#“you should not be saying that” cringefest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunnycobie · 1 year

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best friend's brother - choi san

pairing: choi san x f!reader summary: when your night with your crush doesn't go to plan, you find comfort in the person you'd least expect genre: smut, some fluff, some angst word count: 3k content/tw: nonidol characters, college au, san has a sister named mina (not meant to be mina from twice), other random idol names are used, fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex (don’t do this in real life) a/n: this may be a cringefest bc it was my first fic

18+ minors dni (masterlist)

you tap on jimin’s instagram story for an update on where he might be. he’s in a car with his friends, most likely on his way here. replaying the post over and over, you don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at his smile until you’re hit on the leg with a pillow, snapping you back into reality.

“are you even listening to me?” mina snaps. you grin and sit up against the pillows on her bed.

today is mina’s birthday, and she decided to throw a party at her house tonight. but even though she invited tons of people, she only cares about one guest. so much so, that she’s cycled through five different outfits just to look as good as possible.

“you look hot.” you say jokingly, grabbing and hugging the pillow she just threw at you. “jin is going to notice you, quit overthinking it.”

mina groans. “why aren’t they here yet?”

“they’re on their way right now, they’ll probably be here soon. can we please go now?” you whine. the party started almost an hour ago, but you’ve been waiting for your friend to finish getting ready.

“i just need a few more minutes. go ahead, i’ll find you later.” she says, looking in the mirror as she puts on a pair of earrings.

as you leave the room, your ears are instantly flooded with music despite the party only being downstairs. you head towards the bathroom and step inside to check your hair and makeup in the mirror.

you and mina invited jimin and jin to the party, and it’s the only thing you two have thought about all week. mina and jin are practically a thing at this point, but you can’t say the same for you and jimin. you’re always too nervous to hold a conversation with him. it’s nothing a little liquid courage can’t fix, though. you hope.

there’s a knock on the bathroom door. you open it expecting it to be mina. instead, you’re greeted by a large frame with silky black hair.

of course, it’s mina’s brother san.

despite being a player on campus, he’s really sweet and protective over you. presumably because you’re his sister’s friend. still, he’s always been respectful and never tried to make a move on you.

but you’ve definitely caught him staring once or twice, and youd be lying if you said you didn’t do the same.

“oh, hi y/n.” he examines your outfit, making you feel self-conscious. “i started to think i’d never see you guys come out of that room.”

“sorry,” you smile awkwardly, walking around him into the hallway. “she’s nervous about jin.”

“jin’s coming?”

“yeah, and jimin”. you reply.

san’s posture straightens. “so you actually like him?”

“i never said that.” you protest.

“i hear you guys all the time. you aren’t really discreet about it.” he smiles.

you can’t help but notice his dimples every time he does that. your relationship with him has only ever been platonic, but you’re almost always dumbfounded by his appearance.

“i mean, maybe. i can’t really tell if he feels the same way though.” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

san leans against the wall. “i wouldn’t waste my time on him,”.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i don’t like him. it doesn’t matter though; you can do better than him.”

who the hell does he think he is?

“you don’t even know him. why should i care what you think?” you say, furrowing your brows.

in reality, san knows jimin more than you’d thin. they’ve never been friends, but he’s spent enough time around him to know that he’s not worth dating.

san is well aware of his position in your life, but he still cares and doesn’t want to see you hurt. your words stung a little, but he wouldn’t let you know that.

san grins and lets out a soft chuckle that pisses you off a little.

mina’s bedroom door opens and she steps out in yet another outfit choice.

“it took you an hour to come up with that?” san says teasingly, gesturing to mina’s outfit.

mina’s eyes widen. “is it actually that bad?” she gaps.

“he’s joking.” you smile, despite the anger you felt a few seconds ago. “you look cute, can we go now?” you asked, grabbing mina’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs.

not only would she have actually changed her outfit again, but you would’ve done anything to get out of that situation. you’re an adult and can date whoever you want. why is san treating you like you’re his sister... or his girlfriend?

as you walk away with mina, you glance over your shoulder to see san still looking at you, except this time he’s more serious.

the party was open invitation, but you’re still surprised by the number of people that actually showed. you and mina grab two beers from the kitchen.

you feel a tug on your arm. “they’re over there!”. she points to jin and jimin sitting on a sofa with drinks and talking.

your stomach knots at the sight of jimin and you start to feel flustered. he looks so good you start to second guess your outfit just as much as mina did hers. you chug your drink, hoping the alcohol will set in soon.

mina laughs at your nervousness. “are you ready?”

“i think so –”

“hey guys!” mina yells over the music, interrupting you.

your heart drops even further than it already did.

jmin and jin look over as you and mina make your way to them. mina sits next to Jin, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to jimin on the opposite end. you were hoping Mina would be with you to ease the awkwardness, but that plan is instantly thrown out the window.

jimin turns his body towards you, and you start to wish you’d planned things to talk about.

“hey, you look nice.” he smiles.

“thank you.” you respond shyly. somehow you feel even more self-conscious despite the compliment.

“i haven’t seen you in class lately.” you mention, hoping your awkwardness doesn’t show.

“oh. i’ve been kind of focused on my music lately. i’m actually considering switching majors.” he says.

he continues speaking but as you glance around your attention is caught by san across the room.

he’s looking directly at you, while a girl is holding his arm and laughing. he’s pretending to listen, but he’s watching you and jimin. you can’t seem to break the eye contact, as if your eyes are glued to him.

you realize you’re mid conversation and shift your focus back on jimin, who’s still talking about himself.

“i think that’s great.” you smile at him, unknowing of what he spent the last 30 seconds talking about.

“y/n, can I borrow you for a sec?” mina leans forward into your gaze.

you nod. “sorry, one second.” you excuse yourself from the conversation and follow mina as she pulls you aside.

“jin and i are going to my room; are you gonna be fine on your own?” she asks lowly.

“what? you’re sleeping with jin already?” you exclaim.

mina shushes you and looks around the room as if anyone could’ve heard you over the music.

“i don’t know, probably.” she says, grinning like an idiot.

“i’ll be fine. be safe.” you smile.

she nods and waves over jin, and he follows her upstairs

you make your way over to where you previously were but realize jimin is gone. you scan the room for him but can’t find him. you start to regret letting mina go and feel awkward all over again. you look around for a familiar face and see san, still talking to the same girl and clearly uninterested. you find chaewon and yunjin and join them for a while.

almost two hours pass while you’re busy getting drunk and dancing.

mina comes back with jin, but you’ve been so caught up that you forgot about them and jimin.

“hey.” you almost cringe realizing what they might have just finished doing.

mina grins and rolls her eyes. “where’s jimin?”

you shrug. “he left after you guys did”

“that’s weird,” jin says.

“i’ll go look for him.”

you scan downstairs one more time, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. you realize the party extended to the patio and open the door to check outside.

you find him, but you’re practically frozen in place when you do. he’s sitting next to a pretty blonde girl, kissing and feeling her up. you start to feel sick. you know that the two of you weren’t exclusive, but you still had hope there would be something between you. you’ve been obsessed with him for months and the one night you decided to make a move, the universe betrays you. the embarrassment starts to set in when you realize practically everyone knew about your crush as well.

you can’t watch any longer, and head back inside. you don’t feel like looking for mina. you don’t want to ruin her birthday by forcing her to comfort you. you’re too ashamed to admit what happened, anyways. you’re too drunk to walk or drive home, so you go to mina’s bedroom to wait for the rest of the night.

you open the door to her bedroom but the unmade bed reminds you of what just happened in it. and as disgusting as you feel, you’d rather not fall asleep on a bed full of sweat and god knows what else.

standing in the hallway, you start to feel the frustration set in and tears begin to well in your eyes.

you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and immediately wipe your tears.

you don’t know whether to be grateful or upset over the fact that it’s san. as soon as you see his face, you’re reminded of the situation from earlier. and the last thing you want is to hear an “i-told-you-so”.

“what’s wrong?” he says, noticing your expression.

“nothing.” you reply, trying to contain yourself.

“why were you crying then?” he approaches you, practically trapping you in between him and the wall.

“i’m just tired.” you lie, looking down hoping to avoid eye contact.

“don’t lie to me,” san says, lifting your chin.

“did he do something to you?” he’s more intimate this time, and you realize you won’t get anywhere by hiding the truth.

“you were right.” you admit, removing his hand from your face. you start to feel the shame overwhelm you again

san sighs and looks around the hallway to make sure you were alone.

“are you happy?” you continued.

“of course i’m not happy,” san says, offended by the accusation. “you’ve had too much to drink. let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

you know he didn’t do anything wrong. none of this was his fault. to be fair, he did warn you. you weren’t mad at san, but you were overwhelmed and didn’t know what else to do. so, you took it out on him.

“you’ve been watching me like a creep all night waiting for something to go wrong. now you want to pretend you feel bad and take care of me?” you snap.

san sucks his teeth and grabs your wrist. pulling you to his bedroom, he shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

“can you calm down?” he asks in annoyance, folding his arms.

you start pacing out of frustration, trying to keep yourself from breaking down.

“he’s not worth crying over, y/n. I told you that you could do better than him.” he says, pulling you back to him. he snakes one hand around your waist and starts wiping your tears with the other.

something about his presence makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like you could cry if you needed to, but how could you when you’re around him? the realization that your body is pressed against his starts to set in.

you always knew san was good-looking, but something about the way he’s letting you be vulnerable with him makes him so much more attractive. he looked unreal, yet somehow, he was standing right in front of you.

you must have been staring for a while because his expression darkens. his thumb that was just wiping your tears starts to brush softly over your lips. you feel like you’re going to pass out from the way he’s staring at your face, studying you.

san’s lips press against yours and his arms wrap around your waist. you reach over his wide shoulders and around his neck as he pulls your body closer to his. each kiss begins deepen, with small moans escaping your throat. and as passionate as they are, his lips are still so soft and careful with yours.

san’s lips move from yours to your neck, and he’s holding you as if you’d slip away once he lets go.

you can feel warmth pooling in between your legs, making your legs go numb. he sweeps you up and moves his focus back to your lips as he carries you to his bed. laying you on your back, he hovers over you between your legs, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out a moan as reassurance for him to continue, so he slides his hand under your top. he squeezes and massages your breast, causing you to let out whines involuntarily.

“does that feel good?” he groans against your neck. you can feel him smiling against you, giving you chills in the best way possible.

you manage to let out a soft whiny “yes.”.

“i’m gonna make you feel so much better.” he promises. he plants a soft kiss against your collarbone before shifting his hand between your legs.

he circles his thumb against the outside of your panties, feeling the damp spots he caused. each feeling of him hitting your clit makes your breath hitch.

“fuck.” he groans. “my baby is so good and wet for me.” he moans, teasing you with his fingers.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, your forehead against his.

“could you please?” you plead softly.

“could I what? use your words, baby.” he teases, pushing more pressure onto your clit.

“fingers, please.” you babble, your head falling back from the sensitivity.

“you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” san smirks.

“mm-hmm.” you whine.

san pulls your panties to the side and pushes his thick finger in slowly, earning a whimper from you.

he can feel his cock growing feeling the warmth of you, wishing it was inside of you instead. the sound of his fingers slipping inside of you are audible from the wetness.

san can feel himself swelling up and leaking from the anticipation, but he wants to take his time with you. he loves the sight of you moaning and whining under his control with your head held back.

he pulls your head in by the back of your neck and snakes his tongue in your mouth while curling his fingers to reach your gspot. his tongue is warm and wet, and you feel yourself getting dizzy and falling apart.

“i’m gonna cum.” you manage to breathe out.

“wait a little longer for me,” san says, pulling his fingers out of your heat and kissing you before standing up.

he pulls his shirt off revealing his bare chest and smooth, toned skin. he’s practically sweating from the anticipation, making his abs and biceps look even more glossy. he looks like a greek god.

unzipping his pants and removing the rest of his clothes, his swollen cock reveals itself, already wet and leaking from the tip.

he pushes you back down and lets you wrap your legs around his waist.

rubbing his tip against your sensitive clit, he inserts himself, making you gasp. the feeling you felt from his finger was almost nothing compared to the size of him inside of you.

he groans at the feeling of you wrapped around and squeezing him and wastes no time before speeding up his pace. your moans can’t help but get louder, and he has to cover your mouth with his just in case someone may hear you whine.

he moves fast yet softly as if he doesn’t want to hurt you. still, the feeling of him inside of you is enough to make your eyes water. you feel your sensitivity from being edged earlier come back, and you’re close to your high all over again.

“i wish i could do this with you forever” he moans.

his pace starts to get sloppy, letting you know he’s close to finishing. you feel a wave of ecstasy take over your body as san releases inside of you, leaving you dripping. the two of you moan over the feeling of finishing on each other.

san collapses next to you as you both catch your breath. he gets up and slips on clothes to leave the room. you lay in confusion for a minute until he comes back with a warm towel.

he cleans you up and gives you one of his clean t-shirts to wear to sleep. you try to hide your smile from the thought of him being so sweet to you. when you put the shirt on, he falls in love at the sight of it being so big on you. he’s not super tall, but his muscles are enough to warrant his shirts being huge. san wraps his arms around you and gives you another kiss, but this time it feels more loving than the rest.

“do you feel better now?” he asks, embracing you.

you’d forgotten about what led to this in the first place. but you didn’t care enough to remember because you were in love with someone else now.

#choi san #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez smut #jimin angst #bts jimin #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mingi smut #seonghwa smut #hongjoong smut #yunho smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #choi san fanfic

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beardedmrbean · 4 months

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https://x.com/NewsM101/status/1735735475065769992?s=20

I think white people should make a cover of Mariah Carey song “Obsessed” towards modern non white creators.

First black Panther, then Velma, and now this?

Creators, why are you so obsessed with white people?

Do I want to know.

When I saw the title the first time I thought that they would be riffing on the "Magical Negro" trope.

Which if they'd have cast white people in those roles we'd be getting yelling and screaming about lack of roles for black people and in certain circumstances them being black is part of the plot development because of racist treatment and whatnot. Other cases where the person just happens to be black because they liked the persons audition the best, very well could have been a gnome.

Mary Poppins would fit the description if she had been black, not really a racist thing to put into entertainment, sometimes it just works with the plot.

Promo here just looks like a cringefest though.

you just know we're going to have people saying some incredibly racist crap about anyone that that voices any criticism of this one, valid or not.

People quoting crime statistics in the retweets can feel free to shut the fuck up to, mock the movie mercilessly you don't need to pull that shit out to point out how awful this looks.

20 years ago this could have been funny as hell, and as a matter of fact it was funny as hell 20 years ago.

No line in Shakespeare will ever touch "you mess with the fro, you got to go" If you haven't seen it, you need to.

youtube

This is how you do this kind of thing without pissing a bunch of people off.

#anonymous

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who1ssheesh · 1 month

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NSFW with s/o and squalo??👀

Squalo NSFW Headcanons

Notes: Yes. Just yes. Actually these are nastier than Xanxus ones (oh look, someone is getting comfortable here, dirtiest kinks when???? (please ask please))

Warnings: minors do not interact obviously, not proofread at all, brief mentions of anal and pegging (if you don’t like idk…..)

• Hey listen, he’s actually 10/10 and really attentive when needed

• But still feelings are a turn off for him, and I mean it. Unlike Xanxus, Squalo is a beta male loser, he can get really confused with love-bombing and all that sappy stuff. Like…..he already hates this in a regular setting, and in sex it’s a cringefest for him.

• HuGE on getting praised. You better keep going about how good he is, I think he can cim undone only from this. What an egomaniac mf

• Probably has oral fixation both giving and receiving. A thick layer of lip gloss can make him hard, no jokes. If you ever get an idea of getting your lips injected, Squalo would be interested way more that he should be. (Don’t get me wrong, he like any lips as long as they’re yours)

• Just use a lip plumper for a 100% sex, works as a terraria boss summon 💀💀💀

• If you ever suck him off under his desk while he works, Squalo will never let it down, he thinks that was hot for some reason

• He is a sucker (pun intended idk) for oral himself, can some HOURS between your legs to the point you start crying. And he still doesn’t stop

• There is a lot of “over-” with Squalo, overstimulation included. He is going to make sure no one ever can compare to him

• Actually a point for crying while having sex. Maybe you’ll notice you are becoming a little of a crybaby since your tears turn him on oh so much.

• Having passionate sex with you crying right after a nasty fight and him whispering praise and apologies on you ear is a very hot-hot scenario for Squalo, but he will never tell you this because of course

• He actually doesn’t have that much experience (especially with his kinks lol he is a bit shy with those) and because of that is nervous a bit, but exploring his preference is a nice adventure, you can tell just be the look on Squalo’s Face if he likes something a lot

• Hey hear me out…As much as he likes to fuck the brain out of you, you can…..do the same in return. Squalo actually doesn’t know he needs this, but you overstimulating him to the point of eye-rolling is a heavenly experience + idk what about you, I would cum just from seeing THAT face on him omg

• I’m pretty sure, he has some nasty kinks in his sleeve to the point he just won’t tell you. Something like a wild card idk.

• First of all, let’s get it out, he is orientation-confused.

• Squalo probs fantasized about threesome with someone (let’s say Dino, why not?), which goes both ways

• Once was way too drunk and had a thought of threesome with you and Xanxus, still twitches in horror remembering this. Just a fun fact lol

• He COULD be up for pegging, at least trying. He doesn’t like the idea of being sub at all. Squalo can like the experience actually, but still being the bottom icks with him and he will be bitching about it

• Holy shit, he is risky too much (what else being expected from someone THIS self-assured). In general, you having vibrators in public inside of you can be a common practice for you two. Also is anyone ever calls you, he makes you pick the phone and thrusts much harder into you, good like with that lol

• His cock is average in girth, but is long, can touch you soul istg

• The idea of having sex while someone watches might be also in his head?

• Not opposed to anal. Not like a kink, but like doesn’t see a difference between vaginal and anal, pick what you prefer 💀

• Unexpected, but he doesn’t like hair-pulling. Xanxus does that a lot when posted, and Squalo has very bad associations with that. But touching his scalp or massaging while he is eating you out he loves a lot

• Squalo is still a beta loser, he occasionally likes slow passionate sex, you can even say something sappy meanwhile

• Doesn’t like role-playing at all, cause likes experience and feelings be sincere, but does enjoy lingerie

• Also can be into clothed sex? Squalo goes feral seeing you disheveled and dress lifted up just in the fight spots. Or him being fully clothed while you being naked

• Thigh riding pretty please :) More of a way of you begging for his cock, seeing you desperate is hot

• He likes blood, I headcanon, cause well…shark….Squalo…

• I’m not talking about biting (well, not ONLY, cause your thighs are going to ache from his bites), im taking about period sex. Yeah I’m disgusting and???? You are too 💀💀💀

• Whisper in his ear what you want to do to his or vice versa. The things he can say to you even while being in public can turn your head around. He can also tell about some random fantasy if something triggers one

• He DOES want you to become a swordsman, maybe I’ve said that before but I don’t remember if you ever are interested, you are doomed for life. You think Squalo wants a shared hobby? lol no you nerd, he just wants to ram you into the floor right after the training session right there with your swords lying around

• If you ever have a hung body, Squalo will feel guilty, you can trick him into giving you a massage (and he’s good in this) but no guarantee his hands won’t travel into wrong places. Wink wink

• His hands deserve their own headcanons: slim, long and dexterous (he is good at tinkering with his mechanisms), also his metallic hand can be a different experience as a whole

• Can fall into a bdsm pit. He haven’t thought about it much prior, but if you’re an enjoyer, Squalo picks it up as well and has a lot of fun with this. It all started with tying you up but here we are………..

• + blindfolding added to this. You not expecting what Squalo has in mind turns him on

• Likes when you use your hands on him (interpret in any way you want 💀 but im talking about handjob mainly). Even you having your hands on his chest while riding him is good enough

• Squalo likes feminine slender hands and is a huge sucker for long nails. Scratch his back as much as you like, he doesn’t mind

• Getting back to oral fixation - he will make you suck his fingers often

• Squalo likes direct the most uncomfortable eye-contact while he thrusts into you. Or even eats you out, idk. He will grab your neck if needed, and his wild eyes make you wet tbh

• Likes choking, on himself also

• Squalo is very vocal in bed, did you expect anything else lol? He usually tries to be silent (and you can tell) but if you duck the souls out of him then holy shit is he loud

• Also likes you being loud and expressing how he makes you feel. If you are the silent type, Squalo has another type of enjoyment making you scream, no less

• Ass man but can’t get past boobs. Why take one if you can have both?? In all seriousness, he likes more your chest as a whole, collarbones infatuate him + takes another enjoyment in nipples, he will suck and nip them a lot. Even can Maggie your breast without a sexual intention, Squalo just likes them

• His nipples are sensitive btw, you can have some revenge

• Now back to ass man. You better be careful with wearing tight pants 💀 Everything that attaches to it ( → thighs for example) Squalo likes equally. Thighfucking maybe?? Question mark??

• Squalo can possibly have wicked fun spanking you and making you count every slap. Starts all over again if you stutter

• Compared to Xanxus he is much more fun tbh in a way of being adventurous and pretty trouble-free about any idea you have. If you open somehow his the most wicked kinks, you won’t find the same fucked in a head man ever again lol. Unique experience would recommend

#khr headcanons #khr imagines #khr x reader #varia x reader #katekyo hitman reborn #squalo x reader #khr smut

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anonymous-kotlc-thoughts · 23 days

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I’ll be honest here guys (this is quite embarrassing but, you know).

When I was like fourteen and I think Legacy had just come out, but I was OBSESSED with BTS at the time. (To a semi unhealthy degree). While reading the book Shannon mentioned a post of a boy band on Amy Fosters wall that Sophie had never heard of before. I am assuming she was meaning to imply this was one direction. But you know. I’m insane. So I researched deeply into the KOTLC Time line and lined up all the events. Anyways Sophie left in 2012 which was a YEAR after one direction released their first album. Now 1D wasn’t at the height of their fame; snd Sophie was a socially awkward tween BUT I’m TELLING YOU GUYS. THEY WERE EVERYWHERE . Literally inescapable part of the western world, especially I would say in America where literally everyone fawned over UK accents. Uh anyways. From this thesis I figured that Sophie just could not have not know 1D. And I bet you right now they were on her iPod music playlist. Anyways I concluded that the boyband poster was BTS. Also one of my favourite songs from them at the time is called black swan. I had an animatic planned to it.

Now is where the ask SHOULD stop. Because, well… the rest is quite embarrassing but I think it’s funny.

With the collision of these two interests of mind some insane washed over me and I decided I had to write a fanfiction. It was about Amy Foster joining the neverseen around the same time as Tam and Glimmer were around and it had an ungodly amount of BTS references and fandom jokes that I think were there purely to make me giggle. I was having QUITE the time you see and I posted maybe four chapters to Ao3? It was a complete cringefest. But I enjoyed it and that’s all that mattered at the time !! (I still kinda live by that statement). Anyways I didn’t expect for it to be exactly a hit but I got a couple of hits and like maybe 2 Kudos. I was like cool, people are enjoying this. That’s great! Anyways I got a comment on the fic. It was something along the lines of “Imao what is this.”.

And dude.

Look I’m not THAT great at reading text but that broke me. I gave up writing the fic and pulled it from the platform. Suffice to say my tolerance for criticism wasn’t that good- but I’m proud to say I have really built up that cringe but free mindset lately and every year I grow stronger. Anyways to anyone who’s ever written a fic or done something that they found fun and joyful and whimsy and someone else was being a little hater (even if they didn’t mean it) I see you, I feel you and I hope you are able to find a happier space where you csn be cringe and free !!! 💜

#let people be cringe.#as long as it's not hurting anyone #if you don't like it #don't interact.#anonymous kotlc thoughts #kotlc #kotlc headcanons #kotlc fanfic

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dragondemoness · 2 years

Text

Ok so-

During a conversation with @mordredalstreim666 (who is awesome btw) I came up with an idea for these two simps as yanderes

I sincerely apologize for any nightmares you may have tonight😅

And I know I should be answering requests, but my inbox is flooded, and I'm wiped, so here you go for now

So plz bear with me 🙏

Yandere Kazuichi x Reader x Yandere Hifumi

At first, it starts off pretty messy

They just wouldn't stop arguing over who would get to "keep" you

And here you are, sitting and watching to these two argue

"They're mine!"

"No, they're mine!"

"You're just a fatass manga artist! I'm way better for them!"

"And how exactly, Mr. Soda, is a mechanic any better?!"

And you're just sitting there like 👁 👄 👁

"Uhm, do I not get a say in this??"

"SHUSH THE ADULTS ARE TALKING-"

And now, they're sitting down, gushing over how amazing you are

"Did you see them while they were eating?! It was SO cute!!"

"Omg, that's adorable, bro! But! Did you see them when they were sleeping??"

"OMG THAT'S SO CUTE-"

"I EVEN HAVE PICTURES-"

"OOO, LEMME SEE-"

And now, they're hugging each other while bawling

"Omg bro, you totally get meee!!"

"I know, bro!! We're the sameee!"

This relationship is one big cringefest

Whenever they're not cuddling you and being clingy dumbasses, they're watching your every move while you go about your business

Hifumi entertains you by drawing pictures of you sleeping, or eating, or just doing your thing

And Kazuichi makes a whole damn robo replica of you

Sometimes they end up bickering about cuddle times, or who has the better gift ideas

They're still friends tho

Great...😬

Once again, my sincere apologies😅

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa goodbye despair #hifumi yamada x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #consider this crack cuz there's no way they would ever act like this

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crazymisscarly · 2 years

Note

All of them for the ask writing game!

also from @middleagedresidentofriverdale

Wellllllll since you peeps asked nicely ;)

deep fic writer asks

1. what’s the fic you’re most proud of? I’ll Never Stop Loving You definitely takes the cake for that one.

2. what’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place? Tapes of Us - I based Jughead’s gunshot wound and resulting treatment on some personal experience with feeding tubes. My best friend is a registered nurse and was tube fed for years due to Gastroparesis and she helped me a lot with the terminology and understanding what would happen if someone was actually shot in the stomach and needed a feeding tube. I’ve also seen the way people responded to her feeding tube and am well versed in how that experience affected her, and still affects her to this day. She’s a gem, just saying, and she was always open to helping me write accurate information about feeding tubes and the medical processes - she’s passionate about raising awareness and I’ll be honest, this story arc affected me emotionally.

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to? Our Story’s Not Over and Tapes of Us - I couldn’t choose out of the two of these.

4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort? Literally anything from my Season 5 AU Series.

5. what fic of your own won’t you read? The absolute cringefest Twilight fanfiction sequel I wrote when I was 13. I do sometimes read the first chapters of my first “book” for a laugh though.

6. what’s the hardest part of the writing process for you? Staying on track. I have ADHD and was only diagnosed with it five months ago. I will go months and sometimes years without writing anything substantial, and then other times I can sit for 11 hours straight and write non-stop (like I did today for my Choni fanfic lol). It is definitely not healthy hahahaha

7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you? It’s a little disappointing when I don’t see much interaction with my fanfics on Ao3, but it pales in comparison to the excitement I feel when people post comments or message me privately about a chapter update. I’m always thrilled with feedback, even the one time I got a comment that verbatim said: “What the fuck”

8. does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone? Lots of people know. Some find it a ridiculous quirk, some think it’s awesome, but most of my closer friends and relatives just wish I’d finish writing my original stories lol.

9. what’s your writing process like? I will get an idea and type it up in my notes so I don’t forget about it. Then, usually I have an overwhelming urge to write the entire story. This is why some of my chapters are 40k words. When I start writing sometimes I physically can’t stop until my head hurts and I’m ready to pass out. If I’m in the writing zone, everything else takes a back burner. Sometimes I have to finish what I’m writing before I can do real world tasks because it’s like an obsession for me. As soon as I finish a chapter I edit and post it immediately. If I don’t finish editing I’ll literally pass out mid-edit: this is usually when I am laying in bed with my chapter update open in Ao3. When I either post it, or wake up and post it, I wait a few hours and edit it again.

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood? I think it’s given me a lot of confidence in my writing abilities. Seeing people’s positive feedback really fluffs my feathers. I love writing and I love that other people love my writing, but I honestly write most fanfics for my own amusement. I’m glad other people seem to like what they see.

11. Has a fic you’ve written ever caused issues/controversy? Mmm not exactly, but should I ever publish something original and somehow FanFiction.net has survived, I definitely fear that I’ll get cancelled as an author for the sickening cringe I wrote as a teenager. I was very very uninformed about literally everything and what I wrote back then was NOT ideal. Also, I had one person in my anons recently popping off about my portrayal of teacher Jughead’s backlash from parents for writing erotic fiction and its movie adaption (see: Jordan Jones fic). I guess that’s controversy, but I just found it hilarious.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write? In my bedroom just vibing. Quite often in the midnight hours. I usually require coffee and procrastination of something important to really get motivated.

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why? I think I take pride in it now that I can objectively (and egotistically) say my writing is decent. Ten years ago I was embarrassed because I wrote a few swear words and created a few dodgy sex scenes (16 year old me was a menace) and I was scared my mum would find out 😂😂

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way? Both ways I think. It’s not so much a comparison to other writers as a comparison between my writing style and the writing style I see in a fanfic or book. When I read I usually try to immerse myself in that world; usually in published books I’ll read something and think: hmmm if this was published I can probably write something publishable. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the future - but in most cases the educator in me is just happy to see other people writing, because the more you write the better your writing gets.

15. How do you think your writing has improved over time? Holy shit is this a great question. When I first started writing I was spitting out dumpster fires. I’d be happy to share some of my old fanfics with people privately if you want proof lol. My world building has gotten a lot better, as has my dialogue. When I was 13 I thought I was amazing, now I know I’m a better writer but I still have a long way to go skill-wise.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to? I sure do! I re-read all the fics I’ve posted on Ao3. I don’t really re-read my old fanfics on FanFiction.net but sometimes it’s nice to see how far I’ve come. Just for personal validation reasons.

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work? There’s too many writers on tumblr who have given me some great feedback or support, so it’s hard to choose. But there is a writer who commented on my Choni fanfic about something I’d written in my Notes that she pointed out was a bit offensive, and I genuinely appreciated it because I didn’t realise it came across that way. That was helpful because I absolutely hate offending people 😂

18. Do you only write when you’re inspired, or do you try and sit down at specific times and write no matter what? Inspired isn’t the right word - I write when I physically can’t do anything else. Like I said, I’m obsessed with writing. I can’t schedule it, it just happens.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include? I’ve already written it - Our Story’s Not Over included the snippets of things I liked from Season 5 of Riverdale and gave me the opportunity to retcon the shit I hated. That’s the best thing about fanfiction, the ability to say: Nope I hate that, let me change it.

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing? That is extremely difficult to answer. I’m not sure I even have an answer. But I will say I’ve enjoyed being able to connect with other writers, particularly on tumblr. And just knowing that what I write has a positive impact on strangers is really a joy.

#fanfiction #ask box #my fics #riverdale fanfiction

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alaminshorkar76 · 2 years

Text

#IFTTT #Blogger

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waspenned · 2 years

Text

atomic • peter parker (18+)

it's not like you actually think peter parker is stupid, you just know he likes it when you call him names • 2k

warnings: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! sexual content, sub!college!pete, that beautiful balance of degradation and praise, a splash of mirror kink, pete recieving oral, gender non-specific reader !!!! light choking

now playing: atomic by sleeper

a/n: this is my first foray into smut to please forgive me for the cringefest ur about to attend anyway sub Peter rights and anyone with any genitalia can read this because I believe in smut 4 all !!!! this is also dedicated to @subspider for the masterpiece, my pillar, my bible, wolf-teeth. title inspired by atomic by blondie but specifically the sleeper version bc its hornier. im still taking requests and now have a taglist to join if you'd like to be told when I upload fic :)

slow and steady, his hand inches towards you like a spider, trekking the hills and dales of his striped note sheets before resting beside yours; his index finger scratching at your knuckle. there’s a long moment of silence between you as he scratches away, before he eventually evolves to poking.

“hey bestie.” he prods, like you haven’t already made it obvious you’re ignoring him. usually, studying with peter isn’t an entire pain in the ass, but he seems to be hellbent on distracting you today, jostling you with his shoulder and bumping you with his knee. any other time, you would have been happy to play along - it wasn’t like you were above doodling on his paper when he was distracted - but nothing was fun with the threat of midterms hanging over your heads.

outside, the pigeons coo and rustle in the nest near his dorm room window, the general hustle and bustle of campus droning away three stories beneath you. the two of you are poring over study notes at his desk, buried under reams of worksheets and notes and hand-outs, and when you look up at him he’s got that sappy look on his face, like you can take the pain of schoolwork away. if only.

“i’m studying, bestie.”

“i’m bored.”

“good for you.

“my brain hurts.” he’s whinging now, scratching and scratching at you, a feather-light touch, until you drop the biro from your lips and look at him, unimpressed. peter is pouting at you, his bottom lip set into a jut, feigning a tremble. “what?”

“we have midterms, pete.”

“it’ll be fine!”

“yeah, you’ll be fine. we’re not all midtown tech prodigies.” you stick your tongue out at him, and his face crumples for real now, his eyebrows furrowing into an unhappy knot. “what is it?”

“don’t say that. you’re really smart - smarter than me.” it’s a blatant lie - it’s not like you’re an idiot, but only one of you manufactures spider-web technology and takes down supervillains in between classes, and it’s certainly not you. you can see what he’s trying to do from a mile away, his head cocked keen like a flower turned to the sunlight, but you don’t have time for what you know he wants. instead, you roll your eyes at him, but it only seems to goad him on.

“shut up.”

“you are!”

“i’m not doing this right now, pete.” he’s playing dumb as usual, but he can’t stifle the smile that tugs at his mouth, breaking into a sheepish grin. you should have anticipated it really, he always gets like this around exam season; you’re not really sure what it is, but you suppose the expectations get to him. he spends most of his time stressing over his grades, and his aunt, and whether or not manhattan will be intact when he wakes up, that you guess he just enjoys a little simplicity - for someone else to be in charge for once.

it started off as simple sex last year, nothing complicated, just as a stress reliever and a wind-down to a long day of studying. ‘simple sex’ quickly snowballed into something else after you’d accidentally lost your balance while riding him, your hand slipping to his throat to catch yourself. it had wrenched a groan from peter that was so embarrassingly loud, he had to hide in the bathroom for ten minutes, stewing in shame until you coaxed him out again. now, you were at a stage where he enjoyed the embarrassment of it, sought it out. it made sense really; he spent all day having to be so smart and responsible, that all he wanted when he saw you was to switch his brain off and be treated like an idiot. he spends most of the run-up to exams as putty in your hands, and usually, you’re perfectly happy to take the pressure off of him; it’s just that you’ve now got an entire semester’s worth of material to study, and not a lot of time to actually study it.

“doing what?” scratch scratch scratch. you’re quickly fed up with it, your hand snapping and suddenly his wrist is locked into your grasp, pinned against one of his hardback textbooks with a light thud. the room falls into a lull, the november gale dropping to a whisper and stilling the planetrees outside. some wild glint is sparked in his eyes like a flint - you’re both the steel and the tinder, igniting and fuelling it.

“peter.”

“please.” the lilt in his voice seems to seal the deal, every atom in his body thrumming at the cadence of you, ringing like a tuning fork. he’s got that look again, the one he knows melts you, and something gets you by the throat. not peter, no, but perhaps the situation of it all.

ah, fuck it. he needs it. you need it.

in an instant, you're both up on the desk and you’re pushing him across the cool surface, your arm on his chest forcing him down, down, until he’s pressed to his notes on metaphysics. he’s absolutely delighted, a breath tugging itself from his lungs in an ecstatic huff.

“is this it? is this what you’re so desperate for?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“don’t be so fucking stupid, parker.” he fidgets under your lap, eyes blown wide and dark, hands grasping reflexively at your thighs, using them as leverage to rasp his hips into yours. you rise up on your haunches, denying him the sensation, and he whines, his voice small, a low and gentle murmur.

“say it again. please.”

“don’t beg, it’s pathetic.” his back arches with your tone, his nails skimming your skin. peter is settling into this character far too well, leaning into your touch as you grasp his jaw, mouth lolling open. you adjust your grip, pressing your palm to his cheek and forcing his head to the side, sinking him into his ruffled chemistry notes. his face is turned to face the mirror on the wall parallel, but he’s just looking at you, legs scrambling on the oakwood in search of purchase - his hips canting up, up, up.

“stop moving.” there’s a small whine, the crack of a whip in his throat, and he freezes. your fingers crawl, moving, wrapping, holding a grip around his throat, pinning him in place - peter is thrilled at the sheer force of it, gasping. “look at you. there’s nothing in that pretty little head, is there?”

there's an attempt made to nod his head, but your hold on him tightens at the movement, a breath hanging in the air, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath the heel of your hand. his flesh is warm and pliable beneath you, but the hair he hasn’t had a chance to shave yet scrapes against your palm as he flexes his jaw. the way he’s staring at himself is almost criminal, lips parted as the flush on his face spreads like fire to his neck and ears - burning your fingertips.

“harder.” peter whispers, and you squeeze, his body curling up, straining, strung taut. his hand reaches for you, tracing the pad of a trembling finger over the slope of your cheek, outstretched like michelangelo’s adam. “harder, pleasepleaseplease.”

“jesus christ.” you breathe out, watching a smirk tug at his mouth, head thrown back as he watches you in the mirror. his hair spills into the stacks of your notebooks, splayed out, a chestnut halo. dropping your hips, he jolts like something’s shocked him, grinding up and into you with a groan. he’s hard and hot against your thigh, the weight of him caught between you and the plane of his stomach, your hand sliding up his throat into the dip where his neck meets his jaw, tipping his head back. between gasps and semi-desperate rutting, he still has time for sarcasm.

“my name is peter.”

“shut up.” you want to tighten your grip, to punish him, but he’d probably like that. instead, you indulge him, working the stress and tension out of him like a knot, shifting down his body until the drawstring of his sweatpants is in your sights. they’re shucked down his hips as he lifts them for you, releasing him from the confines of cotton and polyester, swelling against his happy trail. there’s no hand on his neck anymore, but he stays where you put him, willing and obeying with every fibre of his being. as he turns his head, you see an smudged equation printed in blue across his cheek, pressed there by freshly-written ink.

“you wanna ask nicely for me, or did you forget how?” you ask, and he keens at you, shifting under your weight, desperate, until you pin his hips still, thumbs stamping bruises into the peach-soft skin in the dips of his pelvis. you want something akin to devouring him, digging in your teeth, sinking in your nails, tasting him on your tongue like syrup and grenadine. “come on, show me there’s a brain in there, sweetheart.”

“will you go down on me? please. please.”

“good boy.”

his honeyed gaze is fixed on you through the mirror, watching you as you take him into your mouth, and the gasp that hangs in the air seems to be the only sound in the world; pealing like a church bell from saint patrick’s. it sinks quickly through his chest into a moan, sweetness mixed into the timbre of it, like the bursting of pomegranate seeds from hades itself. his chest heaves, rising and falling under his university hoodie, sweat beading at his temples. hair falls over his forehead as he tenses, shoulders curling in on himself, brows furrowing. your tongue slides over him, drinking up what beads at the tip as if it were ambrosia, and the sounds he produces are nothing short of illegal. you feel every vein and ridge of him, the plush slit at the tip, the petal-soft velvet of his skin.

“love you.” peter huffs, head lolling back and exposing his rosied neck, stumbling over his words. his hands flutter over you, moths to the flame, before settling into your hair, pushing it from your face and exposing it to the plane of the mirror. you watch each other in its surface, his eyes starried and captivated by your ministrations, like narcissus in the pond. “so hot."

you leave him with a pop, spit slick, and smile at the acme of him, your lips brushing the taut skin at the underside.

“is that all you can manage?”

“while you’re doing tha- that-” you’re moving again, his speech juddering to a stop, a moan stuttering out of him. he curses once, then again, hands fisting in your hair as you increase in speed, tongue flat against him.

“fuck, i- 'm gonna-!” he cuts himself off with a hitch of his breath, hands pulling his practice chemistry exams into tense fistfuls. your response is a low hum, your mouth full - ‘already?’

it’s only when his come pools in the fold of your tongue like oyster pearls, strings of your name falling from his lips like a rosary, that you realise he’s sprawled over all of your test notes, crumpling them. you swallow him down, and he falls back, spent.

“if you’ve ruined any of my notes, parker, i’m blaming you for my grade.”

“you can blame me for anything you want if it means you do that to me.”

“no,” you muse, swiping your thumb at the corner of your mouth, and then his cheek, marring the ink into a blue stripe. his nose is smushed against the wood, eyes closed in bliss as he stretches out like a cat that got the cream. “that’s only for when you’re being annoying.”

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sukunasun · 2 years

Text

PARACELSUS | COLLEGE AU GOJO SATORU | *REUPLOAD

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE

gojo shave your head because you’re going through changes and you need to let your old self die to be born again challenge. dark sunglasses he hides behind shielding him from all the things he wishes to forget, the things that haunt him. looking down from the rooftop of a high rise and wondering how long it takes to reach the bottom, picturing the distance getting closer and closer.

it’s his first time in switzerland and instead of standing at jungfrau’s summit or taking a scenic train ride, he’s here for rehab. simmering in a boiling hot stone bath at precelsus, he avoids his father’s disappointed stare as he looks into his son’s blue eyes, sad and empty from where he stands looking down at him. the fear in gojo’s chest isn’t foreign, he welcomes it even. for he knows he’s going to get his throat slit yet he accepts it at the hands of the only person who’s able to do it tenderly. love is a blade that never stops cutting. “i blame myself and i’m sorry. i’m sorry i spoiled you, and now you’re fucked. you’re a hothouse flower and i made you weak. you’re nothing. maybe you should write a book or collect sports cars, but for the world? you’re not made for it.” even here, he’s freezing cold as his father turns away but the silence he leaves behind is as comforting a chokehold.

his mother visits once and her disinterest, her disconnect, isn’t faked. “i’m afraid i can’t stay for too long, wouldn’t want people to know i’m here. my only son—an addict. the papers will have a field day.” her attention fixates on everything except him, she doesn’t bother to take off her gloves, fixes her hair every six seconds, she swipes at his pillowcase to feel the material, flipping the switches to see if the bathroom lights are working, checks the water pressure. she doesn’t look at him the entire time.

“they’re taking good care of me,” he assures her, knowing that she’s only doing this because she can’t bear it. the way she walks around the room with her bag still in hand, a sign he’s come to recognize that she would rather be anywhere else. this compared to him pretending to fall asleep before she comes home and that same bag stays put on a countertop. she would take off her heels, let her hair down, and grab his tiny sleeping body out of a nanny’s hands. cheek pressing into his silver hair and loving the fresh smell of him after a bath. holding on to him like her life depends on it despite him getting heavier and heavier at seven, eight, nine. “he took you from me and i’m sorry.” she whispers to no one in particular, but he knows exactly what she means. what he doesn’t know is why she couldn’t have told him when he was wide awake.

“well they better be, it’s costing us a lot more, they’re thinking of keeping you here for another four weeks,” even though he’s only been here for two days, then looks at him directly when she says, “but my satoru shall only have the best.”

he leaves rehab then throws a cringefest birthday party with a compliment tunnel because of positivity and good vibes guys. his parents don’t show up, geto’s not speaking to him, but yuuji’s here. only, he’s stuck playing old nintendo games in the makeshift arcade, the same ones gojo had to play in secret. he doesn’t know what scares him most, that yuuji tells him he wants this life or that he wants to be just like him. he’s flying above a sea of literal strangers and he calls it the coming of the second messiah. something about “i used to be an atheist until i realized i am god.” he tells the party planner who’s already stressed out with the lights and the mingling people who want gojo’s personal phone number. here, he throws back shot after shot and sweats it out on the dancefloor, they’re playing songs that remind him of the youth he’s lost. moving across this sea of vipers who just want a piece of him, tearing him apart, consuming his flesh. they smile and laugh but he doesn’t know if it’s alongside him or at him.

what antics.

and then there’s geto. just geto with his kind heart and his sense of humour, the way he used to be everything gojo had. post-switzerland, geto isn’t anywhere to be found and he’s pretty sure it’s his fault. and the thing is gojo doesn’t ever have problems with these things. could easily call someone and get geto’s location in an instant but he doesn’t think geto would even want to be found. because the guy has his own shit too, demons lurking at the back of his mind filled with grief, and this need to be everyone’s first line of defense. “his sobriety is dependant on you,” mahito chuckles in geto’s face, “what does that make you, his friend? you think he cares about you, he’ll drop you the moment he gets back on his feet and you know it.”

#reupload #FUCK MEEEE #WHAT THE FUCK #IM-#how dare you....#hurling crying and coughing up blood #god its trew its trew...i wanted a gojo satoru kendoll and i put my mind to it ! i write what i want and thats that #how did yall kno i was thinkin bout kendall the entire time....writing that origin college gojo post was...an experience...#gojo was meant to just be this spoiled kid ya kno the business major whos into stocks and fraud :)#and now hes turned into hamlet what the hell 🤰🏻#ughhhhh he has such terrible examples of love and he doesn't know what it means!!!#gojo going to rehab and mama and papa are there but they dont know how to deal with it...so they just .... do what they do best...#his fathers 'im sorry' because gojo's done for and its by his doing #and his mothers 'im sorry' for sacrificing her only son to the wolves and now hes becoming one of them #his mother being cold and distant and prioritising his image over everything else #and the only time shes loving is when he can't see or hear her #they both love gojo very much but they just don't know how to parent because he's less of a child and more of an insurance #something something...there are ppl not meant to be parents and ppl not meant to be sons #honestly this has become gojo's #college au #sunpiece #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #saturated #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru

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antiloreolympus · 2 years

Text

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Just so everyone knows, this is how the “number one worldwide phenomenon” LO ranks on the other Webtoons servers*, ranked from best to worst (November 2021)

Webtoons France: #6

Webtoons LATAM: #9

Webtoons Germany: Doesn’t Rank at all

Webtoons Korea/NAVER: Doesn’t rank at all, one of their lowest rated series ever on the whole site.

So it’s only Number 1 on a single server, meanwhile does either ok, lags behind, or is rejected outright everywhere else. Meanwhile other Western made imports to these other servers (such as Let’s Play and Down to Earth) all do easily top five, while True Beauty ranks as number one in all other servers except the English one, where it’s number 2. Unless America, Canada, and the UK are the “World”, then LO is not as popular as Webtoons’ marketing team wants you to believe.

* Webtoons Indonesia, China, and Thailand are excluded from this list since LO isn’t on any of these.

2. is it just mean to say the romance in Lo is just not good? like i didnt feel anything when they kissed, it just seemed really random. their flirting isnt very cute and it cant seem to decide if its wants them to act like actual adults or teenagers. them constantly being shy after while just gets boring when it happens over and over again. also it constantly has other characters say how "in love" they are which tbh only says to me even rs knows its not written well so she needs to spell it out.

3. why do the stans act like rachel "spending years" on lo means we cant critique it? a lot of things have years put into them, doesnt mean its now flawfree and we have to care about their poor egos. if rachel doesnt want critique, then she should have never agreed to being published much less putting her stuff online to begin with. i swear lo stans have no idea how the actual world works.

4. geniuenly want to know wha's going on in that lily white head of rachel's to not think its REALLY WEIRD to have hades lust after a tiny version of his mother and have persephone be turned on by hades looking like his abusive, murderous dad. like what the fuck is that. what is that saying exactly??

5. cannot stand how lo fans (or just hxp fans in general) claim there are "several versions" where hades doesnt kidnap persephone and she actually elopes willingly with him bc as soon as you ask for proof of this they get awfully quiet. like if there are "several" versions, show us at least ONE source of proof then. and no, it cant be LO, some fanfic, or a tumblr post. give us an actual source from ancient greece and we'll believe you, not going off your word that "it totally exists, trust me".

6. lo hades absolutely seems the type to buy nfts and no i will not elaborate on that

7. idk how the stans were like "how is lo a white savior narrative theyre all blue and green lmao" as if that was some epic own? or that hades being an ugly shade of brown in a human disguise (as in not his actual race? thas literally a disguise?) "proves" theyre not white like?? even rachel's fancast was all white people? even if they dont have races persephone being like "hey dead people i killed! be thankful for what im doing for my own purposes!' is literally a white savior narrative like -

8. Is there actually an anti-lore olympus server? If so, I'd like to get in if possible.

From OP: Yup! Search up ‘anti lo discord’ since it’s the hashtag I used.

9. The more i read LO the more it feels annoying and cringy. From the art to the conversations it’s just a shit show basically. Birthday cards, making Persephone look like a toddler? Hades turning into a giant spider? The humans who were the exact copy of Hades and Persephone?? The jury show? Like? The entire comic is just a cringefest. Not to mention the stans who defend this comic and RS like she’s personally going to save their life. My god had RS said that LO would be a fanfic telenovela webtoon of greek mythology then there would be no problems at all, but to say that this a modern adaptation and retelling of the mythology?? And to say that you know greek mythology better than greek people themselves?? Is this woman having delusion instead of actual food for her meals?

10. i also dont get why rachel keeps making a point persephone is so innocent and would never hurt a fly when its like?? isnt the whole point of the story supposed to be her growing up and being the "badass dread queen" its been promising us? bc it makes no sense to keep insisting she's this precious lil bean but also tell us she will also be some dark girlboss when she's not allowed to own or accept that part of herself? like even her "dark" side is just some vague "feeling"she cant control :/

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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generallypo · 4 years

Photo

[ Constellation ’Director of the False Last Act’ is looking at you. ]

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dark academia!hsy, yeeee! the white coat is fantastic, but unlike kdj and yjh, she doesn’t really switch up the color scheme. no, her bum-aesthetic purple hoodie does not count. i think she’s super hot. i yell about how much i love her under the cut.

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yo han sooyoung is actually amazing, incredible, powerful, witty, drop-dead sexy... what makes her so irresistible? let me explain

1) yeah, kdj takes the kdj company to end of the scenarios, but please. how many times does he have to kill himself to get there? not to mention his intentional (and unintentional) kill count?

sure, he does the job, but damn is he kind of inefficient about it. say what you like about hsy’s methods or personality, but the 1863rd round far surpasses the 1864th in terms of the lives preserved while still managing to take the team to the end.

without the benefit of cheat-like knowledge, skills, and resurrections, hsy almost single-handedly orchestrates the events of the 1863rd round to a satisfying finale. kmw, problematic as he is, survives and becomes an admittedly better person, yjh finds a timeline where he can rest in peace, and the rest of the cast have their eyes set on the hopeful end of all scenarios. all this, while only being HALF of a person (hsy originally split off into two after misusing her avatar ability). do her actions lead to the happiest ending? no. but it’s the one that sacrifices the least and saves the most. for the greater good, in other words.

hsy may be an intrinsically selfish person, but unlike kdj, she has the ability to grasp the entire picture and avoid tunnel-visioning into a crappier, more convoluted and self-sacrificial solution. ironically, it ends up saving more lives. perks of being a talented writer, i guess.

and the 1864th hsy emerges as a leader in her own right as well. the epilogue arc shows her assuming roughly the same role as her 1863rd self in kdj’s absence: yjh breaks off from the main group (AND BECOMES A TERRORIST AKFDJDSLKSL HAHAHA) to assume a similarly antagonistic role to the remaining members of kdj company. as a result, she’s the most powerful lawful incarnation remaining, and once more the incarnations circle around her for direction.

2) independent, confident, competent (hot and kinda shameless about it). this woman has the most delightfully unrepentant attitude towards life -- how to defeat the man with the strongest defensive ability without dealing a single blow? summon a horde of your naked dancing clones to terrify his innocent sensibilities, and then cackle at his helplessness. the fact that her sponsor is literally the chuuni-est cringefest in the entire galaxy and she gives no fucks about him is just additional comedic gold. her undisguised disgust for what should otherwise be a highly respected/feared entity is a clear indicator of her supremely dominant position over everyone else, and i admire her consistent irreverence of everyone and everything.

hsy is the only character who can consistently bully kdj, brush off his deflections, and bully him again. 1863rd round hsy gives kdj about 50 migraines in the span of 5 minutes of conversation before confirming her superior wit. jhw comes close, but unfortunately, she actually respects the rat bastard. i wish i could mention yjh, but let’s be real: he -- and just about every existing version of him -- has been whipped for the guy for at least 250+ chapters now.

hsy, on the other hand, has no regard for anything except herself... man, i respect that so much. what a queen.

and i won’t lie! i didn’t like her in the first fifty or so chapters. plagiarism? homicide? kind-of-in-general-just-being-an-obstacle-to-kdj’s-plans? yeah, i almost fell into the trap of disliking her purely because she didn’t cave immediately in the grand scheme of kdj’s plotting -- thereby denying me the power rush that came with seeing kdj bulldoze his way through the puny attempts of small fry characters. she’s neither a friend nor a despicable foe, but rather someone who acts independently and in her own self-interest, WITH the ability to thwart major players if need be. aka, the one who frustrated kdj’s plans -- and me -- the most.

going by my previous isekai/power-fantasy trope experience, i figured she’d get pegged into the sexy-but-sassy harem candidate, or get killed off if that didn’t work out. in hindsight, i’m just pretty fucking dumb, but honestly, i can accept that with gratitude --

-- because in fact. the whole ‘she-gets-in-my-way-so-she-either-goes-into-the-harem-or-dies’ trope in light novels/webnovels and the like, is, frankly, misogynistic and boring as hell. i had some admittedly low expectations for ORV, which consequently blasted my ass to the moon and left me there sobbing for 42 years as i mourned my stupidity and paid my respects to its incredible ending and character development. hsy is a particular delight, especially in her meta awareness of these tropes -- blatantly stating she isn’t obligated to kdj for saving her life and declaring the damsel-in-distress cliche as ridiculous, for example.

and it really is, because suspension bridge effect aside, you’re not gonna want to bang a total shady stranger in the middle of the apocalypse. it’s the little statements of self-awareness, self-worth, and frankness that build up hsy’s charm. as ORV progresses, these little windows of her personality bloom as her presence takes stage center -- and then BAM! you really get to know how strong she is, how hugely capable of love she is, how subtly but wonderfully she expresses it, how she leads and protects those close to her, and how damn good she is at it. hsy is amazing. we stan an iconic queen -- no, black flameS EMPRESS. *kneeling*.

3) writes an entire EPIC, just to keep one lonely, broken fifteen-year-old alive. like. at that point in ORV, i knew. i knew. hsy is the fucking GOAT. seeing her spend the rest of her life on WOS, making sure it reaches completion because it’s the only thing that will sustain kdj until the advent of the scenarios... that hits too hard. inadvertently, it also damns the rest of the world to the terror and tragedy that the star stream brings.. but that’s the call she makes in order to save kdj’s life.

obviously, there’s no precise beginning to the timelines -- ORV is so neatly crafted in its cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader -- but i’d have to argue that hsy holds the greatest power in the trinity. creating the existence known as ‘yoo joonghyuk’ and granting life-changing hope to an otherwise forgotten boy.. is pretty powerful. yjh, for the most part, is a slave to the scenarios (until he breaks free in the 1863rd and 1864th rounds, in particular), while kdj (unwittingly) admits it himself: he’s truly the most powerless god in existence. i forget exactly where he mentions it, but it’s in response to lgy’s reverent commentary that, with all his knowledge and presumed confidence, kdj seems like the protagonist of story or a god to him. kdj’s inner monologue, of course, is appropriately self-deprecating and scarily accurate.

in a lot of ways, WOS -- and ORV itself, really -- is a love letter to readers. it’s a two-way connection, writer and reader, between someone who creates with all their passions and someone who consumes and responds with equally sincere feelings. Ways Of Survival -- the story of a man who defied death and grief and great powers far beyond his being -- is a fictional guide to surviving in a ruined world. but to a battered, bullied, and ostracized boy, it’s not just escapism, or wish fulfilment anymore. WOS is the map to navigating the hell of his reality. there’s a certain power in the right words being spoken -- or in this case, written -- at the right time, even if it’s only for the temporary burst of endorphins upon reading an especially delightful chapter. even if it’s forgotten the next day, you’ve managed to connect. you’ve touched another person’s heart. you made them think about questions they’ve never considered before; maybe, you made them smile.

what can i say but the honest truth? ORV, without a shadow of doubt, has most certainly reached me. i’m a goner for this story and its excellent characters -- long, long gone. something has changed, something that wasn’t there the previous day.

the mark has been made on the reader -- small as it is, it’s irrevocable. behold, in all of its little magnificence: the power of a writer, and their story.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #han sooyoung #dark acadamia aesthetic #fanart #long ass emotional screeching #wow these are the nights i wish i had someone to yell about orv with #otherwise i stay up at ass-o-clock uncontrollably writing and groaning and writing #anyways hsy is best girl and sexy as fuck

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papirouge · 2 years

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Men getting worked up over kids entertainment will never not be funny to me. I remember when the new Space Jam came out and men (and some women too I think) started whining about Lola Bunny's redesign because apparently they had removed her breasts. There was this image that compared the "old" and "new" design that started circulating where the old depicted Lola with very big breasts and the new depicted her with a flat chest. These men obviously started whining about SJW and political correctness and so on.

Well, turns out that the "old" image actually came from some coomerish fan art where Lola was drawn with far bigger breasts that her original design. Like these men probably hadn't watched nor cared about Space Jam since they were kids, forgot what Lola actually looked like and were basing their image of her on pornified fan art that they saw when older.

Not to mention that Lola Bunny wasn't designed to cater to horny males, she was in fact designed with little girls in mind. In fact, her old conceptual art depicted her as more tomboyish that the final design from the original movie (you can look it up btw). The idea was that little girls would become more interested in seeing the movie and would want to buy merch that depicted Lola Bunny in them.

Also, why would anybody be interested in seeing rabbit boobies? In a childrens movie at that?! Literally madness.

TELL THEM, ANON🍵🔥🔥🔥

It's honestly sooooo pathetic to see these grown dude being so worked up over entertainment aimed at CHILDREN/PRE TEENS but the worst is seeing ppl defend this mess as if they were victim of political correctness for...being clowned for the immature cringefest that they are. And I thought wokesters were the weak/sensitive ones..🥴

I'm in my 30s and there's no way in hell I'm gonna ever write a full on column to whine about I feel excluded from Steven Universe or whatever show is popular with kids

White men are sooo desperate to act like they're oppressed when they're the same ones mocking PC/SJW culture and how minorities have to stop complaining about medias & "performative representation" BUT WATCH THEM TURN AROUND AND DO THE EXACT SAME THING WHENEVER NON WHITE CHARACTERS ARE GETTING SHOVED INTO ENTERTAINMENT PIECES AND SCREAM ABOUT THE ERASURE OF WHITENESS🤡🤡 why so salty about Black hobbits/little mermaid/Ann Boleyn? I thought representation & Whitewhashing didn't matter and they are just TV shows and that we should just get over it? 🤡

What you're saying about Lola Bunny is so interesting bc it's a glaring example of how men feel entitled to be the standard in everything. And when they don't, they consider it a personal offense and take up their pen and whine about how "eXhaUsTinG" it is lmao. That dude from that cringe article whining about "Seeing Red" would have NEVER went out of his way to say how some shows are too masculine and not catering enough to female or children. It was 100% "i hate when it's not about me" word salad, and I can't believe that anyone would whiteknight this mess.

Lola Bunny is literally from a cartoon show which mostly cater to CHILDREN yet they cried like pissy babies bc she wasn't sexy enough. Their scrotism is showing. There's no wonder masculinity is dying. But MuH aTtacK aGaInsT sTRaiGht WhitE mEN right? They are self suiciding themselves. Grown Western men be more bothered about anthropomorphic bunny than having kids and building their future. Pathetic and weak.

#answered #papi truths

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my-never-ending-nightmare · 2 years

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11/06/2021

Here we are: one week of sobriety. I know that isn’t exactly anything to write home about – most people do this every week. But I’m not most people, and this is the longest I’ve gone without so much as a single drink since April. So at this point I’ll allow myself to celebrate any victory, no matter how small. Though I guess I should really preface all of this by apologizing in advance for yet another long ass post ya’ll have got to scroll past. I have no idea how I’ve managed to maintain 95 followers throughout the absolute flurry of posts this past week, and while I do appreciate all of you sticking around throughout it, I’m not egotistical enough to believe that any of you follow me to bear witness to me baring my soul naked in such an embarrassingly honest albeit anonymous fashion. I’m well aware that there’s probably only about 1% of you that read just 0.5% of these types of posts, but ultimately I do this for myself and myself alone. So I wouldn’t blame a single one of you for abandoning ship if this becomes too much of an absolute cringefest. Although for your sake I promise to chill tf out after this and return to more regular posting soon enough.

So, with that out of the way, I’ve been wracking my mind trying to pinpoint exactly when and where things all began to go so tits up again for me. It would be easy for me to sit here and say that it started when I broke my total sobriety with a single drink back in April, and even easier still to say that it was when the habitual occasional drink or two turned into a full-blown 24/7 dependence last month. But I don’t think that blaming my current situation on any of that would be entirely fair, because in all honesty I lost the plot somewhere in between that time. The alcohol became a symptom of the problem rather than the problem itself, y’know? And the only answer that I can come up with is that, paradoxically, my problems began when things in my life started going so well that I was truly happy again. Because, once that happened, I stopped writing. I no longer thought I had to – I figured that my journey of self-improvement had reached a point where writing was no longer necessary because my struggle had rewarded me with everything I had longed for when I had first begun it.

Big mistake.

Because I realize now that the reason things were going so well in the first place is preciously because I was writing.

I’ve always been much, much better at articulating my thoughts in the written form rather than verbal. And I’m unsure if that’s due to the fact that I was such a voracious reader for most of my life (until alcohol robbed me of that, too) or if it just means I’m autistic. But nevertheless, that how it be. So when I lost that - or more accurately gave it up because I no longer felt I needed it - then I was also giving up the ability to document and organize my thoughts in such a way that I could view them from a new perspective. Like, I once told somebody that they had the unique ability to hold a mirror up to me that revealed myself to me in a way that I couldn't see for myself – metaphorically of course – but in lieu of that this Tumblr account did, or does, that exact same thing.

This account is my way of releasing my thoughts out into the world so that they're no longer a burden that I must bear alone. Without that then my thoughts have the tendency to consume me entirely. When I gave up writing I lost that proper perspective on my thoughts and feelings, and in so doing I lost myself in the process. There was no longer an escape from what tormented me, and alcohol went from being a means of taking the edge off to becoming the way to take the edge off. If that makes any sense.

Things in my life felt like they were going so well for a while there, and that even better things were entirely within reach, yet I still cocked it all up in the end. I recently told somebody that I thought it was because I had begun to take things for granted, which I immediately & completely regretted. Because that statement wasn’t true at all. It’s not that I was taking things for granted – it’s that I had turned so completely inward by allowing my thoughts, fears, and anxieties to completely consume me to the point where I was no longer fully present in anything I did. From the most casual of conversations to the most intimate of acts – I wasn’t there. Physically, sure, but certainly not mentally. There was no longer any passion or enthusiasm in anything I did or said because, to borrow a couple lines from Reznor in The Becoming – “even when I'm right with you I'm so far away” & “it won't give up it wants me dead, Goddamn this noise inside my head.”

And this constant noise in my head made it impossible to fully enjoy anything in life or, worse yet, show my appreciation for all the good things I had going for me. For instance, the best friend I’ve ever had worked a pizza place and would make me these small, personal size pizzas because they were allowed to do so for free and these were always the best pizzas I had ever eaten in my life because of the love and care put into doing something like that for me. And then, on my birthday, they went above and beyond by not only making me my favorite pizza but a large one too – that they had to pay for out of their own pocket. And I was so sick to my stomach with stress that night that I wasn't even able to eat as much as I had wanted to. Then, the next morning, I awoke to realize that the leftovers had been left sitting out overnight and figured they might not be the safest to eat anymore. So, without thinking, I threw the last couple pieces into the garbage and instantly, as soon as they landed in it, I was filled with heartache, shame & guilt. Because my friend had done one of the sweetest things anybody has ever done for me – and that’s how I repaid their generosity: by throwing it away. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that, or how heartbroken I was when they found out. Because all I did was show them how inconsiderate, selfish & ungrateful I was. When that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I was just careless because I was distracted, and I was distracted because of the thoughts consuming me.

I had no outlet for them – until the only escape once again became alcohol.

But it didn’t have to be, if only I had remembered how much of an escape writing can be.

#journal #blog

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years

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sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 4

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series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 4.2k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | IM SO SORRY this is late 😔😔 skldjflkj i was trying to get this out for namjoon’s bday butttt i failed HAHAH sighz life just threw consecutive curveballs my way ok but here we go!!!! part foouuuurrrr

If you thought things between you and Namjoon would be awkward, well, they were. Undeniably and unbearably awkward. The silence stretched long between you without Hoseok to fill the space. Maybe you should have reserved some topics of idle chatter instead of expending them all during last night’s dinner. Maybe you should have asked Namjoon to come over after Hoseok’s dance class. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to hang out at all.

Wistful regretting will get you nowhere. You know that. But you indulge in it all the same, stirring your straw and watching the ice cubes in your latte swirl and clink against the sides of the glass. Pointedly keeping your eyes trained on your half-full cup and off the man seated at your shared table in the cafe, his fingers thrumming nervously on said table, you feel a twinge of guilt. How long will you let this silence drag on?

It’s not for the lack of trying. You’re trying. You really are. And you know that Namjoon is too. Small talk just seems to evade you. And deeper issues are off the table, for now at least. Not until you’re sure that he’s not going to abruptly drop out of your life again. Although you’ve agreed to give him a second chance at friendship, the emotional shields were still difficult to lower.

Flicking your eyes to your watch for the thousandth time that afternoon, the unease only gnaws at you further when you realize that the minute hand has scarcely ticked forward by two minutes. Forty more minutes to go. It feels like it’ll be a lifetime before Hoseok is done.

As Hoseok’s weekend trip came to an end, you wondered if the hangouts with Namjoon would experience a similar fate.

But then again, it’s not Hoseok whose friendship he was looking to rebuild. That had never ended. It was just yours. So should you really have been surprised when he invited you out for lunch midweek when Hoseok was miles away back home and away from the city?

You had to give him credit. When he said that he would do anything he could to attempt to make reconciliation happen, the guy had really meant it.

The first couple of lunches together - lunches that you dragged yourself to because you had agreed to give him a second chance - were a total cringefest.

Namjoon was the one who pushed through it with unwavering perseverance. And that was what spurred you to continue trying.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy his company. You do. It’s hard not to, really. Not when his dimpled smile and rounded pleading eyes are as disarming as they are. Namjoon has always been a good listener, always making you feel valued for your ideas no matter the frivolity, but lately he’s picked up this habit of bending down to your height, tipping his chin down just so so he can peer up at you with the most puppy dog look ever and you just- you can’t handle it.

It’s devastating. It’s irresistible. It’s a bulldozer through all the walls you’ve put up over the years, smashing them to rubble in a matter of weeks.

And so the lunches you used to drag yourself to became lunches to be anticipated. The text conversations that began in stiff formality soon gave way to a barrage of emojis and typos left uncorrected, and you find your walls gradually giving way too. The two of you had always shared an easy chemistry, something that hasn’t faded with the years and unaffected by the breakup.

The breakup was the one thing that still remained taboo.

Well if he hadn’t wanted to speak about it in the time leading up to your breakup back then, why would he want to talk about it now?

You know you’ve chosen to forgive him. But the residual bitterness still sits much like the dredges at the bottom of your daily morning cup of coffee. Unprovoked, it would be fine. It lies dormant so long as nothing shakes it up.

And you’re not going to shake it up. Because you’re over Namjoon.

“Ke- ketchup?!” Namjoon sputters, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “I know it’s been five years, but damn…”

“What?” Your tone is defensive, but your facial expression is irrefutably sheepish as you drag a fry through the offensive red condiment you’d just squeezed onto your plate.

“What ever happened to the vendetta against ketchup?” he asks, still gaping at sight of you consuming the very thing you’d once condemned as unworthy of being ingested.

You shrug and answer simply, “Lots of things can change in five years.”

It was just meant to be a passing comment, nothing more. But Namjoon seems to take in the sight of you afresh, then nods emphatically.

“That, it can.”

The noise that escapes you is tiny, hopefully indiscernible, as he places an elbow on the table, suddenly leaning forward with his chin in hand, hovering over his half-eaten club sandwich. Determinedly refraining from shifting a little in your seat under his scrutinizing gaze, the words of protest sit heavy on your tongue as you keep a tight grip on them much in the same stubborn manner. You will not break. You’re over him.

“You’ve changed,” he says, gaze still roving over you. It’s not an accusation in the slightest, but more of an observation. “And it’s not just the ketchup.”

“Thank god. If the only character growth I’ve made in the past five years is learning to consume ketchup, then that’d be a real problem.”

He laughs - the staccato hah odd but familiar - and reclines back, elbow propped casually against the back of the chair now.

“But for real,” he says, gesturing with his sandwich-filled hand, the crumbs go flying all over the table. He takes a pause as he stuffs the entirety of it in his mouth, his cheeks bulging with the too-big-mouthful. It’s amazing how he doesn’t choke, but he manages, gulping it down so he can continue. “It’s like you’re more comfortable in your own skin now somehow.”

“Hm,” you ponder between your own bites of your burger, “what do you mean by that?”

“You just seem more sure of who you are lately.”

You purse your lips at that. After the breakup, you finally stopped chasing Joon’s shadow and embarked on your own journey of self-discovery. But you can’t tell him that.

“Maybe,” you offer instead. “I could say the same about you. About having changed, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you emphasize, jabbing towards him with a fry. “It feels like -” same fry still in hand, you tap it against your lip as you think through your words, then point it at him again as it comes to you - “like you’re finally letting the words out. You’ve always had this really deep inner world - god knows how many times I’ve lost you mid-conversation to your daydreaming - but now you actually verbalize it.”

The poor fry that’s been waved all around as you gesticulated your thoughts finally gets popped into your mouth. “And it’s nice. It’s nice having a peek into the landscapes of your mind.”

“Maybe it comes with publishing,” he jokes, but his eyes shine with unsaid appreciation at your words.

Your heartbeat stutters a little at the sight of it, but you ignore it. Because you’re over him.

You’re over him. You’re over him, you’re over him, you’re over him.

That’s what you remind yourself, smacking your cheeks as if the sting of it would resonate the words into your stupid brain and make. it. stick.

Sighing out to yourself in the bathroom, you ready yourself to return to the living room. To return to Namjoon.

Yes, it’s pathetic, but you’re hiding in the bathroom away from Namjoon.

Steeling your nerves, you twist the lock and pad your way trepidly back to the sofa where Namjoon sits.

Feigning normalcy, you take a seat next to him and tap away at your phone for a distraction.

Underneath you, the cushions shift and jostle you lightly with the shift in Namjoon’s weight as he scoots closer to you. His warmth bleeds into you where his thigh presses against yours. At least he’s got his pants back on.

“____.”

You look up at him.

“Are you really ok?” His eyes are full of emotion - concern, repentance, sincerity - as they search yours.

“It’s fine, Joon.”

It’s not.

Maybe you were being too naive when you thought you could just be friends. That whatever existed between you two before all this would never get in the way. That the same memories that plague you don’t similarly affect Namjoon.

It had all been going well before this came in like a bucket of cold water dousing you in shock from head to toe.

Namjoon sat in your bed, blankets pooled around his waist to conceal his bottom half. His pantsless bottom half. Not that it took particular prominence in your mind, you dismiss, as you focus on pulling the thread through.

It seems Namjoon’s reputation as the god of destruction lives on. And neither his pants nor his ego are safe from it. What began as an afternoon of dorky fun, attempting to reproduce Hoseok’s latest choreography video (and poorly), peaked into hilarity when Namjoon’s pants spontaneously decided they would have no more of what can barely be termed as dancing. With a sharp ripping noise, his pants seam tore straight down the middle.

The way his eyes shot wide, his hands flying to shield his crotch, had you doubling over in laughter till your sides hurt and you had to gasp to catch your breath between peals of laughter. He whined for you to stop, but it only made it all that much funnier.

The occasional giggle still escaped you, but eventually you calmed down enough to offer to patch it up for him, brandishing the sewing kit you retrieved from the depths of your closet.

And that’s how he ended up hiding under the covers while you mended the rip in his berms.

A chuckle - this time not your own - breaks your concentration.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Hey.” You elbow him lightly. “Share the joke.”

He bites his lip as he considers it for a second. Prodding him once more, it makes him relent.

“I mean, I imagined being undressed in your bed again, but I definitely didn’t think it would be like this.”

Oh.

It registers somewhere in the back of your mind that it is pretty funny. But your laugh sounds hollow, even in your ears. Dropping your gaze back to your stitching, to the sewing that you’ve completed, but you repeat the stitch on the same spot a couple more times. It’s unnecessary, but it’s all you have to hold on to right now in the midst of your shock.

But you can only do this for so long before it reveals itself for the irrationality it is. Knotting it up and snipping the thread hastily, you pass the article of clothing back to Namjoon as you rise from where you were perched on the edge of the bed, the action taking him by surprise.

“Here, I’ll give you some privacy to put them back on. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”

You’re speeding off before he can get a single word in.

“____,” the sound of your name pulls you out of your thoughts. His hand is warm where it grasps your arm, shaking you gently. He’s doing his head ducking thing again, stooped to your level so his eyes can bore straight into yours. “I crossed a line, didn’t I?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, and you fake a smile as you huff out an exhale. “It was a good joke, Joon.”

“But it made you uncomfortable.” His eyes never leave yours. “I made you uncomfortable.”

You don’t answer. What were you supposed to say?

“I’m really sorry, ____. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Joon. It’s fine.”

It’s not. It’s really not.

But it has to be. Because you’re over him.

It’d occurred to you once that the fates had a sense of humor, and now you’re quickly realizing that tormenting you is their favorite brand of humor.

It should be great that Namjoon blended into your friend group with little to no problem.

Ever since the first time you invited him over for lunch in the museum’s cafe - something that was meant to be a one-off, a compromise so you wouldn’t have to cancel your lunch appointment with Namjoon while also accommodating the deluge of urgent work that had cropped up without warning - his visits, both to the museum and its cafe, had become much more frequent. When asked about it, he’d explained that the artwork in the galleries became a great source of inspiration for his own work.

But you know the real reason. He’s lonely.

The city may be bustling with people, but it’s still a lonely place. At least with your job, you have regular coworkers you meet every day and have formed friendships with. But for Namjoon, being a novelist may grant him the luxury of flexibility in his work environment, but it also denies him the company of regular coworkers. His ready availability, no matter whether it was for morning coffee runs or lunch appointments or after-work dinner or drinks, made it easy to piece together that his way of life before this was quite a solitary one.

So it should fill you with selfless joy that your close friends have taken to him well.

In reality, a selfish jealousy simmers in the pit of your gut.

Watching as Yeri feeds Namjoon a piece of cupcake, your stomach turns at the blatant attempts at flirting. Unable to stand the sight, your gaze drops swiftly to the cupcake in your own hand. Chomping into it, you grind your teeth with a force that’s entirely unnecessary for such a moist cupcake.

You have no right to be upset with Yeri. Honestly, she’d done her due diligence. You’re the one to blame.

Having recognized Namjoon from the lecture, and noticing the number of times he’d walked you to work after your occasional morning coffee run, it wasn’t long before Yeri marched you to the pantry, arm hooked in yours. She steered you away from prying ears and towards where Soo-eun sat, waiting.

Yeri plucks the coffee cup out of your hand, ignoring your sputtered protests, and places it firmly on the counter with a solid thud, hot liquid sloshing about in the cup and rendering the poor barista’s efforts at latte art a complete waste.

“I’m sick of waiting for you to spill to us about your boyfriend, ____, so I’m taking things into my own hands! It’s been weeks. We need the juicy details!”

Soo-eun, who had been brewing her own cup of tea, nodded as she stuck her tea bag into her mug. “I have to admit, I’ve been waiting too.”

“Guys,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal. “It’s not like that. He’s just a really old friend.”

Well. It’s half true. They don’t need the messy details, you decide, as you recount how you met Namjoon all those years ago. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re over him.

“Nooo,” Yeri whines, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “I thought something juicy was finally happening in your life, ____.”

Oh, if only she knew.

Jealousy bubbles up like an emotional acid reflux that you desperately try to keep down. With every flirtatious touch, you have to remind yourself that you’d never explicitly communicated that Namjoon was off-limits. Because he’s not.

You can’t lay a claim on him because he’s not yours. Not anymore.

But as you grapple with the jealousy that threatens to boil over, you’re forced to wonder - maybe you’re not that over him.

You put a finger to your lips, shushing your friends, then beckon them forward. Shooting them a thumbs-up, they return ones of their own.

Your knocks rap sharply on the wooden door. Heavy footsteps approach the door and the three of you ready yourselves.

The door cracks open and Namjoon peeks out, messy-haired and shirt all rumpled.

“____, wha-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” your trio hollers more than sings.

As the song - if the cacophony can even be called that - carries on without care for neither the time (midnight) nor the neighbors (probably highly annoyed), Yeri shoves the cake into Namjoon’s unsuspecting hands, clearly unaware of his klutzy nature, and the cake very nearly ends up in a heap of strawberries and cream on the ground. But your hand shoots out to catch it, rebalancing the weight of it quickly, well-practiced after the years of growing up around Namjoon. The reflex action doesn’t go unnoticed by him and his lips quirk upwards as Soo-eun snaps a party hat - glittery and obnoxious just like the ones donning each one of your own heads - to Namjoon's head, hiding his bed hair.

"... happy birthday to yoooouuuu," the song drags out into a dissonant finale.

Namjoon's smile has always been captivating, but it's even more so with his features illuminated by the soft orange glow of the candlelight. The tenderness so evident in his eyes pulls you in, irresistible and unrelenting. And though the urge to avert your gaze usually plagues you inanely, it seems to have been entirely overrode by this strange new fixation on the sight of his dewy-eyed expression.

“Thank you so much,” he says, and the sincerity in his words isn’t diminished even with the way he half-whispers it out.

Quiet affection settles like a gentle hum in your heart. Before this, the exhaustion from the day had been eating at you, your eyes strained and dry from the unforgiving glare of your screen at work, your bones heavy with lethargy and craving nothing more than the plush welcoming hug of your mattress. But now, seeing him alight in jubilation, it’s enough that you feel the tiredness recede.

“But please.” He hurriedly jabs a thumb back to his apartment twice. “My neighbors’ hate for me is probably increasing at an exponential rate the longer we stand here.”

“Screw them!” Yeri whispers sharply, the irony of it lost on her. “Blow out your candles first, Joonie.”

Joonie.

Just a single word, but it yanks you right out of the pleasantry you’d been floating along in. Jealousy pulls you under, suddenly irrationally possessive over the simple nickname as you drown in the ebbing waves of the nasty emotion.

Turning back to Namjoon, you plaster on a polite smile. “Yeah, make a wish first.”

Looking between the three of you, it registers that none of you are going to be making any moves to enter his place until he submits to your bidding. Better to just you guys what you want. Relenting, the candles get extinguished in two puffs, and your cheers - hushed this time - fill the hallway.

“Alright!” Yeri claps her hands together, breaking out of a whisper with her exclamation. “Time to check out Namjoon’s abode!”

In typical devil-may-care Yeri fashion, she pushes past Namjoon and walks freely into the place, making herself comfortable. Used to her antics by now, Soo-eun laughs a little, but follows her lead, grabbing the cake from Namjoon on her way in.

“I’ll get this sliced.”

Your eyes trail after Soo-eun as she enters the apartment. When you turn back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you. There it is again, that look. It’s a look that you don’t want - don’t dare - to decipher, but it’s a look that seems to linger whenever he thinks you won’t notice.

You’ve noticed it for weeks now.

In feigned nonchalance, you brush past Namjoon to make a beeline for his couch. After the number of times you’ve hung out at each other’s places, Namjoon’s apartment is like a second home to you now.

“How’d you know I’d be home?” His voice is echoey where it carries over from the doorway as you plop yourself into the leather seat, letting your body get swallowed up in comfort. The front door clicks shut and Namjoon joins you in the living room soon after.

“Face it, Joonie,” Yeri calls from where she’s inspecting his bookshelf. “We’re your only friends in this city.”

“Ouch.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But touche.”

Slices of cake get distributed, courtesy of Soo-eun, and the couch gets crowded as all four of you squeeze onto the tiny thing that was definitely meant to seat two. But there’s no complaints. Not when there’s cake.

Squished between Namjoon and Soo-eun, your bodies pressed up side by side, you’re not sure if you’re imagining it when you feel Namjoon stiffen up momentarily, then hesitantly relax and lean into you. The feel of him is indulgently familiar, and you wonder if it’s the same for him.

The room settles into a contented quiet for a while. Clearly, consuming the dessert takes priority over conversation.

It’s Soo-eun who starts up the conversation again. “Didn’t you go to college here, Namjoon?” she asks. “Did you not keep in contact with anyone?”

You watch carefully as Namjoon fiddles with his fork as he clears his throat. “How do I put this?” he begins, the silver of the fork gleaming distractingly with the way it catches the light under his fidgeting. “I guess, I, um, wasn’t in the best space in college to be making friends.”

“Well,” Yeri interjects before the mood can dampen further, placing a hand on Namjoon’s thigh, “that’s fine, because you have us now!”

Namjoon eyes the hand on his thigh, but says nothing. Jealousy threatens to consume you. Teetering on the brink and frankly unsure which way it would swing, you jump up from the couch.

“I’m kind of thirsty from all the dessert.” It’s a blatant lie. You’ve only had two bites. “I’ll get water for everyone.”

Extricating yourself from the situation, you march into the kitchen. Concentrating on locating the drinking glasses helps to get your mind off of what just happened and the jealousy seeps away.

The drawer where most of Namjoon keeps most of his utensils opens to reveal three glasses. Looking around for a fourth, you finally spy one sitting on a high shelf to the left of the sink.

Rising onto your tiptoes to reach for the glass, you stubbornly maintain that you can reach it if you just stretch that last inch, but a tanned arm grabs it before you can.

The clink of the glass on the counter is barely audible with the way your ears feel like they’re completely stuffed up with cotton. The warmth emanating from the figure behind you causes warmth of your own to rise in your cheeks.

You whirl around.

“I could have gotten that,” you say, trying but failing to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “I didn’t need your help.”

“You seem a little off. Are you okay?” Namjoon asks, his brown eyes scanning you. Testament to the decades of friendship you two shared, of course he would know something was wrong.

“Sorry for being a party-pooper on your birthday, Joon. I’m just tired,” you say with a sigh. “It’s been a long day.”

His hand raises, as if meaning to touch you, but stills for a moment before it drops back to his side.

“I understand. Thank you, ____. You didn’t have to do all this for me, y’know. You should have just gone home to rest.”

“But I wanted to,” the admittance comes slipping out. You frown a little as you look him in the eye. “How did you celebrate your birthday last year, Namjoon?”

His jaw, slacked in surprise, fidgets as he formulates a response. Finally, he huffs out a sad laugh. “I didn’t.”

The hollow loneliness pangs through you and even if it’s only secondhand, it’s still enough that it wraps around and constricts your heart, the emotion welling up tightly in your chest.

Against all better judgment, against the boundary lines you’d carefully drawn up, against the promise of just friends, nothing more, you reach for Namjoon’s hand. As your thumb skims over his knuckles, you marvel at how familiar the sensation of his skin under yours feels, even after all this time.

The way he watches the tender strokes of your thumb - that same lingering look you didn’t want to confront - confirms your earlier thought. The indulgent familiarity of each other’s touch is one that is shared.

“Has it been really lonely?” you ask, compassion leaking through the crack in your voice.

The pause is answer enough. And you expected it. What you didn’t expect, though, was his reply, “I have you now.”

The sheer amount of cherishment in his eyes plunges you into an abyss you can’t fathom ever emerging from.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as you lean in close, catching the way his eyes widen in your peripheral vision.

“Happy birthday, Namjoon,” you whisper into his ear. And, fuck it, you snip the final cord of self-discipline, untethered and free-falling into the dizzying swirl of emotions as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You’re definitely not over him.

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