#writers have to write what the producers want

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello hello! you're writing tips have been so helpful and i wanted to ask for help on how to write hypocrite like characters. thank you!!

Writing Notes: Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy - a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not; behavior that contradicts what one claims to believe or feel, especially: the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion

Hypocrisy is a special case of cognitive dissonance, produced when a person freely chooses to promote a behavior that they do not themselves practice.

Cognitive Dissonance Theory. Has a long and esteemed history in social psychology. As originally formulated (Festinger, 1957), cognitive dissonance is induced when a person holds two contradictory beliefs, or when a belief is incongruent with an action that the person had chosen freely to perform. Because this situation produces feelings of discomfort, the individual strives to change one of the beliefs or behaviors in order to avoid being inconsistent.

Hypocrite Trope

People — particularly those with authority, be it moral or political — are expected to act in accordance with the ideals they espouse. That is to say, they should practice what they preach. Those who don't are hypocrites.

The dichotomy here is that they may fervently and honestly believe what they say is right and good… they just don't have the moral strength or willpower to consistently live up to their own high standards. (Unless, of course, they're outright liars with no intention of living up to said standards.)

it's possible to be hypocritical and a good person at the same time, whether that would be a "Jerk with a Heart of Gold" or a full-blown "Nice Guy" character trope, and it depends on how severe the hypocrisy is (and the hypocrite's level of self-awareness). This, in return, is what makes hypocrisy mainly considered to be a minor form of jerkassery by default.

It depends on whether this is intentional or not.

One writer would do this intentionally so the character would go through a Jerkass Realization.

Hypocritical Humor is a minor degree of this, when Played for Laughs.

Another writer may make a character or do something but then forgot about it later on, then making them do things that contrast with earlier claims.

It usually takes fans or other writers to point them out, and it’s up to the writer to fix it or leave it like that.

Some Subtropes

Arbitrary Skepticism: Characters who deal with the strange and bizarre on a regular basis are skeptical when they run into something strange and bizarre.

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing: A character pretends to be harmless or friendly to hide their actual self.

Broken Aesop: When a story itself doesn't mesh with the ideals it promotes.

Devil in Plain Sight: When someone who is Obviously Evil isn't seen as such by a general populace that is surrounded by other evils who are obvious, but only a minority can see it.

Doublethink: AKA cognitive dissonance; when one believes in two mutually exclusive ideas at the same time.

False Prophet: Someone claiming to be a messianic figure is actually deceiving their followers.

Knight Templar: A person who firmly believes their own cause to be just and righteous, even when it isn't.

Tautological Templar: Somebody who believes that they are good, and that makes everything they do good by default.

The Horseshoe Effect: The extremists on one side aren't that different from the extremists on the other side.

You Are What You Hate: People hating others for the same traits they themselves have or what they would eventually have.

Examples

Geryon, a monster from The Divine Comedy who guards Eighth Circle of Hell, is the biological manifestation of fraud. It may have the face of a beautiful man, but behind that face is the body of a massive winged serpent with a tail ripe with venom.

Gone with the Wind: Gerald O'Hara fled Ireland, where foreigners had taken over the country's lands and exploited an underclass to work them so the new landowners could become rich. He then immigrated to the United States and became a wealthy, plantation-owning slaver.

Merlin: A deliberate and fascinating example is King Uther. The reason he hates magic in the first place is that he made a deal with a sorceress to conceive a son with his barren wife. Furthermore, he describes his deceased wife as "my soul" and yet we later find out that he had an affair with his best friend's wife, and that (as he says to his son) "I know about the temptations of serving girls."

In Spirited Away, Yubaba refuses to accept Chihiro into her bathhouse because in her words, Chihiro is a "spoiled, lazy crybaby [with] no manners". Shortly afterwards, Yubaba is interrupted by her baby, who she immediately coddles and pampers, and who fits Yubaba's description of Chihiro perfectly. Furthermore, she criticizes her employees for being greedy and attracting the wrong customer when Greed is one of Yubaba's defining characteristics.

Tangled: Mother Gothel lectures Rapunzel about the dangerous selfish evil people of the outside world… when she's the one who kidnapped Rapunzel as a baby for her own selfish reasons. Rapunzel is quick to point this out when she discovers the truth.

Smerdyakov in The Brothers Karamazov is really just thought of as a scullion who has airs of intellectualism about him, and who carries blasphemous notions about religion. He's also thought of as pathetic to others because he suffers from epileptic seizures. The idea of him being the murderer is absurd to everyone in town for these reasons, yet he is. Only the protagonist seems to have any deep misgivings about him.

The Divine Comedy: According to Dante's Inferno, those guilty of hypocrisy are forced to march in monk-robes made of lead in the 8th Circle of Hell, the robes symbolic of the weight of their falsehoods. Special mention goes to Caiaphas, the High Priest of Israel under Pontius Pilate who advised him to crucify Jesus for "societal good", who is crucified to the ground and trodden upon by the other hypocrites like a literal doormat.

The Handmaid's Tale: In "Milk", Steven laments the fact that Handmaids are used as sex slaves, but he has no problem trying to extort sexual favors from Janine and June in order to let them stay.

The Last Supper: Judas is covered in shadows, actively leaning away from Jesus, and spilling salt (an evil omen) all over the table, yet no one else at the Last Supper even begins to recognize Judas as the traitor Jesus has just revealed is in their midst.

In The Lord of the Rings (as explained outright in Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth), Saruman openly berates Gandalf for his use of tobacco, but in private, in an attempt to imitate Gandalf, becomes addicted to pipeweed himself. In the movie, Saruman says, "Your love of the halflings' leaf has clearly slowed your mind" but Merry and Pippin find several large barrels of tobacco in Saruman's home later on.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, thanks so much, appreciate your kind words! Consider these references and choose which ones would work best to incorporate in your story. Do go through the sources as well for more subtropes and examples that might serve as inspiration.

[writergeekrhw]

What would you recommend for someone wanting to pitch a new Star Trek series? (Long shot, I know.)

Honestly? Be a co-executive producer or higher on a current Star Trek show. I mean, real talk, I couldn't sell a Star Trek show if I wanted to right now. An outsider has basically no shot. (And I qualify as an outsider to the new administration.)

Barring that, if you're not a working WGA writer, try to turn your idea into a non-Star Trek novel and write it so it's IP you own.

Think of it this way. You're essentially asking the studio to trust you with their most valuable franchise and hand you $100 million dollars. If they don't know you, and trust you, they're not going to do that.

It's like saying "I have a great idea for a luxury hotel resort, how do I get Hilton to make me the developer?"

[onlyjjong]

GOODBYE EVERYONE. this is lili, signing off from the face of this earth.

first of all, i want to express, with LITERAL TEARS in my eyes and one of THE BIGGEST SMILE i've ever had in my entire life, how thankful i am to have this girl as my friend. she's literally the sweetest being i've ever encountered, and i am eternally grateful life brought us together. this is soph, my favourite girl, everyone!!

and everyone, this is what i mean by reblogging a writer's fic. i'm so so grateful for each and every one of you who spend your time to like my posts, but reblogging it like this girl did? you have my HEART.

i can't express how grateful i am for soph and any other readers out there who take their time, taking their time to read through my fics (especially my longer ones, as they take days or even weeks for me to put together!) and reblog them. you have my appreciation ♡ (and soph has my heart!)

actually, i never survive writing my own fics (esp of taesan and jay) BECAUSE I CANNOT STOP DYING AND SMILING??? and i agree babes, choco pie is BOMB i loved those as a kid and i still do hehe

to end this, i want to repeat for the zillionth time that i love my favourite girl, soph, with MY HEART and i'll be working hard to produce fics that will make her spit out words like this hehe ( some are coming soon, soph >:p )

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan�� Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

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IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into her hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

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THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[deadvnstudios]

THE CURRENT STATE OF FOOL'S PARADISE (DON'T WORRY SHE'S STILL HERE)

Hello to our dear FOOPARIANS! We wanted to start this announcement with our team's sincere apology. The lack of updates on the state of the game has rightfully worried a large part of our fanbase, and we wanted to create this announcement as soon as possible.  

2025 is officially our studio’s first year in business. Last year was, to be blunt, a disaster for our team. Many development team members have left over the past few years, leading to our writing team being only two individuals (thank you to Mock and Notafish, by the way, for their extremely hard work during this trying time). With no editors on standby, we are stuck with a slowly progressing script that has to be entirely written and edited by the same team. Any finished scripts are passed to our coding team (Tora coding script content and Maita scripting minigames and screens), making the choo-choo train process even slower. Alongside the large cast and expansive content of the game, our production has been snail-pace. I’m not even going to come up with the expansive list of (IRL) disasters that hit our team members individually last year, but I’ll say it was an overall bad time for us.  

What we can say for sure is that we are sincerely thankful for your kindness and patience while we are producing this game. Not creating subsequent updates for you guys was irresponsible on our end, and we will be more proactive than ever to deliver the content you deserve.  

Overall, FOOL’S PARADISE is still in development and an active project under our studio.  

WHAT WILL HAPPEN: 

To accommodate our small team, applications for open studio spots will open in early February. Open positions include 2D Artists, writers, editors, coders, and music producers. These will close on February 16. Accepted applicants will assist our studio in developing FOOL’S PARADISE and other upcoming titles. 

We will release a 2.0 demo before March with the finalized script and visuals for the first portion of Act 1. Then, FOOL’S PARADISE will be released in three acts without the Kickstarter. The first act will be released for free, with the second and final acts being paid DLC. While we work on FOOL’S PARADISE in the long term, we hope you enjoy our less intensive titles as we prepare for the wild ride of our main project. 

We will also open a Patreon page to help sustain our members and projects financially. Here, we will post a variety of content weekly. This ranges from exclusive artwork, drabbles, behind-the-scenes content, and early beta builds of our productions.  

We are in the process of opening our official website with assets for our studio’s branding. Here, you can actively apply to our studio and view information about our titles and teams. After this is finished, we will develop an online merchandise store that will sell products from our current games. 

Monthly devlogs are back! We’ll post updates about our games’ and studio’s development on our website and social media. If the log’s information pertains to a specific game, it will also be cross-posted to Itch.io.  

In the meantime, why not check out our other, completed title—TOY BOX? 

[chaotic-snowflake]

Probably going to get hate for this but tbh I don’t really care because it needs to be said. I feel like social media culture has absolutely killed fandom culture, and anyone producing content is suffering for it. I mean, seriously, AO3 isn’t TikTok. We’re not getting paid to do this shit, we’re doing it for free. All of us have lives outside of this, whether it be school, work, etc. But we’re still taking time out of our busy schedules to create something not for us, but for you. Sure, people say “write for yourself”, and to an extent, I do, but if I were writing for just myself I wouldn’t spend hours polishing my work so I could post it and share it with you. The things I’ve written solely for myself are scrappy. They’re in notebooks. They’re not meant for you.

But the works I share online, those are written for you. Not for me, but for you. And in return for what is often weeks of work, we get a click. A digital heart, if we’re lucky. Because modern social media culture is all about consumption—click, consume, then move on to the next thing without even bothering to at the very least thank the person who crafted something with love for your eyes. I can’t speak for artists, but as a writer this is very disheartening. Nowadays, I find myself more and more inclined to quit what I do and focus on the other things in my life, because I’ve spent god only knows how much of my time creating for you only to see not a single thanks for it, and over time it’s just gotten worse and worse. I don’t want to quit writing. I’m proud of my AO3, and I do have readers who enjoy my work and let me know that—unfortunately, they’re in the slim minority; so much so that I can count them on one hand. But the fact of the matter is that art is not meant for this rapid consumption culture. And when people put their heart and soul into creating things for you FOR FREE and see nothing for it, we become disheartened. We feel like it’s all for nothing. And we want to quit. It takes maybe 30 seconds to leave a comment. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant; oftentimes just a simple “thank you” will make a writer’s day. A couple nice words could give us the motivation to create something new.

Please, if you have any ounce of respect for the creatives in your life, just leave a comment. I don’t care if y’all on here call me selfish or greedy, because as a writer, trust me—your comments mean the world.

[cordjefferson]

Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO

[elementroar]

Ok, I didn't want to be political; but this got political. So fair warning.

I'm just going to say, I live in a country that has been described as a 'benevolent dictatorship' or rather was founded by a benevolent dictator. I have very little confidence that Riot or Fortiche could write Noxus or Swain well, because IRL, pundits from the east and west do not understand entirely how my country, Singapore, not only exists but thrived to the point of being among the top 10 richest countries in the world in less than 30 years.

I'm not saying that my country's founder is exactly like Swain, but the kind of leader that Riot wants Swain to be or at least give the impression of? This pragmatic, nation-first authoritarian? I've experienced it. I live in the aftermath of being led by someone like that every day. We loved Lee Kuan Yew for it. He never sugarcoated what he had to do to gain power - like imprisoning the rival Communist party members on the day of election to run uncontested - because he knew that he was right, and he proved it.

Like ffs, Swain's quote about how "It's better to be feared, than to be loved"? Yeah, LKY unironically quoted it "Between being loved and being feared, I have always believed Machiavelli was right. If nobody is afraid of me, I'm meaningless."

He literally scolded striking pilots with only words like an angry father, and they backed down in an hour.

If Noxus was "all stick no carrot", that's stupid. And it would be stupid for a man like Swain to believe something like that would work. Why do the majority of Singaporeans IRL not want to change the political party's dominance? Because we reap the benefits (the carrot). We have one of the best medical systems in the world, have high home ownership rates etc.

A happy populace makes it far easier to sell the dream of the regime and maintain order. A good leader actually produces results that automatically incline the populace to let them lead, not simply use fear to enforce it without any benefit. And yes, compassion leads into it. Singapore has strong social safety nets that's part and parcel of our systems' successes. If the populace doesn't feel like they belong or are supported by the nation, what is the reward for their loyalty?

But like I said, my country is a unicorn. Eastern and western pundits keep trying to quantify our success, and they keep not seeing the big picture because they're hung up on their own preconceptions of what good governance is and struggle to resolve how LKY did it.

It's like with Disco Elysium, why did it resonate so much with the post-communist countries, from Eastern Europe to China? Because the writers lived through it. They understood the nuances and the emotions and the ideals on a level that someone simply looking in would never understand.

It's how I feel with Riot/Fortiche. IMO while they portray Noxus as on the most simplistic terms "expansionist fantasy Rome", I'm going to guess they're not really going to know how to write people who live in the regime that don't sound like typical jingoistic caricatures. Or on the flipside, pure "muh freedom" rebels.

After that last client comic, I'm not sure if Riot is aware of what kind of place Noxus really is.

[thena0315]

[twosides--samecoin]

"Some people reflect light, some people deflect it; you by some miracle seem to collect it" Mark Z. Danielewski. House of Leaves, 2000.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Mind Quest: Melding Into You (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a mind quest, 纵融流入你, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Additional warning]: Same old warning LOL. Considering the super vivid explicitness, if you don’t qualify for the 17+ rating of the game (CN server), it’s very highly recommended that you don’t proceed under the cut~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

─

【Subbed Video】

[Heads-up]: Yes, read the transcript for reading, of course! But for the life of me, PLEASE DO WATCH THE VIDEO!! YOU DO NOT WANNA MISS WU LEI’S GODLY VOICE ACTING AND THOSE CLOSE-UPS AKSJSJSDGFG (+ excuse my real-time reactions 🤪😂)

───────

【Transcript Version】

【Chapter 1】

With every breath, the air is saturated with the briny smell of seawater. The sun is beaming so brilliantly that it appears almost white, reminiscent of a melted silver sphere.

The scorching sand sears through the soles of my shoes, grilling the bottoms of my feet. The water within my body evaporates continuously as sweat trickles down.

MC: Ngh… Victor…

Lacking strength, I weakly tug at the hem of his shirt, and my hand naturally reaches into the backpack, retrieving the item I need.

MC: Ah… we’re about to run out of this last bottle of water too.

I hold the remaining half-filled bottle of mineral water against my ear and give it a shake, attempting to quench my thirst by listening to the sound of water.

MC: I feel like I’m being roasted from head to toe…

V̲i̲c̲t̲o̲r̲ ̲s̲h̲i̲f̲t̲s̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲p̲o̲s̲i̲t̲i̲o̲n̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲s̲t̲a̲n̲d̲s̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲f̲r̲o̲n̲t̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲m̲e̲ ̲a̲t̲ ̲a̲ ̲d̲i̲f̲f̲e̲r̲e̲n̲t̲ ̲a̲n̲g̲l̲e̲,̲ ̲a̲l̲i̲g̲n̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲h̲i̲m̲s̲e̲l̲f̲ ̲a̲t̲ ̲j̲u̲s̲t̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲r̲i̲g̲h̲t̲ ̲t̲u̲r̲n̲ ̲s̲o̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲s̲h̲a̲d̲o̲w̲ ̲s̲h̲i̲e̲l̲d̲s̲ ̲m̲e̲ ̲f̲r̲o̲m̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲s̲c̲o̲r̲c̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲s̲u̲n̲.̲

Victor: Let’s take a break if you’re tired.

I shake my head, gazing at the beach with endless waves in the distance and our private yacht stranded on the shore. It still feels unbelievable to me.

Who could have imagined it would turn out like this before we set off?

Recently, the several new projects Victor has been working on have been progressing steadily. And I have also finally managed to carve out some time for a vacation. 

Thereupon, we hopped onto Victor’s private boat and set sail, fully prepared for a delightful voyage at sea.

However, the navigation system suddenly failed when we were out at sea, leaving us without any means to find our way back to shore, and eventually, we ran out of fuel.

We drifted at the mercy of the waves for over ten hours at sea before finally making landfall on this unnamed island with no signal. And now, we are on the verge of running out of resources.

Victor sighs and reaches out, placing his hand on my forehead and the nape of my neck while I’m lost in thought. 

Victor: Your body temperature is still normal. It doesn’t seem like you’ve got a heatstroke.

H͟e͟ u͟n͟s͟c͟r͟e͟w͟s͟ t͟h͟e͟ w͟a͟t͟e͟r͟ b͟o͟t͟t͟l͟e͟ a͟n͟d͟ p͟o͟u͟r͟s͟ o͟u͟t͟ a͟b͟o͟u͟t͟ h͟a͟l͟f͟ a͟ c͟a͟p͟f͟u͟l͟ o͟f͟ w͟a͟t͟e͟r͟. T͟h͟e͟n͟, h͟e͟ d͟i͟p͟s͟ h͟i͟s͟ f͟i͟n͟g͟e͟r͟t͟i͟p͟ i͟n͟t͟o͟ t͟h͟e͟ w͟a͟t͟e͟r͟ a͟n͟d͟ p͟r͟e͟s͟s͟e͟s͟ t͟h͟e͟ m͟o͟i͟s͟t͟u͟r͟e͟ a͟g͟a͟i͟n͟s͟t͟ m͟y͟ p͟a͟r͟c͟h͟e͟d͟ l͟i͟p͟s͟.

As my lips become moist and cool, I can’t help but rub my lips against his fingertips. At this moment, looking up, I find that his own lips are also slightly chapped.

Victor: Where has your imagination run off to again?

Looking at his fatigued yet still unwavering expression, I find myself unable to utter a single despondent phrase like “We’re doomed” or “What are we going to do?”

I͟ s͟i͟m͟p͟l͟y͟ c͟u͟r͟v͟e͟ m͟y͟ l͟i͟p͟s͟ u͟p͟w͟a͟r͟d͟s͟ a͟n͟d͟ m͟o͟i͟s͟t͟e͟n͟ h͟i͟s͟ l͟i͟p͟s͟, m͟i͟r͟r͟o͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ h͟i͟s͟ g͟e͟s͟t͟u͟r͟e͟ j͟u͟s͟t͟ n͟o͟w͟.

MC: I’m just thinking, CEO Victor is always so thoughtful in moments like this.

Victor doesn’t expose my thoughts. Instead, he simply takes my hand and guides me in a different direction, heading straight for the lush forest at the heart of the island.

We savor a brief moment of relief, cooling ourselves off beneath the shades of the trees before Victor opens his mouth unhurriedly.

Victor: The coastal area we passed by appears deserted and untouched for a long time. Instead of trying our luck under the blazing sun, it’s wiser to change our route.

MC: What makes you so sure? 

Victor: In the spot where our boat got stranded, there were long discarded fishing nets underwater. Judging by the level of corrosion, they must have been there for at least three to five years.

Victor: Since we can’t be certain that help will be available, we need to move towards a location abundant in resources.

Victor: In areas filled with vegetation, even if we run out of fresh drinking water, we can still resort to extracting water from the soil layer.

Victor: The emergency food in our bag is sufficient to sustain us for half a month, and that should provide ample time for the insurance company to locate us.

As always, he calmly assesses the situation, and his confident tone sparks courage within me.

MC: Makes sense! I now feel like I was really being carried away earlier, thinking that we were about to dominate the headlines of next week’s news.

MC: Something like, “The CEO of LFG and his girlfriend have been missing since their trip at sea, suspected to have been killed on an unnamed island”...

Victor glances at me with a helpless yet amused expression.

Victor: You have the energy to crack jokes now. Seems like you’ve had a good rest?

Taking a deep breath, I muster all the strength I have left within me and tightly grip back onto his hand.

MC: Hmm! Let’s go! Let’s set off!

—

As we go deeper into the woods, the terrain grows steeper. After walking for more than ten minutes, we’ve arrived at the highest point of this small hill.

I involuntarily find myself stopping in my tracks, my eyes widening.

MC: …Victor, look!

Clusters of cottages dot the landscape along the paved road, nestled at the foot of the hills. The lush greenery of the island encircles them, akin to pearls embraced by green velvet.

Smoke rises from the kitchen chimneys of some houses, and clean laundry hangs in the front and back of the yards. Down by the seaside, freshly caught seafood is being sun-dried.

After being away from any signs of human habitation, I finally lay my eyes on the sparkling radiance of human civilization once again.

I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, and from the corner of my eye, I see that Victor’s previously slightly tensed jaw has also relaxed.

Our footsteps can’t help but quicken, and we hurry towards the seaside village.

—

Fifteen minutes later. We find ourselves seated on the cool, wide wooden chairs in the courtyard of the village chief's house, drinking water from enamel cups in big gulps.

The village chief listens to our experiences and nods understandingly.

Village Chief: Don’t blame yourselves. It was just a stroke of bad luck that you happened to be caught up in it. 

Village Chief: Even we old fishermen didn’t anticipate that this magnetic storm would have an impact on our coastal waters.

During the conversation, we learn that the name of this island is White Pearl Island, and the villagers here make a living through pearl farming.

As Victor had surmised before, the western coast where we made landfall had only been used as a fishing ground about a decade ago.

As time went on, the village prospered through pearl farming, and the villagers abandoned the fishing grounds to develop and operate pearl harvesting sites in the eastern coastal area.

While the village chief briefly steps away, Victor leans against the door with his arms crossed, appearing as composed as if he were standing in his own office.

Victor: What’s on your mind?

MC: I’m thinking, this place is so serene, untouched by excessive development. It’s perfectly suited for a sojourn.

MC: And who knows, I might even have the chance to enjoy a sumptuous seafood feast prepared by CEO Victor using fresh fish and shrimp!

A smile tugs at the corners of Victor’s lips as he pinches my cheek.

Victor: Always thinking about food.

Victor: Although, if a certain someone wants a peaceful vacation without any disruptions, this place certainly meets your criteria.

MC: I’m very satisfied, but I wonder if CEO Victor will be able to adapt?

I͟ a͟r͟c͟h͟ a͟n͟ e͟y͟e͟b͟r͟o͟w͟ a͟s͟ I͟ l͟o͟o͟k͟ a͟t͟ h͟i͟m͟. V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟ b͟e͟n͟d͟s͟ d͟o͟w͟n͟ a͟n͟d͟ u͟n͟t͟a͟n͟g͟l͟e͟s͟ a͟ f͟e͟w͟ s͟t͟r͟a͟n͟d͟s͟ o͟f͟ m͟y͟ l͟o͟n͟g͟, s͟w͟e͟a͟t͟-s͟o͟a͟k͟e͟d͟, k͟n͟o͟t͟t͟e͟d͟ h͟a͟i͟r͟, a͟ s͟m͟i͟l͟e͟ f͟o͟r͟m͟i͟n͟g͟ o͟n͟ h͟i͟s͟ l͟i͟p͟s͟.

Victor: Why would I want to pass up the opportunity to reside in this “Seaside Utopia”?

—

Beneath the setting sun, Victor and I find ourselves standing at the entrance of a run-down health center.

The rosy golden light casts upon the shabby outer walls and stairway marred by dust, serving as a declaration of the antiquated and abandoned state of this place.

I wrap my arm around Victor’s and give him a wink.

MC: Although there isn’t a proper inn in the village, the village chief’s recommendation is not bad.

MC: For a village without a tourism industry, the living conditions here are much better than I imagined.

Victor: I see, so I wonder who was murmuring about being stranded on a deserted island earlier, and now in the blink of an eye, she can just “go with the flow”?

MC: It’s true that I’m not adept at survival on a deserted island... but I definitely excel at turning a place into a warm and cozy little home.

With his eyes on me, Victor’s lips form into a smile, warm like the hues of the sunset glow.

Victor: Well, I’m looking forward to seeing your performance.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

The moment the rusty key turns the lock and the door opens, a stream of sunlight floods through the crack, illuminating the billowing dust.

MC: Cough, cough, cough–– so dusty––

V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟ c͟o͟v͟e͟r͟s͟ m͟y͟ n͟o͟s͟e͟ a͟n͟d͟ m͟o͟u͟t͟h͟, p͟u͟l͟l͟i͟n͟g͟ m͟e͟ b͟e͟h͟i͟n͟d͟ h͟i͟m͟. I͟ s͟q͟u͟e͟e͟z͟e͟ p͟a͟s͟t͟ a͟n͟d͟ r͟e͟s͟t͟ m͟y͟ h͟e͟a͟d͟ o͟n͟ h͟i͟s͟ s͟h͟o͟u͟l͟d͟e͟r͟, p͟e͟e͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ i͟n͟.

…it appears that the deserted state of this village health center exceeds my imagination.

The unattended floor, constantly exposed to heat and humidity, is covered in a layer of mold and dust. Each step on it produces a creaking sound. I try turning on the incandescent bulb, but it doesn’t light up.

There are even more “surprises” awaiting us as we step inside. The water in the toilet tank fills up slowly, and it makes a gurgling noise when flushed. The window glass is cracked, resembling a spider’s web.

The sole good news is that the signal of the landline phone at the health center is quite stable. Using his phone’s contact list, Victor dials the insurance company.

They inform us that they will come to rescue us and the boat once the seafaring is no longer affected. At that time, they will contact this phone number again.

As Victor wraps up the phone call, I have already prepared the cleaning tools and solemnly hand him a mask.

MC: Comrade Victor, it seems that our transformation task is very demanding!

Casting a brief glance my way, Victor rolls up his sleeves and takes out a screwdriver from the toolbox.

Victor: Does it scare you?

MC: Absolutely not! With the hardworking and wise CEO Victor at my side, why would I be scared?

MC: Let’s get to work!

As I go from scrubbing the floor to changing bed sheets and pillowcases, I gradually feel like I have turned into a cleaning robot.

In the meantime, Victor takes apart the light bulbs and rewires the filaments, restores the pieces of furniture that are still usable, and even goes through the process of repairing the electrical circuitry in the house.

By the time we’ve finally renovated the health center to a state that people can actually live in, the setting sun outside the window has long dipped below the sea surface.

As I lean back and topple onto the one-person hospital bed, to my surprise, I immediately hear an ominous creaking sound coming from beneath me.

Before I can react, the wheels at the bottom of the begin to roll, causing both the bed and me lying on it to move backward––

MC: ?!

A hand grabs onto the bed rail at its head, forcing it to a stop. As I lift my head, true to my expectations, I am met with the sight of a Victor with knitted brows.

Victor: …

MC: …ahem, this bed is surprisingly fun. CEO Victor, would you like to give it a try?

Victor: Indeed, it’s quite entertaining. Maybe I should build a track for you, and I bet a certain someone can ride the bed from the health center all the way to the sea.

I make a face at him and bend down to close the valve next to the wheels. Then, Victor and I each lay down on our respective beds.

After a long period of hustle and fatigue, we certainly both are in need of a thorough rest.

I nestle under the makeshift bedsheet that serves as a thin blanket, almost wishing to never wake up once I fall asleep. However, as soon as I close my eyes, the sound of rain reaches my ears from outside. 

The torrential raindrops relentlessly pound against the roof tiles and awning, creating the reminiscence of war drums on a summer island beating against me.

My sleepiness is entirely vanquished by the joint assault of rainwater and roof tiles, ultimately leading to a complete and utter defeat. 

In a daze, I open my eyes and habitually reach for my phone tucked under the pillow. It’s already 2 a.m.

Since I don’t have any sleepiness anyway, I simply decide to hold onto my phone, which has no signal or internet, and start flipping through my photo album.

From the sights we’ve shared together, to the fine delicacies cooked by Victor, and onto the little animals gravitating around him…

I find myself being so enthralled as I delve into the photos that I have completely forgotten about my insomnia. Whenever I come across something interesting, I excitedly turn over and delve deeper.

At this moment, the bed beside me makes a creaking sound. And with the dim light of my phone, I see Victor sitting up.

MC: Huh, you’re still not asleep?

Victor: I’m not so dull that I won’t be able to hear the sound of a certain someone tossing and turning.

Victor walks over and sits at the edge of my little bed.

Victor: I’m not feeling sleepy yet. I’ll keep you company for a bit.

As the screen of the idle phone gradually dims, fading into a dark and somber hue, Victor’s outline also slowly dissolves into obscurity.

Amid the darkness, just as I shift slightly to the side, his warmth instantly draws closer.

His long, slender, and toned body presses against mine, as Victor leans against the edge of the bed, squeezing into the cramped space of the tiny bed with me.

–

[Anika’s Notes]: Haha, I love how MC calls the bed “小小床” (xiao xiao chuang), really emphasizing how small it really is LOL *cries in their inability to sleep a single night apart* 🥺

–

The bed creaks under the weight, apparently struggling to bear our combined load. His arm comes around me, embracing my back.

Victor: Why are you still not sleeping?

MC: [coquettishly]  It’s my first time spending the night in a health center, so I’ve not adapted to it yet. And the sound of the rain on the roof is so noisy!

MC: I feel like I need someone to coax me to sleep~

Victor’s arm clasps me deeper into him, letting my face rest snugly against his chest.

Victor: Dummy…

Victor: If the sound of the rain is bothersome, just listen to my breathing. Don’t let your mind wander anywhere else.

In the dimness of the night, I can clearly hear his breathing. It sets off an uneven and erratic rhythm in my heart.

He is so close… so close.

The proximity is such that even the slightest movement causes our skin to graze against each other, sending tingles of sensation through me. It’s so close that his lips, when opening and closing, brush against my ear from time to time.

I try not to let my imagination run wild, but I feel that tingling sensation from my ear spreading to my cheeks.

Victor gently pats my back, and t͟h͟e͟ s͟o͟u͟n͟d͟ o͟f͟ h͟i͟s͟ v͟o͟i͟c͟e͟ c͟a͟s͟c͟a͟d͟e͟s͟ d͟o͟w͟n͟ u͟p͟o͟n͟ m͟e͟ l͟i͟k͟e͟ d͟r͟i͟f͟t͟i͟n͟g͟ d͟a͟n͟d͟e͟l͟i͟o͟n͟s͟, bringing with it a soft and tingling sensation.

Victor: Is this method not effective?

MC: It’s very effective. I’m already feeling more relaxed.

Victor: So why are you staring with your eyes wide open instead of sleeping? What mischievous thoughts are you up to?

MC: It’s not that easy to fall asleep, okay… How about we play a little bedtime game?

Victor: …insatiable.

The freshly dried quilt cover has no trace of detergent scent, allowing Victor’s warm breath to permeate through it––

Akin to a tiny hook, it entices me to draw closer, pressing myself against him.

MC: Or else, let me just soak up some of that “Victor energy.”

With these words, I extend my hand under the covers and wrap my arms around him, simultaneously tilting my head up and nuzzling my cheek against his chin.

Victor allows me to s͟h͟o͟w͟e͟r͟ h͟i͟m͟ w͟i͟t͟h͟ k͟i͟s͟s͟e͟s͟ a͟n͟d͟ g͟e͟n͟t͟l͟e͟ r͟u͟b͟s͟, until the sleep bugs slowly cast a veil of moist and warm haze before my eyes.

I close my eyes and curl up against his chest, longingly and fondly.

Victor: Sleepy?

I initially wanted to deny it, but a sly idea sparks in my mind, and I pretend to be drowsy as I reply.

MC: Mhm… a little…

With my eyes closed, I snuggle closer and plant a kiss on the nape of his neck before nestling my head back down, pretending to be in a sleepy state.

Victor: …but I’m not sleepy anymore.

I hear Victor take a deep breath, somewhat helplessly brushing away the stray strands of hair from my face.

Following this, a soft and warm touch falls at the corner of my lips.

MC: [blushing]  Ngh…

Pretending to be drowsy, I tilt my head slightly, positioning myself so his kiss lands precisely on my lips.

Victor: …

His breath falters momentarily, then transforms into a knowing and husky exhale.

Victor: Your acting isn’t bad.

The softness on my lips slightly intensifies, prying open the space between my teeth and transmitting a dry and warm heat.

I͟ f͟e͟e͟l͟ a͟s͟ i͟f͟ V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟ h͟a͟s͟ p͟e͟e͟l͟e͟d͟ o͟f͟f͟ t͟h͟e͟ t͟h͟i͟n͟ l͟a͟y͟e͟r͟ o͟f͟ t͟u͟l͟l͟e͟, opening my moist eyes and crashing into his intent gaze on me. I deliberately pout my lips at him.

MC: [blushing]  What do you mean… where was I acting…

Victor: Hmm, so you were not acting? Were you playing, then?

Knowing his intentions, I press myself closer to him, lovingly using my lips to lightly brush against the corner of his mouth.

MC: I thought… the game had already begun.

Victor lets out a knowing smile. Following this, h͟e͟ b͟e͟n͟d͟s͟ h͟i͟s͟ h͟e͟a͟d͟ s͟l͟i͟g͟h͟t͟l͟y͟ a͟n͟d͟ p͟l͟a͟n͟t͟s͟ a͟ s͟e͟n͟s͟a͟t͟i͟o͟n͟ o͟f͟ p͟r͟e͟d͟a͟t͟o͟r͟y͟ p͟a͟i͟n͟ o͟n͟ m͟y͟ c͟h͟e͟s͟t͟.

Victor: That’s true.

Victor: This game will continue for a long time, and…

His voice is so irresistibly alluring to me that I͟ c͟a͟n͟’t͟ h͟e͟l͟p͟ m͟y͟s͟e͟l͟f͟ f͟r͟o͟m͟ c͟l͟i͟m͟b͟i͟n͟g͟ u͟p͟ a͟n͟d͟ f͟i͟l͟l͟i͟n͟g͟ e͟v͟e͟r͟y͟ r͟e͟m͟a͟i͟n͟i͟n͟g͟ c͟r͟e͟v͟i͟c͟e͟ w͟i͟t͟h͟ k͟i͟s͟s͟e͟s͟.

MC: [blushing]  And what?

Victor: When it ends is up to me to decide.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

[Anika’s Notes]: Yeah, mark the euphemism in MC’s very first monologue here, and you’ll see what she really meant later on LMAO 🤪

–

C͟o͟n͟s͟i͟d͟e͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ t͟h͟e͟ i͟n͟t͟e͟n͟s͟e͟ r͟a͟i͟n͟f͟a͟l͟l͟ w͟e͟ h͟a͟d͟ l͟a͟s͟t͟ n͟i͟g͟h͟t͟, I͟ i͟n͟i͟t͟i͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ t͟h͟o͟u͟g͟h͟t͟ t͟h͟a͟t͟ t͟o͟d͟a͟y͟ w͟o͟u͟l͟d͟ b͟e͟ a͟ l͟i͟t͟t͟l͟e͟ c͟o͟o͟l͟e͟r͟.

Much to my surprise, even at noon, the sizzling hot and humid summer air persists over the sea surface.

Sitting at the edge of the deck, I hold a glass of chilled water and dip my feet into the seawater. The refreshing contrast in temperature compels me to sigh contentedly.

MC: Ha–– sure enough, being on the sea surface is the coziest thing during summer.

This morning, Victor requested the village chief for help in refueling our boat. After that, we sailed the boat to the coastal waters from where we could see the village.

MC: [musing to herself]  The sea, the fishing village, the sunshine… it would be even better if Victor were here.

Victor: I’ve only been in the water for ten minutes, and a certain someone already couldn’t wait any longer?

Just as I m͟u͟r͟m͟u͟r͟ h͟i͟s͟ n͟a͟m͟e͟ t͟o͟ m͟y͟s͟e͟l͟f͟, a spray of water blooms at my feet–– and there is Victor, floating up.

He takes off his diving cap and slicks back his damp hair. His entire being exudes a nonchalant charm.

A touch of a smile plays at the corner of his lips, r͟e͟m͟i͟n͟i͟s͟c͟e͟n͟t͟ o͟f͟ t͟h͟e͟ b͟r͟e͟a͟k͟i͟n͟g͟ o͟f͟ d͟a͟w͟n͟ o͟n͟ t͟h͟e͟ s͟e͟a͟’s͟ h͟o͟r͟i͟z͟o͟n͟, making me unable to help myself from squinting my eyes and fixing my gaze upon him.

Beads of seawater coalesce into droplets on his handsome cheeks, reflecting the dazzling sunlight and shimmering gorgeously.

MC: Isn’t it because I want to share the scenery above the sea surface with you?

MC: What was it like on your end? Is the underwater scenery here beautiful?

Victor: It’s alright. The water isn’t as crystal clear as in tourist spots, but there are plenty of shells being cultivated by pearl farmers underwater.

He leverages his body onto the boat and sits down beside me.

Victor: Once you finish enjoying your luxurious iced water, let’s go together to collect shells underwater.

MC: Huh? It wouldn’t be appropriate to collect someone else’s shells without permission…

Victor: You dummy, I’ve already talked to the village chief about it.

Victor: We accidentally ended up on this White Pearl Island. If you don’t participate in the “unique activities” that you like, would you be willing to return?

MC: You’re right. Then I should hurry and get in the water before it gets too hot!

I down the water in one gulp and bring the diving suit over, getting ready to change into it.

Victor: And this one, too. Don’t forget about it.

Victor reaches out and picks up the goggles that are set aside, but as he hands them to me, his eyebrows involuntarily knit together for a moment.

MC: What’s wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?

Victor: It’s probably because my back got scraped when I was under the water. It hurts a little.

MC: Huh? Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Show it to me, quick!

–

I promptly ask Victor to take off his diving suit and carefully examine him from all sides, finding large patches of dark red sunburn marks scattered all over his body.

MC: And you always call me a dummy? How could you be so careless? It’s not a scrape; it’s sunburn!

Victor: …

A rarely-seen expression of embarrassment appears on Victor’s face, but he swiftly regains his usual composure.

Victor: …I’m not such a dummy that I’d forget to put on sunscreen. It’s probably that the magnetic storm is affecting the UV rays, so the sun is stronger than usual.

MC: Humph, sophistry. Luckily, I brought some medication. You wait here!

As I speak, I squeeze out an amount of ointment and rub it onto a patch of red mark on Victor’s body, using my fingertip to spread it in circular motions.

MC: [affectionately]  If not treated promptly, sunburns can leave lasting marks. You have to wait for the cream to be fully absorbed like this.  

MC: [affectionate business-like tone]  CEO Victor did not take sun protection seriously this time. You must remember my notes properly.

Victor: Do you usually use this tone when giving feedback to your employees?

MC: I certainly do not. I’m just like you. This “small stove with a gentle fire” approach is reserved only for you.

—

[Tidbits]: The term MC uses here is 温火小灶 (wen huo xiao zao). It’s an idiomatic phrase used to describe a situation where someone is receiving preferential treatment or special privileges– the kind of partiality or preference you naturally tend to have for someone you love/ care for. I decided to do the literal translation here instead of a sophisticated one because of the innuendo later, haha~ 🤪

—

Due to Victor’s resolve to work out all year round, every muscle on his body has reached its prime condition. His skin is toned, and it’s silky smooth to the touch.

The red sunburn marks on his skin now have created the resemblance to a piece of white satin fabric being dyed red.

I can’t help but apply the cream with even gentler movements, massaging along the curves of his muscles to minimize any pain caused by the rubbing of the medication.

Victor breathes in gently as his muscles tense in response to the touch of my wandering fingertips, their texture moist and supple.

His skin already has a faint reddish tint due to sun exposure, but after applying the cream, it takes on a radiant sheen under the light, tempting me to keep touching further.

A hot and humid air lingers between us, perhaps causing some slight tingling sensation. His breathing seems slightly constricted.

Victor: …that’s enough.

MC: No, it’s not! I’ve only applied the ointment to one spot; I need to treat the other parts properly as well!

With a deadpan tone, I make him pull down the diving suit from his chest, revealing his neck and chest, which now have a reddish hue from the sunburn.

–

[Anika’s Notes]: Before we get into it, LMAO, I swear MC’s fetish for Victor’s Adam’s apple (and especially knowing he’s sensitive there), every freaking time, is something else entirely 😂

–

There is a slight redness at his Adam’s apple. And watching his subtle resistance, a wicked idea arises within me.

As I reach out and apply the ointment with my hand, my fingertips gently caress his Adam’s apple at the same time.

Victor’s Adam’s apple quivers slightly, and a raspy moan he’s unable to hold in escapes through his teeth.

Victor: Trying to mess around again?

Victor seizes my mischievous hand and runs his curled finger pad over my fingertips, silently questioning me with his eyes.

MC: [blushing]  No, I just thought that it would make you more comfortable this way.

I shamelessly make up a twisted excuse, but Victor narrows his eyes and studies me for a moment. Then suddenly, he curves his lips into a smile and clasps my hand, bringing it to his chest and caressing it.

MC: [blushing]  !!

The unforeseen sensation of smooth touch seeps into my hand, carrying the fiery heat that uniquely belongs to summer. I can’t help but let out a small gasp of surprise.

Victor: This way, I’ll be more comfortable.

MC: [blushing]  But…

Victor: Are you planning to treat different parts in different ways?

Victor narrows his eyes slightly, and his deep gaze carries an air of someone in complete control. My competitive spirit can’t help but surge.

MC: [blushing]  N-no, I won’t. I’ll make sure to carefully and thoroughly smear it onto every single part.

Taking the initiative, my fingertips spontaneously roam across his chest. And as the cream gradually melts with the warmth of his body, it becomes slightly sticky.

MC: [blushing]  Stop fidgeting. The cream is all over me now… it’s so sticky…

T͟h͟e͟ s͟a͟l͟t͟y͟ a͟r͟o͟m͟a͟ o͟f͟ t͟h͟e͟ s͟e͟a͟ p͟e͟r͟m͟e͟a͟t͟e͟s͟ t͟h͟e͟ k͟i͟s͟s͟e͟s͟, a͟n͟d͟ I͟ m͟u͟r͟m͟u͟r͟ i͟n͟c͟o͟h͟e͟r͟e͟n͟t͟l͟y͟.

Victor: All I can say is that… a certain dummy is just as careless.

Victor’s eyes are reminiscent of ocean waves beneath the blazing sun, passionately and fiercely locked onto me.

Victor: If it gets rubbed onto you, just let it be so.

Victor: Since the “small stove with a gentle fire” approach is reserved only for me, I’m sure the Big Producer won’t mind going through the process again later. 

The sunlight brings waves of heat onto the deck, while the tide continues to swell, lifting the boat higher and higher.

The boat glides like a nimble fish, swaying its body amidst the splashes of white foam created by the churning waves and producing the sound of crashing water.

Ripples spread out in circles, gradually expanding across the surface of the sea.

—

[Anika’s Notes]: LMAO the water euphemisms, no wonder Victor’s key word was “Moist.” Also, their energy LOL. Last night was gentle “love making” ft. biting on MC’s nips, among other things, and the next day was rough fcking ft. givin’ him head, among other things 🤪

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

[Anika’s Notes]: Mark the very first monologue here, too, cause the euphemism will be given the explicit visual later on LOL~ 🤪

—

T͟h͟e͟r͟e͟’s͟ b͟e͟e͟n͟ f͟r͟e͟q͟u͟e͟n͟t͟ r͟a͟i͟n͟f͟a͟l͟l͟ d͟u͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ t͟h͟e͟ d͟a͟y͟ a͟n͟d͟ n͟i͟g͟h͟t͟ o͟n͟ W͟h͟i͟t͟e͟ P͟e͟a͟r͟l͟ I͟s͟l͟a͟n͟d͟ r͟e͟c͟e͟n͟t͟l͟y͟. A͟n͟d͟ f͟o͟r͟ s͟e͟v͟e͟r͟a͟l͟ c͟o͟n͟s͟e͟c͟u͟t͟i͟v͟e͟ d͟a͟y͟s͟, i͟t͟’s͟ b͟e͟e͟n͟ p͟o͟u͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ h͟e͟a͟v͟i͟l͟y͟ d͟u͟r͟i͟n͟g͟ t͟h͟e͟ n͟i͟g͟h͟t͟t͟i͟m͟e͟.

The rain at night, complemented by the sea breeze, is extraordinarily tranquil. And during these sleepless nights, Victor and I find ourselves engrossed in lengthy conversations, naturally resulting in us sleeping until noon.

…well, to be more accurate, I’m the one primarily responsible for letting nature take its course and dawdling in bed.

On occasions, by the time I wake up, Victor is already fully prepared and informs me about the plans for the new day.

Sometimes, we would dive into the water and swim under the gentle caress of the waves. Other times, we would wander hand in hand, exploring the desolate and peaceful stretches of the beach.

However, today is a bit different. When I wake up, I happen to be greeted by the sight of Victor carrying several large bags into the courtyard.

MC: Eh, did you go shopping?

Intrigued, I open the bags to take a look inside, only to find that they are filled with a variety of fresh vegetables, fish, and shrimp.

Victor: Today, we have something new in the plan.

I don’t know how, but somehow Victor has procured a bicycle. After he hangs the bags on the handlebars, he pats the back seat, gesturing me to hop on.

Victor: The village chief has arranged a suitable vacant kitchen space for us. Get on the bicycle first. 

His words pique my curiosity. I carefully circle my arms around his waist, and under Victor’s control, the bicycle steadily glides along the unfamiliar road.

–

The narrow path is incredibly rough, and the unevenly paved road occasionally causes the bicycle to jolt violently.

MC: V-Victor, can you go a bit slower?

Victor: Relax the hand that’s clamping down my stomach a little, and I’ll consider it.

Victor frees one hand and pats my hand that is wrapped around his waist.

Victor: You’ve already experienced my bicycle driving skills last year. Are you still not confident?

MC: …pfff, CEO Victor sure does hold grudges well. How do you even remember such details?

Victor: It’s only that I just can’t forget that silly expression on a certain someone’s face before getting on the bicycle back then.

MC: Hehe, although I’ve already experienced it, this time, it’s an advanced version of the track with a higher level of difficulty…

The sea breeze sweeps through, as if bringing the sound of the waves crashing along the coast where we rode last year to my ears, while simultaneously carrying our synchronized laughter even farther away.

–

[Tidbits]: Refresher- a big callback to the dual proposal date, i.e., the Love Pledge Date on EN~ ❣️

–

At the end of the narrow path stands a small, white lighthouse, resembling a tiny chess piece amidst the vast blue sea.

MC: Could it be that the kitchen you mentioned is inside this lighthouse?

Victor nods and, with one hand holding mine and the other pushing the bicycle, walks towards the opened door of the lighthouse.

—

Victor: The magnetic storm is not over yet, so the village’s boats are unable to sail too far. The original caretaker of the lighthouse has returned to the village for a break, so the kitchen here is temporarily available.

Victor: When you first arrived on this White Pearl Island, didn’t you want me to personally cook a seafood feast for you?

Victor: This place is just right for us. No matter how much fuss we make and loud we are, it won’t disturb anyone else.

The corners of my lips can’t help but turn up wildly. I pounce on Victor and lock him in a big bear hug.

MC: Yippee, then it’s time for me to show off my skills!

I find a brand-new apron in one of the bags and skillfully fasten it around Victor, smoothing out any wrinkles.

MC: Chef, what tasks do you need your Sous Chef to fulfill?

Victor arches an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He takes out a few vegetables from the bags and hands them to me.

Victor: Well, let’s begin with washing the vegetables.

MC: Sure thing~

As we finish washing each vegetable that pairs well with seafood, their leaves are now adorned with shimmering water droplets, reflecting a brilliant sparkle.

When the ingredients for the dishes are almost prepared and only waiting to be cooked, I walk over to Victor with my hands swinging behind my back.

The view of his figure from behind remains as poised and graceful as ever. He seems as if what he’s standing before is not a rustic clay stove, but the back kitchen of Souvenir.

Just as I’m about to lean over and peek into the pot, Victor blocks me with his arm.

MC: Don’t be so stingy! Could this be some secret recipe that I’m not allowed to know?

Victor: …there’s nothing that you can’t know, but I have another task to assign to you now.

As if he’s long been prepared, Victor somehow pulls out a list from his apron pocket and hands it to me.

A little confused, I take it from him and find that it’s a list of materials, listing items such as rubber pads and sponges.

Victor: I asked the village chief before coming here, and these materials we need are stocked upstairs. Let's get them ready beforehand, and we’ll have use of them when we get back to the health center.

Looking at his sincere expression, I forget about any teasing intentions and nod in response.

MC: Alright, leave it to me.

–

I rummage through the second floor of the lighthouse. Once I’ve found and readied all the materials we need, I swing open the door leading to the first floor.

The next second, a dense plume of pungent smoke rushes into the room, instantly clouding my vision.

MC: Cough, cough–– what’s going on? Is there a fire?! Victor!

Amidst the billowing smoke and intense heat, I hurriedly run down the stairs skipping every few steps, only to find that the first floor is also consumed by rolling clouds of dense smoke.

With a strenuous effort, after I’ve managed to push open the door to the lighthouse, I hear Victor’s unhurried voice coming from behind me.

Victor: I’m here.

–

As the smoke dissipates, it becomes evident that there is no fire inside the room. Victor is calmly seated at the dinner table, with a dish already prepared and placed on the table.

Upon seeing that he is unharmed, I shift my attention to the dish waiting on the table.

The dish is vibrant and delectable, skillfully plated with precision, showcasing his usual level of expertise.

If one overlooks the lingering smoke in the room and the smudges of ash on his face, everything appears to be the same as usual.

Nevertheless, the present situation is undeniably bizarre, leading me to narrow my eyes in suspicion.

MC: Victor, what happened?

Victor stays silent for a brief moment before pointing towards the clay stove in the kitchen, where the firewood is still burning.

Victor: I…  [breaks into a short coughing fit and still sounds adorable]  cough, cough––

Just as he is about to speak, the smoke causes him to choke, and he bends over in a coughing fit. After a while, he finally speaks in a rather peculiar tone.

Victor: The stove got damaged.

MC: …?

Victor: I’m being serious. It’s damaged.

Taking a brief look at the smoke billowing from the firewood and the partially charred wall, I roughly have a grasp of what must’ve happened here.

Seeing how calm and collected Victor was, I had assumed he had already grasped the technique of burning firewood. I never expected to witness such a scene of disaster.

MC: …cough, well, it’s a bit unfortunate. But CEO Victor still perfectly completed his cooking, didn’t he?

With the spirit of not ruining the mood, I suppress my laughter and pick up my chopsticks to take a bite.

As the fish slides into my mouth, it brings with it the freshness and tenderness of the ocean. My eyes can’t help but lighten up.

MC: Despite a minor hiccup, Chef Victor’s cooking is still incredibly delicious!

Victor: The quantity and ingredients used are the same as I calculated, so the taste shouldn’t deviate too much.

MC: You’ve worked hard. Now you take a break while I go and prepare a dish for us to try.

As I walk towards the stove while recalling the firewood-burning techniques I had previously learned, Victor suddenly grabs my hand.

Victor: …you sit here and wait for a bit. I’ll go and clean the pot.

The smudges of ashes on his face make his typically concealed emotions more prominent. He seems to be a bit… embarrassed?

Victor’s complete deviation from his usual demeanor sparks a “rebellious” impulse within me.

MC: I’ll do it, I’ll do it. Chef Victor can sit back and enjoy some well-deserved rest. Go and wait to savor a seafood feast.

Without waiting for him to stop me, I have already lifted the pot lid skeptically.

Victor seems to take a short breath, and I find myself nailed to the spot in surprise.

A half-pot of charred and unidentifiable food clings to the edges of the stove. I can’t help but widen my eyes and look at Victor, who has a slight furrow on his brows.

He loosens his hold on my hand, and his gaze shifts from the pot to my face, his expression subtly composed.

Victor: I…

MC: You…

Victor: Never mind. As you can see, it was indeed a failed cooking attempt.

Victor: I have never used a cauldron before, so I made a mistake in my calculation. Go ahead and laugh if you want to.

MC: Pfftt, HAHAHAHAHA…

Granted a special pardon, I can’t help but burst into laughter, and it takes me a while before I can stand up straight again.

MC: It was your first time using a clay stove, and it’s perfectly normal to struggle with controlling the heat at the first attempt. I’m sure I would have done even worse than you.

Victor: “Even worse than me”?

Feigning ignorance, I clear my throat and lean in close to him, smiling as I gaze into his eyes.

MC: Looking at this from this angle, CEO Victor still has excellent foresight.

MC: If something like this happened in the village, everyone would think it was a fire. Luckily, there is no one around here.

Victor: The precondition of this “luckily” is that your attempt also doesn’t turn into an accident.

MC: Okay. But if I do stir up trouble, I’m sure CEO Victor won’t just stand by and do nothing, will he?

Victor’s expression softens as he takes the cauldron from me, which I’ve strained to lift.

Victor: Dummy… instead of overthinking, why don’t you think about how we can clean this cauldron together?

So, after thoroughly cleaning the pot, arranging the firewood, and tidying up the stove, I change the placement of the firewood and light it. This time, there is no plume of black smoke.

Victor: …you know how to burn firewood?

MC: When we were filming the countryside program before, I learned from the villagers that the positioning of firewood is crucial for proper ventilation.

MC: It’s coming in handy now. It feels like my previous learning wasn’t in vain after all.

A soft chuckle reaches my ears. Victor leans over, watching me.

Victor: A certain someone’s curious nature does indeed come in handy in moments like these.

MC: CEO Victor, are you not curious about the secret of setting up firewood?

Victor: If I say I am, will your chin soar to the sky?

MC: Just a little bit, definitely not that high.

Victor squints his eyes at me and gives a slow nod.

Victor: Go on then. Tell me about it.

MC: Well, let me hear you address me as “teacher” first.

Victor: …

An expression of being rendered speechless emerges on Victor’s face, and he stares at me with the look of “Are you a dummy” written across his countenance.

I can’t resist the urge to curve my lips upward, signaling my surrender.

MC: Alright then, if you address me as “Chef MC,” that will do too~

With a half smile on his face, Victor points at the cauldron in front of us.

Victor: Chef MC, your pot is about to burn.

MC: …!

MC: AHHHHH, don’t just stand there! Come and help, Victor!

In the end, before the ingredients run out, we eventually manage to prepare a dinner sufficient for two people.

Looking at the painstakingly prepared meal on the table, I even feel moved.

MC: It was really a challenge… but given that I got to witness CEO Victor’s culinary mishap for once, it was not a total loss~

Victor: You seem more thrilled about watching me make a mishap than you would be about eating pudding.

MC: Well, it’s not like I’ve seen you make so many cooking mistakes before…

Victor looks at me helplessly and shakes his head, laughing in spite of himself.

Victor: You’re right. I really can’t remember when was the last time I was this frantic and flustered.

MC: But to be honest, I think it’s rather nice this way.

MC: Today is a teensy bit less perfect than yesterday, but tomorrow will be a teensy bit more perfect than today.

MC: Each day brings something unique, and that’s what brings more freshness. I love that I get to see a novel version of you this way.

I reach out and circle my arms around Victor’s shoulders, brushing off the ash on his face with my fingertips. Then, I plant a kiss on the corner of his lips.

MC: See! Today I kissed Victor who didn’t even realize he had smudges of ash on his face~

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 5】

After dinner, we take our time to clean up the mess in the lighthouse before returning to the village.

Victor leads me along the stainless steel ladder, and together we climb up to the roof of the health center.

With the hottest hours of the day behind us, the sea breeze at dusk gently caresses us, carrying a slight salty moisture.

Watching as he puts together the sponges and rubber pads, my curiosity prompts me to speak.

MC: Sponges… rubber pads… it looks like you’re setting up a recording studio!

Just as these words leave my mouth, a realization suddenly dawns on me.

MC: Are you planning to add a soundproofing layer on the roof?

Victor: Not too slow. I don’t want a certain someone to toss and turn all night when it rains and end up looking like a panda the next day.

MC: Hehe, in that case, I’ll lend a helping hand too.

With a smile on my face, I take out the tools from the toolbox and help Victor set the soundproofing layer.

MC: I never imagined that you would not only know how to repair light bulbs and water tanks, but also be skilled in putting together wooden furniture and even installing soundproofing.

MC: It just feels like there’s nothing you can’t do. You’re so incredibly extraordinary, yet you always call yourself an ordinary person.

Victor: But on the flip side, there are things at times that many people can do, but I find myself not knowing how to do them.

Thinking back to the dinner experience, I can’t help but tug at the corners of my lips and look at him with an act of being very much in earnest.

MC: Indeed, there’s still more to learn when it comes to using a clay stove.

MC: But that’s actually great. Since coming to this village, I get to see a new side of Victor every single day.

V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟’s͟ h͟a͟n͟d͟ r͟e͟a͟c͟h͟e͟s͟ o͟u͟t͟, t͟h͟e͟ b͟a͟c͟k͟ o͟f͟ h͟i͟s͟ h͟a͟n͟d͟ b͟r͟u͟s͟h͟i͟n͟g͟ a͟g͟a͟i͟n͟s͟t͟ t͟h͟e͟ s͟w͟e͟a͟t͟ d͟r͟o͟p͟l͟e͟t͟s͟ o͟n͟ t͟h͟e͟ t͟i͟p͟ o͟f͟ m͟y͟ n͟o͟s͟e͟, his voice infused with a smile.

Victor: If that’s the case, I have it easier then. Even without having to be here, I get to see a new side of a certain dummy every single day.

MC: Humph, it’s not like I don’t know how to do anything. Do I really make mistakes that often?

Victor: It’s all thanks to your imagination. You always manage to create unexpected stumbling blocks for yourself.

After Victor has finished setting up the last piece of the soundproofing layer, we organize the tools and do a quick cleanup.

Once everything is done, w͟e͟ l͟e͟a͟n͟ b͟a͟c͟k͟ a͟n͟d͟ l͟a͟y͟ d͟o͟w͟n͟ o͟n͟ t͟h͟e͟ s͟l͟a͟n͟t͟e͟d͟ t͟i͟l͟e͟d͟ r͟o͟o͟f͟.

The rays of the setting sun bathe us in its glow, outlining our figures with shades of depth and shallowness reminiscent of the sea’s undulations.

MC: After a day of hustling, taking a rest feels exceptionally comfortable.

Victor: Mhm, the moment right now, it’s very lovely.

From the rooftop, we gaze into the distance, all the way to the far-off horizon. As far as our eyes can see, everything is bathed in the resplendent hues of the setting sun.

The enormous sunset is making its leisurely descent beneath the sea, marking the end of yet another day.

 Everything in this small fishing village unfolds slowly; even the sunset that flits by in an instant in the city seems elongated as if captured in a slow-motion sequence.

MC: I never could have imagined that I would be experiencing life with you in a completely unfamiliar fishing village like this.

MC: I often feel as though this period of time is like a dream.

Victor: We’ve been to different villages and islands in the past. What’s different this time?

I tilt my face to the side and watch him, the twilight casting a golden shade along his jawline.

MC: Even though the previous trips were relaxing, I would always put myself in the shoes of a tourist.

MC: I knew I didn’t belong there because the trips would eventually come to an end, and you and I would return to the familiar rhythm of our work and daily life.

MC: But this time, the magnetic storm has made the date will come sooner or later uncertain.

Victor: Yeah, I know.

Victor: Occasionally, I also have fleeting moments where I get the impression that this is how we were truly meant to live.

MC: Moments such as?

Victor: When cooking, collecting pearls, tidying up the room… in many occasions like that.

Victor’s voice seems as if it’s imbued with twilight, radiating a warm aura.

Victor: Once you are uncertain about what becomes of tomorrow, the weight of being a tourist vanishes.

Victor: So, occasionally being able to experience a life like this–– I quite like it.

MC: I feel the same way too. This is really great.

I shift back, letting my ears be filled with that familiar heartbeat.

MC: Here, we don’t need to worry about the company’s profits and losses, and there’s no pursuit of wealth and fame.

MC: You’re not the CEO of LFG, and I’m not some producer either. I don’t have to secretly worry about you shooting down my proposals.

I hear Victor’s deep chuckle echoing behind me, reaching my ears.

Victor: It sounds like the last part is the main point here. A certain someone just outright said that she could laze around and not have to work here.

MC: That’s not the main point.

Victor: What is it then?

MC: The main point is… I genuinely love this alien yet fascinating life in the fishing village, and the fact that I’m sharing this life with you.

MC: Here, we solve each other’s various small and big troubles that crop up in our daily lives––

MC: Together, we stumble on trivial matters, learn how to solve them, and finally reap the rewards––

MC: And also, “play” together with interesting activities...

My voice softens as the sea breeze whisks away the trailing echoes, guiding our eyes to interlock.

Victor: It goes beyond that.

Victor: This village’s more significant appeal to me is in the feeling that it’s simultaneously small and vast in its essence.

MC: How so?

Victor: Because if I want to find a certain dummy, I can walk through the entire village in less than half an hour.

Victor: But when we want to explore the world beyond, the entire ocean unfolds before us.

His pupils are dyed with the fiery colors of the sunset, transforming into a valley of such depth that they fail my ability to capture in words at this moment.

We gaze at each other for a long, long time, neither of us saying anything, as if the world contains only the two of us––

Lasting for so long that I believed even the setting sun would descend between our locked gazes, sprinkling stars into our eyes.

A soft laugh can’t help but escape my lips as I reach out, resting my hand on Victor’s neck once again.

MC: Since we arrived in this village, I feel like our time no longer belongs to this world.

MC: It’s as if it is a creation of you and me. And only because of us, the rhythm of time alters, sometimes fast and sometimes slow.

Victor: When does it become fast?

MC: Those times that I don’t like, fraught with difficulties.

MC: Like when we have to deal with the water-soaked floor due to leakage, or when we have to fetch water from the well because the water tank is not working.

MC: Because you’re by my side, these troubles that are unfamiliar to us always pass by quickly.

Memories of those hard-pressed moments seem to resurface for Victor, causing a smile to curve on his lips.

MC: So, that’s when a thought occurred to me.

Victor: And what was that?

MC: If you were truly a fisherman on this island, and I had been living in the city all along, I would have definitely chosen to go out to sea on a certain day.

MC: Then, on a sultry summer day or perhaps a rainy night, I would have found myself stranded on this island, where our paths would have crossed.

MC: At that time, I would have undoubtedly been attracted to the “ordinary fisherman” Victor and become an ordinary fishing village man and wife with you.

MC: What I’m trying to say is, no matter where you are or what kind of person you become, as long as it’s you, our trajectories will eventually converge.

–

[Tidbits]: The term MC uses here is “夫妻” (fuqi), which means “married couple”/ “husband and wife.” So, I wanted to keep the essence of MC’s innermost wish~ 🥺

–

My fingertips twitch, as Victor takes my hand and brings it to his lips, planting a kiss on my index finger.

Victor: I believe that.

Victor: So, no matter which possibility it is, I will be here waiting for you.

Victor: However, it’s never been in my principles to wait around passively. If you don’t come soon, I’ll leave this island.

Victor: No matter what I encounter at sea, I will never look back.

MC: Uh…?

The twilight has already begun to dissipate, and the profound darkness of the night seeps in from behind. The final glimmer of twilight casts its light upon Victor’s eyes.

So warm, so radiant–– it’s as if his eyes hold all the unspoken secrets of blazing fervor.

Then he leans in, personally unveiling this secret with the warmth of his lips.

Victor: My principle is to always continue sailing in one direction, knowing that I will inevitably meet my beloved.

The lingering sunset casts its glow upon us, and the fragmented light and shadows intertwine with our profound love and yearning for each other, all submerging together beneath the sea’s surface.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 5, Interwoven Emotions】

[Tidbits]: This is a bonus chapter (equivalent to the memory silhouette in SP MQs), described in the narrator’s POV, comprising moments before Chapter 4~ 🥺

—

Upon receiving an invitation to the village chief’s residence, Victor arrives to find the village chief standing in the courtyard, holding a flat clay jar in one hand.

Village Chief: Mr. Victor, I have already completed the communication process according to your guidance regarding the marketing of pearl farming you facilitated earlier.

Village Chief: Everything went smoothly, and they have agreed to come for a field assessment after the magnetic storm has passed.

The village chief’s aged and weather-beaten face has a tinge of joyful redness as he presents the case forward.

Village Chief: We are truly grateful to you for guiding the path for our little village. Everyone here feels that you two are the real lucky pearls of our island.

Village Chief: This is the finest pearl from our village, consider it as a token of our gratitude. I hope you won’t find it inadequate.

Having concluded his words, the village chief twists open the jar, revealing its contents to Victor.

Inside the box lays a black pearl that could fetch a lavish price at any auction. It absorbs all the ambient light and radiates its luster in an ethereal manner.

H͟o͟w͟e͟v͟e͟r͟, V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟ d͟o͟e͟s͟n͟’t͟ h͟a͟r͟b͟o͟r͟ a͟n͟y͟ a͟m͟b͟i͟t͟i͟o͟n͟ t͟o͟ t͟r͟a͟n͟s͟f͟o͟r͟m͟ t͟h͟e͟ f͟a͟t͟e͟ o͟f͟ t͟h͟e͟ P͟e͟a͟r͟l͟ V͟i͟l͟l͟a͟g͟e͟ b͟y͟ h͟i͟m͟s͟e͟l͟f͟. H͟e͟ i͟s͟ m͟e͟r͟e͟l͟y͟ a͟ d͟r͟i͟v͟i͟n͟g͟ f͟o͟r͟c͟e͟, c͟a͟r͟r͟y͟i͟n͟g͟ o͟u͟t͟ a͟ m͟o͟d͟e͟s͟t͟ g͟e͟s͟t͟u͟r͟e͟ w͟i͟t͟h͟ l͟i͟t͟t͟l͟e͟ e͟f͟f͟o͟r͟t͟.

Victor: The partnership is a matter of negotiation, and it’s mainly the outcome of the island’s villagers’ dedicated hard work. There is no need for such a precious gift as thanks.

Village Chief: How can that be! You are the great benefactor of our village, and we must properly thank you regardless of what you say.

Victor: Since it’s like this, let’s opt for a simpler way then.

Victor lifts the corners of his lips, forming a gentle smile.

Victor: Currently, there are no long-distance sea journeys in the village, and the lighthouse appears to be unused. I wonder if you’d be able to let us borrow it for a brief period?

There is no reason to refuse, and Victor quickly receives the key sent by the village chief.

Over the past few days, they have been dining on the dishes prepared by the villagers. Thanks to the unique coastal environment, the ingredients are abundantly fresh, resulting in naturally exquisite flavors.

But he also has a desire to try his hand at cooking in the kitchen himself.

I͟t͟’s͟ n͟o͟t͟ o͟n͟l͟y͟ b͟e͟c͟a͟u͟s͟e͟ t͟h͟e͟ c͟o͟o͟k͟i͟n͟g͟ m͟e͟t͟h͟o͟d͟s͟ i͟n͟ t͟h͟e͟ f͟i͟s͟h͟i͟n͟g͟ v͟i͟l͟l͟a͟g͟e͟ a͟r͟e͟ r͟a͟t͟h͟e͟r͟ s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟a͟l͟, b͟u͟t͟ a͟l͟s͟o͟ b͟e͟c͟a͟u͟s͟e͟ h͟e͟ c͟a͟u͟g͟h͟t͟ w͟i͟n͟d͟ o͟f͟ a͟ c͟e͟r͟t͟a͟i͟n͟ d͟u͟m͟m͟y͟’s͟ i͟n͟a͟d͟v͟e͟r͟t͟e͟n͟t͟ w͟i͟s͟h͟.

According to the plan, he purchases the ingredients and makes arrangements for the next steps of his preparations.

–

Underneath the humble clay stove inside the lighthouse, Victor picks up the few remaining pieces of firewood and gives them a pinch.

Dampened by the overnight rain, the pieces of firewood seem to have lost their efficacy as a fuel source.

Victor: …looks like there are more things I need to try than I initially thought.

After selecting a fresh batch of dry wood, he firmly secures one log and raises the axe in his hand.

He tries to smoothly engage his shoulder muscles to sequentially drive the motion in his arms, and then exerts force in a downward strike with his hands.

Due to long years of usage, the handle of the axe has been worn down. The vibrations transferring from the iron head to the wooden handle c͟a͟u͟s͟e͟ h͟i͟s͟ p͟a͟l͟m͟s͟ t͟o͟ s͟l͟i͟g͟h͟t͟l͟y͟ r͟e͟d͟d͟e͟n͟.

After a while, the rough-shaped logs have transformed into evenly sized pieces of firewood, neatly stacked on one side of the woodshed.

Victor takes a look at the time.

Although it’s not as challenging as he thought it would be, there’s still room for improvement.

With the thoughts of a certain dummy who has no idea about his plans, Victor feels a heightened sense of ease about exploring new territories he has never encountered before.

In the past few days, he has purposely observed the villagers’ cooking techniques so that once he has gathered sufficient examples, he will be able to innovate and improve upon them.

He preserves the distinctive essence of the island’s cuisine but m͟a͟k͟e͟s͟ s͟u͟b͟t͟l͟e͟ m͟o͟d͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ t͟o͟ t͟h͟e͟ t͟a͟s͟t͟e͟s͟ t͟o͟ s͟u͟i͟t͟ h͟e͟r͟ p͟r͟e͟f͟e͟r͟r͟e͟d͟ p͟a͟l͟e͟t͟t͟e͟.

The firewood, ingredients, and cooking utensils for the clay stove are all prepared and ready. Right now, all that’s remained is waiting to bring her here.

As Victor takes in the sight of everything before him, a small yet soft smile graces his lips.

Victor: [I AM IN TEARS, HE IS SO JOYED]  It seems that managing the firewood and controlling the heat for the cauldron might not be as challenging as I initially imagined.

And he is also looking forward to seeing what kind of surprises a certain someone will bring to today’s dinner plan.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 6】

We remain in each other’s arms on the rooftop for a long, long time, until the tangy and moist smell of earth quietly creeps in. A few droplets of water fall onto my body, bringing a sense of both temptation and reminder.

Victor releases me and takes my hand instead.

Victor: It’s raining. Let’s go into the room first.

I nod and follow Victor off the rooftop, running through the sprinkling drizzle and into the health center.

It’s only when inside the room that I can truly experience the effectiveness of the soundproofing layer.

The sound of rain, which originally sounded like drum beats, has now transformed into a soft and somewhat muffled tone as it lands onto the soundproofing layer.

We bring the electric fan over to the edge of the bed to alleviate the sultry heat that accompanies the summer rain, relishing in the precious moments of relaxation.

However, this moment of tranquility lasts for even less than half an hour. After numerous tosses and turns due to the sweltering heat, I eventually get up and leave the small bed.

I walk to the refrigerator and fetch a bottle of chilled water, pouring it into two glasses. With a complacent expression, I raise the glasses at Victor. 

MC: Are you hot? Check out what I’ve got!

Exhilarated, I hand him a glass of cold water, while my peripheral vision catches sight of a basin on the floor containing a clean towel soaking in water.

After taking a sip of the iced water, Victor notices my gaze and arches an eyebrow at me.

Victor: Wiping your body will make you feel cooler and more refreshed.

MC: Oh, yeah! How come I didn’t think of that!

I set the glass down and lean closer to Victor with a beaming smile.

MC: But it’s just too hot. I don’t feel like moving at all. What should I do~

Victor: …want me to do the work for you again?

MC: That’s not it! I’m just here, hot’ly seeking “Vi”... umph!

–

[Anika’s Notes]: Uh, this was a tricky translation LOL. MC actually uses a pun on Victor’s name <热来找“李”> (re lai zhao Li), and his first name is under the quote. What she’s doing here is killing two birds with one stone– requesting “Li Zeyan special service” for the wiping. And for the other implied meaning, she states it explicitly later on LMAO 🤪

–

Before I can finish my sentence, the damp towel in Victor’s hand has already been laid on my body.

The sudden coolness causes me to flinch, and I subconsciously arch my waist. But he firmly holds onto my arm.

Victor: Don’t move.

The cold towel sequentially wipes across my face, neck, and arms… leaving behind a trail of cool moisture embracing every inch of my exposed skin.

A slight quiver runs through me. However, after a brief moment of comfort, the dampness clinging to my skin is no longer a source of pleasantness.

A burning thirst, corroded by restlessness, seems to consume every crevice of my body, as if it were seeping out from the cracks in my bones. I yearn for something more indefinable, a need for something intangible that can bring me solace.

MC: [blushing]  Victor…

I call his name with a lingering intonation, yet Victor simply raises his eyebrows in response.

Victor: Turn around. I can’t wipe your back like this.

Humph!

Seeing that Victor isn’t taking my hints, I take matters into my own hands and pick up the water glass, seizing the opportunity to hide a piece of ice in my palm.

MC: [blushing]  Vic—tor—

Victor: What is it–– hiss!

Victor is startled by my sudden attack, causing his eyebrows to jump. But he swiftly recovers and captures my mischief-making hand.

Victor: Why are you always so mischievous?

I sport a bright grin and squeeze the ice cube in my hand, wearing an innocent expression on my face.

MC: I’m very well-behaved, you see.

MC: Aren’t I also helping CEO Victor cool down this way?

I entertain the thought of mounting another sneak attack as I say this. But as soon as I turn my wrist, Victor’s palm clamps me even harder.

Victor: I don’t need this kind of cooling method.

MC: Huh?

Victor: Because I have a more effective approach.

Before I can grasp the meaning behind his words, I feel a sudden tightening around my waist, causing me to be caught off guard and topple backward.

I let out a short gasp of surprise, only to have it immediately silenced as his lips consume mine.

The ice cube in my hand is too cold and slippery, making it impossible for me to keep hold of it. Victor effortlessly snatches it away from me.

T͟h͟e͟ s͟p͟r͟e͟a͟d͟i͟n͟g͟ i͟c͟y͟ w͟a͟t͟e͟r͟ s͟e͟e͟p͟s͟ i͟n͟t͟o͟ o͟u͟r͟ i͟n͟t͟e͟r͟t͟w͟i͟n͟e͟d͟, s͟c͟o͟r͟c͟h͟i͟n͟g͟ b͟o͟d͟i͟e͟s͟, c͟a͟u͟s͟i͟n͟g͟ m͟e͟ r͟e͟f͟l͟e͟x͟i͟v͟e͟l͟y͟ t͟e͟n͟s͟e͟ u͟p͟. Unable to endure it any longer, I blurt out a plea for surrender.

MC: [blushing]  It’s t-t-too cold, I––

Victor: It’s too late for that.

A second cube of ice comes down, along with his kisses.

I almost want to regret the prank I made just moments ago, as I now find myself t͟r͟a͟p͟p͟e͟d͟ i͟n͟ a͟ c͟r͟o͟s͟s͟f͟i͟r͟e͟ o͟f͟ e͟x͟t͟r͟e͟m͟e͟ c͟o͟l͟d͟ a͟n͟d͟ e͟x͟t͟r͟e͟m͟e͟ h͟e͟a͟t͟, unable to move in the slightest.

–

Creak, creak… the fragile hospital bed emits a series of repetitive protests, as it has been repeating often throughout this period.

The curtain next to the small bed sways high in response to our movements, and then descends gently and tenderly, accompanied by the seductive glow of the dusky rays.

Bathed in the soft, intoxicating light and shadows, Victor gazes at me. The sheet loosely draped over him has slid most of the way down, exposing a body that still bears sunburn marks.

He leans down, pressing his entire body against mine. In the unseen space, his searing palm cradles me, lifting me up.

I find myself hooped between him and the narrow bed, with my hand holding the glass forced to be raised high, circling around his back.

V͟i͟c͟t͟o͟r͟ h͟o͟l͟d͟s͟ a͟n͟ i͟c͟e͟ c͟u͟b͟e͟ b͟e͟t͟w͟e͟e͟n͟ h͟i͟s͟ t͟e͟e͟t͟h͟, a͟n͟d͟ t͟h͟e͟ s͟e͟n͟s͟a͟t͟i͟o͟n͟ o͟f͟ c͟o͟o͟l͟n͟e͟s͟s͟ b͟l͟o͟s͟s͟o͟m͟s͟ o͟n͟ m͟y͟ c͟h͟e͟s͟t͟ a͟l͟o͟n͟g͟ w͟i͟t͟h͟ t͟h͟e͟ t͟r͟i͟c͟k͟l͟i͟n͟g͟ w͟a͟t͟e͟r͟ d͟r͟o͟p͟l͟e͟t͟s͟.

MC: [blushing and moaning]  Mmm…!

Shivering, I͟ s͟u͟r͟r͟e͟n͟d͟e͟r͟ m͟y͟s͟e͟l͟f͟ t͟o͟ t͟h͟e͟ t͟o͟u͟c͟h͟ o͟f͟ h͟i͟s͟ l͟i͟p͟s͟ a͟n͟d͟ a͟l͟l͟o͟w͟ h͟i͟m͟ t͟o͟ s͟l͟o͟w͟l͟y͟ g͟l͟i͟d͟e͟ t͟h͟i͟s͟ i͟c͟y͟, w͟e͟t͟ s͟e͟n͟s͟a͟t͟i͟o͟n͟ a͟c͟r͟o͟s͟s͟ m͟y͟ b͟o͟d͟y͟.

And this mildly stinging coldness also impels me to hold him even tighter.

The temperature gradually climbs as our bodies intertwine, intensifying the already intoxicating and enchanting ambiance.

It’s only when the translucent ice has completely melted into an ambiguous tide of water that Victor finally speaks, his voice tinged with a husky tone.

Victor: …still want to provoke me more?

I tilt my face up and stare at him in a daze, finding his eyes radiating with a satisfied and sly glow.

I incline my right hand slightly, and the iced water from the glass spills out, landing on his back.

MC: [blushing]  Does this count as another act of provocation… mmph!

Victor doesn’t let me speak any further and firmly clamps my chin, using his lips and tongue to block the smile I couldn’t suppress.

Victor: Of course it does.

Just as I’m about to seize this brief opportunity to speak, another kiss cuts me off again.

Victor: After all, I’m merely an ordinary person now, and I don’t have to be so reasonable.

Victor: So, from now until the break of dawn, there will be no more pardoning for any of your actions.

The heat of his burning love submerges me, drowning out each of my futile attempts to plead my case.

Outside the room, a corner of the sky clears up, and the rosy blush of the sunset climbs up the window, sneakily peering into the bewitching scene inside.

The subtle patter of rain has completely dissipated at some point, but we are too caught up in our own world to notice.

Engulfed in the nearly dizzying collisions, we fill each other’s souls to the brim with only the resonance and whispers of this moment.

I feel as though I have transformed into a pearl calm, being picked up by Victor from that shimmering shallow beach——

M͟o͟s͟t͟ w͟i͟l͟l͟i͟n͟g͟l͟y͟, I͟ s͟u͟r͟r͟e͟n͟d͟e͟r͟ a͟l͟l͟ m͟y͟ l͟i͟n͟e͟s͟ o͟f͟ d͟e͟f͟e͟n͟s͟e͟ f͟o͟r͟ h͟i͟m͟, l͟a͟y͟i͟n͟g͟ b͟a͟r͟e͟ m͟y͟ r͟a͟w͟e͟s͟t͟ b͟e͟a͟u͟t͟y͟ b͟e͟f͟o͟r͟e͟ h͟i͟m͟.

Thereupon, all the gullies of yearnings and restless desires are finally quenched as they are engulfed by a mountainous tsunami——

— before finding solace in the serene tranquility of bliss.

────────────────/////

[Tidbits]: The phrase used here is “山呼海啸”, which literally translates to “mountains calling and seas roaring.” The idiomatic phrase conveys the idea of an event that is extremely grand, extraordinary, or of significant magnitude, evoking a sense of intense impact or overwhelming force.

[Anika’s Notes]: Yeah, good thing it was an abandoned health center and there weren’t people at least in the vicinity LMAO. Hats-off to the writers for one of the most intensely vivid and beautiful sex scenes writing I’ve ever read in my little life LOL— the blend of profound love, intense zeal, raw passion-- yet not losing the sense of reverence~ ❤️

─

────────────────────────────────────────────

【My two cents, feel free to ignore LOL】

—

[psalmsofpsychosis]

so anyway, DC's Doom Patrol (2019) is a level of storytelling that simply feels so impossible, and coming from DC too, and YET

[polyamoryprincess]

I truly do understand the fear people have regarding people doing “fanfiction commissions” and making money off fanfics after the Anne Rice debacle, but we don’t have to act like it’s an inherent moral failing and like you’re a Fake Fan tainting fan spaces if you want to be paid for your work the same way fan artists do.

Anne Rice is a dick head for what she did and should be treated as such, treating the fear she’s wrought as some holy thing is fucking weird.

[jewishbarbies]

lit agents telling authors how to write for publication:

[vicontheinternet]

I wish Roswell New Mexico was adapted by someone else so black!maria wasn’t treated so horribly. also although my thoughts on roswell nm as a show overall are all over the place. I loved the way brought the show closer to the book by having having Rosa being a character and I love the idea of her character I love a resurrection trope and I do like that liz and by default rosa are their book accurate race again

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

is anybody else upset that instead of authors' unions and the development of labor power, every ounce of discourse and effort towards writers making a living wage is geared towards digital intellectual property rights and digital theft protection. like i don't know about anybody else but I am actually not excited for major publishing companies to be algorithmically searching for and DMCA striking books that are "similar enough" to their copyright. I don't trust AI to be able to tell when something is adulterated metadata vs when something is just very similar. I fucking hate DRM already. I hate buying a book and either being restricted in use of my property or taking it through multiple complicated steps to remove it for an epub file compatible with calibre, where I can file and tag it appropriately.

and i don't think we're going to find any kind of salvation for writers and writing this way. I think we're going to launch another digital arms race (like with removing DRM) while continuously empowering the already wealthy to consolidate power and crush meaningful change through slap suits and the like.

and this is because digital theft is the only problem that the publishing industry is willing to address. because strengthening intellectual property protections doesn't protect art or artists, it allows the big players to better control the playing field and force it to benefit themselves.

Okay, this may prove useful.

[jackels-in-space]

I’m sorry but please stop using AI.

Not only does it use other people’s work as base training (let’s not forget about the fact that C.AI creators have been taking fics to build up chat bots) it also like…destroys the environment.

They need computers capable of giving you quick responses and that generates heat and what cools things down? AC and water.

Genuinely go search it up it’s insane.

Stop using AI.

If you feel like you want to post and you’re like “oh but I don’t think I’m good enough” I sympathise I really do every writer friend I know has had that exact same experience but you’re never gonna get better if you don’t try.

You’re never gonna learn anything if you use AI so stop assisting big corporations in destroying the world and actually try.

If you feel scared about your actual writing if it’s any good or not I am so happy to beta it for you but please just try that’s all I’m asking.

I’ve supplied a couple of links so you know I’m talking bullshit but please do your own investigation <3