for you

Gyu: you know that we’re all there for you, right?

Ah, this cursed statement, ‘being there for you’. In my experience, people who say this, are rarely there for others. Everyone says it with such sincerity, but when it comes to the actual thing, they are rarely anywhere to be found.

big dick (canon): thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. Just a bit frazzled from all the apartment-hunting I’ve been doing over the weekends.

Gyu: no luck yet? I heard from Joshua-hyung that your lease was up

big dick (canon): he’s told all of you?

Gyu: no, just the guys

big dick (canon): so, everyone.

Gyu: well, unfortunately,  everyone’s aware. Sorry, noona.

big dick (canon): well, what else can I do about it.

Gyu: I can ask the other guys to not ask you about it

big dick (canon): no, no, if they can help, I’m going to be grateful

gyu: so, do you want me to help?

big dick (canon): yeah, what the fuck,  it's not as though I'm going to lose something by asking for help. 

Gyu: I'll ask my contacts if they have an affordable apartment around

big dick (canon): While this is a blow to my pride, I’d still be grateful if I can manage to get a good place that doesn't cost me an arm and a leg

gyu: on it, noona.

Back at my desk,  I trawl through the columns submitted by the reporters, adding edits to them to be published. One of the few perks of my job is the freedom I get while editing articles, because the editor and the assistant editor are both busy with administrative works to be bothered about the day-to-day works of the desk. To be fair, the new column should have been one of their duties, but now that it's my work,  I need to do my best.  Or at least,  not fuck up in a way that ends up with me being fired. 

Haewon, the absolute angel,  has brought a lunch set for me from the convenience store, with fried chicken and green salad. The chicken is rubbery, and the salad is stale, but to my groaning stomach,  it's all delicious. I pull up the word file sent by Seungkwan, and I'm not even two minutes into editing it,  when my phone pings again. I check it, hoping for a text from Mingyu, but instead, it's a text from Jihoon, who is apparently not ignoring me any longer. 

hoon: are you asking Mingyu of all people for help with your apartment search?

big dick (canon): he offered to help me, and I am not going to turn down help offered by anyone

hoon: you could have just asked me

big dick (canon): you left abruptly this morning,  so I thought you were ignoring me. Hence, I didn't want to bother you

hoon: get this concept clearly,  okay?

big dick (canon): what concept

hoon: you're my friend. Friends are allowed to help each other, even if the other person is a weirdo

hoon: how long do you have on the lease?

big dick (canon): not much,  but I can’t find an apartment that fits my needs. They are either out of the way, or too expensive, or just straight up bad

big dick (canon): I don’t want to spend an hour on my commute that’s going to eat into my free time

big dick (canon): and I don’t want to spend too much on a flat when I’m clearly going to be renting

big dick (canon): you know, usual demands

hoon: the flat next to mine is empty

big dick (canon): doesn’t someone live there?

hoon: you’re in luck, no one does

big dick (canon): keep feeling like there’s a catch that I’m missing

hoon: about that, well

hoon: the reason why its empty and people don’t get it is because an old lady died in there

hoon: so, you might be haunted by ghosts

big dick (canon): that’s an extremely stupid reasoning

big dick (canon): do you know the realtor

hoon: I don’t, since she’s new, but

hoon: I’ll call her and say that you want to see the apartment

big dick (canon): you’d do that omg thank u

hoon: in return

hoon: please cook for me

big dick (canon):KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH

hoon: I’m lazy and I don’t like to cook

hoon: too much prep too much clutter

hoon: I could use that time to make music instead

big dick (canon):ah yes, the great Woozi makes his appearance

big dick (canon): can I see the apartment this week

hoon: yeah, I’m done with this song, so I have a bit of free time before preparation for Soonyoung’s new album begins

big dick (canon): Hoshi is coming out with an album omg this is INSIDER SCOOP

hoon: are you for real? The company announced it in the beginning of the financial year

big dick (canon): right, I keep forgetting

big dick (canon): I totally remembered btw

hoon: I’ll pick you up at 5 if that’s okay

big dick (canon): yeah, that works

—

The realtor is a fifty-year old woman with an extravagant puff on her head, who glosses over the supposed ghosts living in the apartment and goes entirely too hard on trying to sell me the apartment. And she didn’t even need to, because I would have taken it anyway.  It’s less of an apartment meant for a singular person and more for newlyweds, with two rooms, a large enough living room, and on top of it all, a kitchen with plenty enough light for me to grow my own plants. The bedroom faces south, and there’s enough space in the living room for me to host my friends (two of them) when they come over. I can just tell Mr Kim I’m leaving the apartment tomorrow. He’s probably been itching to find another naïve university student to fleece.

“This is great,” I say, after the tour is over, “I’ll take it.”

“Great! This will be just perfect for the two of you.” The old woman titters, “I love selling newlywed houses!”

What?

I look at Jihoon, who seems just as surprised as I am, “uh, ma’am, we aren’t married.”

Now its her turn to look surprised, “what do you mean you’re not married? You guys look exactly like a married couple!”

“No, ma’am,” Jihoon says, “she’s my best friend. I’m only helping her get an apartment at a good price.”

“Ah yes, friends, is it?” there’s a twinkle in the old woman’s eye that I can’t quite place, “we’ll see about that, eh?”

“Uh, no, no one is seeing anything about it, because we aren’t dating, nor are we married.”

—

“There is only one perk to living in a hovel like a broke university student for six years after university, and that is the amount of money one saves in their bank account.” I say, taking a sip out of the shared kimchi jjigae pot, “I don’t even have to get a big loan out of the bank to pay for the deposit.”

“Are you that happy?” Jihoon asks, “you’ve been smiling non-stop since signing the agreement. You know, you could have seen more apartments, right?”

“No, this one is the best,” I say, “the kitchen has space for plants, there’s a veranda, the bedrooms are big, but not too big, you know? Just the perfect size.”

“The perfect size?”

“Yes, you know, the perfect size, not too small that it feels suffocating, not too big that it feels depressing. Just the right amount of cozy.”

“You’re crazy.” Jihoon says, “that’s some crazy-person logic right there.”

“I’m not!” I protest, but there’s no real spite in Jihoon’s words, and its almost as though he’s bickering with me to continue to keep things normal, or at least, as normal as they come.

“About the other night,” he begins, “you don’t have to feel envious of me that way.”

“I’m sorry about the other night. Admittedly, I was drunk.”

Jihoon stares at me. “Really? Are you going to pull the ‘I was so drunk I forgot’ trick? On me?”

“Uh, obviously, no.”

“So, you were.”

I grimace, and Jihoon sighs, “look, if you want to forget about this, you can, and I’ll pretend as though nothing happened that night, and you said nothing, we’ll move past it as we always do. but envy, jealousy, these are all important emotions, and I think you should at least try to talk to someone about it.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Not me, I mean an impartial party.”

“Like a therapist?” I narrow my eyes, “Are you calling me insane?”

“What? No! I’m not saying that you’re crazy, I’m just saying that you might need to talk to someone outside of me and Joshua once in a while.”

“I talk to Eunseo. And Seungkwan. And the people at the newspaper.”

“None of these people are impartial listeners, and besides, you don’t even go out much!”

“I’m out with you right now!”

Jihoon sighs, “yeah, I get it, going to therapy sounds difficult. But I really think you need to—”

“And since when are you the arbiter of my needs and wants?” my voice comes out sharper than I intended, and Jihoon just stares at me with a mix of shock and awe and something I can’t quite explain, “you can come and sit here and tell me that you think I should go to therapy, but have you ever paused to take a moment to understand what I need? I don’t need someone to tell me what I need to do, I already know that! I just need someone to be there for me, even when I sound stupid and petty and foolish.”

“Do you always need to take things this far?”

“This far? Why is it always me taking things ‘this far’ with you, Jihoon? Why can’t you stop for a moment, and try to look at things from my perspective for once?” I pause for a moment, chest heaving, “this won’t do, I can’t bear to sit down and eat a meal with you right now.”

With this, I storm out of the restaurant, Jihoon running behind me, “hey, look, we can just talk it—”

“I don’t want to talk things out with you!” there are people staring at me, but I just cannot bring myself to care right now, “you’ve kept pushing the idea of me sleeping with people ever since you found out about my feelings. Have you ever stopped to ask if that’s something I really want?”

“Then tell me!” Jihoon’s yelling too, the two of us on a busy street in a late autumn evening, screaming at each other, “you never tell anyone anything! I’ve been friends with you for six years, and I still don’t know anything about you! What is it that you actually want? Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I’m scared!”

Jihoon stops, stunned. Terrified. There’s no other way to explain the expression on his face. I continue, “because I’m terrified that I’ll do something wrong. All my life, I’ve lived in the fear of doing something wrong, of letting people down. What happens when I take a step forward? Will it be the right decision? Will I do something wrong again? I’ve always thought that, and now, when you keep telling me to take a step, I’m terrified, Jihoon. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

There. Now I’ve said it. “I think we should stop talking to each other for a while, Jihoon,” I say, walking away from him, “with you, I’ll always think of the ‘what if’s’ and I’ll be stuck anyway, but this time, I’ll be terrified, and I’ll fail. I don’t want that for myself, and you deserve better than a friend who’s like me.”

—

What are dreams? Are they something that your inner child holds on to, in the hopes of a better future, or are they something that the adult of now, works toward? I’ve always thought about what dreams meant to me, and I’ve always come up short.

The psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud interpreted dreams as the manifestation of our subconscious mind, a look into our unfulfilled wishes. But this is the scientific interpretation. what does it actually mean, to be able to dream?

When I was younger, I dreamt of a happier existence. An existence where I was fulfilled, or better yet, my desires were fulfilled. I kept dreaming, and dreaming, and dreaming, until one day I woke up and felt myself in a foreign land where dreams held little meaning.

In truth, that is our reality. A foreign land where we are forced to give up on our childhood dreams, and become grown-up adults. The definition of a dream changes too, from the manifestation of our inner desires, to mere scientific fact, neurological phenomenon whereby we can ascertain the quality of our sleep. Is this what we are doomed to become? To go on with our lives from day to day, doomed to repeat the cycle until we die one day?

When I was young, I dreamt of being a writer. I wanted to weave worlds with my words, perfect the craft of storytelling until my words brought comfort to people. I wanted to be someone whose words could be someone’s comfort, someone’s pillar to lean on when distressed. But that was when I was a child. As I grew up, I realised, ah, this is the real world, a place where my words of comfort held no meaning for anyone. I struggled against it, because I could not accept my reality. I failed. The world was too big, too cruel for me to hold on to the foolish dreams of a five-year old, and I woke up to my reality. Now, my words bring no comfort to anyone, because they are no longer my own. My words don’t belong to me, and neither does my dream. It is something I’ve kept locked in a box, hidden amidst my childhood belongings.

I am an adult. I envy people, I get jealous of people, I hold petty grudges. It’s who I am. I envy people who have achieved their dream, I envy people who are working towards their dream, because it reminds me of a five-year old child, whose dreams I allowed the world to crush. And they didn’t deserve that. None of us do.

So, for all of you who are working towards your dreams, may they be fulfilled someday. And for those who have given up on our dreams. It will be okay. Even if we gave up on it, even if it is distant from us now, it doesn’t mean we weren’t happy once.

—

“That’s the last of it,” Joshua pants as he hauls up a flowerpot into my kitchen, “why do you have so many plants?”

“So that I can save on groceries.”

“Wow, noona, you’re really sensible,” Mingyu says, “should I keep a plant in my home as well?”

“You can barely keep a rock alive, Mingyu, and that’s me being nice.” Joshua mutters, laid out on the sofa, “this is not how I imagined my day off to be going.”

“I enjoyed today,” Mingyu jumps up form his seat on the floor, “do you want jajangmyeon?”

“I just ordered it,” I say, settling down in a chair, “wow, this is nice.”

The flat is piled high with furniture, but the majority of it had been done by movers the previous day. My landlord, who hated the sight of me, even patted me on the back and said he was sorry to see me go. Weird. But, now that I’m in my own room, with enough sunlight and air and a new place to start over again, I can feel myself growing happier. Is it something related to places? Can they really affect mental statuses? “I should host a housewarming party later on, when I’m all settled in?”

“Really?” Mingyu perks up at the idea of a party, “you’ll invite all the others too?”

“Yes, I’ll invite everyone.”

“Great!” he’s already on his phone, “Jeonghan-hyung will be so happy to see you again.”

“I haven’t seen him in months,” I muse, “god, I don’t think I’ve seen all thirteen of you together in months, now. Or has it been a year?”

“Probably a year,” Joshua groans, “the last time we met up was at Chan’s welcome back party. Ugh, my back is killing me.”

“Old man,” Mingyu laughs, “shouldn’t you be at home with your fiancée?”

“Eunseo asked me to help out since she couldn’t come.” Joshua clarifies, “she was the one who was asked initially.”

“Makes sense.” Mingyu nods sagely, then jumps up at the sound of the doorbell, “food’s here!”

This is how it should be. Life. Surrounded by friends, surrounded by people who make you laugh. If this is how I can live here, then I’ll be happy, I think. But happiness is a difficult construct, and an ephemeral state of being for me, always slipping out of my grasp.

“Noona, where is Jihoon—” Mingyu gets a swift kick to the ass for that sentence from Joshua, and my smile dies away on my face.

True, no one has commented on it, not at the office, nor between friends, but I can practically feel Seungkwan’s curiosity burning every time I take lunch by myself, or I go out to meet people out of office, and come back alone. I haven’t been attending Sunday morning brunch with Joshua and Jihoon either, and both Joshua and Eunseo have kept quiet about it, but sooner or later, someone would have to speak up. Its unusual, having Jihoon away from me, without his voice being a constant presence in my life. Now, even with him living next door to me, I can’t reach out. The metaphorical rift has now become real.

“He’s busy,” I say, trying to change the subject, “I think he’s busy with Hoshi’s new project.”

That gets Mingyu’s attention, and he starts talking about how his and Minghao’s company is the one who’s dressing Soonyoung for his comeback, and how Soonyoung keeps wanting custom tiger-print stuff, until I can comfortably lean back and just laugh along at his words, trying not to think too much about Jihoon.

Later that night, as I’m climbing into bed, exhausted, the doorbell rings again. I’m dressed in pyjamas, with a pair of fluffy slippers on my feet, and the sound of the bell makes me wary. Who could it be, at—eleven at night? All of a sudden, I’m gripped with all the things I’ve heard on true crime podcasts, about the perils of single women living alone.

Wait, you’re thinking too much. It’s probably Mingyu, dropping something off. Right, that’s it. it could be Mingyu.

I open the door a little, “Mingyu, could you come back in the morning? I’m tired—”

“Do I look like Mingyu to you?”

In my shock, the door swings wide open. Its Jihoon, dressed like he’s come home running from work, the tip of his nose pink. He’s dressed casually again, in a white jacket over a black t-shirt. In comparison, I look and feel horribly underdressed.

“Look,” Jihoon begins, “am I too late?”

“For?”

“Is there nothing I can do to repair this friendship? Am I too late?” he grabs my hands, “I’m sorry, I’ll apologise a thousand times if you want. I stayed away from you because you wanted me to, but I can’t. I can’t give you up as a friend. I need you in my life.”

“Jihoon,” I open my mouth to say something, but my heart starts beating erratically. Is this normal? I look at Jihoon again, wide-eyed, evidence of tears on his cheeks, and I can’t do anything but nod my head.

Fuck. I’m screwed.

[heartofbusan]

My live reactions of AYS's final (for now 😌) episode 💛💜

-----

Jimin really had a lot of input on the itineraries and restaurants. He should get a producing credit 🤧 : 'Keeper of JK's every want, need and desire in the form of food, accommodation and more 👀': Park Jimin

OH MY BABY Like Crazyyyy!!

They really are the top singers in Korea lmao. You sometimes forget it, with how normally weird they are.

The owners of the restaurant must have been thrilled to have them. #Blessed

The boyfriend shot!?!?!? YOUR HONOR! HE DID NOT deny nor refute the outright allegation!!

Jungkook enjoys life to the fullest.

Also, Jk loves beer.

ESCUSE ME?!?!?!?

THEY GET FLIRTY WHEN DRUNK. DRUNK SHENANIGANS HAVE HAPPENED. I AM SURE OF IT.

Jungkook is such a good boy. You tell him to do something, and he does it. #obedient

JK's stomach makes all his life's decisions.

This hot tub scene is going to end me as a functioning member of society. WHAT THE HELLLLLLLLL

THIS SURE IS NICE

THIGHS. NO NOTES.

COME ON BABY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? WHAAST

Jimin doesn’t want to extend JKs suffering. So sweet!!

"That’s my Jungkook." Omg

"HONEY"

WTF IS HAPPENING, SHOULD I LEAVE THE ROOM

Baby reference no. 4852820 and counting.

-The more relaxed they are, the more they forget they're being filmed. The touches increase, and the fawning commences. Also, Jimin watching himself and seeing how he's presenting himself for the show is such an interesting occurrence. There's an interesting thought happening there as he becomes aware of it... Is he seeing and becoming aware of his layer of veneer as they were filming? He scaled it back for sure. He let more of his acute feelings through as the seasons progressed. I love that it became less like work for him.

-They are idiots! And I love them for it! The Jeon Park household is filled with laughter. And grunting ofc. Don't forget the copious amounts of grunting. I'm watching this at work and by God if someone walks in on me listening to this...I'll get called into HR 😃 #worthit

ONGOD JIMIN ON THE FLOOR LEGS SPREAD WHO APPROVED THIS MESSAGE?!?!

Also: Jungkook loves cooking. Whomever is making fun of him for choosing to be in the kitchen is an idiot. Please always be happy JK!

Precedent. This show is setting it. Remember it well.

You realize that they have the means to travel like this all the time?!?! But they chose to take us with them? WE ARE BLESSED.

Jimin always finds a moment to connect, physically as well as emotionally. He'll never leave his man hanging on a joke.

BUT JUNGKOOK IS RIGHT THERE WITH HIM ON THE EQ SCALE..He sees Jimin fully, and he treats him gently and with tender care. Knowing Jimin is quiet because the trip is nearing its end😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

They deserve to live their lives without serving us. Without feeling like they need to show us, just because it makes us happy to see them happy. Then again, if this is them normalizing them as a unit and seeing them together, and if it serves them just as much as it does us. Well then I hope they keep up this exceptional excuse to make content. The hate will always be there. The shippers too.

But what will never change is the commitment they have towards each other. They really do complete one another *bawling*

I loved this episode! It was so relaxed and paired back. They really are a give and take couple, giving each other space, patience or attention. Really, they should get married. It's just too perfect a union.

[sanflawoah]

Black Myth: Wukong

More brainrot commentary because I'M NOWHERE NEAR DONE WITH GOING INSANE OVER THIS MONKE GAME.

Cursed texts and massive spoilers bellow. Lots of random bits and wee woo wee woo.

First of all, YEEESSS to everything well written big budget media with heavy cultural elements that isn't western centric. Love it 👏, a thousand more like this please.

HONESTLY can't get enough of the character designs. Watching the old tv show in my childhood got me imagining the JTTW characters as these cute human with animal ears. But since the game took a more serious and darker tone they took the character design to 1000. So many memorable characters with distinct style, drip, and combat.

Ok so whose idea was it to make some of the plants sentient and will beat your ass for daring to pick them up. I now have trust issues with ginseng and mushrooms

The toad bosses reminds me of Gamabunta. For a moment they also gave me a war flashback of Jedi Survivor's Oggdo-Bogdo, I want those things vaporised from earth 🔫🔫

Kang-Jin darkening the environment during her second stage, I legit thought it was a problem with my screen, until I found out other players had it too lmao. Also looove her design, silver loong with holographic glow, prettiest loong in the game

Boss musics are so LIT, I've been looping them for weeks

The Scorpionlord. First I saw him I was like HANZO HASASHI :DD??? But instead of hellfire, this time he uses venom. And the fact that the environments have autumn palette, connects me to MK 11 Shirai Ryu fire garden arena lol

an NPC called Starved Abomination. The name really sends me because ngl it's a relatable concept, I too became an abomination whenever I'm starving.

To punish Wukong for his lifetime worth of trash-talking, the game now choose The Destined One as shy and doesn't talk much except for when he screams during fights. All my grievances of expecting him to be chatty and noisy actually works out the more I understand the story. And turns out it was all part of his journey, you are meant to complete him by collecting Wukong's scattered senses. Lil introverted fur-ball of scream I love you so much. Since the NG+++ Wukong stance actually gave him voicelines, I'm guessing the Destined One is going to complete his development in actually becoming Wukong in the DLC.

Everyone and I mean EVERYONE had a beef with Wukong and now we gotta pick up after his mess. My poor Destined One walked into an area completely clueless and suddenly everyone is jumping on him because "REMEMBER THE THING YOU DID TO ME A FEW HUNDRED YEARS AGO??? WELL FUK YOU, NOW DIE."

~

🐱Yin Tiger🐱. First time I met him I was like ohhh who are you, you look so cool and kinda cute tho, look at those big boba eyes, pspspsps.

He's all busy with his hammer and zabuza sword, thinks you're so annoying for bothering his work. Then there's this "challenge" option and suddenly he rose and casually tossed his hammer to the ground, I was like wait I was just joking aYO I WAS JUST JOKING-, then proceeds to delete my HP in 30 seconds. Anyway I love how he appears big and heavy and yet moves so swiftly. Of ALL the tiger bosses in this game, imo he's the coolest and THE SANEST. I still can''t get over the Tiger Vanguard and Mad Tiger trauma, those orange cats are on a whole new level of insanity.

🕷️Fourth Spider Sister🕷️. I'm actually so INVESTED in her mystery, like why are you helping me? Why do you look so sad? Are those tear stains on your cheeks?? Why did the Immortal Crane said that I'm giving you "false hopes"? What were we in the previous life?

"Think about her, won't you? Should you feel like stirring trouble in your next life." WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, TELL ME. SHE SEEMS SO NICE THO, she's just a sad goth girl what did she do?? What did WE do?? And her journal entry is so interesting.

🐉Yellow Loong🐉. LISTEN.... I literally had to pause for a moment when I saw him. Cutscene plays and I was like Oohh it's going to be that type of charismatic character reciting monologue, and then I saw his name and it's THE YELLOW LOONG??? This suave horned man is The Yellow Loong??

Well damn I have to say that's one handsome loong. He's one of those elegant style fighters, my favourite genre, up there with Whiteclad Noble and Erlang Shen.

👁️Erlang Shen⚡. The way I turned up the volume when I heard Andrew Koji's Erlang voice.....It's just so.......pleasant to hear. Something about the way he did his voice, the smug taunts, the gentle almost-whispers, and the gROWLS???

I can't even with the entirety of Erlang's character design in this game, because dAMN BOI what a BEAUTY. I thought the game was going to make his appearance more mature looking, or even scarier, because that's just how it is with game character design formula, especially in games like this. But NOOOOO..... they made him ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. His face, his voice, HIS MOVESS, the way they designed his martial arts so elegantly. When you perfect dodge everything with him, it really feels like a dance. I have to note that when sometimes you tried heavy attack on him aND HE SIMPLY JUST-.... took one step to the side.... THE ABSOLUTE SLAYYY DISRESPECT💅💅. Welcome back Isshin from Sekiro.

Also I just found out that depending on what transformation you're using, he's going to react differently on each. Particularly interesting one was when you use Azure Dust. Most of the time, when you transform, he's going to transform too and chances are he's going to one-shot you out of the transformation. He doesn't do that with Azure Dust for some reason, instead he got amused because Lmao returning back to your origin?. And this line, "Walking his path is no easy feat, it will test you relentlessly". SOMETHING SOMETHING ABOUT ERLANG HAVING THIS HIDDEN BURDEN THROUGHOUT THE PLOT IS DRIVING ME INSANE, I NEED THE DLC TO EXPLORE HIS CHARACTER MORE I'M BEGGING YOU GAME SCIENCE. You can't leave me hanging with his journal entry please I want him to have some peace and closure.

Powerful quiet character with hidden struggle, the bane of my existence, my beloved.

☂️🐉The Four Heavenly Kings🎸🗡️. MAN I love these guys, their fight feels so rewarding somehow, because after all those struggles with Erlang, they feel more like a reward battle for visual entertainment.

Aside from being relatively easy, they're just so fun to watch. I keep wanting to stall the fight just to see what move sets they could perform because their coordinated attacks are just SO COOL.

South king throwing the sword at us, joined by the West king throwing punches, and then the West king passing the sword back to South king. That brief moment of them passing weapons, they need to do more of that, so sick.

The North king combo with every other kings. The West jumping up using the North's umbrella, summoned the dragon, the South yeeting the sword, and the East buffing up the umbrella thrust attack with his Pipa magic. I'd hate to be a normal human citizen under them during that scene GODDAMN. I'd say the West is the game's favourite king because he's the one with the most screentime. He's the one with distinct glowing eyes and he was the most visible behind Erlang during the opening. The North being the coolest because WTF WAS THAT TYPHOON UMBRELLA WITH THE WEST'S DRAGON ROLLING WITH IT, AND THE MUSIC QUE, ABSOLUT CINEMA. The East probably being the chillest of them all because my man was just serenading the fight yo, I like how his fingers actually moves accurately playing the BGM. I know they're on the heaven's side, but for some reason I want them to be on our side if it's possible in the DLC. If we could get Erlang, then surely we can get them? They're too epic not to have.

🐒THE GREAT SAGE'S BROKEN SHELL🐒

THE MONKEY, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND. SUN. WU. KONG. THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT WHEN THIS MF SHOWED UP ON SCREEN. TEARFUL CHEER AND AND UNIMAGINABLE TERROR. AND WITH THAT BITS OF THE OG TV SHOW THEME MOTIF PLAYING WHEN HE SUMMONED JINGU BANG.

Who would've thought that we're going to fight our former self as a literal your greatest enemy is yourself concept. Like yO IT'S THE G HIMSELF WUKONG but now FUK I HAVE TO FIGHT HIM?? Look, sir, Mr. Great Sage, I know I've been playing around as you and I don't even know what I'm doing, I'M SORRY.

So now we're fighting zombie Wukong. He's literally soulless inside and his voice sounds demonic. YET STILL he radiates that lively asshole energy. You try pillar stance to get away from him, he does the same but his pillar is TALLER than yours. You try to walk off calmly, he does the same but then taunts you for it, eats a peach and then flicks the seed to your head. Kicks you to the sky and transforms his jingu bang into a pillar and plants it to the ground with you under it. He cheats by summoning kintoun and body slammed you. He summoned his clones to kick you in all directions only for the original Wukong to wait on the side yawning, then he kicks your jingu bang back at you like "pick it up bitch", and taunts you with his hand gesture to come at him. Ok now you're raging and you tried to pillar stance heavy attack at him, he's like "shut yo bitch-" and GRABBED YOUR JINGU BANG WITH YOU STILL HOLDING ON TO IT AND STARTS USING YOU AS A FLY SWATTER. Just as you think that these suffering couldn't get any worse, you tried to heal and he IMMOBILISED YOU, SNATCHED YOUR GOURD AND TOOK A SIP, decided that it tastes like shit and threw it back at you. Now THIS is the little shit that I know and love.

The whole time you tried to do a move against him, he returned the favour but better. You think your staff extension is long? Ok he'll extend his staff to a kilometer, and that's STILL him holding back. You can do ring of fire? His is bigger in diameter and burns brighter. The game had to nerf out his lore accurate skills because it's just so atrociously OP.

Ok so you finally defeated him? Just as he got dusted away he still managed to croak a last laugh.

Que good ending animated cutscene with the JTTW plot in reverse serenaded with Celestial Symphony. Happy onions, happy onions tearing up the eyes. Crank the volume up, it's all coming together. That's Ba Jie, that's Sanzang, that's Wujing, that's horse.

MMMMMMM MONKE.

[sturnioz]

broo, honestly im so sorry to heat about people being bitches, ur honestly so so sweet and i visit ur page everyday cause even just reading your reply to asks makes me chuckle and giggle, bro i even have notifs from you cause i dont wanna miss something honestly you should be so proud of ur platfrom on here and you should ignore the haters, honestly aswell people to copy your shit w no credit have no self respect. ANYWAYS i love your stuff so much and your so so so good at writing honestly whenever i try to read sm else fics they dont bang the same for me. Love u 🪱

i love you <3 ngl this whole situation has freaked me tf out cos the influx of hate abt me with fratboy!chris has been insane and i am panicking LMAO.

i just wanna quickly say that no, i do not own the frat au universe at all. you are absolutely allowed to do whatever you please with it. please create as many frat aus as your heart desires.

my issue, personally, was seeing writers that were doing frat aus and using my version of fratboy!chris — or writing something eerily similar that made me be like oh.. ok :( without credits.

i purposefully made fratboy!chris absolutely fucking mean and refusing to give shy!reader hardly any affection cos i thought that would be something different and new cos usually, in frat aus i've seen for different fandoms, they make fratboy!(character/person) mean to everyone but the reader and i just kinda wanted to switch that up and make something different. so when i come online and see something similar written by someone else, im just very :( aw man :|

i've said this multiple times before and i'll happily say it again. i LOVE knowing that i've inspired people to write. like thats fucking crazy ?? and so fucking cool ?? love that shit. and i'd be totally fucking ok if someone wrote something of mine and put "inspired by @/sturnioz" at the end without telling me beforehand cos its like a lil gift lmao. like i'd love that.

sorry that this reply is so long and jumbled, ive been very overstimulated with everything that has happened. please... with anything that i've written that anyone has felt inspired by, please credit me. thats all i ask.

[antaripirate]

i have a habit of waking in the middle of the night with random insane theories about Threads and dumping it in my notes for me to find later…here are a few from the last few months…

[pipisguy]

@spamtonsometimes uhh... I was pretty sure you had answered my tags saying "ah the perry the platypus effect" and telling us that you changed your style to draw biblically accurate Spamton... but I can't find the post so maybe I dreamt it up??

Anyway

[imobsessed123]

Woah Keefe is so emotionally manipulative. Not like he got raised in a horrible household where being emotionally abused was the norm. Not like half of his ‘insulting’ things were just bad attempts to make people laugh because in his mind that’s one of the only things he’s good at. Not like he probably cries thinking about all the times he hurt people without even meaning to. Not like he says things that come across as manipulative without him meaning it to because again, saying things like that are normal to him. Not like he would do anything for his friends. Not like most of his decisions, in his mind at least, were to benefit everyone else. Not like he would probably rather die than be like his father. Of course not, that’s ridiculous!

[moeblob]

thinking about their civilian clothes.... and also thinking about how in the vanguard armor his chest looks much larger (valid, it's armor) and I think he deserves to keep that chest.

[captainfern]

Having some THOTS about giving price a boobjob because why not

price after his boobjob

[janthesevenette]

monody, by me, 2023

I wrote this poem around a year ago, and when deciding how to present it, I was very drawn to this idea of a disillusioned teenager taking things usually associated with childhood and innocence — stick figure drawings, hearts, school-issue notebook paper — and twisting them into an expression of the anger and resentment she feels. The hearts are broken, the stick figures are violent, the flower is wilting, the notebook paper is yellowed, and it amplifies the narrator’s loss of innocence, and her bitterness at that loss. The narrator is fictional, to clarify.

poetry tag list: @spacefinch @thewildballyntynesgrow @fionajames @sevdidntdie @transmascanakin @techs-goggles9902 @perilmax @kurlyfrii

[batbirdies]

Man sometimes I make the mistake of reading the notes on a post (don’t do it) and like… this truly is the piss on the poor website.

No one has any reading comprehension and no one can clearly state what they mean. Everyone is so ready to argue at the drop of a hat. No one can make their point with clear language, and then seem to be incapable of rewording a statement if someone doesn’t understand them. Everyone immediately descends to insults upon disagreement, whether real or imaginary.

Debate classes should be mandatory in school is what I’m getting at.

[kaiserkisser]

today is such a stark contrast to yesterday in how much i fucking hate today (vent/rant in tags bc i forgor to do it on my vent one)

[sunset-bridge]

now this looks like a job for me so everybody just follow me

[good-beanswrites]

Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store. 

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore. 

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath. 

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her. 

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death. 

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno. 

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying. 

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well? 

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe. 

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”