#this is not as coherent as i would like but i have to finish polishing some geography exercises for my kids today so this is what you get

[binomech]

lumon is a pharmaceutical that needs disease to exist for their economic profit, while also claiming that their ultimate goal is balance, pulchritude, purity, control. they base their whole promotion of severance as something that can cure a person's grief through the amputation of it, as if death was the ultimate evil, as if grief was a septic miasma to drain. conveniently, a lack of grief means a lack of attachment, a lack of attachment makes for better workers.

darkness is intimacy, it's a right to one's emotions without a purpose or an audience. lumon's halogens light up everything that transpires inside the building, your own grief can be repackaged and sold to an audience if edited well enough. darkness is a shroud that takes away our sense of direction but also returns us to our body.

kier seems to be in perpetual winter, the tree branches are nude and there's no end in sight to fields of snow and blue light and hunger, animals can't thrive, crops can't thrive. woe's hollow is much the same, insofar as it's lumon land. dieter egan became one with nature, he wanted, he loved, his rotting corpse haunts and entices. sex and desire are constantly presented as a prerrequisite for suffering and rot, because loving someone means losing them will bring grief, because bringing a person into the world (through childbirth or severance) means accepting that you will love them, and they will suffer, and they will die someday. to love is to accept death.

grief is suffocating, a black rot encroaching the wood in our trees and the canvases we made out of them. we carry it with us wherever we go and it's heavy, but it's this rot that will feed new life. we will sit at our green desks on a green carpet unfer a great big halogen light that primes all of our words of kinship and love for an audience to justify our suffering, but conspire in a dark supply closet where our grief and desire can be just ours, cramped and warm.

plants become a symbol for warmth and care and grief. plants die, plants rot, plants feed you and you feed them. green is for rot and for spring, the garden in perpetuity doesn't even get real sunlight. mammalians nurturable field feeds the goats and the goats feed it upon death, burt and irving's little eden is a mysterious storage room but the plants are real. gemma died and the warmth of spring went with her, but ms. casey has a tree of her own in her office. charlotte cobel used a green respirator it didn't save her, even if the winter came inexorably after each spring. but spring will come again. we will grieve, and in the warmth of the sun we will watch a sapling grow from the rotting remains of our our old selves and loved ones.

[kirain]

Part five of my appreciation project.

@bbluxart A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

Emmrich sat at his desk, the soft scratch of his quill the only sound in the dimly lit study. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he penned the final lines of his acceptance speech, each word weighed with meticulous care. Though sleep clouded his mind, he ignored it—this was far more important.

"'You cannot imagine how much I'... no. 'I cannot thank you enough'? No, that's not it."

Stacks of parchment surrounded him, some filled with earlier drafts, others littered with notes and revisions. The candle beside him burned steadily, casting a bright glow over his work—until a shadow suddenly fell across the page.

Kalais, his elven goddess. She leaned over his desk, arms braced against the wood, her face close enough that he could smell the faint trace of lavender on her skin.

"Are you really going to spend all night scribbling away when you could be spending time with me?" she asked, her voice lilting with mock petulance.

Emmrich chuckled, not looking up. "Tempting as that is, I do have to finish this. The university expects something... coherent, at least."

Kalais sighed dramatically, shifting so that she blocked more of his light. "Are you saying I have to wait to be showered with attention?"

"That does seem to be the case." He finally lifted his gaze, amused. "Though, if it helps, I'm already looking forward to it."

Kalais smirked but said nothing. Instead, she pushed off the desk and stretched, as if preparing to wander off and find something else to entertain herself with.

"Wait, Kalais? Before you turn in," Emmrich said, his voice unusually timid. "I did want to ask—would you accompany me?"

She froze. "To the... ceremony thing?"

"Yes." His expression steeled, no longer flirty, but earnest. "It would mean a great deal to me if you came along."

Kalais forced a smile before he could see the apprehension flicker across her face. "Is this, uh... fancy-fancy? Like, with wine and cheese and hors d'oeuvres and... all that?”

"Yes, but don't worry about that. I just want you there. To celebrate with me."

Kalais hesitated for only a moment before she gave him a breezy grin. "Well, when you put it like that... how can I possibly say no?"

She sounded excited—at least, she hoped she did. Inside, doubt churned in her stomach, but Emmrich was looking at her with such expectance, such conviction, she couldn't bring herself to refuse.

"Marvellous," he sang, relieved. "It wouldn't feel right without you there."

Kalais turned away before he could catch her uncertainty. "Guess I'd better find something to wear, then," she winked over her shoulder.

"Oh, you'll look stunning no matter what you choose, my darling."

Kalais flashed a cheerful wave as he watched her go, her playful bravado intact. But as she closed the door behind her, her smile slipped, and she wondered if she'd made a mistake.

-----

The grand hall of the university glistened with an inescapable air of prestige. Golden chandeliers loomed over rows of blackwood tables and chairs, their polished surfaces reflecting the green glow of countless candles; all lit with a necrotic magic Kalais couldn't even begin to comprehend—and the room was bustling. Scholars and dignitaries from across the kingdom and beyond had gathered to celebrate Emmrich's vast achievements.

Emmrich.

Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch—a title she'd heard him use only once, the day they met. Yet tonight, it was spoken by every person who shook his hand, clapped his shoulder, and vied for his attention. It was so formal. So unfamiliar.

"I am profoundly grateful to be standing among you this evening. May we continue to expand our knowledge for centuries to come, and make the unknown known."

Applause thundered through the chamber as the university president fastened a medallion of honour around Emmrich's neck, its emblem catching the light. Kalais couldn't be on stage with him, but she smiled as she watched, his speech brief yet brilliant. She knew almost nothing about his research, but she did know this meant a lot to him—a recognition hard-earned and long overdue.

As he accepted his award, she stood at the back of the hall, clutching a single branch of lilacs in her hand. The flowers were delicate, their fragrance a comfort to her anxious heart. She had spent the last of her coins on it, knowing it was Emmrich's favourite; rivalling even his love of Weeping Widowers, but she'd kept it hidden until the proper moment, hoping to surprise him.

Once, he had shared a memory of his late mother tending lilac bushes in her garden—a memory that often brought him peace. He didn't remember much of his parents, but those memories were bright, often triggered by the syrupy-sweet scent and pastel purple hue. Perhaps, Kalais thought, it would make him feel as though she were there, relishing in her son's achievements.

As the awards drew to a close, he stepped off the stage, waving her forward. Kalais nodded, but as she moved closer, her confidence wavered. Emmrich was surrounded by nobles in tailored suits, scholars in richly adorned robes, and students whose laughter rang with the ease of privilege. She wasn't one of them. She wasn't an academic or a necromancer. She had never belonged in a place like this, and she knew that sentiment was shared.

"Goodness, look who's here," a sharp voice cut through the crowd.

Kalais paled.

Vanessa Schulzer, one of Emmrich's fellow professors, stood with a small cluster of colleagues, all of whom had made their disapproval of their relationship abundantly clear. Kalais had met them once before in the Necropolis, during a perilous expedition. They had mistaken her for a tomb robber, their accusations tempered only by Emmrich's intervention.

"If it isn't... what was your name again? Kaless?"

"Kalais," she answered plainly.

"Oh, that's right," the woman cooed. Her vibrant gown and pearly chains of office glittered—a stark contrast to Kalais' threadbare dress. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here," she continued, her tone pure politeness and venom.

"Is there some reason I shouldn't be?" Kalais asked, holding back for Emmrich's sake.

"Not at all. As I said, I'm just surprised. After our... introduction in the Necropolis, I didn't get the impression you had much interest in our craft."

"I wasn't stealing," Kalais groaned.

"Of course you weren't, dear. Of course you weren't. I only meant you seemed slightly out of your depth."

An uncomfortable silence, before the woman laughed delightedly, swirling the glass of wine in her hand.

"Quite the evening, isn't it? A true celebration of academic excellence." She took a sip, her cold, azure eyes studying Kalais like a jeweler appraising a flawed gem; searching, scrutinising. "Would I be correct in assuming this is your first time attending an event such as this?"

The others snickered, the gibe conspicuous.

"First time, yeah," Kalais smiled. "We've been so busy saving the world, we haven't had much time for diversions. But we made an exception for this."

The group frowned, visibly irritated, but they recovered quickly, Vanessa's eyes flicking to the lilacs in Kalais' hand.

"And what's this?" she asked, her lips curling in amusement. "A gift?"

Kalais flinched, tucking the branch somewhat behind her back. "For Emmrich. To congratulate him."

Another professor, Enrique Webb, chuckled at the display. "How... quaint. I'm sure it will slide in quite nicely with one of the many bouquets he's already received."

"He likes lilacs," Kalais said, trying not to sound defensive.

She failed.

"He does," Vanessa chided. "But lilacs are a copper a dozen. The professor is being honoured for a lifetime of contributions to necromancy, Fade exploration, and magical theory. A single stick of lilacs compared to the rest of the accolades he's receiving tonight—" She winced, feigning sincerity. "Well, I don't mean to disparage your efforts, but it does feel a little insulting. Don't you agree?"

"It's a nice thought," another professor chimed. "It just doesn't fit the occasion. We call that 'undervaluation', and it's taken very seriously here."

"I bought him one of those revolutionary new pens I've been hearing so much about," Enrique said proudly. "It will be instrumental in aiding his work to come."

"I bought him an engraved cluster ring," another woman added. "Enchanted, of course, to read the proximity of spirits."

"Doesn't he already have one of those?"

"Yes, but it's tarnished. Volkarin appreciates..." She looked Kalais up and down. "Finer things."

Laughter rippled through the group, their words cutting deep, while Kalais' grip tightened around the branch of lilacs. She had known they wouldn't welcome her, but the sting of their mockery still burned. She glanced towards Emmrich, still engrossed in conversation with the elite, unaware of the exchange. Perhaps they were right, but she wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.

"You don't know Emmrich like I do. He appreciates the finer things, yes, but he appreciates affection more. His mother—"

"Excuse you?" Vanessa snapped. "We've been working with him for decades. Some of us went to school with him. You've known him a total of... six months? That hardly makes you an expert."

"And what exactly are you an expert in?" Enrique pressed. "Volkarin is an intellectual. Above all, he appreciates intelligence the most. You're here to celebrate his accomplishments, but do you even know what they are? Do you understand them?"

"I..." Kalais looked away, her ears drooping.

"We mean no offense, of course," Vanessa sneered. "You're very pretty. I think we're all just a little shocked Volkarin chose such an... unlettered inamorata." She took another sip of her wine, her eyes boring through the young elf like a spear. "I would be happy to educate you on our craft, of course. I am an excellent teacher, after all. You only need to ask."

"That's right," Enrique tittered. "You know what they say—the first step is admitting you need help."

Kalais tensed, her arms shaking. She wanted to tear into them; she could have, but this was Emmrich's night—and they were right. She didn't belong there. Without another word, she turned away, the group's jeers echoing behind her. As she passed a waste bin, she dropped the lilacs inside, their petals trembling, mirroring her despair.

Then, she headed for the doors.

-----

As the celebration wound down, Emmrich wandered the hall, his thoughts preoccupied. He was looking for her, cutting every conversation short as his eyes scanned the room.

"Kalais?" he choked, his tone laced with concern. "Darling, where are you?"

"Good evening, Emmrich," Vanessa said, slithering up beside him. "I believe congratulations are in order—"

"Have you seen Kalais?" he asked hurriedly.

The woman stifled a groan. "Kalais? Who was that again?"

"You know very well," Emmrich huffed. "I arrived with her."

"Ah, yes, the elf woman. Last I saw, she was heading for the buffet."

"She isn't there," he countered, his head turning in all directions. "That was the first place I searched."

"I'm sure she's mingling elsewhere," the woman decried. "In the meantime, I have something for you." With a suggestive glance, she pulled an ornamented box from her purse. "It was a challenge to find, but I managed to—"

"Forgive me, but I really must find her," Emmrich interrupted.

And he walked away, leaving Vanessa shunned and forsaken.

"Kalais!" he yelled over the music and chatter. "Kalais, can you hear me? Please, darling, where are you?"

As he neared the back wall, his eyes caught a flash of mauve, stopping him in his tracks. In the bin, a branch of lilacs lay atop a pile of trash, the colour standing out amongst the manilla wrappers and containers. Curious, he picked it up, its inexorable scent stirring something deep within him.

"Who left this here?" he murmured, running his fingers over the delicate petals.

A voice, faint and otherworldly, answered him.

"One who admires you greatly, Professor."

Emmrich turned to see a translucent figure manifesting behind him—a spirit draped in soft, glowing light. It wasn't uncommon for spirits to gather in the university, especially during celebrations, where emotions ran high.

"With whom do I speak?" he asked, respectfully.

"I am but a watcher of moments, drawn to the pain I witnessed here tonight," the spirit replied.

"An observer," Emmrich said, fascinated, "who witnessed... pain? Here, in this merry hall?"

The spirit nodded. "A pain not marking the flesh, but scathing the soul."

Emmrich's back stiffened with a strangling sense of dread. "Would you be willing to show me?"

"Behold."

The spirit lifted its hand, and the air around them changed. Through its eyes, Emmrich saw the night replay before him like a vivid dream. He saw Kalais approach his colleagues. He saw her expression dull as they spoke cruelly—taunting her, humiliating her. He saw her leave, her head bowed. He saw her drop the lilacs in the bin.

Then, the vision faded.

Emmrich gripped the branch tightly, his heart twisting with anger and sorrow.

He had no idea.

-----

A fair walk from the university, Kalais sat on a bench beneath the night sky, the distant hum of the celebration fading into silence. The cool breeze pricked at her skin, crisp and invigorating, yet it did little to soothe the ache in her chest.

"I'm sorry..." she grimaced.

Her eyes fell to the grass, shame whirling through her like a fever. She had left Emmrich behind, but it was for the best. As insufferable as his colleagues might have been, they belonged in his world—she didn't. He deserved someone who could stand beside him, not someone who struggled to understand the simplicity of self-abnegation techniques for sub-astral navigation.

"Darling?"

Kalais looked up, startled to see Emmrich standing before her.

"Emmrich?" she whispered, rising to her feet. "I just... needed some fresh air." She forced a smile, unaware that it broke him inside and out. "You didn't have to come looking for me. I was just about to head back in—"

"This," he said, holding up the flowers, "means more to me than all the grand speeches and applause I received here tonight."

Kalais gasped, but quickly looked away, embarrassed. "I didn't think you'd want it," she admitted, her voice low. "It just seemed... out of place."

"Out of place?" Emmrich frowned, then stepped closer, his boots nearly touching hers. "You belong, my darling. You belong with me. Never let anyone tell you otherwise." A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she saw the veracity blazing in his eyes. "Those who tried to belittle you this evening—they have much to learn about strength of character. It seems they've forgotten that I myself came from nothing, and I have no qualms about reminding them."

"Emmrich, you don't have to—"

His hands came up, gently pinning the flowers to her dress like a corsage. "Darling, do you know what the lilac represents?"

Kalais paused, her heart racing. "No. What?"

He smiled handsomely. "Love, innocence, youth, and nostalgia." As the stem slipped into the perfect position, he moved his hands to her waist, admiring the way the petals accentuated her natural beauty. "You are my lilac, my love. The sweetest, most precious thing in my life."

"Emmrich..."

Before she could say another word, he leaned in, capturing her lips with his. It was soft at first; gradual, searching, as if coaxing her back from the depths of her insecurity. His lips were both desperate and patient, and the way he kissed her sent a shiver down her spine.

"Mmhm..." Kalais moaned, melting into him before she could realise it, her fingers gripping his coat.

He felt it—and he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with the barest flick of his tongue. The teasing brush sent heat curling in her stomach, and then lower as one of his hands roamed to the back of her head, his fingers lacing through her hair. Kalais responded in kind, parting her lips further, inviting him in as she slipped her arms over his shoulders.

He tasted of wine and something richer—something uniquely him. His tongue stroked against hers, hungry and lingering, turning the kiss from a gentle reassurance into something far more intoxicating. As another moan escaped her throat, he swallowed it thirstily, his other hand squeezing her waist just a shade tighter.

To remind her she was wanted.

In that moment, the world blurred. There was no university, no judgmental scholars, no crushing self-doubt—only the warmth of Emmrich's mouth, the press of his body, the delicious drag of his tongue against hers. This kiss, possessive and passionate, proved to her that he believed she was worth holding onto.

Then—a shimmer at the edge of their vision. A flicker, soft and ethereal. Another. Then more.

Wisps.

Like fallen stars, they drifted from the trees, gliding in slow, captivating spirals. Drawn to the bond between them, they circled the pair, their spectral glow bathing the moment in a hushed, enchanted light, silvery-blue and striking. Kalais felt their presence, the air thick with magic, and nearly pulled away—but Emmrich wouldn't allow it. His hands tightened, his lips pressing harder into hers, sealing them in this perfect, fleeting eternity.

At that, the wisps pulsed, their light swirling in time with the beat of their hearts, as if blessing their love with mystic approval.

They were meant to be.

When Emmrich finally pulled away, Kalais' eyes gleamed, welling with tears. He always saw her, even when she tried to hide herself.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked suddenly, wiping her tears with his thumb.

"But... your party," she wheezed, basking in the sensation of his touch. "And all that... food," she drooled.

Emmrich laughed, her pain seeming to vanish at the prospect.

"Then let's go feast," he said, cupping her chin. "On the wine and cheese and hors d'oeuvres and... all that." Kalais giggled, making his chest swell with ecstasy. "But only if you promise to be the loudest, most outrageous person in the room. No apologies."

She grinned, hugging his arm. "I can do that."

"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Together, they walked back towards the university with their heads held high, the lilacs a solace in the corner of Emmrich's eye.

[gooobraghhh]

Very sheepishly submitting myself to your tumblr tboy anon harem.

I've never cum before, whenever I've tried to myself it's too much and I tense up, even with toys. I think you could make me, though.

I would love to be ridiculously crossed-- polishing off a mickey of vodka, questionably high content edible just starting to kick in-- while sitting in your lap and laying against you. I wouldn't be in any position to refuse any more weed you'd like to give me, and would happily smoke however much of a joint, or hit a pen a concerning amount of times.

Sober anxieties completely stifled as I lose any higher order of thinking- gradually beginning to pathetically rutt against one of your thighs, trying to grab and caress your tits, breathily whimpering with my face buried in your shoulder.

Obviously, you don't have to let me get what I want. I would be so pliant under your hands that I could easily be moved, maneuvered to wherever you want me to be (I might have to be at this point, it's questionable if I could stand on my own). I asked for it first, it wouldn't be taking advantage to just help me a little to get where I want.

Forced down to my knees, I might try to warn you that I've never sucked cock before, but I can't imagine it would be that coherent. It doesn't matter, anyway. You'd probably have to softly hit me to remind me to open my mouth, and after that you could use my throat as freely as you'd like.

It would be the same when you lay me down. Through hopelessly needly pleas, I might try and say something, but god knows what actually comes out of my mouth. I wouldn't have enough sense to be embarrassed about that, or having lost my pants some time ago, or how I've been leaking through my underwear. I definitely wouldn't have enough sense to be embarrassed about how (as soon as I'm freed from my boxers) I eagerly spread my legs for you. Honestly, that's about as much physical effort as I would be able to put in in my state.

Take me however you'd like, command me to call you whatever you want, and i'd gasp for mommy every time you ram into me- whimpering as you pull out to do it again and again. I would beg for you, unintelligibly babbling as I shake, whining that I was almost there and trying to convince you that I had been a good enough boy to deserve it. That you're so, so good, and I just want you to touch me. Even if you don't, just you readjusting my hips to fuck deeper into my cunt has me yelping and gripping your sheets.

A few more thrusts directly into my g spot and I'm panting and crying, tensing and jerking my hips against yours as I finally cum on your perfect cock. I'd fall limp against the mattress, and probably breathing for a moment before completely passing out.

It wouldn't make too much of a difference, though- I'm still throbbing around you, still a perfectly fine, tight hole. It's not like I would remember anything that happened while I was awake, and definitely not now. There would be no reason not to continue fucking me, no consequences for using me however you want as I pant and mewl beneath you.

It would be a waste *not* to cum deep inside me at least a few times. Maybe more than a few. Enough times that I when I wake up, confused and sick, I'll feel how hard I had been used. I'd still have cum trickling out of me, and know that I was a bitch for breeding.

Shame that I'll never know how hard I came for you, though

-🐏 (if that's not taken!! ⚓ If it is? He/him)

Sorry for the gooner novel. You don't have to post this btw I'm aware of how mf long and possibly weird it is LMAO. I'm not even into this mommy puppyboy shit fr (side eye) this blog just has me feeling some kinda way. Finishing assignments as repentance godbless

Well it’s clear you can’t make yourself cum because the desperation here is just immense. What a dirty fantasy you have. Sheepish is definitely a good way to describe you. I mean you sent me an ask apologizing for this one the next morning. But don’t worry, it’s okay. Some guys are just perverts like you. They can’t help it. Maybe finally cumming would help with your dirty mind, guess we’ll have to find out won’t we? I’ll make sure to get you all fucked up first since otherwise you’re clearly to much of an anxiety ridden mess. You probably do a lot better all strung out and usable

[ahllohehn]

Hello! This is an opportunity for you to yap about ANYTHING you wanted to. That's it, use it however you'd like :D

Post about my Scarian Fashionista AU that I absolutely doubt I'll finish so have my draft notes of my plans before I completely gave up;

“Too common.”

“The design is tacky.”

“Now it’s too simple.”

“Grian, dear, are you even trying at this point?”

“Enough with this. If all your designs are just gonna look like this, I’d rather you already leave and reflect on this.”

Grian flinched as he watched the office door slam on his face, leaving him to glare at nothing but polished wood as he trembled frustratingly in place. 

When he had signed up for a course on Fashion Design, he thought he had been overqualified for the course. After all, he already had plenty of experience in regards to fashion, so he thought that all he needed was to push through and just let his passions and ideas roam free then he’d get his degree easy peasy.

Too bad that reality is often disappointing, and often likes to humble him offensively.

Grian grit his teeth and was about to kick down his professor’s door until a voice piped up and dragged him away before he could create some long time regrets, “Woah there, buddy. Getting a lil’ too heated there, yeah?”

Pearl giggled as she held the shorter man down by his shoulders, disallowing him any opportunities of kicking down the door and potentially murdering their professor.

The future murderer squirmed under her hold for a while before begrudgingly setting his foot down, “I wouldn’t be like this if they weren’t so– so! Urgh!”

The rest of his words were lost as his emotions took over any sort of coherent thought, only having enough awareness to express his frustrations by groaning and whining. He waved his clenched fists and stomped his feet on the carpeted floor like a child throwing a tantrum.

With how he was acting, any student could mistake him for some short freshman first realizing the cruelty of college life. Fortunately, Pearl wasn’t any student and saved him the embarrassment of having to be compared to younger students.

“I know, I know. But if you were gonna get kicked out from university, I’d rather you get kicked out with an honorable reason,” she patted Grian’s back comfortingly, “And murdering a professor because you had a disagreement on some concept designs is not an honorable reason. It would be embarrassing, actually.”

Grian puffed up his cheeks and took a deep breath, steeling himself as he quickly turned on his heel to start brisk walking to a random direction, “Walk,” he announced vaguely, but Pearl was quick to understand and she followed after the other at a slower pace.

Clearly, this wasn’t their first time being in this kind of situation. In a world where standards heighten with every year, every decade, and every fad and trends, designers like them need to get ready for all kinds of heavy rejection, criticism, and judgment. Same can be said for any person who studied and worked under anything visual.

Hopes and dreams were meant to stay as hopes and dreams.

If you even attempt to express those to the world without having the bravery to back it up, it would inevitably face destruction in the hands of the high expectations of the public, and soon enough you’d be left with nothing but an empty shell that has sacrificed it all because they believe in passion over standards.

To battle the frustrations and heavy emotions that came as a result from these sacrifices, Grian and Pearl have learned to make a habit of doing simple things like strolls and walks. Because if you physically tire yourself out, then you wouldn’t have the energy to even impulsively think of rebelling against the norms of society. 

And also because walks are nice. The campus gave them a lot of space to explore, so why not use it, right?

The pair found themselves strolling the halls of the building with Grian leading and Pearl calmly following behind. She didn’t make any attempts to catch up and walk beside the man because one cannot simply match an angry Grian’s pace. The shorter man had so much adrenaline from months upon months of suppressed anger that it was simply impossible to even walk with him properly without getting sore legs the next hour. 

Pearl could only thank whatever god is above for making Grian as loud as he is, “Too common, too tacky– Her face looks too common and her personality is too tacky!” now starts Grian’s monthly ranting session.

“When I try to follow the current trends, she says the design is too overused and plain. But when I try to actually make something unique, she thinks it’s too ambitious and gaudy! It’s like she’s never happy!”

The brunette behind him snorted, “Maybe she wants an equilibrium? Something that’s just right?” she offered, to which her friend rolled his eyes.

“Something just right? Who is she? Freakin’ Goldilocks?!” Grian screeched and ruffled his own hair in distress, slowing down a few steps as he kicked his feet in anger.

Although this kind of reaction would probably gain him some few worried looks, Pearl herself was already too used to this scene and she simply giggled in response, “Maybe she is, you never know.”

Grian sighed out a groan and crossed his arms. His energy slowly simmered down as he eventually slowed down enough to be walking beside Pearl, “How are you so calm about this? I would’ve thought you’d be angry walking with me, but instead you’re just…. Well, walking.”

Pearl grinned wide and puffed up her chest proudly, “Well, contrary to my experiences for the past few terms, things are actually looking up for me!” Grian raised an eyebrow at this, squinting his eyes at the other with either a suspicious look or a look of envy. Probably both.

He tried to act nonchalant about it, like he’s totally not yearning to say the same thing for himself, “All because you’ve got some inspiration, huh?” His question had a teasing edge, making Pearl bashfully laugh.

“Some is undermining it. Gem has been a great source of inspiration. It’s like I’m being spoon fed a new idea everyday,” Pearl boasted enthusiastically that even Grian couldn’t help but flash a smile, “Huh, good for you then. It’s nice that you’ve atleast rekindled any sort of happiness that Professor Goldilocks may have burnt out,” he snorted.

Silence settled for a while with Pearl glancing at Grian like she was trying to figure out what to say to him. She only finally spoke up what was brewing on her mind when he acknowledged her gaze with a tilt of his head.

“Why not get a muse of your own?”

Grian’s face scrunched up at that question, “Of my own?”

“Yeah.”

Grian gave it a thought and he shook his head, “With how I am? I’m better off continuing to do things alone,” he grumbled. 

He was already used to coming up with inspirations for himself on the spot. Because, unlike now, he was actually pretty passion-driven before, fueled with nothing but the dreams he’s held onto since he was young. It’s only unfortunate that he ran out of it because his professor was discouraging and hated everything he came up with, so he started living on thinking that everything he’s doing is inadequate, that he needs to improve his thinking before he could improve himself. It was a ‘he’ problem that he is more than capable of handling alone.

At least, that’s what he’s been persuading himself to think. But the more he thought about the idea of having a muse, the more appealing it sounded. 

Or maybe that was his loneliness speaking.

While Grian was having inner conflicts within himself, Pearl continued to spit out encouraging words herself, “I mean, it’s not like it won’t be worth it,” she nudged the shorter man with an elbow to gain his attention back to her, “We’d need to gather models for our finals anyway.”

The blonde blinked in confusion, “Finals?”

Pearl gave him a weird look, “Our finals, Grian. The one where we’d have to get models to personally show off our designs by the end of the term.”

His expression froze along with his thought process as his brain began to file through any memory regarding his final project.

When he did finally register everything, Grian stopped in his steps to facepalm with both hands, letting out his nth muffled groan that same hour, “I… actually forgot,” he admitted with a whine before releasing his face and staring at Pearl in panic.

The end of the term fashion show. It sounded so ridiculous that it completely slipped Grian’s mind that it would actually be a contributing factor to his grades.

“Where am I even gonna get a muse, much less a model?!” He squeaked out, now resorting to pacing around the empty hallway in circles with his hands tugging on his own locks in distress.

Pearl stood to the side and  couldn't even get a word in before Grian continued on with his monologue of panic, “I can’t just– Kneel and reach out for the sky and pray some god would hear my prayers!” He sounded manic.

The blonde stopped to stand at the ceiling to floor windows that decorated one side of the hallway, gesturing towards the sky through the said window in front of him, “Like, they can’t just drop down a beautiful being out of nowhere!”

As soon as he said that, his dark eyes looked down from the sky and unconsciously magnetized towards a figure outside on campus grounds, seemingly on the lookout for something.

Not that Grian was curious to know anything about what said figure was trying to do. All he knew at that moment was that they.... (I didn't finish this. Just imagine Scar just appeared lol)

[egginfroggin]

Buried Treasure in the Sand, the Lynari Desert

"We once met a man who said he dreamed of finding a great treasure buried in the desert. "Everyone burst into laughter, and told him there was no such thing. "But the moment I saw this place, I felt his dream would surely come true. "The desert glittered like a sea of jewels under that shimmering sun."

~ Opening narration, the Lynari Desert

Talking under the cut:

So this took a while! It would have been up sooner, most likely, but Kirby decided to rot my brain for a while.

This is for my Pokemon/FFCC AU, and is part of what could be considered the main story, following Akari and Rei (or Dawn and Lucas). Return to Sender takes place in the same AU, though that mainly follows the train twins.

I learned a lot doing this, and although I know I could probably polish it more, I just want it to be done so that I don't lose motivation with the project and get discouraged. It's time for it to be finished, so it's finished -- not perfect, but as close as it will get.

Tried emulating the fancy script that they use for the dungeon names for the handwriting; it was tricky. Fun fact, I was so into FFCC when I was younger that I actually thought it'd be fun to absorb the script's fanciness into my own handwriting -- thus, my handwriting was once nigh illegible, but has settled to something halfway between cursive and print, still with some excessive swoopiness here and there.

It's never really stated who the narrator is referring to in the opening narration for the Lynari Desert, but I somehow always assumed that it was Hurdy/Gurdy. He would be the most likely to know of a "treasure" hidden in the desert, after all, though he might not remember why. Also, Gurdy is the one you learn the riddle from, so I guess I always just thought it was him.

Anyway, the man in question is Emmet this time around. What's he doing here? I'd love to tell you, but I'll let y'all ruminate on it because this is getting long and alas, I'm too tired to attempt much more coherent thought.

So, thank you all for reading! I am open to constructive criticism, especially about backgrounds and shading, as I consider myself to struggle with those.

Thank you very, very much, and I hope you all have a wonderful, blessed day! (ˊᗜˋ)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ* <3

(program: krita; time taken: about 28 hours, cumulative)

[kodeeffa]

Good morning! Blackmail anon from a couple of weeks ago. I was too stuffed and horny last night to even string together coherent sentences last night but wanted to let you knowI really pushed myself yesterday.

I had been going through ny usual Saturday routine (1/2 dozen glazed donuts with a pb/milk heavy cream shake for breakfast, Italian mix sub and chips for lunch) when I got a last minute invite to a friend's birthday party.

I was already pretty full so at this point so I wasn't even thinking about food but as soon as I got there I saw a party tray of wings and two homemade Sicilian pizzas. Needless to say I spent a lot of time hanging around the food table and probably polished off at least ten wings and a slice of each pie.

By the time cake came around I was so full I felt sick (I must have looked ridiculous, trying to burp quietly with my bloated gut poking out in front of me). I tried to decline cake but was pressured into having a bite, once that buttercream frosting hit my tongue after all the savory I had just had, of course I found a little room.

After the cake I felt like I was going to pass out. I sat for a little before excusing myself and heading home. But halfway through the drive, while absentmindedly rubbing my now tender gut, I saw a sign for a Wendy's and I knew what I had to do. That I wouldn't be done or satisfied until I was completely stuffed - to the point where I couldn't even move.

I ordered a double 1/4 lb burger with bacon meal and tried to order ten nuggets but the drive thru cashier told me it was buy one get one so I didn't question them and got twenty. The burger didn't even make it all the way home, I dumped the nuggets and fries into a bowl and got into bed.

I was definitely not hungry, in fact my body was continuously sending out waves of pain from my midsection, begging me to stop, but I was compelled, possessed even, to get every last bite in. It felt like a fever dream, mechanically chewing and swallowing, sipping soda and burping between bites to try to give my poor gut some relief. Just wanting there to be more- more of me, more food, more of this feeling of being an overstuffed hog ready to pop.

I don't remover when I started touching myself, or which I finished first, myself or the food, but I can tell you that I ate every bite and had one of the most world-shattering orgasms of my life at that moment before passing out, only to wake an hour later with the worst stomach ache imaginable. I dragged myself to the bathroom, had some tums and got back into bad, cradling and rubbing my aching belly the rest of the night, in between dreams of how massive I would get if I continued on this path of absolute gluttony.

So yeah that was a fun one and just thought you'd like to hear about it 😘

Well well well piglet it sounds like you’re doing everything right. ☺️ I’m so proud of you for being so so so good for Mommy.

[ethereal-writes]

An Unwanted Interruption (Ft. Lucifer and GN!MC)

Warnings: Slight romantic implications? (Lucifer has a crush on the MC if you squint)

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: I've had a bunch of Christmas/winter themed stories in my drafts for a while, I figured it was about time to polish them up and post them! This will be the first of many :D This is also somehow the second Lucifer-centric fic I've ever written. This concept had me giggling the entire time I wrote it, so I hope you enjoy it!

I think I added all the right warnings, if I should add any, please let me know!

-Ethereal ^J^

Story below, please don't claim as your own!

Lucifer had agreed to take you to the human world during the holiday season.

While Christmas in the Devildom was alright, they hadn’t begun celebrating the holiday until much more recently, when Christmas became less about religion and more about spending time with those you love.

Christmas in the Devildom didn’t have the same history and tradition that the human world did.

Which is why you were so ecstatic, even if you were only going to a mall for a few hours.

“Come on, let’s go!” You said impatiently, bouncing on your heels.

“The human world is cold this time of year, is it not?” Lucifer asked, buttoning up his jacket.

You could’ve sworn he started going even slower just to spite you.

“It’s cold, but it’s not that cold,” you emphasized, gesturing to your outfit. You two were going straight inside, and you didn’t feel like lugging a ton of winter gear around. “You know there’s heating in the mall, right?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes but finished buttoning the rest of his coat quickly. He tugged on his gloves, then turned to you. “Very well, let’s get going then.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you a little closer. “So the both of us will be teleported,” he claimed.

He mumbled something you couldn’t be bothered to decipher -though it sounded vaguely Latin- and next thing you knew, the two of you were standing in an empty alleyway.

“Holy crap, we’re here!” You exclaimed, unable to look away from the snow glittering in the sunlight. Even as the cold wind whipped at you, you could still feel the faint traces of the sun’s warmth.

“Of course we’re here,” Lucifer scoffed. “Did you really think I’d fail?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, though your mock-irritation was quickly replaced by excitement once more. “Now, come on! I know where we are! The mall is this way!”

You grabbed his hand and began leading the way through the snowy streets. If Lucifer had a problem with that, he didn’t say so.

With the enthusiastic pace you’d set, the two of you had made pretty good time, and were by the front entrance no more than ten minutes later. The first set of automatic doors opened, and the two of you stepped inside.

You sighed in relief as a wave of warm air hit you, then you turned to Lucifer. “So, what did you want to do first?”

“I don’t have a preference,” He answered, tugging off his gloves and tucking them into his pocket. “I figured that I would allow you to choose what we did today, seeing as you’re more familiar with this environment than I am.”

“Oh!” You paused a second, thinking. Lucifer always took your opinions into consideration, of course, but him having none of his own was exceptionally rare. “Well, when I’m here, I usually go to-“

You noticed a woman had approached the two of you, patiently waiting for you to finish your conversation.

“Ah…can we help you?” Lucifer asked.

She smiled, pulling a book out of her bag— Oh no.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior?”

You were certain you had an expression of absolute horror on your face and couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Thankfully, Lucifer took the reins and answered. “Oh, no thank you.” He smiled at the woman politely.

“At least take this, then?” She held the book in his direction, and he recoiled.

“I’m sorry, madam, but I can’t touch that. I may literally burst into flames.”

You brought your hand up to cover your mouth. You weren’t sure if you were absolutely mortified or about to start crying from laughter.

“What, are you a Satanist?” She asked, scowling.

“Certainly not,” Lucifer said, sounding offended at the mere suggestion. “He wishes.”

That response was enough to push you over the edge, unable to contain your laughter. This prompted strange looks from literally everyone around you, but you didn’t care.

The woman stared at you a long, long moment before she finally turned around and left, which only made you laugh harder.

Lucifer looked at you a moment. Though his lips were pressed together, you could see him cracking a smile too.

“I-I’m sorry!” You exclaimed between fits. “I- I didn’t know what to do!”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t the first time, and I’m quite certain it won’t be the last time someone approaches me about my father. I’ve gotten good at responding. You, on the other hand…” He simply smirked at you, which made you start laughing all over again.

[bluelavendre]

Title: Not just for the cats, but for us.

Pjm x reader Fluff

Highschool AU

I love cats n dogs but when i see jimin i just think about cats. -bluelle ------------------------------------------------------------------

Her fingers danced gracefully across the piano keys, coaxing a melody so pure and enchanting that it seemed to breathe life into the stillness of the room. The familiar strains of Für Elise flowed effortlessly from her hands, each note brimming with emotion, weaving a story only she could tell. The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over her figure as she sat poised, her back straight yet relaxed, her head gently tilting with the rise and fall of the music.

From my vantage point by the door, hidden just enough to remain unseen, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Her face was serene, her expression a delicate blend of focus and passion, as though the music was not merely played but pulled from her very soul. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, betraying a secret joy she seemed to share with the keys alone.

I leaned quietly against the doorframe, afraid to step closer, lest I break the spell she had cast on the room—and on me. My heart raced, not from nervousness, but from the sheer beauty of the moment. Each note she played wrapped around me, drawing me into her world, a world I longed to be a part of.

The air between us felt electric, though she had no idea I was there. I admired her from the shadows, captivated by the way her slender fingers moved with such precision, her every gesture exuding elegance. The faint scent of the polished wood piano mixed with the aroma of lavender from the room, grounding me in a moment that felt like a dream.

She was art in motion, and I, the silent observer, could do nothing but stand there, mesmerized, wishing the music—and this fleeting, perfect moment—would never end.

“Yah! Jimin-shi, what are you doing over there?” Umji’s voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me out of the quiet reverie I had sunk into while watching her play the piano. My heart jumped, and without thinking, I clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her instantly.

“Keep it down, Umji!” I hissed, glancing nervously toward the piano room to see if anyone had noticed the commotion.

Her eyes narrowed at me, and I could tell she was about to let me have it once I removed my hand. “Ah… you creep! Why would you—” But before she could finish her protest, another voice rang out, interrupting us both.

“Jimin-ah! Umji-ah! You lovebirds need to get a room or something—you’re literally in school!”

It was Luna, striding down the hall with her usual flair, a teasing grin plastered across her face. And beside her... there she was. Y/n.

“Luna, stop it. Leave them alone,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes at her friend before turning to us. Her voice was calm, but there was a faint smile playing on her lips, as if she found the situation mildly amusing. “Sorry about her. She’s just a bit much sometimes.”

I was frozen, my brain scrambling to form a coherent response. “I—I, uh… it’s fine. Hehe,” I managed, though my voice cracked awkwardly on the last word. My cheeks burned as I felt my face flush red.

Beside me, Umji elbowed me sharply in the ribs, her way of saying pull yourself together. I shot her a look, but before I could say anything else, Y/n spoke again.

“We should get going. Bye, Jimin-shi, Umji!” She waved lightly, her smile warm and effortless, before walking off with Luna.

I stood there for a moment, staring after her retreating figure, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

“You’re so awkward, dude,” Umji muttered, shaking her head as we started walking toward our next class.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. I could still feel the heat in my cheeks, and the ghost of Y/n’s smile lingered in my mind.

As we walked, I glanced at Umji, who was humming a random tune. She had been my best friend since elementary school, always there to back me up—or call me out. And, as annoying as she could be sometimes, I wouldn’t trade her for anyone.

But no matter how much I tried to focus on the next class or Umji’s chatter, my thoughts kept drifting back to that room, to her hands on the piano, and to the way she smiled at me, even if it was just for a moment.

Y/n was the top of the class—a title she carried effortlessly, like it was second nature. She wasn’t just academically brilliant; she had an artistry about her that captivated everyone who got to know her. She could play the piano with a grace that turned music into magic, and her skill with the violin was just as breathtaking. Every note she played seemed to come alive, telling stories no words could capture.

But it wasn’t just her talent that set her apart—it was her humility. Despite how accomplished she was, she never bragged or sought attention. She was the kind of person who’d stay after class to help someone struggling with homework or quietly cheer on her classmates during competitions. She was kind in a way that made you feel special, even if it was just a small smile or a quick “you can do it.”

And then there was her beauty. She was... radiant. Her smile could light up a room, with those perfect dimples framing it so effortlessly. Her eyes, deep and expressive, held the kind of warmth that made you feel seen and understood, even from across the room. Her presence alone made everything around her feel brighter.

I couldn’t help but let my thoughts linger on her, playing out memories of her laughter, the way her hair glimmered under the sunlight, and the way her voice carried a natural melody when she spoke. My mind began to wander further—her smile, her dimples, her eyes, her—

BRRRIIIING!

The sharp clang of the bell snapped me out of my trance. I jolted in my seat, my heart racing as if someone had caught me red-handed. Shaking my head, I tried to refocus, but my thoughts lingered stubbornly on Y/n.

“Ugh, focus, Jimin,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing my things for the next class. But as much as I tried to concentrate on anything else, I knew it was pointless. She had a way of staying in my mind, like a melody I couldn’t shake off.

“What will you be doing this weekend?” Umji asked as we walked down the hall, her voice casual but curious, like she always was.

I shrugged, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “Buying groceries for my cat. He’s running low on food, and he’s already giving me those judgmental stares.”

Umji snorted. “Your cat owns you, doesn’t he?”

“Pretty much,” I admitted with a small grin. “What about you?”

She let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Dad’s forcing me to go with him fishing.”

“Fishing?” I raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Sounds fun.”

“Fun? Are you kidding? Sitting in a boat for hours, in the sun, waiting for something to bite? No, thank you.” She tossed her head back like it was the worst thing imaginable.

“Still…” I said, nudging her arm lightly, “quality time with your dad isn’t the worst thing in the world. You’ll probably catch something to cook for dinner, right?”

She sighed, half-defeated. “I guess. He does get weirdly happy when I go with him, so... I’ll survive. But if he makes me gut a fish again, I’m retiring as his daughter.”

I laughed at that, picturing her struggling with a fish while her dad gave her instructions. “Retiring, huh? Let me know how that goes. I hear being a cat parent isn’t much easier.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, and we kept walking, her rant about fishing fading into the comfortable rhythm of our banter.

-

Saturday I woke up later than usual, sunlight streaming through the blinds and warming my room. Jenga, my cat, was already awake, purring loudly as he rubbed himself against my feet, his way of demanding attention.

“I know, I know. I have to buy you food,” I mumbled, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. He purred even louder, his tail swishing happily.

After a quick breakfast, I got ready and headed out to the pet shop. The cool morning air felt refreshing as I walked, the streets already busy with people running their weekend errands. When I entered the shop, the familiar scent of pet supplies and the faint chatter of other customers greeted me.

Grabbing a basket, I started browsing the shelves, scanning for the brand of food Jenga liked. My mind was preoccupied with deciding between flavors—salmon or chicken—when something made me stop in my tracks.

There she was.

Y/n stood a few aisles away, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she held up a cat toy. She was laughing softly, her voice like music, and beside her was Luna, her ever-energetic friend.

“Lu, should I get this for Hubby?” Y/n asked, holding up a small mouse-shaped toy and tilting her head in mock seriousness.

“Hubby deserves the best,” Luna teased, grinning. “You should get the fancy one with the bells.”

Before I could even think of turning away or hiding behind a shelf, Y/n’s eyes flickered in my direction. For a moment, time seemed to slow. She smiled warmly when she saw me, lifting her hand in a small wave.

“Hi, Jimin-shi!” she called out.

Her smile—those dimples, her bright eyes—it hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless. My heart stuttered, and I felt an embarrassing warmth creep up my neck.

I tried to play it cool, giving a small wave back and managing an awkward “H-hey.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her trademark smirk spreading across her face. “Well, look who it is,” she said, nudging Y/n with her elbow.

Y/n didn’t seem to notice her friend’s teasing. She smiled at me again before turning back to the shelf. I stood there for a moment, feeling like my legs had turned to jelly, before realizing I was still holding the basket awkwardly in one hand.

I needed to move—or at least figure out how to breathe again.

Luna’s phone buzzed loudly, breaking the moment. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered with a grin. “Hey, Jungkook. Yeah, I’m still at the pet shop. Wait, you’re already there? Ugh, fine. I’ll come grab you.”

She turned to me before I could even process what was happening. “Hey, Jimin. You wouldn’t mind looking after my sweet little bestie here while I fetch Jungkook, right?”

“Uh—”

“Great, thanks!” Luna said, not waiting for an answer. She patted my back with enough force to nearly knock me forward and started walking away.

“Luna!” Y/n called after her, but her friend just waved without turning around.

“She’s something else,” Y/n said, laughing softly as she turned back to me.

“Yeah, she really is,” I replied, trying to suppress the awkwardness rising in my chest.

Y/n smiled at me, tilting her head slightly. “So… you have a cat?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, nodding quickly. “His name’s Jenga. He’s kind of a spoiled prince, but, uh, I guess that’s my fault.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Jenga? That’s such a cute name! I have a cat too.”

“Really?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “What’s their name?”

“Hubby,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“Hubby?” I echoed, trying not to smile too much.

“Yeah, I know it’s a weird name,” she admitted, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. “Luna started calling him that as a joke, and it just stuck. Now every time I call for him, it feels like I’m talking to my nonexistent husband.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “That’s actually adorable. So what’s Hubby like?”

She grinned. “Oh, he’s the sassiest little thing. He acts like he’s royalty. He’ll only eat out of specific bowls, and if I don’t give him attention the moment he demands it, he’ll knock something over just to prove a point.”

“That sounds... way too familiar,” I said with a laugh. “Jenga does the same thing. I swear, cats are masterminds. They know exactly how to manipulate us.”

“Right?!” she agreed, her laughter blending with mine. “But as much trouble as Hubby is, I can’t imagine not having him around. He’s basically my baby.”

For a moment, we both stood there, exchanging stories about our cats, the awkwardness between us melting away. The way she talked about Hubby—with so much affection and warmth—made my heart race just a little faster.

As our laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Y/n brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at me, her dimples showing just enough to make my heart skip a beat.

“We should arrange a kitty playdate for them,” she said, her eyes sparkling with the idea.

“A playdate?” I repeated, slightly caught off guard. The thought of Jenga interacting with another cat—let alone her cat—was both amusing and slightly terrifying. “I don’t know if Jenga plays well with others. He kind of thinks he’s the king of the world.”

Y/n chuckled, a soft sound that made me smile automatically. “Hubby’s the same way. He’s probably going to think Jenga’s his rival or something. But it could be fun, don’t you think? Watching them try to figure each other out?”

I could already picture it: Jenga glaring at Hubby, trying to assert dominance, while Hubby casually ignored him, lounging like the diva Y/n had described. The image made me laugh. “Yeah, it would definitely be interesting.”

“See?” she said, nudging me lightly with her elbow. “It’s settled, then. We’ll pick a day, and they can meet. You can bring Jenga to my place—there’s more space for them to run around.”

Her words caught me off guard. Her place? My mind scrambled to keep up. “Oh, uh, yeah. That sounds great,” I managed to say, trying not to sound too eager.

“Awesome,” she said with a grin, clearly pleased with the idea. “Just be warned—Hubby will probably show off. He loves an audience.”

“Well, Jenga might try to steal the show,” I joked, feeling a little more at ease now.

“Perfect. A little friendly competition never hurt anyone,” she teased, her laughter ringing out again.

As the conversation shifted back to the shelves of pet supplies, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of excitement. A playdate for our cats sounded like a silly idea on the surface, but the thought of spending more time with Y/n—even under the guise of being responsible cat owners—was something I wouldn’t dare turn down.

Just as the conversation between Y/n and I was flowing, Luna came back into view, this time accompanied by none other than Jungkook, her boyfriend. He was carrying a bag of snacks, looking like he’d just come from somewhere else, his casual demeanor matching Luna’s usual energetic one.

“There goes my mom and dad,” Y/n murmured under her breath, but I caught it, a soft chuckle escaping me at her playful tone. It was obvious she was referring to how Luna and Jungkook always seemed like the perfect pair of mismatched parents in their friend group.

Luna spotted us immediately, her bright eyes locking on Y/n before turning to me with a teasing grin. “So, have you two been making cat plans or whatever?”

Y/n and I exchanged a quick, amused glance. “Yeah, we’ve been discussing a kitty playdate for Hubby and Jenga,” I said, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

Luna raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jungkook. “Oh? This I’ve got to see,” she said with a grin. “Are you sure the cats won’t end up fighting each other instead of playing?”

“It’s going to be fun to watch either way,” Y/n replied, her voice light, almost teasing. “But I’m more worried about what Jenga will do to Hubby. He thinks he’s top cat around here.”

Jungkook chuckled, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Sounds like a good time. Let me know when it happens. I’ll be watching from the sidelines, ready to break up any cat fights.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “I’ll definitely let you know,” I promised, feeling a sense of excitement build at the thought of actually seeing Y/n again outside of the store.

Luna turned her attention back to Y/n, her tone shifting slightly. “Have you finished shopping?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got everything,” Y/n said, adjusting the bag in her hand. “I just need to grab a few more things at home, but I’m good for now.”

“Well, then,” Luna said, her expression turning mischievous, “we’ll leave you two alone now. Bye, Jimin-shi!” She waved at me, a wink accompanying her farewell.

“Bye, Jimin!” Y/n added with a soft, genuine smile.

I waved back, a bit flustered but smiling nonetheless. “See you, Y/n,” I said, my voice a little more soft than I meant it to be.

Luna and Jungkook started walking toward the exit, Luna talking animatedly about some random topic, while Y/n lingered for a moment, her gaze holding mine.

“Catch you later, Jimin,” she said, her smile lingering for just a bit longer than usual.

As she turned to follow her friends, she paused, glancing back at me with a thoughtful look. “Hey, um... do you think you could give me your number?” she asked, her voice slightly quieter but still warm. “For the cat playdate, you know… just in case we need to set a time or something.”

I blinked, a bit surprised but also excited. “Oh—yeah, of course,” I stammered, quickly pulling out my phone and unlocking it. “Here, just—just type it in.”

Y/n took the phone from my hand with a small, soft laugh, her fingers brushing against mine as she typed in her number. “Thanks, Jimin. I’ll text you soon about the playdate.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I said, feeling my heart race a little faster as she handed the phone back.

With one final smile, Y/n waved again. “See you soon, Jimin.”

“See you,” I managed to say, my thoughts a little scattered as I watched her walk away, feeling a mixture of disbelief and excitement.

She has my number. My mind kept repeating the words over and over, and I could feel my heart race a little faster with each thought. I watched as Y/n walked off with Luna and Jungkook, the feeling of her smile still lingering in my chest like a warmth that wouldn’t fade.

I couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

But just as I was lost in the moment, the sound of a locker slamming shut broke my daydreaming. “YAH, why you smiling like an idiot again?”

I jumped, startled by the voice. It was Umji, of course, standing at the end of the hallway with an exasperated look on her face. She was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, giving me a look that clearly said, she knew something was up.

“Umji, can you not?!” I said, trying to hide my grin but failing miserably.

She took one step closer, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t try to act innocent now. I know that look. You’re definitely thinking about something, and it’s probably about Y/n, isn’t it?”

My face flushed, and I quickly tried to wipe the goofy smile off my face, but it was no use. “It’s not like that...” I muttered, though even I knew I wasn’t fooling her.

Umji let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless, Jimin. I knew it the moment I saw you two talking. You’re already all over the place in your head, aren’t you?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Umji was right.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she said, crossing her arms again. “You’ve been staring at her like some lovesick puppy for weeks. And now—now, you have her number? Pfft, you’re doomed.”

“Thanks for the support, Umji,” I muttered sarcastically, but the truth was, her teasing only made me more flustered.

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously,” she said, her voice softening just a little, “if you like her, you should do something about it. Don’t just stand there grinning like a fool.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “I’m not just grinning...”

“Oh, you’re totally grinning,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “You’ve got that look in your eyes that says you’re definitely going to daydream about her later.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it. But let’s just get to class already.”

Umji just laughed. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re so obvious, Jimin.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t hide the goofy smile creeping back onto my face as we walked toward our next class.

The bell rang, signaling the start of lunch, and I made my way to my locker, waiting for Umji like usual. As I leaned against the cool metal, I couldn’t help but smile again—thinking about the exchange earlier with Y/n. I must've looked like a complete idiot, but I didn’t care. She had my number. She actually asked for it.

"She's again late," I muttered to myself, leaning a little more into the locker as I checked my watch. Umji was always running behind, and I’d gotten used to it by now.

"Hey, Jimin."

I froze. That voice.

I turned around quickly, and there she was—Y/n, standing a few feet away with that soft smile of hers. My heart skipped a beat, and I mentally kicked myself for sounding so obvious earlier.

“H-hey,” I stammered, trying my best not to blush like an idiot.

Y/n chuckled at my flustered reaction, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, she looked even more at ease, like she was used to making people nervous.

“So, I was wondering,” she started, her eyes meeting mine, “are you free on Saturday?”

I blinked, surprised. Saturday? Was she seriously asking me this now? My mind raced, trying to process her words. "Yeah, totally," I said a little too quickly, my enthusiasm slipping through.

Her smile widened, and for a second, I could swear the world around us quieted. “Great! I was thinking, since we’re going to have that kitty playdate, maybe we can do something else after? Like grab a bite to eat or... you know, just hang out?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” I said, my voice a little steadier now, though my heart was still racing. I couldn’t believe it. She was asking me to hang out. Outside of school. Outside of the cat playdate. This wasn’t just casual anymore.

"Alright," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "I’ll text you the details, but I just wanted to check in if you were free."

“I’m free,” I replied instantly, a smile tugging at my lips that I couldn’t hide.

“Perfect,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll see you then, Jimin.”

Before I could say anything else, she waved and walked off, leaving me standing there, practically glowing. My brain was still processing everything, but one thing was clear—I had just made plans with Y/n. Not just for the cats, but for us.

Umji was beside me smirking “ooooooh. He’s gonna get laid” she said teasingly “Shut up umji!”

Saturday came faster than I expected, like a timelapse in my mind. I woke up at 6 a.m., my heart already racing with excitement. I had the whole day to prepare for Y/n’s visit—and I wasn’t about to let anything slip through the cracks. The house had to be perfect.

I started with the basics: wiping down the tables, vacuuming every inch of the floor. I was determined to make the place presentable, even though I knew it wasn’t exactly the cleanest house on the block. But for Y/n? I wanted everything to be spotless.

As I moved from room to room, my mom appeared, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she came down the stairs. She blinked a few times, trying to wake up. “Son, why so early?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

I paused for a second, a little startled, but quickly replied, “Sorry, Mom. I just have a guest later.”

Her eyebrows raised, and she gave me a teasing smile, her sleepiness vanishing in an instant. “She must be special, huh? Well, I’ll let you finish, and I’ll cook breakfast later. I still have to go to work.”

“Love you, Mom,” I said, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to spread across my face.

“I love you too, Jimin,” she replied, her voice softening as she patted me on the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen.

I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as I continued cleaning. This wasn’t just some casual hangout anymore. Y/n was coming over—for real. And I wanted everything to go smoothly.

“Food bowls, check. Water, check. Extra kitty treats, check.” I ran through my checklist one last time, making sure everything was set. I wanted to make sure Jenga and Hubby—Y/n’s cat—had everything they could possibly need for their playdate.

Finally, I stopped and looked down at my own cat, who was sitting on the couch, watching me with those big, judgmental eyes. “Jenga, please be a good boy,” I said, trying to sound confident.

Jenga responded with a soft meow, almost like he was agreeing—though I wasn’t sure if he understood.

I sighed, giving him a last pat before hearing the doorbell ring. My heart skipped a beat. There she was.

I rushed to the door, quickly fixing my hair one last time, though I didn’t have much time to do anything other than take a deep breath. I opened it, and there she was—Y/n, standing outside with a cat carrier bag in hand, looking just as calm and beautiful as ever.

“Hey,” I greeted, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice. “You’re here.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Yep! Got Hubby all packed up and ready for his first playdate.” She shifted the cat bag, and I could hear the soft meowing from inside. “Hope Jenga’s ready too.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, the excitement building. “I think he’s ready. I hope they get along.”

“Well, if they don’t, we’ve got treats to bribe them,” Y/n laughed, walking inside after I stepped aside to let her in.

As she entered, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. It was happening. Y/n was here. And this wasn’t just a casual hangout anymore—it was something more.

Jenga and Hubby just stood there, staring at each other. The silence between them was almost awkward, as if they were sizing each other up. Jenga, usually the more energetic one, was completely still, his eyes locked on Hubby.

Y/n pulled out her phone, ready to capture the moment. She held it up, her grin widening. “Wow, for the first time he’s like that,” she said, her voice full of amusement as she watched Jenga’s uncharacteristically calm behavior.

I couldn’t help but laugh, too. Jenga usually couldn’t sit still for five seconds, let alone stand there quietly. “Yeah, he’s usually a lot more... active,” I said, eyes still on my cat. “Jenga’s... friendly? Or he’s planning something?”

Y/n chuckled, her fingers lightly tapping the screen of her phone as she recorded. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just being cautious. Hubby can be a little intimidating at first, but once they get comfortable...”

Jenga slowly took a few steps forward, and Hubby blinked, then casually stretched out a paw. It was like a silent invitation. I raised an eyebrow, watching the two of them interact.

“Looks like he’s warming up,” I said, a little surprised.

Y/n laughed softly, still recording. “Maybe they’ll be best buds by the end of the day.”

For a moment, it felt like everything was perfectly aligned—Jenga and Hubby meeting each other, Y/n and I sharing a moment together. I couldn’t help but feel like I was experiencing something special.

A sudden crack of thunder made both of us jump. Y/n let out a small gasp, clutching the strap of her bag as she turned toward the window. Rain was now pouring heavily, streaking down the glass in thick rivulets. The sky outside had darkened, the storm rolling in quicker than either of us had expected.

“Oh no,” she sighed, pressing her palm against the windowpane. “Looks like we’re stuck in here, Hubs.” She glanced down at her cat, then back at me, her expression soft but questioning. “If that’s fine for you, Jiminshi?”

I swallowed, forcing myself to play it cool, even though my heart had already started racing. “That’s totally fine,” I said with a smile, trying to ignore the sudden warmth creeping up my neck.

As the storm outside raged on, the softest, most unexpected sight caught our attention—Jenga and Hubby, snuggled up in the corner, fast asleep. Jenga, the same cat who rarely showed affection, was curled up against Hubby like they’d been best friends forever.

Y/n’s eyes practically sparkled as she clasped her hands together. “Aww,” she whispered, her voice filled with pure adoration. Her eyes formed little hearts as she stared at the two furry companions, completely mesmerized.

I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. “It’s very unusual for Jenga to be this... cuddly.”

Y/n turned to me, her cheeks still carrying the trace of a smile. “Maybe he just needed the right company,” she mused.

I nodded, before suddenly remembering—I should be a good host. “Y/n, do you want something to eat? Or drink?” I asked as I opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for anything worth offering.

“A water will be fine, please,” she replied sweetly, shifting her focus from the window back to me.

I grabbed a bottle and handed it to her, our fingers brushing slightly. It was barely a touch, but even that small contact made my chest tighten. I cleared my throat, trying to think of something else to keep my nerves from making me awkward.

“Do you want to play video games while the cats are... contained?” I asked, glancing toward the corner where they were still peacefully curled up.

Y/n grinned, twisting the cap off her water. “Sure,” she said. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you, Jimin.”

I smirked, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “We’ll see about that.”

I set up the console and handed her a controller. We started off with a simple racing game, but soon, things turned competitive.

“Jimin, you’re so bad at this,” Y/n teased, giggling as she zoomed past my car for the third time.

I groaned. “I swear my controller is broken. There’s no way you’re this good.”

She laughed, nudging my arm playfully. “Excuses, excuses.”

The next game we picked was a battle-style one, where we had to fight against each other.

“Prepare to lose,” I declared confidently.

But within minutes, Y/n had completely destroyed me.

“No way! You practice this, don’t you?” I accused, eyes wide as my character got knocked out.

She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. “I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you!”

The room was filled with laughter, playful bickering, and the occasional “No fair!” from me every time she won. The rain continued to pour outside, but inside, it felt warm and alive.

After what felt like hours of intense gaming, I finally managed to win a round.

“HA! Take that!” I cheered, throwing my hands in the air.

Y/n pouted. “Beginner’s luck.”

I grinned. “Nah, that was pure skill.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you this one.”

I looked at her, smiling to myself. This stormy day, which could’ve been dull and uneventful, had turned into something so unexpectedly fun. Y/n’s laughter, her presence—it made the whole afternoon feel special.

Maybe being stuck inside wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

All the way to school, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. My steps were light, almost skippy, and there was an undeniable happiness bubbling inside me. I finally found a girl who matched my freak, someone who made me laugh, who made my heart race in the best way possible.

“Yah! Weirdo,” Umji’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she nudged me with her elbow, a teasing smirk on her face.

I turned to her, still grinning. “Umj-ah, I had the best day of my life!” I practically sang, my eyes twinkling with excitement.

Umji raised an eyebrow before dramatically rolling her eyes. “Lovestruck puppy, aish,” she sighed, shaking her head.

I ignored her sarcasm and clutched my chest like I was in some kind of romance drama. “I’m serious! Saturday was... amazing. We played games, the cats actually got along, and—” I stopped myself, suddenly realizing how ridiculous I must’ve sounded.

Umji smirked. “Uh-huh. And let me guess, you kept staring at her like a lost puppy the whole time?”

I cleared my throat, trying to act unbothered. “I-I did not—”

She cut me off with a loud gasp. “You totally did!”

“Shut up!” I groaned, covering my face as my ears burned red.

Umji just laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the school gates. “Ah, Jimin, my dear friend, you’ve got it bad.”

I sighed, but deep down, I knew she was right. And honestly? I didn’t mind one bit.

We arrived at school, and just as I was about to step inside, Umji suddenly nudged me hard in the ribs.

"Ow! Umji, stop with the—" I started to protest, rubbing my side.

"Yah! Your crush is coming!" she whisper-shouted, eyes twinkling with mischief.

My breath hitched as I instinctively looked up—and there she was. Y/n, walking through the school gates, her hair slightly tousled by the morning breeze, looking effortlessly pretty as always. She was chatting with Luna, her laughter ringing like a melody in the air.

Panic set in. I wasn’t ready for this. Was my hair okay? Did I look weird? Oh god, what if she noticed how stupidly happy I was just a second ago?

"Act normal," Umji muttered, trying to stifle her laugh.

I straightened up, attempting to look cool and composed, but my body betrayed me. My backpack nearly slipped off my shoulder, and when I tried to fix it, I almost tripped over my own feet.

"Smooth," Umji deadpanned.

Before I could recover, Y/n caught sight of me and smiled. "Good morning, Jimin!"

That was it. That was all it took for my brain to short-circuit.

"H-Hey! G-Good morning!" I stammered like an absolute fool.

Umji snorted beside me. "Lovestruck puppy," she muttered under her breath.

I ignored her. Y/n took a small step closer, tilting her head slightly. “So... up for another kitty playdate next week?”

I blinked, completely caught off guard. Did she just—? Was she asking me to hang out again?

"U-Uh, yeah! Totally! I mean—yeah, that’d be cool!" I blurted out way too enthusiastically.

Y/n giggled. “Great! Hubby had fun too, so let’s plan it soon.”

She gave me one last smile before walking off with Luna, leaving me frozen in place, heart pounding like a drum.

I turned to Umji, who was already shaking her head. "Jimin, you are so obvious."

I let out a dreamy sigh. "I don't even care."

Umji groaned. "You're officially hopeless."

But honestly? I was perfectly fine with that.

Saturdays had officially become my favorite days.

Every week, without fail, Y/n would arrive at my doorstep, carrying Hubby in his little travel bag, a warm smile on her face that never failed to send my heart into overdrive. The moment the door opened, Jenga would perk up, already expecting his new playmate, and the excitement in the air was almost contagious.

"Jiminshi, I think they recognize each other now," Y/n said with a giggle one Saturday afternoon as we watched the two cats sniffing and circling each other.

I laughed, watching as Jenga playfully batted at Hubby’s tail before darting away. "They probably think they own the place now."

Each Saturday felt like a little adventure of its own. Some days, we'd just lounge around, watching as our cats zoomed across the living room, knocking over everything in their way. Other times, we’d try to get them to wear tiny outfits—though that usually ended with us getting swatted at while Y/n cried from laughter.

And then, of course, there were the video game battles.

“You’re so going down today,” I smirked as I handed Y/n a controller, settling onto the couch.

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Jimin, I’ve destroyed you every single time. What makes you think today is different?”

“Because I practiced,” I declared proudly.

And yet, ten minutes later, I was groaning in defeat while Y/n laughed victoriously beside me. “You’re hopeless,” she teased, nudging my shoulder.

I didn’t mind losing. Not when it meant seeing her smile like that.

Other Saturdays, we'd just talk—about school, life, our childhoods. I learned that Y/n had always wanted a cat but had to wait until she was older to get one. I told her about how Jenga had randomly appeared outside my house one day and refused to leave.

One afternoon, as the sun cast a golden glow through my window, she leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You know... these Saturdays are kinda my favorite now."

I almost dropped the glass of water I was holding. "Really?"

She turned her head to look at me, her expression soft. "Yeah. It’s fun. It’s... nice spending time like this."

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"Yeah," I managed to say, clearing my throat. "It really is."

Jenga and Hubby curled up together on the rug, their tails intertwined as they drifted off to sleep. Meanwhile, my heart raced, knowing that next Saturday, she’d be here again.

And the Saturday after that.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, I’d finally tell her just how much these Saturdays meant to me.

"Dude, are you really just gonna stay like that forever?" Umji said, plopping down beside me as I set down the book I was reading—How to Get Your Crush to Like You Back.

"Like what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She gave me an exaggerated look before motioning toward the book. "Duh. Reading that without even applying any of the stuff it says." She took a sip from her water bottle, watching me like she was waiting for me to realize something obvious.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "I just... I don’t know, Umji." My fingers fiddled with the edge of the book. "I don’t know how to ask her out."

Umji groaned, throwing her head back. "Jimin, seriously? She literally comes over every Saturday. She hangs out with you for hours. Do you need a flashing neon sign that says Ask Y/n Out?"

I let out another sigh, this one heavier. "I’m just waiting for the right time."

Umji scoffed, crossing her arms. "Then find it. Or, I dunno, lose it?"

That made me pause. I frowned. "Lose it? What do you mean?"

She stared at me like I was the densest person on earth. "Jiminah. You are not the only guy who has heart eyes for Y/n."

That got my attention. "Wait, what?"

Umji leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. "Kim Seokjin. The senior. He’s been talking about her a lot lately. Watching her every school performance, going to every event she’s in." She gave me a pointed look. "Like, every single one."

A sudden tightness formed in my chest. Seokjin? The guy every girl in school practically swooned over?

I swallowed hard. "You’re right," I said, my voice firmer this time. "I can’t just sit around anymore. I’m going to confess this Saturday."

Umji grinned and clapped her hands together. "That’s my beste! Finally, some action!"

I exhaled sharply, my heartbeat already picking up at the thought. Saturday. That was the day. No more hesitation. No more waiting.

It was now or never.

I was waiting outside Y/n’s homeroom, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, trying to calm my nerves. My palms were slightly sweaty, and my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Today’s the day, Jimin. You got this.

The classroom door creaked open, and Luna stepped out, eyes glued to her phone. She barely noticed me standing there until I cleared my throat.

“Hey, Luna,” I greeted, trying to sound casual.

She glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey. Looking for Y/n?”

“Yeah, is she here?” I asked, peering inside the room, but there was no sign of her.

Luna shook her head. “She was asked by Professor Shin to bring some papers to the seniors.”

“Seniors?” I repeated, a small knot forming in my stomach.

“Yep,” Luna confirmed, casually scrolling through her phone. “You know, for their upcoming events and stuff.”

My stomach twisted slightly. Seniors… Did that mean she was with him? Seokjin? The guy Umji warned me about? The guy who apparently had been keeping a close eye on Y/n?

I clenched my fists, trying to shake off the sudden unease creeping up my spine.

“Uh… do you know where exactly?” I asked, attempting to keep my voice steady.

Luna finally looked up from her phone and gave me a smirk. “Why? You jealous or something?”

I stiffened. “W-What? No! I just—”

She laughed, cutting me off. “Relax, Jimin. She should be back soon. Why don’t you just wait here?”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Maybe I was overthinking things. But still, the thought of Y/n spending time with Seokjin, even for school work, made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t ready to admit.

“Alright,” I muttered, leaning against the wall.

I’d wait.

And today, no matter what, I was going to tell her how I felt.

A couple of minutes later, I straightened up as I saw Y/n walking down the hallway beside Professor Shin. My heart did a little flip at the sight of her—hair slightly tousled, cheeks lightly flushed, probably from carrying all those papers.

"Thanks for the help, Y/n," Professor Shin said, giving her an appreciative nod.

"No problem, sir," she replied with a bright smile.

That’s when her eyes landed on me.

“Oh, Jiminshi,” she said, blinking in surprise.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“Uh—hey,” I managed to say, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. “I was just… waiting for you.”

Her lips curled into a soft smile. “Oh? What’s up?”

This was it. My chance. My moment.

But why did my throat suddenly feel dry?

Luna, still standing nearby, stifled a laugh and muttered, “This should be fun.”

I ignored her, inhaling deeply before looking straight into Y/n’s eyes.

“I… I wanted to ask you something.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to push past the nerves threatening to paralyze me. Now or never, Jimin. Just do it.

“I wanted to ask if…” I hesitated for half a second before exhaling sharply. “If you’d like to go out with me this Saturday. Like… on a date.”

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected that.

“Oh…” she blinked, processing my words. “A date?”

Before she could say anything else, a voice from behind interrupted us.

“Y/n!”

I turned my head just in time to see him.

Kim Seokjin.

The senior.

The guy Umji had warned me about.

He was standing a few feet away, holding what looked like a small, neatly wrapped box in his hand. His confident demeanor faltered slightly as he took in the scene—me standing close to Y/n, her looking up at me with curious eyes, and Luna and Umji watching with barely contained excitement.

Jin’s gaze flickered between us, realization dawning on his face.

I knew it.

He was about to ask her out.

But I had beaten him to it.

Umji and Luna exchanged a glance before smirking and casually high-fiving in the background.

Y/n, seemingly unaware of the small unspoken battle that had just taken place, smiled at me—soft, warm, genuine. “I’d love to, Jimin.”

My heart nearly burst out of my chest. “R-Really?”

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah. A kitty playdate is fun, but I think a real date sounds even better.”

Luna let out a dramatic ooooh while Umji snickered. Jin, to his credit, managed to keep his face neutral, though I could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes before he cleared his throat.

“Well,” Jin said, forcing a small smile. “Looks like I was a little late.”

Luna, never one to miss a moment, whispered loudly, “Too late.”

Jin shot her a look but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck, Jimin.” He gave Y/n one last glance before slipping the box into his pocket and walking away.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I had done it.

I had asked her out. And she said yes.

As Y/n and I exchanged shy smiles, Umji and Luna high-fived again, this time even harder.

“Finally,” Umji muttered. “About damn time.”

“Aigoo, finally our baby is dating,” Jungkook said, dramatically wiping away fake tears as he pulled a laughing Luna into a tight hug. The couple’s playful teasing filled the air as they shared the moment with us.

Beside them, Umji was happily stuffing food into her mouth, barely pausing to breathe. "He’s been lovestruck by her like, since forever," she said, voice muffled as she chewed, a proud glint in her eyes. "But because of my words of wisdom, he finally got the guts."

Luna and Jungkook exchanged amused glances, chuckling at the scene. "Words of wisdom?" Luna teased, arching an eyebrow. "That’s what you’re calling it?"

“Hey, I know what I’m talking about,” Umji said, giving a dramatic wink between mouthfuls. “It’s all about timing.”

The park around us felt peaceful—just the kind of place to spend a Saturday afternoon. Y/n and I sat on the grass, our cats, Jenga and Hubby, sprawled lazily between us, enjoying the rare moment of calm. The two cats had become inseparable over the past few weeks, and seeing them curled up together made me smile.

Luna and Jungkook sat a little further away, their playful teasing continuing as they watched us. "I’m still amazed you guys actually did it," Jungkook commented, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Thought it was gonna take you forever to ask her out, Jimin."

I smiled, feeling a little embarrassed but also proud. "Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy… but it was worth it."

Y/n smiled shyly beside me, her fingers gently brushing against mine as she leaned closer. "I’m glad you asked."

I felt my heart flutter at her words. The warmth between us was undeniable.

Jungkook and Luna exchanged a glance, clearly noticing the shift in the air. Luna sighed dramatically, holding a hand to her heart. "This is so cute, I’m getting heartburn from it."

"Same," Jungkook agreed, giving us a thumbs-up. "You guys make a good couple."

Umji, wiping her mouth and swallowing another bite, joined in with a cheeky grin. "You two better not get too lovey-dovey. I’m still here, you know."

I chuckled. "We’re just enjoying the moment."

It was a peaceful afternoon, surrounded by friends, our cats, and a growing bond that felt like it had always been there. The playful teasing, the laughter, the feeling of being surrounded by people who cared—it all made the day feel perfect.

And somehow, it felt like this was just the beginning.

I blinked, trying to process her words as they slowly sunk in. Y/n turned to face me fully, her smile widening as she watched my expression change.

“You know,” she started again, her voice soft but filled with a hint of playfulness. I hummed in response, trying to maintain my cool, but my heart was already racing.

“I didn’t actually propose the kitty playdate for the cats,” she said, her eyes gleaming as she tilted her head slightly.

My brow furrowed in confusion, but before I could ask what she meant, she added, “It was for us.”

My breath caught in my throat. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, and the world seemed to slow for a second. She wasn’t talking about the cats. She wasn’t talking about the playdate. She was talking about us.

I glanced at her, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the park faded, and it was just her and me, sitting on the grass with our cats beside us, hearts quietly syncing with the unspoken understanding between us.

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “You… you did that for us?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah.”

I felt the corners of my lips twitch into a grin. “I’m glad you did,” I said softly, unable to stop myself from blushing.

Y/n’s smile deepened, and she reached over, gently taking my hand in hers. It was a simple gesture, but it felt so incredibly right.

In that moment, everything just clicked.

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

Umji is a supportive bestie and a foodie

Luna is Luna

[xiaosorbet]

you try to get kaveh to stop working so hard, only to find that he’s not exactly doing work. (kaveh x reader)

1.5k words, no warnings, fluff, reader and kaveh are roommates, written with kind of a college au in mind but nothing specific is mentioned, gender neutral reader

“don’t you need sleep?”

your voice resonated throughout the small bedroom, accompanied only by the scratchy sounds of pencil against paper. your roommate kaveh sat at his desk, focused on some assignment of his.

“no.” his tone was blunt and sure, leaving little room for debate, although the eyebags settling below his tired ruby eyes begged to differ.

you rolled your eyes from your place on his bed. you should’ve expected that answer.

he didn’t look up from his work at all. he was encased in his own little world with his work - although trapped seemed a more fitting word. he spent countless nights just like this: working on a project last minute either because he had scrapped his previous work on the grounds of it being imperfect (to you, everything he came up with seemed fine. amazing, even), or because his inspiration had conveniently only chosen to appear right before a deadline.

a helpless sigh left your lips. you continued to lie on your stomach, watching him with your chin on your palms. he was obviously tired. it seemed the more tired he was, the more stubborn he chose to be about not taking a break.

it was always hard to get through to him on nights like these. bribery, trickery, words of persuasion… none of them worked. each time you tried to coerce him away from his work, seeing him grow more fatigued by the minute, his determination and complete and utter stubbornness won out.

your concern for his wellbeing as his roommate and friend was always clouded by his desire to not only meet expectations, but exceed them and constantly deliver perfection even at the expense of his own health.

but tonight, you would have none of that.

“when is that even due?” you asked him, once more trying to get his attention. if it wasn’t extremely urgent, then you wanted him to get the rest he so sorely deserved, even if he didn’t agree.

a pause. you saw his eyes dart to the side, away from you. “…around this time tomorrow.” he said it haltingly, as if he was a little unsure.

you raised your eyebrow. “will you be busy the whole day tomorrow?”

“well, no… but this is really important. it needs to be perfect,” he turned to you then, resting his cheek on his knuckle. he blew out a small exasperated breath, like a frustrated child would.

and here he was once more trying to justify his simply ungodly working hours with the fact that it needed to be the best. in your ever-changing lives, that was one constant you wished he would break.

feeling somewhat fed-up with his uncompromising will to work himself to death, exhaustion clear as day on his face, you stood up and approached the desk. “let me see it.” you were sure that whatever was on the paper was more than good enough already. he was always too hard on himself.

as you moved closer to his workspace, he sprung into sudden alertness, the hand where his face had been resting moved away, and he covered whatever he had been sketching with both his forearms. you furrowed your brows in clear confusion. he had a sort of deer-in-headlights look on his face.

“kaveh?”

you stared at him, waiting for an explanation. he remained still, arms not budging, eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“come on, i’m sure it’s already amazing. and even if it isn’t, you still have the whole day tomorrow to work on it. you clearly need some rest.”

“but i-” he began. his arms moved towards himself, pulling the scattered bits of paper closer to him, farther from you. you didn’t let him finish speaking.

“tut! no buts. show me.” his behavior wasn’t too unusual; sometimes he’d refrain from showing people the rougher, less coherent of his ideas. but you didn’t care whether it was fully fleshed out and polished or just the messy beginnings of a concept. everything he spun with his mind and fingers seemed to capture you. nothing he did was imperfect to you.

you wished he’d see that, especially during times like this. “i’m sure it’s already amazing, just like everything else you draw.”

“that... that’s not… i…” he stumbled over his words as a faint blush, soft and pink as a flower petal bloomed on his cheeks.

taking advantage of his momentary discomposure, you quickly leaned in and seized a piece of paper from underneath his arms, ready to shower his work with compliments in hopes of convincing him to take a break from pressuring himself so much.

rather than the scribbled words and architectural sketches you were expecting to see, your eyes were met with none other than yourself.

rough sketches of you from the neck up, drawn from different perspectives, this angle and that. all in kaveh’s unmistakable style. you’d know it anywhere, the quick strokes that seemed to move faster than his own train of thought, like his hands knew exactly what to do. except you had never seen it like this, lines moving and curving into each other to form a portrait of a person—of you.

you were speechless. the drawings were beautiful. artful, even. for one thing, you were stunned because you didn’t know he was capable of something like this. and for another, the subject of the art in question was you.

in the time you took to stare at his drawings, kaveh had stood up and watched you silently, waiting for you to say something. you’d expected him to jump up and grab the paper immediately, but it seemed that despite his initial adamance in not letting you see it, he now wanted to see your reaction.

a flurry of emotions flutter around in your chest. mostly bewilderment; the fact that he drew you… and so… beautifully… was this how he saw you? was this really how you appeared to him?

“kaveh… did you do these?” you knew it was stupid to ask, but you wanted him to confirm it nonetheless. when you turned to look at him, he immediately averted his gaze.

“yeah, i did.” his voice was quiet and shy, so unlike the usual confidence he had when talking about his works. he seemed now like a child bracing for judgment.

you tried to move into his line of sight. you wanted him to look at you, to see how you felt about it. to see the astonishment and amazement in your eyes when you spoke. “i love it. why did you try to hide it?”

finally, he met your eyes in earnest. his face reddened once more. his usual loud and bright demeanor was replaced by something softer, more fragile. “isn’t it obvious?”

you shook your head, but it seemed that your body was aware of something your mind hadn’t caught on to yet, a warm flush creeping up your neck and your cheeks. he stepped towards you and held onto one end of the paper. you unwittingly breathed in his scent. you encounter it every single day, every time you pass by him, every time you do the laundry. but in that moment, the smell of him suddenly felt much more intimate.

“look, it’s not finished. they’re just rough sketches.” he glanced at the paper before setting his gaze on your face, looking at you sheepishly. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “i want to draw you to perfection. i want to capture the way i see you in all of its entirety. these don’t even come close.”

and there it was again, his ever-present perfectionism. it confused you; why would he put so much effort into drawing you?

and suddenly, the answer came as quickly your question had. kaveh’s face inched towards yours, his eyes holding desperate meaning, like he could read your mind and was trying to answer with his expression.

kaveh, he…

“it’s already perfect,” you mumbled. you found yourself in a trance, lost in the emotions held in his gleaming red eyes, yet still wanting to reassure him. “…everything you make is beautiful.”

“not nearly as beautiful as you.”

all of this was to get him to rest… you knew what was happening, but you couldn’t let yourself forget that he needed a break still. eyebags still sunk underneath his eyes.

and yet… while you wanted him to stop working so hard—real work or otherwise—part of you now felt that you just wanted him all to yourself.

and so what you did next was what you’d later call a stroke of genius, a master stratagem to achieve both of your goals. not only that, it was also an expression of what you couldn’t quite put into words just yet.

you leaned in and planted your lips gently against his.

despite the tiredness you knew he was harboring, you felt his lips move to form a little smile as he kissed you back. your heart fluttered in pleasant surprise. you felt kaveh’s grasp on the paper wane before he let go completely to cup the side of your face instead.

after a couple seconds of chaste kiss against smiling lips, you pulled back and he grinned at you, his face lit up with joy, all but forgetting about his earlier discontentment. you smiled back at him before reaching to place the paper back on the desk behind him.

“now… how about a break, hm?”

[birdship]

This project is unfinished and will remain that way. There are bugs. Not all endings are implemented. The ending tracker doesn't work. Images are broken. Nothing will be fixed. There's still quite a bit of content, though, so I am releasing what's here as is.

Tilted Sands is a project I started back when AI Dungeon first came out--the very early version you had to run in a Google colabs notebook. Sometime in late 2018, I think? I was a contributor at Botnik Studios at the time and I was delighted by AI Dungeon, but I knew it would never be a truly satisfying choose your own adventure generator on its own. I would argue that the modern AI Dungeon 2 and NovelAI don't fully function as such even now. That's not how AI works. It has to be guided heavily, the product has to be sculpted by human hands.

Anyway, it inspired me to use Transformer--a GPT2 predictive text writing tool--to craft a more coherent and polished but still silly and definitely AI-flavored CYOA experience. It was an ambitious project, but I was experienced with writing what I like to call "cyborg" pieces--meaning the finished product is, in a way, made by both an AI/algorithm/other bot AND a human writer. Something strange and wonderful that could not have been made by the bot alone, nor by the human writer alone. Algorithms can surprise us and trigger our creative human minds to move in directions we never would've thought to go in otherwise. To me, that's what actual AI art is: a human engaging in a creative activity like writing in a way that also includes utilizing an algorithm of some sort. The results are always fascinating, strangely insightful, and sometimes beautiful.

I worked on Tilted Sands off-and-on for a couple years, and then the entire AI landscape changed practically overnight with DALL-E and ChatGPT. And I soon realized that I cannot continue working on this project. Mainstream, corporate AI is disgustingly unethical and I don't want the predictive text writing I used to enjoy so much to be associated with "AI art". It's not. Before DALL-E and ChatGPT, there were artists and writers who made art by utilizing algorithms, neural networks, etc. Some things were perhaps in an ethical or legal grey area, but people actually did care about that. I remember discussing "would it be ethical to scrape [x]?" with other writers, and sharing databases of things like commercial advertising scripts and public domain content. I liked using mismatched databases to write things, like a corpus of tech product reviews that I used to write a song. The line between transformative art and fair use vs theft was constantly on all of our minds, because we were artists ourselves.

All of the artists and writers I knew in those days who made "cyborg art" have stopped by now. Including me.

But I poured a lot of love and thought and energy into this silly little project, and the thought of leaving it to rot on my hard drive hurt too much. It's not done, but there's a lot there--over 14,000 words, multiple endings and game over scenarios. I had so much fun with it and I wanted to complete it, but I can't. I don't want it to be associated in any way with the current "AI art" scene. It's not.

Please consider this my love letter to what technology-augmented art used to be, and what AI art could have been.

I know I'm not the only one mourning this brief but intense period from about 2014-2019 in which human creativity and developing AI technology combined organically to create an array of beautiful, stupid, silly, terrible, wonderful works of art. If you're also feeling sad and nostalgic about it, I hope you find this silly game enjoyable even in its unfinished state.

In conclusion:

Fuck capitalism, fuck what is currently called AI art, fuck ChatGPT, fuck every company taking advantage of artists and writers and other creative types by using AI.

[booksandabeer]

Catch up tag

Thank you for tagging me, @somanywords. Always love an excuse to ramble on about things! 💛

Last song I listened to: Weak In Your Light by Nation of Language

Last thing I read: I fell down a Cat Sebastian rabbit hole (all the blame goes to @voylitscope) and read her Cabot Trilogy (mlm romances set in the late 50s to early 70s, mostly in NYC) within a few days. Her books are a little fanfic-y in ways that I find both delightful and frustrating at times, but mostly I'm having a blast. I've now read four of her books and I'm starting to recognize certain recurring patterns when it comes to characterizations and romantic/sexual dynamics, but luckily it's the exact kind of stuff that I like, so I'm not getting bored yet.

Last movie I watched: All of Us Strangers, which worked for me more as an emotional experience rather than a movie, or a coherent story, but I think that was the intended effect. Absolutely phenomenal performance by Andrew Scott.

Last tv show: I'm currently watching Shōgun (excellent in every way) and Fallout (bonkers gory fun), and I finished 3 Body Problem (the good parts were good, the bad parts were almost laughably bad—I'm surprised I made it to the end, tbh). I also tried to watch Manhunt, the limited Apple series about the Lincoln assassination and the hunt for John Wilkes Booth, starring Tobias Menzies. "Tried" being the operative word here. I've made it through 3 episodes and it's just not grabbing me at all. Even worse, some of the narrative choices make me actively angry. I doubt I will continue. Next up: Ripley and yessss, Kings.

Last thing I googled: "iwtv season 2 release date" (It's May 12th!)

Last thing I ate: chocolate cookie

Sweet, salty, or savory: I mean all of them are good but if I have to choose: savory!

Sleep: Would love to get some. Or at least more than 3 hours at a time would be fantastic.

Currently reading: Dreamland by Adam Soboczynski, which I find entertaining as an anecdotal memoir, but I had hoped for more insightful commentary on the cultural tensions between East and West Germany post-reunification as seen through the eyes of a Polish immigrant. But maybe that's just a case of false expectations on my part, rather than a flaw of the book.

And now the awkward part! Honestly, if you read this, consider yourself tagged. I genuinely enjoy hearing about what people read/watch/eat. But ok, I'll play and tag @some-october-in-the-future, @dontcallmebree, @burberrycanary, @thisonesatellite, @latums. No pressure, obviously.

[f-yeah-no-evil]

Great NE Rewatch: Judgement

No Evil: Judgment is required reading past episode 10, and I've just finished episode 19, so we're long overdue for this post!

The Tezcatlipoca mirror is a direct lift of the Aztec Sun Stone. Mirrors of the Aztec era were obsidian polished to a reflective surface, and stones like these were meant for telling(?) time and direction. Strange to think the mirror could not actually be used as a mirror! If you look closely, you can see the symbols around the face have been changed from the four suns/gods of the Tezcatlipocas to the Tezcatlipoca symbols in No Evil.

The most I know about Tlaloc and jars comes from this poem, by Octavio Paz:

Máscara de Tláloc Grabada en cuarzo transparente Aguas petrificadas. El viejo Tláloc duerme, dentro, soñando temporales.

Loosely translated:

Tlaloc's Mask Carved in translucent quartz Petrified waters. Inside, old Tlaloc lies sleeping dreaming temporarily.

(The last word, temporales, seems to have associations of being "temporary" as well as with the rough temperament of storms. Tlaloc may be "petrified" but he is not dead, only sleeping for a while. I initially translated this phrasing as “of cool rainwater” to “storms” before settling on a literal one.)

From a real-life standpoint, because jars were often full of cool water and protected from the elements, it probably wasn't unusual for an Aztec to find a frog in their earthenware jar; from a frog's standpoint, it's the perfect place to be. Hence why frogs may be carved into jars as decoration. Despite this, I haven't found any strong mythological associations in my research between Tlaloc and jars, but frogs and jars are associated nonetheless... which I suspect is the joke.

Constellations based on the Nazca Lines of Peru, the hummingbird and the condor.

Huītzilōpōchtli, as a sun warrior, fights against the army of stars every night to prevent them from taking over and plunging the world into darkness. That association appears to be fudged in No Evil, but eh... if every Tezcatlipoca was associated with the sun, things would get a little confusing. If we read the black Tezcatlipoca as eternal darkness, and consider the Hummingbird as a warrior against that scenario, things cohere quite a bit more.

More an observation than anything, but I'm intrigued by how the Judgment Scythe is a farming/harvesting tool, and the Mercy Bow is a weapon - their meanings are flipped. I would take the scythe to reference Xipe Totec's nature as an agriculture god, but the association in No Evil is more in line with the Grim Reaper. A machete is used to hack through rope and vegetation as well as a weapon, so the association with liberation makes sense to me.

Mama is based on Great Goddess/Spider Woman of Teotihuacan, a mysterious but seemingly central figure.

[fabdante]

This is probably just the high of finishing season 2 talking, but like. Can we get whoever did Arcane to do a DMC reboot show? Maybe as a reboot of the reboot? Or at least a sequel?

Like, just. People who love and respect the source material/preboot! But can also take that and craft something good based on those source materials that kinda does its own thing! And is actually good!

Just. My kingdom for some good character writing for DMC stuff. Preboot and reboot, tbh.

I'll be honest I kinda like...idk perhaps I'm in the minority but I don't really want more extended universe dmc stuff? Like I'm firmly in the 'I don't want a DmC2' camp and I'm also not particularly jazzed about the upcoming anime. IDK like more official works on the reboot in particular for me over the years has just become something I'm not interested in. I've spent a lot of time with the material and I've put thought into how I'd like for it to be followed up and I'm just...so confident it would not at all be what I want and it'd leave me disappointed and with a lot of work that would just now feel pointless.

I do, however, realize most of the fandom hasn't been making a like 250k prequel about Kat and Vergil that's been stuck in development hell and would probably not be bothered by any of this asdfghjkl

I do think it'd be interesting to see what Fortiche could do with Devil May Cry, any of the Devil May Crys. Though I'm not sure what they'd do with it given how much less...complex it is I guess? Not that the story has to have as many moving parts as Arcane for Fortiche to do a good job but still. I do think, though, with the new Netflix anime and Fortiche focusing on their own projects and new Riot projects that them doing anything for anyone else is not very likely (very much a shame I'd have LOVED to see what they'd do with Warcraft. The story of Warcraft is so ripe to be cleaned up, fixed up, and released in a comprehensive and coherent way, like the Warcraft cinematics team are incredible themselves but I'm still pretty sure there's only a handful of them. Warcraft just has such good meat in there that I'd really love to see someone else pick up and put together)

If I were to get my dream project from Fotiche on DMC/DmC I guess what I would like is either a much more slowed down and polished soft remake of what we get with the reboot. Like a version of it that really gets to take it's time. Though it would lose a lot of it's campiness asdfghj for good or for bad. For the preboot I mean there's a lot there with the preboot if they wanted to just go through the whole brother saga. Like across the board for both preboot and reboot, given Fortiches focus on writing complex and intense family dynamics that we see in Arcane, it'd be interesting to see how that'd play out in their interpretation because at the end of the day both Devil May Cry's are about like family bonds, both born into and forged, and what loyalty we do or don't have to those bonds and legacies. I think either would definitely be a good series, in the very least.

It's a bummer though as I'm like...really not confident in the new anime and would much rather have this asdfghjk

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/19/2023

unknown flu-like-symptoms-but-not-the-flu-or-COVID problems

listening

no one particular thing has been stuck in my head so here are two short little things

new release Strike by La Femme is a delightful synthy one-minute sketch of a car chase in the pouring rain. spotify

Trumpet Sketches - Remastered by Janko Nilovic is a 1:40 doodle. when the organ hits... spotify

i have been following La Femme ever since i loved their credits song for As Above So Below, and the trumpet sketches are off the spotify recommended

-

reading

actually finished this book last tuesday, still reading berserk, but i don't have coherent berserk thoughts bc im still stuffing my entire elbow into my mouth and screaming about it.

The Stolen Coast, by Dwyer Murphy, has a lot of problems. the first problem is that the publisher bills it as a "noir jewel heist" novel when it is in fact a vibes novel about being sad and trapped in massachusetts. which, mood! but very much not what i or any other goodreads reviewer signed up for.

ABOUT THE STOLEN COAST Adrift in a sleepy coastal Massachusetts town, a man who ferries fugitives by day gets twisted up in a plot to pilfer diamonds in this Casablanca-infused heist novel.

Casablanca is a real fuckin goddamn reach. this is like saying Home Alone 2 and The Taking of Pelham 123 are similar bc they both have pivotal scenes in subways. when you are expecting a cool noir jewel heist and you get a vibes book, it feels very meandering and indecisive with exceptionally poor pacing and very light on the plot. dwyer knows how to put a sentence together, and there is a high degree of aesthetic polish, but i lived in mass and found myself filling in a lot of the vibes from lived experience. this is a book that expects you to already know *extremely* minute regional accent differences.

i often found myself more interested in the antagonist lawyer and his wife (who has a standing weekly appointment to fuck her bodyguard at the region's finest wedding destination hotel, and orders champage afterwards every week) than the protagonists of our story. the femme fatale loops all the way back around to manic pixie, which i didn't know was possible for a woman to do. as an example of the aesthetic polish but editorial disarray of the book, wherein we know so much about our protagonists but so little of it is relevant, i was convinced that "our main man Jack is a Harvard lawyer" was a long running gag for most of the book (a la "our good for nothing son is actually Very Important and just slumming it here") and was actually quite anxious to see if the actual lawyer would ferret him out, but no. jack is actually a real lawyer but it simply does not fucking matter.

there are a. number of happenings that mr murphy tries to pass off as luck and just like Ha Ha Things Just Break Like That Sometimes but it really just feels like acts of god. their planned heist breaks bad for them with no consequences and then breaks very well for them with very few consequences. this is not a long book. the actual heist felt like filling time.

it's a book that's very very good at capturing the New England depression and sense of stagnancy, for want of a nail etc, the bizarre little self-important snow globe everyone lives in, but everyone has such small ambitions. this is sort of the point of noir, that the rot never actually changes no matter what you do, but the protag is the perpetrator of the rot? this is largely a personal crisis that he’s choosing not to address. perhaps most unforgivably, for such a short book it dragged a whole fuck of a lot.

i have been betrayed by whoever did this npr book review

-

watching

Forty Guns (1957, dir Fuller). this is the most movie reviewer ass section ive written in a minute. this one is for sickos only. it is not an interesting movie by itself (choppy and kind of messy) but it is an interesting movie if you know the limitations of the genre and the hays code it's slamming up against.

there is simply So Much that happens in this movie (from the very good Criterion Collection essay):

While the story sounds rather tidy in summary, the plot of Forty Guns is rife with intrigue and action—juggling political corruption, theft, betrayal, an unwanted pregnancy, a serious maiming, three romances, four murders, and a suicide. 

there's some oddly dorky but endearing straight people visual and verbal double entendre. visually unique but does not stick its landing, and i don't know that i love the original ending as opposed to the studio ending either.

it gets a solid B on the "westerns i would let other people watch" list. not one of the top three movies to convince someone that some westerns are good actually, but a fun little weird offshoot of the genre.

why did i watch this: surely by seeing a post from another cowboyblogger? it was fairly recently added to my letterboxd watchlist, but the why of it i could not tell you

-

playing

im convinced theres a bug in the Court of Fontaine region in g/enshin bc i have been stuck at 97% for several weeks now. tick over to 100% godddamnit.

-

making

acquired all the stuff to dye a couch cover, have not actually dyed the couch cover, due to being down with some sort of sickness

[boxkeith]

Video Games I Played in November 2024

I’m writing this only a few days after the end of the month and I’ve already played a bunch of new games that are etching away at my memories of the stuff earlier in the month. It doesn’t help that November was uniquely prolific with 15 different games started on top of perennials like Helldivers 2 or Picross 3D 2, as well as spillover from October with Sekiro and Twilight Princess. Slow work and high life stress means a whole lotta gaming.

Astral Ascent – I’m starting to think I don’t actually like action roguelites. Maybe it’s overexposure. Maybe it’s that the genre is incestuous and so there’s too little outside influence and far too much churning reiteration of the same concepts. The same boss patterns. The same metaprogression upgrades. Again and again. It’s tiresome, as if some demiurge were doing broadly the same thing over and over hoping this configuration would be a demonstrable improvement over the rest. But in all seriousness I tend to fall off roguelikes pretty hard if I feel like I understand the bulk of the systems early and this one I knew 80% of its deal from looking at how they drew grass.

Ori and the Blind Forest – What can be said of Ori? I played it a few times on release, played the Definitive Edition in 2017, and sat on it since then putting it on the shelf with Hollow Knight and Super Metroid as one of the pinnacles of the genre. Against my better judgment I took it off that shelf. Bash still feels like a dream, and when the game is at its best it’s atmospheric, flowing, and a joy to behold. However the added abilities from the Definitive Edition (a dash and a projectile you can bash off of) completely undermine the game’s flow, and the ending section remains tedious and frustrating. There’s a lot of charm here but time is unkind to works carried mostly by their aesthetics.

Peglin – I like peggle. I like goblins. I tolerate turn-based card battlers. This finally came out of early access so I gave it another go. It’s unfortunately the game that it is. Not much depth, a few too many trap options, and for me it hit a sourspot where the randomness inherent in pachinko was fundamentally undermining my ability to sequence or plan. If there’s no strategy and I’m just hitting buttons, then a roguelike gets frustrating quick because chance is such a huge component.

Rivals of Aether II – I really expected to have more of a fire lit in me by this but I did a few CPU matches, one ranked match, and put the game down. Dunno what’s up. Maybe it’ll be like Lethal League and in a year or three I’ll go fucking bonkers for it for a year.

Kao the Kangaroo (2022) – Mascot platformers are a genre I dabble in, and when one is 5-10 bucks and I’m in the mood it’s hard for me to say no. Unfortunately, the shallow gameplay, oddly stilted voicework (Polish speakers trying to do an Australian accent), and glitchiness undermined what I had hoped to be a few hours of jumping around punching stuff. One of these days I need to try Ty the Tasmanian Tiger or something, I guess. Or I can replay Vexx again.

Ori and the Will of the Wisps – Did you ever have a friend in high school who saw the wrong movie at a formative inflection point and you’re just gonna have to write off their personality for five years while they wildly chase after a version of themselves that isn’t real? The Ori devs did that after playing Hollow Knight. Gone is the atmosphere. Gone is the momentum. In its place you get a fiddly inventory, NPCs, sidequests, and themes that completely undermine the first game. Mechanically it’s much more solid but structurally it’s a bit of a mess and the designs don’t cohere. Taking bash off its own button is a monumental error and that snag cascades through the entire feel of the game.

The Rise of the Golden Idol – I should really finish Obra Dinn. I liked The Case of the Golden Idol well enough, though I felt the DLCs were full of overly complex puzzles whose ambiguity was such that without the solution as a framing device getting an intuition for what had happened was impossible. This game doubles down on that, and oftentimes it felt like some of the shakier Sherlock Holmes mysteries where he pulls a secret clue out of his armpit that resolves everything. It’s not a bad puzzle game but it doesn’t hit the highs of the first game which is a sad spot for a sequel.

UFO 50 – If nothing else this was an extremely efficient way to add bullshit to my steam library that I feel like I should play and then don’t. I tried a half-dozen of them, they’re all very interesting and cool, I like a lot of the concepts at play and the breadth of designs is truly impressive. I just can’t be bothered to filter through several dozen games that are each worthy of 2+ hours of playtime. Good lord.

Voidwrought – Speaking of games that took one look at Hollow Knight then gouged out their eyes… I keep trying indie metroidvanias and for every one that’s actually doing something novel in structure or in presentation there’s three that are slavishly copying Hollow Knight and/or the cultural memory of SotN (which is closer to Aria of Sorrow). None of them are copying Super Metroid wherein enemies are closer to environmental hazards than combat encounters and momentum is a reward for systems mastery and map knowledge. No sir. It’s stats, enemy pogos, and losing resources on death. This one was notable for giving me a projectile I could pogo off of very early, which I used to sequence break the everloving shit out of the intended progression. The end result of this was I did 99% of the game without double jump when you’re supposed to get that in the first few hours, but such is life when living on the edge. The final boss was touhou nonsense with far too much HP and I have learned to just set games aside when they get to that level. Exactly one game’s final boss was interesting and intricate enough to be worth five hours of my life, and that was Nine Sols. Y’all ain’t Nine Sols.

Headlander – Y’ALL DEFINITELY AIN’T NINE SOLS. Games like this are why people stopped giving DoubleFine money, good gravy. The core conceit of being a head that body-hops to use various body-specific traits like unique weapons, traversal powers, or keycards is solid. However the 60s retrofuture aesthetic gets old quickly and after the opening half hour there’s no changes in complexity or structure for the rest of the 5 hour game. Writing was also pretty loose, which is what DoubleFine usually leans on when the gameplay is shoddy, leading to a game that really underlined how much Psychonauts was lightning in a bottle.

Final Fantasy I: Dawn of Souls – This GBA remake is older now than the original was when this came out. My Final Fantasy exposure is mostly playing XIII in high school, Kingdom Hearts, and watching Advent Children at least five times. I felt I owed it to myself to go back to the source. The source showed me we’ve been making the same damn game for 40 years. It’s a pretty good game. If I wasn’t able to fast-forward the emulator and hold down A to autoattack I might’ve lost my marbles though. The GBA bonus dungeons were the highlight of the game, so I’m glad I went with this version.

STRANGER OF PARADISE FINAL FANTASY ORIGIN – Playing FF1 was also homework for playing this. I want to kill chaos. I do not want to play a Team Ninja game. This leads to conflicts. I expect to stick with this because I’m genuinely fascinated by the game’s delirious genius, but it’s also bewildering.

Noreya: The Gold Project – Metroidvania map design is hard. It’s been said that in many ways the map is the main character of such a game, and the player avatar is merely the means of exploring and understanding that character. Noreya has interesting ideas of save points being shrines to one god or another, and the god you choose to install both unlocking parts of your skill tree and whoever is winning sets world tendency which alters around a quarter of the map. The issue is the game’s laboriously labyrinthine tunnels, with constant linear corridors ending in a switch to open up progress in another corridor that requires a six room detour to return to. It’s cumbersome, it’s boring, and it’s incessant. I ended up dropping the game at that point, because the good parts of this game’s lore and presentation I already got from Blasphemous years ago.

Metal Gear Solid 2 – Substance – Same as MGS1 I’m going to be playing this 1-2 hours at a time for several months when I hang out with a buddy. This means I’m on a drip feed of Kojima’s bullshit. Any other game series I would assume the named woman who establishes her familial relationship with other characters, history with various factions, pregnancy status, and combat skill would be a recurring antagonist or otherwise a driver of the plot. However, we’re in Kojima’s house so he used every polygon available to the PS2 rendering her armpit hair then drowns her offscreen. Maybe I’m wrong! Maybe she’s alive! Maybe she’s 16 rats in a trenchcoat! Possibilities abound.

Thread – Games like Thread are why I buy random shit off steam and give it 5 hours of my life sight unseen. I only heard of it from an offhand comment in the steam review of another metroidvania and it quietly snuck its way into being one of my favorites. Dense, consistently clever, and a joy to move in, it’s everything I could want out of a metroidvania that deliberately eschews bosses. What an absolute joy to discover.

[mothshrub]

[Spoilers for The Creator 2023]

I'm not generally a huge fan of plots that go 'the anti-robot person is on a journey to become less racist' for a variety of reasons, mainly being that at this point I've seen so many bad attempts at it that I don't have a ton of trust.

The Creator was an interesting case because... it kind of took a lot of tropes that I generally hate, but then polished them enough that although I still hate the tropes, there was genuinely a solid story throughout it all.

I still don't buy the idea of Joshua actually being able to get back together with Maya in a happy family kind of ending. But then, the movie didn't buy it either, because although it was Joshua's fantasy, it... isn't actually what happened.

Sure, a version did? He saw a robot version of Maya with his wife's memories and they embraced and kissed and were happy to see each other. This was also a version of his wife who'd been in a coma for five years, potentially heard his whole confession of regretting everything and apologizing and probably saying everything she wished she could've heard and lived out. Then she wakes up out of her coma and she has no idea where she is, except she's probably definitely on a ship that's about to crash and burn, and she's gonna die, and then she sees her former husband at the end of the world in this bizarre heaven/hell where they're the only thing either of them has left? Does she even know she's alive, and that she has minutes to live, at minimum from the chip in her brain giving out? Did she notice she was an android, is part of her disorientation about that on top of everything?

Yeah, I could buy her embracing the former father of her former child in that moment. I don't think I could buy her having an easy time dealing with 'ok, I swear I'm not allied to the americans and their anti-robot policy' Part 2 Electric Boogaloo (because they did that before once already) in a longer term where they actually had to consider trying to make a new life together without some major trust issues, but this wasn't that. This was a desperate grab for them to hold onto something at the end of the world.

(None of this even starts examining the part where his actions are what led to the destruction of Maya, which the movie still definitely includes. He betrayed her, and she's injured to the point of being trapped in a coma that only death can free her from. Yes, what's left of her embraces him at the end, but... she never recovers.)

Outside of that... I have more thoughts, including what felt like a move where the robot side rescued Alphie and Joshua after Joshua helps them defend her from the american forces. Like--on the one hand, enemy-of-my-enemy and all that, but on the other, Joshua had literally kidnapped Alphie out from under them before as soon as it was safe, and he was STILL needing Alphie to find Maya! If their confidence in him was half born because Alphie was too injured to be moved, then I probably missed that part, because what jumped out at me was a sense of him getting trust that was unearned. (What if he'd tried to run off with her even while she was hurt, and his earlier defense of her was only so that she wasn't completely destroyed?)

From there I feel like there's a question of 'sometimes even risky people need to be given shelter and safety and trust to be able to finish their personal journey', and that this movie is showing a case where yes, that was part of Joshua's story. The question of 'would I personally make the choice to trust someone who has REPEATEDLY betrayed us with high stakes and devastating results' is very different to 'is this the story being told, and was it an emotionally coherent story'. I feel like it was coherent, particularly given how they had it all play out. The harm of Joshua's actions is shown, partly through the lens of the cruelty of the people he kept company with and partly through the direct lens of how cruel and dehumanising he was to Alphie and other androids. He ultimately was in a unique position to be able to bring Alphie on the mission that the robots wanted in the first place, even if they'd expected it to happen much much later, and he did it, even at huge expense to himself. He even managed to get Alphie out!

I guess what I'm saying is I have Complicated Emotions about the movie, and it felt like it was bullseyeing multiple tropes that I normally strongly dislike, but doing them in ways that.... weren't as bad as they could've been?

Robo-racist goes on a journey and becomes a little less racist. (Played straight, but at least they were thorough in explaining how robots were never the heart of what actually killed his parents in the first place, and this robot child remembered and internalized everything he said to her, and the racists he was allied with weren't just Individuals With Bad Experiences but rather were systematically cruel with total monsters interspersed.)

Dude is horrible to his romantic other and the problems get swept aside. (They were, but... also kind of not? She never recovers from his betrayal in a physical sense, even with the temporary android twist at the end. Everything he talked to his coma-wife about was based on his own understandings and views of what he did wrong, which was still flawed, and he only had a few minutes to try, but he also did say everything he could think of in the time that he had, and we see his later actions definitely do reflect a change.)

Redemption through death. (Death is the conclusion of his journey, but arguably his redemption comes from keeping Alphie alive, bringing her to the spaceship, helping her take down the ship, then getting her out of there. He gets the reward of his wife at the end, which, eeeh, but she seemed happy to see him too, whatever tangle of stuff is going on inside herself as well.)

Anyway... good movie, imo. Fantastic graphics. I have a completely separate tangent about them someday, but that's a later thing.