#you might as well switch their personalities

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

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[emotionallychargedtowel]

The em dashes in this example don’t exactly “belong” to Emma (the character) though, right? I’m pretty sure this is a summary of Mrs. Elton prattling. I guess I just don't want it to sound like they're Emma's responsibility, which adding them to her name seems to do. Unless they are her responsibility. Hm.

She is the reader’s point-of-view character. She's arguably the one who summarizes Mrs. Elton in this way. If she took Mrs. Elton more seriously it doesn't seem like her words would be summarized in this way. But then we’d have to read every word Mrs. Elton says here—verbatim. No thanks.

I was wondering if the reason Emma is such an em-dash outlier might be because of Mrs. Elton and/or certain other tiresome or longwinded characters (I'm thinking of Miss Bates, of course), along with Emma’s halfway listening to them.

So I cracked open my copy. And now I'm taking a perfectly good joke and turning it into a detailed discussion of my hyperfixation. Well, hopefully it's of interest to others anyway.

The short version of the answer to my question is that Emma's em dash quotient doesn't seem to be entirely, or even mainly, attributable to any specific character, including any propensity of Emma's as our point-of-view character. It's mostly just that Austen goes all out with the em-dashes all over the place. Now, I love em dashes and overuse them habitually. But the em dashes in Emma seem downright excessive to me.

Check out this bit where Emma and Harriet are looking at Mr. Elton's house:

“…there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing eyes.—Emma’s remark was— ‘There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days.’—Harriet’s was— ‘Oh! What a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are then yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.’”

They really are extraneous here.

At other points, they seem to serve the usual purposes in dialogue, like making a sentence into a sort of aside or showing when someone has been cut off by another person. And sometimes they accomplish other worthwhile things. For one thing, as in the Mrs. Elton summary, they often do the work of helping to condense a bit of small talk. There's also a part where Miss Bates goes off at length twice in quick succession, in which the em-dashes show how abruptly she jumps from one topic to the next.

Mr. Knightley's response when he thinks Emma is upset because of the revelation of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax makes good use of them in a related way:

"...[S]he found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, 'Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—.' Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, 'The feelings of the warmest friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!' —And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, 'He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.'"

The em dashes show the abrupt way he switches from one phrase or exclamation to another. If his tone is "steadier" at the end of this passage, the em dashes seem to show how unsteady he was at the beginning of it. He's not just changing his tack repeatedly, he's doing it because he's agitated.

So, yeah. Austen does some worthwhile things with her preponderance of em dashes in Emma. But for the most part, she was just wilding out.

An ode to em

One of the reasons that I love Jane Austen's work is that she loves an em dash. Just how much does she love an em dash? Behold:

That's right, baby—Emma has 3102 em dashes in it! Not hyphens—this is just the count of true em dashes alone. It's glorious.

Let's all bask in the em dashes in this famous Emma passage:

“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade.”

31 em dashes in that sequence alone! And that's not even the whole paragraph—there are 9 more em dashes in the rest of the paragraph before that quotation! Iconic.

[dol-dee]

🍋Body Language - Limone the Human (They/Them)🍋

Their Intro Post / Some More Rambles

It’s a peppy, coquettish kind of catwalk. Not slow or languid in its sultriness. Its Bouncy- (quite literally lmao) all swaying curves - breasting extremely boobily and unabashedly so. They’re pretty speedy for someone with short legs and have been known to straight up skip on occasion.

Maybe smth like THIS

Limone has an air about them, when they’re walking or standing or just about anywhere- like they naturally belong in whatever space they’re occupying. Like there is no place they couldn’t be comfortable and confident in. (That is the truth— if you don’t count the forest) Their posture is way too good. Unnaturally so. Nobody should be allowed to stand that straight. It’s odd, really. Please stop, slouch a little?

Whenever they are doing bad (and only when theyre alone), they stop walking normally entirely. Just held up by their vines like a puppet on a string. Maneuvering through their apartment like a lethargic Doc Ock. If they were in actual pursuit of someone/hunting someone down they would probably move just like miss Olivia Octavius Spiderverse. There’s a notable stillness when they stand, it’s incredibly uncanny. It's a frequent occurrence that they're so motionless that you would mistake them for an object out of the corner of your eye, like they’re rooted in place— Until they suddenly start to fidget - it's quite a sudden change then: Rocking back and forth on their feet, tapping rhythms into the ground, one hand drumming their fingers against their hips or thighs. the other hand on their waist; moving their hands all over their body: intertwined hands over their chest, framing it, or over their stomach. brushing back their hair or playing with it. both hands placed on the back of their waist as they look around. They frequently check up or reapply lipstick when there's no one around.

I think this gif does a good job showcasing how they'd sit The way Limone sits is surprisingly elegant. (Until they start to fidget again) Once again good posture: chest pushed out a little, shoulders back, hands in their lap. Although they might end up fully leaned forward by the end of a conversation. Arms propped up on the table or their lap, cleavage pushed together because of it. Unconsciously trying to get as close to the other person as possible. Enthusiastically gesturing while talking and totally engrossed while listening. I can also see them draped over- or in someone’s lap (or the other way around.) by the end of a night.

Limone is very expressive for someone with the emotional capacity of a walnut. They usually always smile and quickly revert back to that smile - whenever they’re in their usual euphoric mood. I don’t see that change much, not even when they’re alone. Maybe their smile is a little smaller and less intense without someone to focus it on. They are still plenty expressive despite that. They will pout easily when something doesn’t go their way, scrunch their mouth up or purse their lips in confusion. Whine when briefly unhappy or annoyed and prone to rubbing or scratching at their neck when in discomfort. They grin when elated - with any big open mouthed, smiles. Chuckling or laughter - hidden behind their hand, to conceal their black tongue. They really don’t try to restrain or hide any of their expressions otherwise. They only have two emotional states so a change in demeanor is extremely easy to notice. Put them in front of Lilla, in the forest, start making them go cold or god forbid- angry and their smile drops entirely. It’s not deliberate. Their emotional state just works like a switch. It might as well be like their emotiveness has been put on ice.

[marichild]

okay so. somewhat coherent thoughts about the new chapter because jfc that was an EXCELLENT meal asagiri cooking as always

okay so the page was a fake this whole time. sort of expected that but fyodor is having so much fun...mwah

the dazai hallucinations are very interesting tbh. it's switched from the headmaster to dazai—and it's always been a singular person haunting atsushi at any given time. we can discern for a fact that it's the person who has the most power/influence over him at that time. vibrates.

placing my bets that the hallucinations are genuinely just byakko. it makes sense

BEAST PARALLELS. VIBRATES. to overcome fear you need a bigger fear. ohmygod.

this is something that @windypuddle pointed out but. thinking about how if the second ame no gozen was summoned from the future/past. it'd have to disappear from that point in time to get to where it is now. hmmm. considers this. there's the possibility it might just be far enough that it doesn't matter a whole lot but I'm convinced this is instrumental to whatever sskk are going to pull now that atsushi has found the will to fight. considers.

overall asagiri has fed us so well. going insane again oml

[typicalopposite]

🥟 dumplings please! 🛎️

Well this got long and angsty… BUT it will have a part two in another person’s ask (hint: it’s Hannah’s) later 🙂‍↕️😉

This is a bad idea… that is probably going to result in an equally bad, impulsive idea. Buck takes a deep breath and walks into the bar anyway. 

“Thank God!” Chimney must have been watching the door for him to walk in because he spots Buck instantly and hurries over to him. “You gotta do something,” he continues, grabbing Buck’s arm and tugging him through the crowd, towards the front. 

“I don’t understand why it has to be me…” Buck mumbles; not that he wants it to be anyone else. It’s just that a few days ago everyone was actively trying to stop Buck from contacting Tommy, now they are asking him to confront Tommy in person. 

“Because you’re the only one who might be able to actually get through to him…” Chimney replies, and stops in front of their booth. “Okay I got him.” The rest of his team collectively sigh in relief. Buck sighs in annoyance to their relief. They had invited him to come along, but he knew Tommy and the 217 frequented the bar too— oftentimes he would abandon his own team to come sit with Buck and the 118 when they’d arrive— he wasn’t taking the chance. So much for that well thought out plan.

“So… what exactly am I supposed to do here?” Buck asks, he looks around but doesn’t even see a trace of Tommy anywhere in the bar. 

“He’s up next,” Chimney says, looking horrified. “Buck his reputation will never recover from this, you have to stop him.” 

“Stop him from wh—” 

Buck gets interrupted by a loud speaker screech and when he looks towards the sound he finally sees Tommy. He is standing beside the karaoke machine, swaying and teetering nearly over before catching his balance. He looks so lost— so sad, and it makes Buck’s heart ache. 

But he’s sad too, and— and Tommy is the reason he is sad. So when Tommy’s head finally lifts up and looks towards the 118’s booth, and he spots Buck staring back; Buck doesn’t react. When a shocked look crosses Tommy’s face but then gives way for a soft smile; he gives a little wave… and Buck doesn’t react to that either. 

“What are you waiting for!?” Chimney hisses, pushing Buck towards the front of the bar. “Go say something.”

“No… if— if I was ever going to try to talk to him—” Buck argues. “—I’m not doing it while he’s drunk.” 

“Buck! That’s the best time to do it!” 

“That makes no sense!?”

Hen sighs. “With Tommy… it actually does. He becomes an open book when he’s drunk.”

Buck rolls his eyes, unwilling to hear them out when they wouldn’t hear him out about how much he missed Tommy, how desperate he was to hear from him.

At the stage Tommy clears his throat. “H- Hey… it— it’s me… again.”

“Again?” Buck repeats, confused. 

“This is his fifth time up there,” Chimney explains, abandoning his efforts to get Buck to the stage and plopping down beside Hen. Around them a couple other tables can be heard whispering and snickering while pointing up towards the stage. Buck managed to ignore how it pisses him off to see them make fun of Tommy. 

“So f- for ma’nxt— next song…” Tommy says, swaying around from the motion of turning his head down to the computer to pick a song. “I… I’m g’nna sss— ssss— s- sing directly to my d- my du— my dumpling.” He looks back at Buck and winks— tries to wink, anyway. It was more of a slow frog blink. More laughter erupts through the bar, but if Tommy notices… it doesn’t sway him at all from finding a song anyway. 

“Oh my god,” Chimney groans, and drops his head down onto his arms. “He’s still saying ‘dumpling’!” 

“Wh- what do you mean, still?” 

“Every song he has chosen has used the word darling in it,” Hen explains. “By the third song— and his fifth whiskey— he just… switched the word and started saying dumpling instead.”

Hello Darlin’ appears on the screen behind him. “Hello Dumplin’,” is what comes out of his mouth. 

Buck stands there, somewhere between entranced in the lyrics (minus the persistent use of the word dumpling instead of darling) and embarrassed on Tommy’s behalf; the whole bar minus one table is openly laughing at him now— and yet he finishes the song. 

“And if you could ever find it in your heart… to forgive me. Come b- *hicup* back dumplin’; I’ll be waitin’ for you…” he says, stumbles and falls backwards. 

In the audience there is no concern at all, very little applause, and a whole lot of laughter. Buck’s feet finally break free from where he had purposefully planted them to the floor, and he rushes up to the stage. Tommy is rubbing at his shoulder where it hit a chair on his way down. He looks up when Buck grabs his arm and his eyes shine— probably due to the fact they are practically floating in alcohol. He smiles, and reaches for Buck’s face, missing a couple times before finally caressing his cheek. “You came back to me, d- dumplin’…” he says… and Buck doesn’t have the heart to say it’s only because he was duped into showing up. 

“Come on,” Buck sighs, and helps him to his feet. “I’ll take you home.” 

He tosses Chimney the keys to Tommy’s truck as they pass, then walks Tommy out to his jeep. Tommy slumps against the door once it's shut, smiling up at Buck through the window; and Buck doesn’t react. He can’t react. Not now… not like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says after half a car ride in complete silence. Buck is about to tell him it’s fine; that he doesn’t mind giving him a ride. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Evan.” Buck’s throat tightens and he manages a grunt in response. “You— you were everything I ever wanted… and— and I let you go. I wish I hadn’t…” 

So do I… Buck wants to say. He grips the wheel and continues to drive. 

Tommy starts to hum. Then eventually he starts to sing. “You came into my life, little savior… I catch butterflies when you enter… it’s crazy what love can do… Now you got me singing my truth…” Buck sighs, and keeps his eyes on the road. “You bring me Calm in the chaos… When all the odds are against us… You’ll have all my love… I need you to know now…

Oh, my darling, am I falling? I can’t find the words to use… First my heart aches… then my voice breaks… so I had to write it down for you. 

Oh my… d- darling… What you started, feels like I got it all to lose. First the ground shakes, years of mistakes… You’ve given me another life, so I’ll live it for you…”

Tommy goes quiet and Buck doesn’t react. 

[fookinhellcurlyy]

Louis Tomlinson's Career History Pt. 1 and 2 [Post-1D] by notastrwbrysng2

Full credits to notastrwbrysng2 from X/Twitter. Reposting screenshots and texts for archiving purposes.

While I haven't done my own personal deep dive on this topic, I think this particular thread is a very informative and transparent (backed with public articles) + beginner-friendly. Not sure if this has already been shared here before but I thought I'll make this archive post anyway.

I also saw this anon of @twopoppies asking about H & L's solo careers after 1D's hiatus, so this feels like perfect timing to share it here.

I know @hoovesandfloorpaws is also doing a separate big business/industry research soon, so this introductory thread (for Louis, at least) could be a good starting point while waiting.

Note: I will copy-paste the exact texts from the tweets. The words after the cut below are from the linked thread (source). The cited articles per tweet are hyperlinked ('x'). I might replace/combine some screenshots due to Tumblr's limitations, as well as add the links from where they were originally taken.

Again, thank you so much notastrwbrysng2 (Megs) for creating this.

———

Part 1: The "missing years" not shown in AOTV

Notice how we didn't get years 2016-early 2019 in AOTV? | x

Questions I wonder about.. Louis as first signed to RCA. THEN it was announced sometime later that he switched to Epic. What happened with the label switch here? | x

"It had previously been reported that Tomlinson would end up at RCA, but when Epic Records president Sylvia Rhone heard Tomlinson’s music — in particular the song “Back To You” featuring Bebe Rexha — she campaigned for the project." Okay, okay..

It sounded at this point like Louis was on track, had songs written, had songs recorded.. Did a charity single in 2017, Just Like You cane out as a single ep.. He chatted in Nov 2017 about releasing an album and touring in 2018! Perfect, right?

....except there were crickets the first half of 2018.

January brought Louis roasting Coachellas 2018 lineup.. Towards the end of Jan, an Ask anything video.. | x

February, he teased Habit lyrics.. we have a photo of him recording All Along... And not much else..

March, The "Miss You" singer won the Best Solo Breakout award, beating out Camila Cabello, and his former One Direction bandmates, Harry Styles, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. Oh, so 4 or 5 of them were on the radio simultaneously... | x

April, another Hey, still working on the album…

And May…he left James Grant management.

Synopsis of rest of the year: (X-Factor, a couple awards, signing with WMA). Louis and Dalton Harris stuck it to cowbell and won the season.

2019 rolls around.. Two of Us promo starts and halts in March for a few weeks due to the passing of Fizzy. Louis took some time off (as to be expected) to be with family.

As of this point, Louis had released: Dec 2016: Just Hold On (not backed by an album) 2017: Back To You (no album) 2017: Miss You (no album) 2017: Just Like You (Non-album promo single) 2018: nothing! 2019: Two of Us (unattached at the time)

Yet another label change Feb 2019 now a move to Arista… STILL under S*co/S*ny.

So, 3 years in and NO completed album still? The other unattached but soon to be on the next album Walls were: KMM, We Made It, and DLIBYH with zero promotion, just a director's cut MVs that mirror much of the story Papillon.

Finally, Walls is out in 2020 with it's 4th and final single, and very little promotion.

Flash forward to concerns in 2022/2023 of the same issue: Absolutely NO airplay in his home city and surrounding areas, very little marketing in the US.

(Not much can be found about 2016.)

Coming up next: Exploring WHY Louis has hit roadblocks and how everyone is interconnected

—

Part 2: Louis' Role in 1D thru 2016

I highlighted Louis' slow moving career that started with self released singles, two label pickups (one seeming promising!), a bunch of crickets, and some movement again in 2018. To understand what was going on, we have to go back to when the band was first created. This sounds silly, yes, but it is connections that keep continuing to recur this entire time.

First, let's discuss the US market. They did not have any active boybands and record labels saw an opportunity in Brit boybands.

Leading up to January 2020, plans were put into place and discussed by Sony how to cultivate a boyband. Hottest thing in the UK was TXF. Build a boyband, sign them at their first audition in March 2010. This is a crucial link to the UK side of what will occur later on. | x

Louis & Harry both have contract dates March 26, the same day as their initial auditions. The ones on TV are their 3rd/4th. The band was set up ahead of time and played out on the cameras. During their time in the house, Lou is The Leader by week 2 (:50 in).

To reiterate AOTV, Louis has the least amount of vocals, virtually no solos until Midnight Memories. His songwriting skills were a huge asset (after "pissing off a lot of people," according to Savan Kotecha). Savan later told Rolling Stone that LOUIS led their sound forward.

Songwriting, then suddenly music management (NOTE DATE!) became Louis's role. SC began to groom Louis, who consistently fought for the boys behind the scenes, to be his "protege" of sorts and steered him away from a future solo career as early as 2014 and was "given*" an imprint

As we all know, as Louis talked about, the label did not move forward due to micromanagement by SC and S*NY. | x

At this juncture, Louis is now done with the band as of December 2015. He does not have anything lined up but is being courted by.. S*ny head Rob Str*nger. As the article in the OP explains, they wanted him for songwriting &/or music mngmt Louis at...an industry party?

Part 3 & 4 here.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello, I hope you're having a wonderful day so far! I was wondering if you had any general fluff with Candy or Terrors, I love your take on them and they make me smile every time. Maybe just silly little moments or cute accidents.

(have a good day and remember to drink water!!)

I hope you enjoy the fluff! I gave you both of them because I like writing soft stuff for both of them :)) There's a single romantic moment but I followed it up with a platonic alternative, so whether you'd like to view this as platonic or not is up to you when it comes to the bits with your involvement :)

This popped into my head when I first saw this request, but I feel like sometimes Terrors pretends to be Candy, but like, not on purpose. While their general demeanor and voices are different, sometimes I feel like when Terrors is really relaxed he seems a bit more similar to Candy, and people might mistake him for Candy. This leads to incidents where someone will run up to Terrors and either like, high-five him, maybe try and hug him, or update him on something, before going about their day, and Terrors just accepts it, making his best impression of Candy (which is actually quite good), because he's too embarrassed to admit that he accepted a high five from someone. The only people who can tell whether it's Candy or Terrors from a glance alone are you, LJ, Jason, and Slender. Nobody who has mistaken Terrors for Candy knows they've done so because Terrors would rather die than have someone be aware they treated him so casually. Terrors absolutely whines to you about it because he can't stew in his embarrassment alone.

I feel like after the last couple hundred years Candy and Terrors have gotten to a point where they *kind of* value each other's feelings, and so, in a moment of fluff for each other, they take each other's likes and dislikes into account. I feel like they have designated times scheduled for when they'll switch with each other, so for example, if one of them knows the other will be out for dinner, but a food they don't like is going to be the main dish, they'll request for something else to be made alongside it so that they can have something to eat. Slender was quite confused the first time Terrors walked up to him and was like, "Ah, could you prepare an additional side dish for this? Candy quite dislikes this meal." very bluntly before walking away. Slender was SO confused and shook, but he absolutely did so. Candy has more tact and is usually like, "Hey, you know what goes good with this??" and starts suggesting other things to be made with it, rather than outing Terrors for not liking specific foods. It's one of the few ways they're kind to each other. Part of it that neither of them will mention though is that, considering they share the same mind, they don't want to have to keep listening to each other complaining about the same dislikes after all these years.

I mentioned before that you are one of the only people who know who's who just by looking at them, but I feel like it would be a bit silly if every now and then you tease them and say the wrong person. If you "accidentally" call Candy 'Terrors' he gets so dramatic about it, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, dramatically swaying back and forth, saying, "I cannot BELIEVE you could do this to me, oh my GOODNESS, what have I done to deserve this, how could you possibly mistake me for another?!" He'll just ramble on and on, and the only way to get him to stop is to somehow maneuver yourself up to his face and cover it in kisses, in which case he'll forgive you and say it's alright unless you'd like the more platonic route, which is apologizing just as dramatically as he's being. If you refer to Terrors as 'Candy', he looks SO aghast at you. I'm talking mouth hanging open, hand on his chest, eyebrows quirked up in disbelief, saying, "Well I NEVER! I would have believed that by now you'd know me better, but I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I? For you to betray me in such a way! I could not have seen this coming-!" He's being a bit silly because with the giggles you're poorly concealing it was obvious you were teasing him, but he makes you repay him by doing him "favors" like getting him (and yourself) a drink, and turning on his (and your) favorite music in the background, and you know, telling him about your day, and about your plans and, oh? This is just what you were going to be doing with him anyway? But of course! Your repayment is simply spending time with him, just as you were meant to because that's the best repayment you could ever give him.

[spearxwind]

Halloooo I have been recently thinking of starting commissions, but I'm extremely nervous about the whole Real Life Money aspect of it. If you don't mind me asking, do you use Paypal? And if so, are you a business or personal account? I've seen some conflicting opinions on which one is best, or if I'd even count as a business since I'm just doing digital stuff.

Thank u very much for your time :)

Hey! I would say not to worry :] it looks intimidating, but if you are diligent with your work it's not a huge deal at all!

I do use paypal, and I have been doing commissions on a personal account for about 10 years now. Please be aware though that if you are under 18 it is illegal to use the service ^^ there was trouble back in the day where accounts made before the owner was 18 got nuked and banned with the money in them held indefinitely.

I don't know anything about business accounts though, so I can't say. Maybe one day I might switch if I look into it but i am not currently bothered about it and my setup works just fine for me! I know people who used business accounts for digital art as well so I don't think that factors in but please take what I say with a grain of salt because like I said I don't know anything about business accounts.

Setting up paypal is a bit of effort but well worth it. You do need a fair amount of documentation, so be prepared for that. And I would suggest that if you use it for commissions, you use invoices for them, as opposed to a regular transfer or even the 'friends and family' option.

invoices take a cut off your earnings yes, but it is a way for you to legally declare business and to avoid things like chargebacks, unsatisfied customers, scams, and all that stuff. It's better both for you and the client. Definitely recommend reading up on that.

Wishing you luck in ur commission journey!!

[aplainmeresimp]

In the Blue Hours of the Morning: Chapter 2 - The Pendulum Swings

Full Fanfic Summary in Chapter 1

Story tags/warnings: pre-season 1, no use of y/n or real world language, strangers to friends to lovers, fluffy, acts of service as viktors love language, academic weapon reader, viktor pov chapters, eventual sky pov chapter, eventual nsfw. unrequited love towards sky :( random oc created for the sole purpose of being a side character. not a song fic, chapters names are just inspired by song lyrics. the only thing viktors insecure about is him being an assistant, he knows he’s fine.

Chapter 2 Word Count: 5.3k

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter (Coming soon) ->

Read on AO3

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A nine out of ten.

That's what Professor Penmark gave you on the final. Why, you may ask?

“A smudge on the last page,” he said as he wrote your grade in his class list. Afterwards, he circled the smudge and handed it back to you. You flipped to the last page and it shocked you.

It was miniscule. Barely traceable. A nine would be a blessing for other classes, but to get a nine out of ten over a smudge? Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Fuming with rage, you gave him a smile and said, “thank you for the class, Professor.”

You calmly walked out of his office with your graded project. As soon as you turned the corner, you found the nearest trash can, took your project out of its folder, and dumped it into the trash.

Who’s even named Penmark? It's a noun and a noun. Or a noun and a verb. Might as well be named Professor Asswipe. Same difference with that attitude.

Storming to your dorm, students passed you with a twinge of fear. It seemed like a dark cloud loomed over you. The sun had fully set, giving its final remnants of light as the day came to its end.

How could he lower your grade by ten percent over a smudge? That was a new low for him. You would’ve taken a nine point five, even. It wasn't personal, though. You knew as much. He treated every student equally. Equally as bad. Someone probably had the misfortune of failing. That meant no graduation for them.

Perhaps it was time to count your blessings.

Perhaps not. You thought. I deserved that full score.

Growing closer to your dorm filled you with mixed feelings. Mostly since you didn’t interact as much with your roommates. Your routine was always class, work at the library, work in one of the gardens till late at night, and finally go to your dorm to sleep. You didn’t want to pull your late-night studies with two people sleeping.

It's not like you never interacted, it just became less and less as the semesters went on. Still, they saw you when you went there to take a bath or swap into a different set of your uniform. They understood, but it still stung not being around. You were one of the few people that liked your roommates.

Sky, a bioengineering major, was kind and a little shy. She usually worked in the dorm at her neat desk against the wall stacked with plenty of bullet journals she wrote in. Your first interaction with her was about two years ago during the yearly dorm switch.

She said you could have the first pick when you arrived. That was sweet of her. In return, you picked the worst section in return. The bunk bed with no space to sit in and the communal closet under it with a sad excuse for a desk beside it. It was the least you could do after she made such a generous offer.

Cirsche was the opposite. A bold and extroverted architecture major. Her parts of the dorm gave a pop of color to the whole room. Colorful coasters and floor plans were always scattered across her desk and sometimes yours too. It didn’t bother you, seeing as you were rarely in your room. There were always rags stained with alcohol markers soaking in the small bathroom you all shared.

You clenched the doorknob and swept into the dorm. As usual, Sky sat at her desk in the room, bending over a book and a notebook. She looked up, then at you. “It's a miracle that you’re here.” She did a double take of your face, “Woah, are you okay?”

“No.” The light sound of the shower running contrasted the ruckus your shoes made when you kicked them off.

She got up from her chair, took the folder from your hands, and set it on the table. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

“If I had seen it I would have fixed it.” Your hands flew up in disbelief, “In fact, I would have remade the entire page!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sky pulled out the chair from the small desk in the center of the room and asserted, “Sit. Breathe.” She sat on the desk and waited for you.

You closed your eyes, inhaled and huffed, “The teacher gave me a nine. Over a smudge on the project.”

For a moment she seemed shocked, then her face turned calm. It was like she knew what you needed to hear. “But you passed? And was it your last project? Classes are done, right?”

“Yes and yes. No classes left to go to either.” Your anger dissipated little by little.

“Okay, that’s all that matters. Now you just need to focus on the final.”

“I know. I know.” You bit the inside of your lip. It wasn’t anger anymore, it was disappointment. Or at least something like it.

You needed to be great. Not just good enough. Being from somewhere different meant you always had to prove yourself. Set the standard. Undercity people weren’t viewed the same. Over the years, you’d overhear people say things like ‘criminals’, ‘uncivilized’, and ‘them’. It was useful to hide the information of your origins and only reveal it to some people, seeing as not everyone took it well.

Even if you were to keep it discrete, sometimes… Just sometimes, you thought people could sense you weren’t originally from Piltover. Was it overthinking? Maybe. However, deep down, you knew that going to school and practically growing up there meant nothing to the wrong people.

“I understand. You know I do.” Her arms crossed and her head tilted, looking for your attention. “But you already proved yourself. There’s nothing left for you to prove. Do you understand?”

You nodded. It was nice to hear it every now and then.

“Good. Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to see you sad all day.” She got up from the table and went to her desk, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well…” You unbuttoned your vest. “I wanted to go ask an ex-alumni about the final exam. To get an idea of what it’s going to be like.”

She smacked her forehead, “Ugh, you’re right! I should do that too.”

“Wanna come?” You turned on the room’s light, the night becoming darker by the minute, “I’m starting kind of early tomorrow.”

“I would but the bioengineering final is different.” Sky rolled back in her chair, “I’ll start doing that next week.”

The night grew darker, and your nighttime routines started. Cirsche came out of the shower, you went in and changed into loose clothes to go to bed, and Sky put her notebooks away and cleaned her desk. At a certain point, Cirsche left to get dinner and came back with bowls of rice for everyone. Being with them on the floor, trying not to laugh to not wake the neighbors, and sharing food was as close as you had to a family.

It was an extra special bond. When other people left for the vacation period, you three, along with a few others, chose to stay. Everyone with their reasons. Sky remained to have a place away from the undercity, independence. It was easier for her to stay put and go back to see her relatives. Cirsche just liked living at the university. You couldn’t blame her. It had great access to most transportation, shops, and everything in between.

A few others like you had nowhere else to go. No family or primary home to go to. Your whole life was at school. Morning and night. Semesters and vacation time alike.

You were definitely an anomaly. Rarely did people ask to stay with the same roommates, but the three of you just fit right. The first year cemented your friendship enough to ride it out until the end of university. It wasn’t bad having to share around the clock when your friends turned into your family.

The clock struck ten and it was time for bed.

“How’s the job going?” Cirsche asked you in the darkness from the bottom bunk across the room.

“Not bad. Could be worse.” You replied, already in bed, with the cool breeze from the window inciting you to cover up.

Weirdly enough, it was the whole truth. On the weekends you’d go to a few restaurants and sweep their sidewalks and entryways for a good amount of coins. It was tiring work after ten shops or so, but you needed to afford to eat. The university only gave you a place to stay. Everything else like food, uniforms, school supplies, and transportation was your responsibility. It was fairly nice. Some of the shopkeepers knew you and threw in a baked bun, a hairclip, or a fancy pencil along with your payment.

“Now imagine your next job! Engineer slash scientist!” Sky’s hands spread, showing you her vision.

“I know. I’ll miss it a little though.” You’d miss the people, the reason to get some fresh air. What you wouldn’t miss was having to work as a student.

They said something else you couldn’t pick up. Their words became fuzzy, incoherent. You felt like you forgot to do something as you were trying to reply. Then you stopped thinking and replying altogether. Sweet rest invited you in and you were gone.

The morning came slow and fresh with a spirited breeze, the norm for Piltover. Your ears picked up the sound from the window coming from the courtyard a few stories below. Students yelling and laughing, having enjoyed the morning more than you already. Not long after, your eyes creaked open to an empty dorm. No Sky or Cirsche to be found. There was, however, a note on the side of your bunk.

It read, ‘We tried to wake you for breakfast, but you didn’t wake up. Be back later!’. With a little smiley face on the bottom.

Wake me for breakfast? Isn’t it still early–

You looked at the clock that hung over the door frame.

Eleven thirty in the morning.

Shit.

The day was escaping you already. On weekends you could wake up naturally, no alarm clock needed. It was a skill acquired or rather, a curse acquired from years of academic pressure. Yet, the day you wanted to start early, you forgot to set an alarm and your body decided it wanted to rest more. Nice.

You mentally slapped yourself, knowing that was what you forgot to do. Not wanting to punish yourself any further, you got out of bed and got dressed in your uniform. You took your brown school bag and made your way out.

There was a mental list of the people you knew from last year that could help you.

Emmeline, Theodore, Dorian, and Itsel. All recent graduates from engineering and with jobs even before they graduated, which they were still at. They were all nice enough when you spoke to them a few times during orientation week. You hoped they could give you some pointers at least. But first, you had to get into town.

You took a group carriage to town to save some time. The inner parts of the city always exuded a faint glow, it seemed. Streets, buildings, and even people were lined with the best metals. Gold, iron, you name it. Even something as simple as a fence was perfectly crafted, symmetrical, and welded to fit together as one.

As soon as you got off the carriage, the walking began. The trip was exhausting. All on foot. The paved streets made it bearable, but the inclination upwards to certain places didn’t help.

You arrived at their workplaces one by one, and each time, you chatted with them for a bit and then mentioned what you needed:

“I need help tomorrow or in two days or so for the final assessment coming up. It would be a huge help to me if you could even though I know they change the test every year. It would be nice to know how broad the topics get. I’ll buy you lunch for it if you can!”

Sadly, their answers were kind but not exactly what you hoped to hear.

Emmeline said, “Sorry, I would but I have work and then I have to get home and wait for the plumber.”

Then came Theodore, “I can, just not tomorrow. Does next week work?”

Dorian responded, “I’m busy for five days or so in the evening, I have to babysit.”

And finally, Itsel, “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! I’m leaving town today for a work trip.”

It was time to cut your losses. You thought you could wait for Theodore next week. Then again, you would either lose time by not studying.

I’ll just start studying now. Might as well. Something is better than nothing. You thought.

It was better to start now with no guidance than to not start at all.

However, there was a whole major to review. Every day counted. But studying everything would be too much content for a month of studying or less. That’s why you needed someone to help you narrow it down.

Whatever. I’ll start studying and if Theodore’s free still by next week he can help.

By the time you made it back to the academy, it was already three o'clock. Bad timing for sure. Students were getting out of class and rushing to the library to snag the tables and chairs. It’s not like you could grab a book and leave. Every single year during that month, without fail, everything was scarce. Chairs, seats, books, encyclopedias, even floor space.

So you ran.

Entering the building was chaotic. The main hallway on the first floor was packed with students and teachers. If you were to get there first, you had to find a shortcut. You looked to your left to the staircase and sprinted. A step or two were skipped in the process, but with a generous amount of stairs present, it was necessary. Winded from the run you walked through the third floor. Thankfully, it was almost free of students.

You whispered to yourself as you picked up the pace again, “Okay. I need a mathematical fundamentals book first. I hope the first semesters don’t take them all.”

You checked your bag for everything you needed for a long study session. Notebooks to write in, money for a snack or two, erasers, a ruler, and–

Oh, Janna.

There were no pens or pencils anywhere in your bag. You kept looking for one in denial. Hell, even a stubby one. Anything! Going back to your dorm for some would set you back ten valuable minutes at least, if you were to go fast. Although, you were going fast.

You just didn’t notice how fast you were going.

There has to be one in here–

“Careful!”

WHAM!

Your perfect quick pace was interrupted by a slam onto your abdomen. A rain of metal clangs sounded through the corridor as you fell backward. In between the pain, you noticed the person's shoes.

Another student.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

You looked up, wincing. It was the professor's assistant going into his lab.

What was his name again? Vincent? Viktor! Right.

“Yep. It’s me. Hi.” You grunted as you stood up. He offered his hand but you didn’t take it, putting your hand up, “I got it. Thanks.” You dusted yourself off and started picking up the tools that flew everywhere. “Sorry about that.”

“Be careful next time, otherwise I think you’ll walk off a balcony by accident one day.” Viktor slowly kneeled, holding onto the cart to pick up one of the wrenches on the ground. You handed him the rest of the tools and he set them with the others. It wasn’t exactly organized. Well, it probably was before you rammed into it.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He started pushing the long metal cart into the lab once more, “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” You answered, rubbing your stomach in pain and walking away.

Sheesh. What a hit… Wait–

In an instant, your mind stacked a thought. An idea. A potential.

“Hey!” You turned on your heel. “Wait!”

The large door was about to close and then it stopped. A brief moment passed and Viktor peeked from the entry.

You sighed in relief. “Could I ask for a huge favor? If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

He looked confused, then motioned you into the lab that mesmerized you the day before. You skipped towards the lab and he closed the door behind you. The place was lightly organized but still maintained Heimerdinger's charm with its pinch of chaos. Viktor sat down at the tall table in the middle and started transferring his tools to it.

“About the favor…” His voice was calm. “Would the favor include not crashing into the equipment?”

Man, you felt like he was rubbing it in. You smiled awkwardly. “Now it will.”

“Ask, then.”

You stayed near the door, only seeing him slightly from the side. “I’m having my final assessment soon.”

His head nodded once, and he said, “Your equation results went well, I assume?”

“Well…” You cringed. It wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t what you expected.

He turned back to you, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide. “Was there something wrong with it?”

“Not at all. I got a nine out of ten.”

“What? Why a nine?” His eyes shifted, looking for a reason. Viktor turned back to the tools with his hand on his chin. “It was efficient. Near perfect even.”

You huffed and mumbled, “Penmark said there was a smudge.”

“A smudge? Where?” He turned back again, with even more energy this time. This was a completely different person from the one you met the day before. He was entirely expressive. His expression was a mix of offended and flabbergasted.

“That’s what I thought. It’s barely noticeable.” At least you knew you weren’t going insane. That teacher was being overly strict.

“Is the favor getting him fired?” Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

Your eyes widened. “I didn’t say that… I don’t want to deal with him anymore, so it’s fine. He probably has a family. I wouldn’t want to get someone fired over nothing personal.”

His eyes returned to normal, and an almost untraceable smile was present when he returned to his task. “So then, what’s the favor?”

“Like I said, my final assessment is soon. I need help from someone who has already graduated to give me an idea of what to expect or how it goes.” Your mind wandered, remembering your failed attempts, “I went to every single upperclassman I knew, and they were all busy. Then I ran into you, and here we are.”

Viktor looked at you. “So you assume I’m not busy.” No emotion was on his face. Nothing. Not even a blink. He looked away.

Fuck.

Your hands waved frantically, and your words fell out in rapid succession, “No! I meant that I exhausted my options and I happened to run into you. More like crashing– Anyway, that's not the point–”

Any words you had planned to say halted. You saw Viktor’s head slightly tilted towards you. A small, barely traceable smirk was present on his face.

He wasn’t serious.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

He snorted.

First, a wave of relief washed over you. You were glad you didn’t offend him. Then came astonishment. He barely knew you, and he had the gall to make you socially panic?

“You had me there for a second.” You crossed your arms.

“I did, yes.” In his voice, you could hear a smile still present on his face.

“I was also planning on buying whoever said yes some lunch. I’ll be in the library today. Please let me know if you can.” You made your way to the door. “I know you are busy, but if you could please help me, I’d be extremely thankful.”

“Eh… I’ll make time.”

You looked back in shock, “So you’ll help me?” Was this it? You found someone willing to help? Who would have guessed that crashing into someone would become something good?

“Yes. Coffee would be nice. It could be at the Academy if you prefer.”

The university's coffee wasn’t bad, but not great. And very overpriced for its taste. You opted for something else, “Do you know a place outside of the university?”

He turned in his chair and searched for a memory with his eyes. “There’s a small coffee shop around Midtown I’ve been to before. How about there?”

“Sure, I can meet you there.”

“I’m available tomorrow after three o’clock. We could meet there at four.” Viktor scanned his eyes across the table until they landed on a pen. With a soft click of its end, he prepared it for writing, “It’s called ‘Cogs of Coffee.’ Brown brick with a gear behind the sign.” He tore one of the corners of a sheet of paper, wrote it down, and handed it to you, “Hard to miss.”

You walked a few steps toward him and took the paper. His writing was fancy and slanted, with some letters connecting, bordering on cursive.

“Cogs of Coffee…” You read and nodded, “Yeah, I know where it is. See you there at four then?”

“Four it is.”

The walk back to your dorm was relieving. Finally, someone who could help. You were definitely going to buy him coffee in the best mood possible. The library could wait. You were already out of luck for a spot anyway. For now, you could rest without guilt. Hell, you even had a smile on your face as you pranced to your dorm.

Sky was cleaning her desk when you came in. She raised an eyebrow with a smile, “Someone looks happy. And rested.”

“Yes, very.” You were practically beaming. Even putting your things away felt fun and light.

“Were any of the upperclassmen available to help, then?”

“Something like that.”

After having some security, the day flew by in a blink. As did the night.

You knew you could pass the final, but you didn’t want to risk it. You had an even bigger chance to make it. Thanks to the kindness of an upperclassman you barely knew. Among your thoughts, you hoped to live up to the potential your parents knew you had. You hoped to have a stable job, and contribute something to the world. It all felt so close.

The next morning was pleasant. You didn’t know if it was the weather or your mood. Honestly, you couldn't care any less. You were solely focused on getting to Midtown for lunch. With your bag packed with the same notebooks from yesterday, but now accompanied by pens, you headed out.

Midtown was always full no matter the season or the hour. The area always bustled and sang with hundreds of people roaming through its endless shops and vendors. Everything was always on sale. Whatever you were looking for, they had it. Books, pens, tools, pets, clothes, you name it. The most remarkable thing about it was the food. Heavens, the food.

You hadn’t ever gotten around to trying everything because of the sheer amount of food that was available. There were shops, tents, and carts ready to offer you the very best of the best. All the cooks seemed to be masters of their craft. The best thing ever had been mashed potatoes and gravy from a cook from Bilgewater. Holy smokes. It was the right consistency, the perfect amount of spices.

Now it was time to try a new coffee place. You’d been to a few before, but never the one Viktor suggested. In between the crowds of people, you looked for the shop. Gear behind the name. Brown brick.

After a block or two, there it was on a corner. Cogs of Coffee. It had a golden sign, as they usually were in Piltover, with large arched windows on its sides. Its quaint white door waited for you in the center. A light bell rang as you walked in, being greeted by a sweet smell mixed in with the strong coffee scent. The floors were dark polished wood and its walls dark green and plastered in framed newspaper headlines, insect mounts, and flower presses.

Not many people were in it, to your surprise. The ten tables were only a third of the way filled, and the booths were empty. All but one.

A voice calling your name came from the booths on the left side of the shop. Viktor sat with his hand up giving half a wave. You waved as you shuffled to the booth and scooted in, “Have you been waiting long?”

Viktor rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, “Eh, just a few minutes. The waitress already brought a menu.” He slid it towards you, “If you want to look it over.”

“Thanks, I will.” You took off your bookbag and skimmed through it.

The menu was simple, albeit pretty extensive. Some of the options were:

Honeyfruit Tea (Cold Brew)

Kiwa infused coffee

Regular coffee (Custom preparation)

Chocolate biscuits

Sweetmilk muffins

Non-Poro Poro Snax

Milkshakes (Chocolate, Vanilla, Berry)

“I recommend the sweetmilk muffins. The regular coffee is great too,” Viktor interrupted.

You tilted your head at the menu. “They sound good. We can order them.”

One of the waitresses came to your table with a smile and her blonde hair in a messy bun. “Good afternoon, I’ll be your server for today! Are you two ready to order?” Her hand waited on her paper pad.

Viktor went first, “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the, uh, regular coffee, with the sugars and glasses of milk on the side so we can mix it here.”

“Sounds good.” She wrote in her notepad and turned to you with a practiced smile. "And you?”

“I’ll have the same.” You looked at the menu one last time, turned to her, and said, “and an order of sweetmilk muffins. Please.”

“Alright! So, two coffees and the muffins.” She tapped the edge of her notepad as she went through the short order. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she held her hand out for the menu. “If there’s anything else, let me know!”

The light conversation and clinks from cups filled the brief silence as the waitress left. Viktor rested his hands on the wooden table and asked, “did you bring a pen and paper?” His voice pulled you out of the hum coming from the mixture of noises.

You scrambled for the items. “Oh, yeah.”

Viktor spent the time elaborating on how much time the test would last, the rules, and the sections of the test. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before from teachers, but hearing it from another student in more casual words made a world of difference. There would be three sections that never changed: Language, theoretical mathematics, and applied engineering. Applied engineering was what worried you. He said it was more about logic rather than calculating, which made it very subjective.

By the time your order came, he had gotten to the interesting bit: The potential subjects.

He thanked the waitress and continued. “Don’t stress about the minor subjects in topics. Focus on the main part of a topic.” Starting to pour some beige milk into his coffee, he explained, “for example, you have topic one, right? And the topic has sections, with each section elaborating more as you go on. Stick to the first two sections, which are the most important. I noticed that when I took it.”

“So… I should just study the general part of every topic?” You took a bite of the golden muffins. By Janna, they were amazing. Creamy and fluffy all at once. Surprise was plastered all over your face.

“If I’m honest,” he stirred his coffee, if you could even call it that, since it was ninety percent milk. “I don't think you need to study as much. Heimerdinger says you're bright enough.” Viktor raised his eyebrows at you and took a drink.

He did?

What a compliment. The founder of the city thinking you were competent wasn’t something you expected.

“He said that? When?”

He sighed from the taste of his drink. “I asked him to leave earlier today to come here with you. He mentioned you were one of the best in class.”

“Wow.”

“He also added that even if that was the case, it was good you looked for extra help.” Viktor looked up, trying to remember. “Eh, something like... A stitch in time saves nine.”

You smiled and replied, “the professor and his metaphors.”

“Still, don't overwork yourself. You have enough time. Worry when you have none left.”

You wrote down all of his advice, and at the bottom of the page, you wrote: You’re smart, relax.

At a point in the afternoon, you began talking about mundane things. You learned Viktor was a work-study student in the master’s program, working on his invention as his thesis. He couldn’t say what it was because of confidentiality, but that when it was done, it would be on display if you were interested.

Amidst the conversation, a little question rang in the back of your mind.

Is his name with a ‘C’ or with a ‘K’?

You decided to ask. “By the way–”

He looked attentive until the waitress came by with a smile and stopped you both. “Are you two doing good? Would you like the check? Or not yet?”

Viktor looked at you, asking the same question in silence. You nodded with a shrug.

“Yes, please. The check is fine,” he said, handing the waitress his empty mug and yours. “Thank you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had finished your drink.

“I have to get back soon.” Lifting his sleeve, he checked the time on a thin brown watch. “I need to pick up some ball joints for the project I told you about.”

“Yeah. It's getting late. I have to run too.”

The waitress walked to your booth as you looked around for your wallet. Just when you found it, you looked up, and Viktor had placed the amount with some tip in the folder for the waitress. She took it, told you to have a nice day, and left.

You were speechless. The whole point was for you to pay as a thank you, and he didn’t let you do that. “Wasn’t I supposed to buy you the coffee?”

He looked puzzled. Then he understood. “I wasn’t doing this for coffee.” Viktor stood up and took his cane. “I just wanted to help.”

“Thank you, really. For the help, the coffee, and muffins. Good recommendation, by the way.”

You both walked out of the coffee shop and were greeted by the same busy street as before, only less sunny.

Viktor took his cane from his right hand to his left and extended his hand toward you. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

You shook his hand and chuckled. “Thanks. I promise I won’t crash into you if I come looking for you.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He smiled.

Viktor waved down a carriage going in the opposite direction of the university.

Before he could leave, you interjected. “Oh. One last thing.”

He looked back at you. “Hm?”

“Are you any good at explaining math?” you asked.

“I tutor in the evenings for the Academy twelfth graders and the university's first-year students. So you tell me.”

“Oh, so you tutor, too? So… no fourth-year students?” You didn’t want to be too forward by saying you wanted to go.

Thankfully, he caught on to what you meant to say. “You can come, if that's what you’re asking. I see various topics. It’ll jog your memory. If you have something specific you want to cover, I can do that too.”

The open carriage came to a stop for him, and he gave a silver coin to the driver. He opened the door and stepped onto it.

“That would be great.” Amazing, actually. You didn't necessarily need the tutoring, but the extra practice was always useful.

He sat down, and the carriage started to move. “Room fifteen in Wing Five. Seven o’clock in the evening.”

You raised your voice to confirm. “Got it. Fifteen, Wing Five.”

[queer-cosette]

#alright here's a dirty talk tip to get around this problem just for anyone interested: restructure the sentences#if you can't improvise a gender neutral option that doesn't make everyone involved feel infantilized and that form of degradation is not#the goal in the first place#change up the structure#so instead of stumbling over “there's a good [dial up noise]”#can swap over to “you're being so good [name or other term of endearment”#with the bonus that combining their name + praise and close attention often lands harder anyway#and if you still want the same two word combo “good [comma] [name/term of endearment]” works as well#just taking the half breath before saying the next word or including the comma if in text helps a LOT#ofc best practice is if domming to ask the other person what they want to be called#but if they don't know or you're [general you] subbing and don't know either that's my general suggestion#until it's possible to sit down and hammer out a personal alternative that works

@mixupmycota while I have been loving reading everyone's disgust and horror at reddit's suggestions, THANK YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART for providing an actual workable solution. I was looking this up because I'm a they/them switch leaning towards sub with an as-yet unexplored praise kink who, despite being very feminine presentation-wise, hates being referred to as a girl/woman/lady, and frankly Reddit's suggestions were pushing me towards 'might be another entire YEAR before I can feel un-icked enough to consider experimenting with this again'.

...While I was thinking about trying to find a bedroom-specific nickname for my boyfriend to call me, there's a good chance that if he praises me and calls me Darling (which he has called me since before we were dating) at the same time, I will spontaneously combust /positive.

the word 'bean' being used to describe people is going to be the death of me I swear to the universe. "nonbinary bean" I never want to hear that godawful phrase again in my life, it feels so infantilising. Power to you if you like it but someone on Reddit just suggested using "good bean" in place of "good boy/girl" during sex and I honest-to-fuck hissed like an angry cat at the thought. If someone called me a good bean during sex I'd get up and leave and immediately take a fast train to the nearest abbey to see if they were looking for new nuns to take a vow of chastity.

[youssefguedira]

K or N for Joe and/or Nicky

K. On the edge of consciousness.

Yusuf wakes slowly, so slowly that he can’t see and isn’t even sure he can open his eyes, only half-sure he still has eyes, and that’s how he knows there’s something very, very wrong. He can’t move, can’t hear, can’t even smell anything. He doesn’t remember exactly what happened to him, but every part of him is burning, and he’s fairly sure the weird aching sensation in his head is his skull knitting itself back together, which. He really, really didn’t need to know what that feels like. 

There’s a scraping in his chest when he breathes in, but at least he’s breathing. 

Where is he? He could be anywhere. He could be in the middle of the street, could have been dragged away from the fighting from someone who had seen him breathing through a wound that should have killed him immediately. When he wakes, what will he find? Will they have taken his weapon? How long has he been dead? 

Will Nicolò be able to find him, if they are separated? Will he even try?

Slowly but steadily, he starts to hear something: a high pitched whistling that sounds like it’s coming from deep inside his own head. The darkness begins to lift, leaving flickering amber lights across his vision, and a shadow in front of him. 

There’s a voice, too, one that sharpens into words as Yusuf’s hearing begins to return. He doesn’t understand their meaning, but the cadence of them and the voice itself is familiar. 

“Are you awake?” Nicolò asks softly, switching to Arabic. 

Yusuf tries to make a sound in response. Whether it’s audible he doesn’t know, because the only noise he can really make is a rasping exhale, but Nicolò hushes him anyway.

“Do not… you can be slow,” Nicolò says. He’s more comfortable with the sounds of the language now, but still doesn’t always string sentences together well. “We are safe. I am here.”

He’s made aware of where his hand is by the feeling of Nicolò reaching for it. Yusuf manages to make an actual sound this time, but still can’t form words. Nicolò squeezes his hand gently. 

“I am here,” he says again. 

Eventually, Yusuf’s skull seems to piece itself back together fully, and his vision sharpens, letting him see that they’re backed into the corner of the two remaining intact walls of a house ravaged by fire, Nicolò crouched in front of him with his sword in hand. There’s a trail of blood leading to where Yusuf is lying now, and a section of the room that has collapsed. He can piece together enough. Nicolò would have had to drag him over here.

This time, he manages to make a sound, even if he can’t quite form words. Nicolò looks down at him over his shoulder, and there is blood on his face and in his hair, and only then does Yusuf notice the bodies in the room. 

“Okay?” Nicolò asks. 

Yusuf manages to nod, and it sends a spike of pain along his spine. Nicolò turns slightly to look at him properly. 

“You are almost done, I think,” he says. “You did not… you were asleep for a long time. I did not know if…”

“Nicolò,” Yusuf finally manages, hoarse.

“Rest,” Nicolò says. “I am here.”

(letter asks)

[callipraxia]

Note: haven’t tasted any of these yet (though I did say “the heck with good sense” and order some samples; check back in about a week for proper reviews) and am just musing about what some of the components are and how they link to GF characters, at least in my mind. That established, here are Some Preliminary Notes, Just Based On General Knowledge Of Tea:

Mabel: I have no idea what a mix of spearmint, strawberry, and watermelon would taste like (I really like spearmint, but dislike strawberry and am indifferent to watermelon), but somehow, yep, I still feel comfortable saying this one just sounds right.

The Author: If that Assam is a good Assam, then I want this. I will note that I have drunk roasted mate before, but don’t know what it tastes like exactly; Stash used to have this salted caramel mate/black tea mix that was my daily favorite for my lidded work mug, back when we worked in an office. It’s also caffeinated, though I’m not sure that matters as much when it is blended with a black tea and particularly with Assam. Strong stuff, usually, Assam; I drink it a lot in the springtime because it’s one of the few substances that really helps with my awful spring allergies.

Dipper: I…don’t know that I’ve had passionfruit tea before, actually. The ‘passion’ bit certainly fits Dipper’s personality, anyway. Lemongrass is very nice. Sour apple is less my style, I like apples that are very firm and very sweet, but this also suits Dipper’s personality just on name alone, bless him.

Stan: On one hand, Lapsang Souchong is the famous “smoked” tea, and people who dislike it have been known to describe it as like walking into a casino with a mouth full of water. Personally, as someone who likes LS, I don’t think it’s much like that at all - but then, I grew up eating a lot of smoked meat (my father liked mixing in hickory with the charcoal for the fire in his grill), I still like a bite of smoked cheese, and my infernal sinus sensitivity has it where I can immediately differentiate wood smoke versus cigarette smoke (and occasionally, between brands of cigarette - I curse the day my grandmother switched from Salem Lights to Marlboros) vs cigar smoke. I set foot in the lobby of a casino precisely once in my life, then had to flee because of the overwhelming stink of cigarette smoke was making me sick even from a room’s width away….

Oh, wait, we weren’t here for my personal anecdotes and oddly specific knowledge bases, were we? I get sentimental sometimes, which ironically fits Stan as well as an association with a casino does, if that’s how you experience Lapsang. There are a lot of different experiences you can have with Lapsang, from smooth to very ‘prickly’ feeling, sour or sweet, the base can taste woody (which isn’t a bad thing in tea) or overpoweringly naturally fruity, in a dark forest fruits kind of way…complicated stuff, so also appropriate for Stan in that way. Caramel is a lovely sweet flavor, close enough to toffee that Lapsang and caramel could bring to mind both bacon and toffee, two of Stan’s favorite food items. It occurs to me that peanut isn’t really a note I’ve seen in tea…possibly adding a bit of some other nut might give a little nod in that direction, along with moving the caramel more toward toffee? I’d love to tinker with blending myself to see what I could end up with. Which I may actually be able to do - this looks like Adagio Teas, who at least used to have the ‘make your own blend’ option. I never tried it myself - or, in fact, any Adagio teas - but wow, this brings back memories, I can’t even recall when I last thought of Adagio, and had in fact had the vague impression that they weren’t open anymore, though good for them if they are.

I don’t know what a mambo is outside of a song about “mambo Italiano” that everybody sang like three lines of all the time when I was in elementary school (despite none of us speaking a word of Italian, unless you count ‘macaroni,’ and probably none of us even being able to find Italy on a map), but I suspect it’s here to prevent us from ending up with too darkly elegant of a cup - the base blend might hit multiple things Stan likes, but comes off a little more dark academia than any flavor of chaotic or animated. “Mambo” also may be Spanish, which would be a nice nod to Stan’s adventures in central and South America. Other ways one might accomplish that could be a touch of mate, or, if one really must, some coffee-flavor.

Ford: If I were to assign Ford a Lapsang souchong, it would be one of those raw-dark-fruits one I mentioned in Stan’s bit, ones where the smoke plays only a minor role. I think Ford would really like to be something like, say, Smoky Earl Grey from Fortnum’s, but I spent the past two years of my life writing a monograph on the subject of how this is a veneer, not his actual personality - there aren’t really any Fortnum’s people in Gravity Falls except perhaps Pacifica, and I think of her as more of one of those very…frilly-feeling French teas. But we’re discussing Ford…really, really good pu’erh can give you a sort of brain-sparkly feeling I can see working for Ford. Inadequate memory of what hazelberry tastes like to comment on that. Assam -

Assam, really, is plenty complicated on its own. Indian teas are especially characterized by whether they are first flush (the first round of leaves harvested) or second flush (the ones that grow in later). A nice Assam can have a lovely honey note, though the word most people use for Assams is “malty.” I don’t know what malt tastes like, though, so I don’t know about that. I can say that I can usually tell if I’m going to love or hate a given Assam at practically first sip, which, along with how Lapsang is very much a matter of taste, does reflect on how divisive the character is said to be in corners of the Internet that aren’t mine.

Stan W/O Lapsang: can’t see the description in the image, can’t comment on that one.

Bill Cipher: I can’t really imagine these tastes together, but I automatically want to revolt at lavender being included - I like lavender, you see. If I was going to make a Bill tea myself, I’d get a really lousy pu’erh - I vividly remember one I had one time that tasted like fish fried in over-used grease and which made me sick to my stomach if I drank too much of it even if I somehow drowned out the fish with enough of Harney’s Vanilla Black - and then throw all the tropical fruits in it, and then throw a red berry mix into it (I don’t like red berry blends, unless you count teas with cranberry flavor in, which your standard Four Red Fruits type of tea doesn’t usually have). This would probably taste bizarre, foul, and utterly confused, but it would be in character. Though really, if I was going to sum up Bill as a liquid, I’d probably go with a cocktail of antifreeze and bleach.

The Mystery Shack: I can’t remember off the top of my head if Pu’erh Dante is flavored or not, or if there’s anything extra to account for the ‘moonlight’ aspect of Earl Grey Moonlight, so I really can’t say much here, except that pu’erh and key lime could capture something of the sense of the place - bright and summery colliding with all this tangled mess of messy adult lives just beneath the surface. Can’t really imagine what that would actually taste like, though.

Mabel (Alt W/O Strawberry): “berry blast” is too vague for me to say anything without knowing what the berries in question are. I probably wouldn’t like it (see comments on Four Red Fruits blends), but it does match the idea of Mabel.

Ford W/O Lapsang: Fun fact: the tea typically called gunpowder green isn’t actually smoky at all. It’s named that because of the unique shape of its preparation, which make the leaves into little pellets that apparently resemble stuff you put into really old-fashioned guns. The best gunpowder I ever had tasted strongly of honey; the worst was a bitter mess that I couldn’t dump enough honey into to salvage it. Which is also kinda Ford-appropriate, in a way….

This tea’s primary interest lies in how it’s a blend of three out of the four/five most common tea ‘categories’ - no oolong or white tea, but green tea, black tea, and pu’erh? That’s an interesting combination. I’ve seen green and black blends before (Murchie’s of Canada particularly has a thing about mixing a little green tea into their black teas; results vary for me), though since you don’t make black and green tea at the same temperature, I must admit the idea has always kind of confused me. Never seen one with pu’erh in it before, though, so points for originality if nothing else.

@sovonight has Gravity Falls inspired tea!

Complete with their beautiful artwork on the packaging.

Get the tea here!

[pallases]

IM FREEEEEE

[rioblitzle]

i guess im not too involved in the zelda fandom cause seeing a post about rabid totk defenders is wild to me. from my perspective people were singing that game's praises for 2 months total before it fell to the "popular game bad actually" criticism wave and i don't think i've seen anyone say positive things about totk since then lmfao

[dreadful-luck]

GGS TEAM PAST!!!

[ebonytails]

GOT ACCEPTED INTO A LOCAL CON.. BABY'S FIRST ART MARKET