#The Ultra-Black Fish

[mendingmusic]

Victoria Adukwei Bulley reads 'The Ultra-Black Fish'

"Victoria reads 'The Ultra-Black Fish' from her shortlisted collection 'Quiet', published by Faber and Faber."

[rustybottlecap]

fr

[msfisherot]

HEY THANK YOU FOR ALL THE STANLEY GAME MODEL EDITS I LOVED THEM ALL SO MUCH by the way why is your head a fish and can you edit me biting Stanley idk JUST THANK YOU!! LOVE YOUR WORKS 😋

I have two designs of my mascot, Mr. Fisherot. The reason why it has a fish for a head is because I made him to look as non-human as possible while being iconic and not stray too far from the weirdness. Plus, I really love fish alot.

nom nom.

Love your works too‼️‼️♥️

[inhernature]

The Ultra-Black Fish

Two hundred metres down, the light stops. Many deep-sea creatures alive at this level of the ocean have developed the ability to create light for themselves. This is known as bioluminescence. Others, on the contrary, contribute to the darkness by adding themselves to it. Ultra-black fish are one example, & in 2020 sixteen varieties of these were discovered captured. The level of pigment in their skin was so high that it was found to absorb 99.956% of the light that touched it. Karen, a marine biologist, made the discovery came across them by accident. Instead of hauling up the deep-sea crabs she had been searching for, her net produced a fang-toothed fish that wouldn’t show up in a photograph. Held, later, in a tank under two strobe lights, the fish became a living black hole, with no discernable features beyond the opacity of its silhouette. As though it had cut itself out of the image & left. Scientists believe that the fish developed their invisibility to aid them in escaping their predators. Another theory suggests that the obscurity of ultra-black fish enables them to more successfully catch their prey. It is likely that both ideas are true. Commentators on their discovery have also speculated that the chemical structure of the pigment could serve the development of military & defence technologies. Nothing was said, however, about how ultra-black fish find & enter into relations with each other. Nonetheless, their existence alone is evidence that, invisible as they may be to others, they are by no means strangers to themselves.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally might've been preoccupied with Field Day but that hadn't meant he didn't plan on getting answers. Thankfully, the universe was on his side because there you were, right where he wanted you.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

as promised, here's PART SIX, no wait necessary! 🫶😅

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.6

Wally grinned from ear to ear, eager for Maddie to accept the gesture Mr. Martin offered in the length and shape of a golf club. He'd spent a great deal of the morning figuring out how to coax Maddie to join in their shenanigans, proud Field Day enthusiast that he was, and was pleased as punch that she seemed to be getting into it.

He'd been there, filled with pent-up aggression and bitterness, and grief for a life that had been snatched away from him before he'd understood what it meant to live.

Contrary to what Maddie thought of him, Wally hadn't always been an upbeat, ultra-positive member of the afterlife. In fact, he'd wallowed a whole decade away, trudging the tiers of the stadium seats, seeking answers or forgiveness or enlightenment; something that would help put his world back to rights.

It never happened. He'd simply moved on. Matured, maybe. Ajay and Bernie—the autoshop pancake and gym rope-climbing tragedy, respectively—had encouraged him to open himself up to Mr. Martin's brand of therapy, and then, slowly, he'd started to relax into his place in the metaphysical world.

He hoped he could be there for Maddie the way they'd been there for him.

Which is why he hadn't made an excuse to slip away and find you. Oh, he'd tried to catch you at your locker before your first class, waited for twenty minutes after the bell had rung, but you hadn't shown up. So, he'd gone to Group in a funk that had lingered until Mr. Martin had announced his decision to proceed with Field Day.

Yet, as joyful as Wally had been to partake, something inside him had ached. The strong, honeymelt tug of the connection between you extended outward from his chest as if reaching for you through the ether. Demanded he ignore everything in the interest of finding you, took your head in his hands and made you look him in the eye—he longed so badly for you to see him.

The feeling hadn't subsided. Rather, it had burrowed deeper into his brain and challenged his thoughts, the feeling like he had somewhere he needed to be but couldn't recall the address. And it only seemed to worsen the further away he got from the main school building.

The sound of exploding glass forced Wally back to the present. Maddie swung the golf club again, shattering another window, which Wally applauded with exuberance and congratulated Maddie on another impressive attack.

"Told you you're a natural!" Wally encouraged, beaming a supernova smile that Maddie couldn't resist returning.

Charley hummed thoughtfully from his perch on the picnic table behind them and slanted a conspiratorial grin at Wally, "A real natural." He commented, "Totally sane."

"The sanest." Wally agreed and turned back to watch Maddie as she trudged around the corner of the equipment shed, gearing up to unleash her violence on the vending machines.

And then, like lightning on the breeze, Wally sensed it. You. Static down his spine, heartbeat ratcheting up, cinnamon spice on his tongue. Automatically, his gaze shifted from Maddie to a figure in the distance, clad exclusively in black, head down, features obscured by the shadow of a hood.

Wally sucked in a deep breath as subtly as he could, tasting the crispness on the air and dull notes of burnt vanilla. He could hear every step you took, the rustle of fabric as you fished your phone from your back pocket. He felt your desperation as if it was his own, how you needed to find someone right fucking now, where had he gone?

Glass erupted, sprayed the ground at Maddie's feet, crunched under her boots as she moved onto the final vending machine. Wally wasn't going to waste an opportunity when it presented itself perfectly.

"Ooh-hoh! Yes! That was—" He smacked a kiss to his fingertips, "—beautiful!" He turned to Charley, praying he wasn't demonstrating too much gusto that it raised questions. "I'm going to find more shit for us to break. Best Field Day ever!"

He took off, sprinting up the slight hill and onto the path that circled the field. Once he felt he was a safe enough distance away, he twirled on his heel to check that Charley and Maddie weren't watching. Maddie had joined Charley at the table, both now engrossed in a conversation, paying no mind to Wally.

Good.

He didn't need to seek you out, his gaze finding you easily as you marched across the grass toward the front of the school, staring at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe it did, Wally had no idea, too intimidated to try using one of those things.

"Hey." He called once he was close enough, trailing you as you made your way into the parking lot. That feeling that had been with him all day intensified as the proximity between you lessened, white-hot and smoldering beneath his flesh.

Although you didn't answer, your back stiffened, almost imperceptible if Wally hadn't been paying such close attention, and your stride shortened marginally.

"I missed you." He confessed, breathing heavy from exertion, "Didn't see you this morning. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me." He glanced at you cheekily, settling into step beside you.

You ignored him, focus fixed on your phone, though the screen was blank.

"I had things to do, anyway." Wally said, shrugging it off. "You know how it is; a lot to keep a guy busy in the afterlife."

He noticed you'd changed direction, leading you both out of the parking lot and onto the walkway that looped around to the side of the school where the bus stop stood. Part of him buzzed at the thought that you'd done it on purpose. To avoid crossing the invisible barrier that would catapult Wally straight to the 5-yard line.

Wally licked his lips, leaned into your space so his arm pressed against yours as you walked. Pinkies brushed, skin on skin, sparking electricity up his arm that burst in his chest.

He pressed on despite your resilience, "It's Field Day today. Or, Destroy the Field Day, really." He snickered at his own joke, figured he'd do it for you. "It's fun. You should try it sometime. You know, when you stop pretending you can't see me." He spun around to walk backwards, preferred to see your face even if you refused to look at him. "I could show you the ropes like I did for Maddie. I'm sure Mr. M wouldn't—"

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, chin lifting, eyes spiking up from your phone as you pulled down your hood in one motion. Wally froze. His pulse hammered a chorus in his ears—boom clap, boom clap—wind knocked from his lungs as slowly, so so slowly, your eyes glided to meet his.

The intensity in them pinned Wally in place. Time receded. The noise of afternoon activity dimmed. You saw. him. This was more than acknowledgment, this was proof. Proof that he took up space in your world as you did in his. He was witnessed, real, a l i v e.

Wally uttered so quietly, terrified to break the spell that bore you both in its palms, a soft and reverent, "Hey..," the weight of it catching in his throat.

As if fighting against yourself, you brought your phone to your ear in small, measured increments, gaze unwavering. Wally was enraptured by the marbling colors in its depths and couldn't help but wonder if your eyes did that whenever you peeked through the veil, or if it was a reaction unique to him.

And then that didn't matter because, for the first time, unmistakably and with intention, you spoke to him.

"What did you just say?"

💀___________________________

PART FIVE - PART SEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[thefloatingstone]

Puff please tell me about Grunt I just saw a Tumblr post you reblogged that vaguely went into detail and I read a small bit of his wiki page but I want to hear it in your own words because it's like 10x more interesting with that filter. Fill my dash with grunt lore

GRUNT IS SHEPARD'S VERY LARGE SON

I don't know whether the designers originally created him with this thought in mind or not but it's really funny because by the time the DLC came out for ME2 you can see the games just fully embracing what was originally just a joke in the Mass Effect fandom.

I used to not be fully into it as a concept but as I'm busy replaying ME3 and having just played ME2 again... nah people were right. He's our son.

He was created in a lab to be an "ultimate krogan warrior" or whatever, but when Shepard cracked how out of his tube, he had did not have that "burning desire of revenge in the name of his species" the scientist who made him was obsessed by. Physically he was perfect, but psychologically, he just didn't understand why he should care about being a krogan. in ME2 when he's introduced, his story arc is helping him connect with what it means to be a krogan, and to help him find purpose as an individual. You essentially help raise this adolescent fully formed person out of apathy and teach him how to care about things, concepts and people, almost completely through actions and not so much through words.

As ME2 goes on, it becomes clear Grunt very much wants Shepard's approval about things, which is funny because at first he comes across as a cold, uncaring fully formed adult, but as you help him learn how to connect with being a member of his species, he'll sometimes want to talk to Shepard JUST to be like "Hey Shepard!! I thought about something to do with being Krogan I thought you'd approve of! listen to this!!"

In the DLC for ME2, you can read up on his internet search history as well as his online purchase history and I just.... think a lot of it explains SO MUCH about him as a character. So I'm just copy and pasting those here

SEARCH: krogan history SEARCH: great wars SEARCH: genofage / ERASED / krogan victories SEARCH: okeer/ ERASED / great generals SEARCH: toochanka/ ERASED / tuchanka SEARCH: urnot wrex SEARCH: battlemaster shepard/ MODIFIED/ commander shepard/MODIFIED/commander shepard normandy SEARCH: animal fights / MODIFIED / large predators SEARCH: tryrannsauros wrex/ ERASED / earth lizard wrex SEARCH: dinosaurs

SEARCH: battlemaster humans/ ERASED / earth humans SEARCH: human history SEARCH: earth wars // DOWNLOAD 6.1T NEWS FOOTAGE - HUMAN GENERAL HISTORICAL - CONFLICT // SEARCH: warrior humans // DOWNLOAD 2.1T DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE - HUMAN GENERAL HISTORICAL- MAJOR MILITARY FIGURES // SEARCH: great humans/ MODIFIED / honored humans // DOWNLOAD 0.7T NEWSFOOTAGE [sic] - HUMAN ACHIEVEMENT- AWARDS // SEARCH: great storytellers human SEARCH: war stories // DOWNLOAD 0.67T LITERATURE - HUMAN WRITERS CONFLICT// SEARCH: human homer kipling hemmingway // DOWNLOAD 0.13T LITERATURE - HUMAN WRITERS – EARNEST HEMMINGWAY // // DOWNLOAD 0.06T AUDIO BOOKS // // THE SUN ALSO RISES // 14% COMPLETED // FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS // 100% COMPLETED // A FAREWELL TO ARMS // DELETED // THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA // 100% COMPLETED SEARCH: sharks

CATALOG ORDER: Ultra Black Ops Mega Catalog PURCHASE 2823- UG-652: Case Premium 54/ER Engine Oil VIDEO DOWNLOAD: The Madness of Sacrifice: The Unauthorized Biography of Warlord Okeer PURCHASE 2856- UG-122: Economy Box, Fishdog Food Factory "Tastee Bites" VIDEO DOWNLOAD: When Fauna Attacks! Volumes 1-10 PURCHASE 3254-UG-975: Batax's Hot Fish Spice VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Vaenia (this is a movie) VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Asari Confessions 26: True Blue (this is porn) PURCHASE 9683- UG-662: Fornax Special Spotlight: Krogan Edition (this is a human magazine focusing on interspecies sexual relations) PURCHASE 8856- UG-972: Captain Cosmic Action Figures: "Garr the Krogan Battlemaster" with real smash your enemies action!

By the time ME3 comes around, most of the rest of the squad is referring to Grunt in terms poking fun at the fact that Shepard is his mom. I think it's Joker who at one point comments "Our baby boy's all grown up" or something to that effect. I can't remember the exact dialogue. I think at one point Garrus also jokes about how "they grow up so fast" or something along those lines.

He also loves spicy ramen.

Grunt is a good boy.

[elodee]

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 2

Xisuma x Dethklok

I drew Xisuma in the style of a Dethklok music video!

I picked this one for him because X is a big fan of metal and I am a big fan of Dethklok, a fictional death metal band from the show Metalocalypse. Even though the band is fictional, they produce real metal and their music is great.

Warning: Metalocalypse is hilarious but also very adult, with graphic depictions of violence and inappropriate themes - this extends to a much of Dethklok's music and music videos as well, so please be aware of that if you decide to look them up. Obviously I wont be posting anything like that here.

If you want to learn more about Metalocalypse and Dethklok, or just want to see my style references, keep reading below the cut!

Dethklok is a fictional band created by Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha. Small both writes and is the main performer for the band. The band, consisting of 5 members that don't actually exist, are stars of the show Metalocalypse.

In the show, Dethklok has become so popular that they control the entire planet. Nearly every episode ends with the band performing one of their original songs, which somehow causes horrific violence to everyone listening. However, since they are idiots, they also seem oblivious to the destruction their awesome, face-melting, eldritch-beast-summoning music causes...or they just don't care because they're ultra wealthy megastars.

The show heavily, but lovingly, satirizes the metal scene and, less lovingly, the music industry and celebrity in general. The over-the-top gore is played for laughs, but the characters are interesting and endearing. There is genuinely a lot of heart under all that growling and corpse paint and a lot of care goes into their (often very funny) music.

If you are interested in checking out their music and want a PG track, I recommend Go Into the Water. This is one of their few non-violent music videos (big epilepsy warning though) and there's no profanity or graphic imagery in the lyrics. The premise of the song is that the band realized that fish can't listen to metal because they're in the ocean, and they thought that was sad, so they set up a concert just for the fish.

Style references:

Set design/aesthetic from Black Fire Upon Us (this song is awesome and was my primary design reference, but the music video is VERY violent, so be warned)

Nathan Explosion's evil DnD paladin fit also from Black Fire Upon Us

Dethklok's band logo

[noxinara]

Obey Me! Brothers and what kind of games I think they'd play

this is a very biased list (and long post) based off of games that I've played before :) (jk its really not biased, just games I think they would play!) I made this because I couldn't sleep last night and had brain worms-- Will probably make one for the dateables sometime soon, but this list is just the brothers!

Lucifer

Traditional Board Games.

There have been MANY times where he's been playing various board games with you, Diavolo, and Simeon.

Gets VERY competitive over games like Sorry!, Monopoly, Trouble.... Candy Land???

Will only let Diavolo win.

Shows no mercy to anyone else, including you. Sorry, love.

Card Games.

Particularly amazing at Poker. He would not let Mammon know this... until you guys have an in-house Poker night and he literally takes all??? Has the best poker face you've ever seen.

Won't even let you guys beat him at Uno or Go Fish. Boooooooo.

Puzzle Games.

I could see Luci being very good at Tetris for some reason?

One time Levi challenged him to the game to try and get out of going to RAD one day...

Let's just say he had to go to RAD that day and also had to stay over on cleaning duty. Courtesy of getting absolutely DESTROYED.

Controversial Pick: Rhythm Games.

I could 100000% see Luci tearing up some OSU! But only when all of the brothers are asleep and he's completed most of his work.

They help him unwind.

...Was that rhythmic tapping you heard when walking by his office late one night..? Interesting.

You saw him wearing Levi's VR headset playing Beat Saber one day.

No, you will NOT bring it up and you will NOT let him know of that video you took.

Oh. You posted it on Fab Snap?

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Mammon

Gambling Games/Apps.

Where I live you can just gamble from home because it's legal to have and play gambling apps?

He would have SO many on his D.D.D. They're taking up so much of his storage space.

Plays them a lot when you're around because he thinks that you're his good luck charm.

He also goes on a lot of Horse Racing and Sports Betting sites...

It got so bad that Lucifer had to figure out how to IP block him from these. it doesn't stop him--

Gacha Games.

Has absolutely insane luck for some reason??? Only on gacha games, tho.

Has definitely played Genshin Impact and Honkai Starrail because of Levi.

He got those 5 star and Ultra Rare pulls he wanted in his first 1-10 pulls? But you? It took you over 100 pulls to get what you wanted. WTF?????

You swear he must be cheating the system somehow. There is NO WAY.

Racing Games.

Particularly the ones that you can have a full racing setup for.

He's splurged thousands of Grimm on this.

Gran Turismo? Forza? F1? iRacing? He has them all.

He is VERY picky about who he lets touch his decked out setup... He'll let you use it any time you want, though. :) You're his treasure, ofc

Controversial Pick: Old School MMOs

Definitely played Old School RuneScape or Black Desert Online or Classic WoW and created gold farming empires.

Doesn't even do end game content, he's just a guild leader making bank off the work of his members.

He probably hosts fun events though.

Would definitely be the kind of guy that makes up scavenger hunts/fashion shows/trivia nights/etc. and gives out sick prizes...

Might also rig these to make sure you or his officers win the best prizes. How sweet.

Leviathan

He is literally THE gamer.

There probably isn't a single genre of game he hasn't played.

His favorite games are definitely MMORPGs and Visual Novels/Dating Sims/Bishojos/Gal games.

Could see him as a raid lead in all of the biggest MMOs like WoW, FFXIV and GW2.

He also 100% visits the degenerate RP server places like Moon Guard's Goldshire and Balmung's Quicksand.

He's definitely not a BLUSHING MESS and rushing to close his game if you catch him in one of these places!!! He would never go there!!! Oh... you want to join him? DEFINITELY NOT.

He would get too jealous of anyone daring to look at you to even let you breath in the vicinity of these degen realms.

He's also done plenty of MMO Ironman challenges and was one of the first people to complete Classic Hardcore WoW entirely solo. Didn't even group for dungeons. What a MAN.

Bishojo/Gal games are his guilty pleasure, how could they not be?

He gets all the waifus with none of the jealousy, right???

What do you mean he picks the same one every time? He can't just cheat on them MC!!

Loves JRPGs and Soulslike games.

Has definitely beaten Elden Ring more times than he can count. Knows literally all of the ins, outs, and secrets and is eagerly anticipating the DLC.

Has probably played every single Final Fantasy game and beaten them all. Would very much have a soft spot for FF4, FF7, and FF9.

Could definitely see him playing MOBAs and 4x strategy/Grand strategy games.

He's not the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy for nothin'. He knows strategy games like the back of his hand.

The only brother that ever rivals him in strategic knowledge is Satan. (and Lucifer, but we're talking about GAMES here.)

He spends countless hours on League of Legends.

He mains JG/Mid and gets very toxic.

Has favorite characters, but honestly just plays whatever is in meta.

Owns every skin for Ahri, Lux, Katarina, Evelynn, and Akali.

He's definitely in Challengers.

Would 100% make a Smurf account if you wanted to play and would duo bot with you.

He'd play ADC and do anything to protect you, his loving support.

Would not be toxic in your games (unless you are too).

Faker who???

Controversial pick: Casual Mobile Games

Played Flappy Bird all the time when it was popular, still has a cracked copy on his D.D.D... I don't think anyone is beating his high score.

He's got a ridiculous amount of hours on Candy Crush, Angry Birds, and Fruit Ninja.

Would throw his D.D.D into his fish tank and have Henry 2.0 guard it before he'd ever let you catch him on one of these 'normie' games...

But... he secretly likes them so much.

Satan

Hear me out, Satan would be a SUCKER for CYOA (Choose-your-own-adventure)/IF (Interactive Fiction) text games.

Would have Choice of Games, Hosted Games, and Heart's Choice hidden on his D.D.D.

He LOVES immersing himself in story games and creating various MCs.

Oh, look! An RO that reminds him of you? Don't mind him self-inserting.

Probably has character sheets made for his favorite MCs. 

Will play through his favorite stories many, many times.

It all started with Choice of the Deathless and now he owns every game on each platform? (I'm jealous)

Also goes on Dashing Don... What do you MEAN author hasn't finished this story yet? AAAA-

Detective/Mystery/Escape Rooms Games.

I don't think any explanation is needed here. It's just who he is.

Would definitely get all of his brothers (minus Lucifer) together to do a virtual escape room... Unfortunately, it became so chaotic they never finished it. Oh well.

Once played Phasmophobia with Levi, Beel, and Belphie. Was very proud of himself for figuring out the ghost... Definitely did not sacrifice his brothers for the info.

Life Sims.

Specifically ones that let you own or are centered around cats.

Has played every single Sims game and bought their cat and dogs expansions.

Definitely did NOT recreate you and himself with 6 cute cats!!!

He did NOT get the mod that extends household size so that you two could own 97 cats. He wouldn't do that, no way!!!

...Was there actually a baby in the household, too..? Why did it have his hair and your eyes...? SATAN?!?!

you know the Catz DS game? He owned every single version and will NOT let you touch them... Okay. Maybe he gave into letting you touch them, but ONLY when he's supervising!

Very much enjoys RTS Games.

He's scarily good at games like StarCraft Brood Wars/2, the Age of Empires franchise, or Rise of Nations.

He's also gotten into 4x games like Stellaris and Civ. Thanks, Levi.

Don't try and challenge him, he can beat the hardest bots and WIN... THE BOTS LITERALLY CHEAT.

HOW DOES HE DO IT? 

Controversial Pick: Fighting Games

Specifically games like Guilty Gear, Street Fighter, Tekken, BlazBlue, etc. Courtesy of Levi again. Thanks, Levi.

It helps him temper his wrath.

He'll sometimes play Mortal Kombat just for the finishers?? Why is he this way?

He could spend hours learning all the combos and tech of his favorite characters.

Has created himself some tech books and would only show them to you, esp. if you showed interest in learning the games with him!

I could see him and Levi settling disputes by doing best 3 out of 5 1v1s against each other.

Could see him maining Giovanna or Leo from GGST? Tends to prefer rushdown characters. (this one is completely biased, i named my cat after Giovanna from GG--)

Asmodeus

Dress-up/Fashion/Stylist Games.

SuitU, Love Nikki, Covet Fashion - you name it.

He has all of them on his D.D.D and will shell out major Grimm to get any outfit he likes.

Might try to make the outfits he gets in these games for himself and you, because you're the perfect model!

Has a lot of fun with it and might try and talk you into playing with him.

Will definitely post amazing outfits he makes in-game on Devilgram. Will also post countless photos and videos of you two modeling those outfits he brings to life.

...NSFW/Eroge Games.

Not gonna go into detail on these ones because you already know what I mean.

Enjoys playing those games that haunt the front pages of my Steam.

Would proudly play them in front of you to laugh at how ridiculous they are sometimes (as long as you're 18+)

Like Satan, I could see him enjoying Life Sims...

Unlike Satan, it's not because he wants animals.

Plays games like the Sims, Stardew Valley, and Sun Haven.

Self-inserts himself and will romance EVERYONE.

Has the mods where you can marry every single villager and the bed mod that makes your bed MASSIVE so all your husbands and wives can sleep with you.

Made a Sims save with just himself romping around town... No sim is safe from Asmo.

Also has a Sims save with you and him that he openly enjoys more. It has both of you enjoying that Sims Nightlife as celebrities and living in a MASSIVE mansion he custom decorated.

Will also play any Visual Novel/Dating Game that is recommended to him by Levi.

Bonus points if it never shows the MC so he can self-insert himself.

Controversial pick (in this case, not really): VR Games

Specifically things like VRChat or Chillout VR.

Would be extraordinarily popular and have custom avatars of HIMSELF made with so many toggles that it'll make your head spin.

He would always be hanging out in night club or bar worlds.

Occasionally Mammon joins him.

Sometimes he also invites you to join him~! (Would not like it if people started hanging all over you, tho, and would probably bring you to a hot home world with just you and him if that happened...)

Beelzebub

Sports games.

No doubts about this one.

Could definitely see him playing FIFA or Madden.

Levi thinks these are SUPER normie games and is offended to have them in the house.

Beel doesn't care.

Ooo, they made a game of Fangol?!?! He becomes an expert so fast, you have no idea. Would 100% teach you how to play with him.

Loves Cooking Games or Food-themed Games...

He just can't play them for long, however.

One time you got him to play Cooking Mama with you, Luke, Simeon, and Solomon but you had to stop because he got so hungry that he was trying to eat the television????

Would have to bring in MANY snacks and vow to make dishes from the games if you wanted to play these with him around... Which is a shame because he genuinely enjoys them. 

I could see him loving Multiplayer Party/Minigame Games like Mario Party or WarioWare.

You mean he gets to play silly mini games with all of his favorite people?

He doesn't care if he wins, he just loves having you guys around.

Almost always comes in last place when he's playing with you, Belphie, and Levi but that's okay. The faces you guys make when you get your stars are worth it.

Controversial pick (and I mean this one is VERY controversial): FPS games

Now, I know what you're thinking. Beel is a gentle giant and wouldn't play these types of games...

But! I could see him forming 5 stacks with you and his brothers in games like CS2 and Valorant and being scarily good because of his amazing hand-eye coordination and reaction times?

Like he and Levi could easily carry you guys to high Asc/Low Immortal lobbies.

He would just play fill when everyone's around, but his mains would be Kay-O and Breach.

He would always be the initiator in Counter-Strike, following Levi's IGL calls perfectly.

He would also probably love playing games like Squad or Modern Warfare or Battlefield with all of his brothers, you + the dateables.

Belphie

Our resident Horror Game lover.

They give him ideas on how to prank his brothers dreams.

Once made Mammon go through Outlast in his dreams (nightmares??).

You better run, little pig.

But he genuinely enjoys them... When he can stay awake through them.

Hey, you, why don't you just play for him?

Loved playing through games like Amnesia... Unfortunately for you, his love for puzzle psychological horror probably contributed to how he acted in Act 16 OM--

Loves Psychological Dramas and those Interactive Media Games.

You know. The ones where you're combing through footage or watching videos and making choices to find out the hidden/deeper/darker meanings?

He LOVES those.

Usually has you or his brothers playing for him. It's most likely Satan.

You all get equally invested.

Idle Games.

He can run these while he's asleep.

There's nothing more to be said. 

These are the simplest type of games there are....

He's probably got a cookie empire.

Has a soft spot for Kart Racing Games.

Will regularly be in the room when you, Levi, Beel or Mammon are playing.

He's honestly pretty good at them??

When he's not falling asleep behind the wheel that is.

Controversial pick: Auto Battlers

These are games like TFT, Hearthstone Battlegrounds, and DOTA's Auto Chess.

He naps in between rounds and wakes up in 20s increments to prepare for his turn... Why does he have the timing down to a tee???

You're sure you've even seen him pick perfectly in his sleep??? How does he do it?????

Regularly comes in the Top 4, usually first or second. 

What do you mean he's a Challenger TFT player??? Wtf how???

Will not coach you if you ask, but you're free to watch!

Will definitely cuddle with you the whole time he's playing these.

All Brothers, with a bonus YOU!

I could honestly see them ALL enjoying CRPGs as a group.

They always get the mods that let you increase your party size.

Went through Baldur's Gate 3 with you on your recommendation.

They all fought over who would get to play Astarion and Mammon won?!?!

Satan got Gale

Beel got Karlach

Levi was Laz'ael

Lucifer was Wyll

Belphie got Shadowheart

And Asmo made a Dark Urge Bard that looked exactly like himself????

He literally doesn't even make any Dark Urge decisions.

He doesn't want blood staining his clothes. 😔

You got to choose whatever you wanted though!

You took the Dark Urge from Asmo and he just played a normal, flirty bard with impeccable fashion sense.

This playthrough took MONTHS and MONTHS... but you all had a blast!

Literally.

You cannot count the number of times Satan 'accidentally' hit you with fire balls. (He claims he was aiming for Lucifer.)

Lucifer somehow ended up getting you all the luckiest ending? How did he roll 3 nat 20s?????

You're on to play Divinity: Original Sin II next...

Satan has already claimed Fane.

[strawlessandbraless]

Just some underloved and overlooked deep sea creatures 💙

🌊 First up is this deranged muppet - The Deep Sea Telescopefish

🌊 Hatchetfish - they’re actually really fun at parties

🌊 The Sarcastic Fringehead - cool outfit, horrible personality

🌊Siphonophores - asexual, mostly keep to themselves

🌊 Barreleye fish - lights on but no one’s home

🌊 Vampire Squid - I’m weak for those blue eyes

🌊 The Frilled Shark - excellent hugger

🌊 Giant Isopod - always plotting

🌊 The Umbrella Gulper Eel - bet he’d beat Joey Chestnut in a hot dog eating challenge any day

🌊 The Goblin Shark - sensitive about the size of his nose

🌊 Deep Sea Anglerfish - this is a female, the males are tiny little guys that latch onto the females by biting them, they then meld with the female and basically become a spare set of gonads so the female can reproduce as she pleases. Love that for her

🌊 The ultra black Pacific blackdragon- soul eater

🌊 We’ll end it with the Sea Angel who was captured on film living under the ice of the White Sea in Russia

[chichiichiii347]

In the fan newsletter volume 100, the members were asked to answer to questions from each member and here’s my take on the translation:

Toshiya

Kyo > Toshiya

- Rich or Extremely rich? (referring to food such as ramen broth) Rich

- All humanity is turning into dogs: woof 🐶

- Very hard or very soft noodles? Hard

- Pigmon or Kanegon? (from Ultra Q) Pigmon

- Would you dye your hair blue again? If everyone dye their hair like the old days then I’ll consider it.

Die > Toshiya

- Are you the type who sleeps well at the hotels during tours? depends on which day

- How often do you change your smartphone? 4-5 years

- What do you usually order from Starbucks? Drip coffee

- Which electric appliances are you very particular about? Electric toothbrush

- If you were to drive, which car do you want to drive in? Shelby Cobra

Kaoru > Toshiya

- Any recommendations lately? ask and answer by yourself

- You’re not watching anime recently? I watch it sometimes

- Which is the most delicious ramen shop? If it’s hard to say here then tell me next time: I’ll tell you secretly

- What would you say if Die send you a picture with his hair completely shaved off? maybe he can’t deal with the intense heat..?

- How do you want our next song (album) to turn out? I want it to come with a different kind of excitement

Shinya > Toshiya

- Which country do you like aside from Japan? the US, Hawaii

- Which manga did you like the most as a kid in elementary school? Musashi no Ken

- Are you becoming farsighted? My vision is getting worse so it could be that…

- Do you want to live in Nagano in the future? I'm thinking about it lately

- Are you planning to keep your black hair forever? Silver hair

Kaoru

Kyo > Kaoru

- Jumping up and down (びょんびょん) or chuckle (むひむひ)? (I think he’s referring to fans’ reaction) chuckle

- Which one is better, Light salt or Cheese Karl snack? Curry

- Aren’t you gonna grow your hair long? It’s troublesome

- Aren’t you going to dress up as a pirate? I’m not doing anything this Halloween, so I won’t do that

Kaoru > Kaoru

- Gonna do “it”? Give “it” to me

Die > Kaoru

- What make Hanshin so strong this year, let me hear your opinion: pineapple candy

- If a Hanshin member was to throw an MVP, who would that be? Kinami Seiya

- If you could scout one player from an 11-members team (other than Hanshin), who would that be? Yamamoto Yoshinobu

- If Hanshin finally got “it” after 18 years, what do you think is going to happen at the Dotonbori river? become the prey of Idiots, onlookers and youtubers.

* I don’t watch baseball so I’m not so sure about this whole conversation, but I know Die is a huge GIANTS fan while Kaoru is at Hanshin’s side, and people in Osaka often jump into the Dotonbori river when celebrating something big (new year, winning the olympic games..) so Die is talking as if the Hanshin would surely win the game (or winning over the GIANTS? idk..)

- If the GIANTS were to change the manager, who would that be? I think Abe Shinnosuke…? but the atmosphere would be…

Toshiya > Kaoru:

- We will die at some point in life, would you rather (1) be remembered by everyone in the world or (2) always be remembered by one particular person until they die? 1

- If you have a chance to time-travel for once, which timeline would you choose (1) before you were born, (2) after you’ve passed away? 2

- If there is one drug that brings super power, would you choose the one that (1) make you look young like your 20-year-old self or (2) keep the same appearance, but have the strength of a 20-year-old? 2

- Which member is most likely to runaway from terrors? Kyo

- Who is the most manly member? Toshiya

Shinya > Kaoru

- Which country do you like aside from Japan?Hawaii

- Which manga did you like the most as a kid in elementary school? Toriyama Akira

- Are you becoming farsighted? Yes, I am

- Who is your favourite Hanshin player? Kakefu Masayuki

- Which LINE stamp do you use the most? Kaoru chan

Kyo

Kaoru > Kyo

- Any recommendations lately? Fish from Fukushima

- Are you building plastic models? I’m building them intensely

- What would you say if Shinya send you a picture of him and Tom Hanks? from Deep State?

- Have you seen Mad Heidi? I haven’t seen it, but I’ve watched MEN

- How do you want our next song (album) to turn out? Isn’t Ramen Jiro (without the broth) the best thing ever?

Toshiya > Kyo

- We will die at some point in life, would you rather (1) be remembered by everyone in the world or (2) always be remembered by one particular person until they die? must be 2, right?

- If you have a chance to time-travel for once, which timeline would you choose (1) before you were born, (2) after you’ve passed away? maybe 2, to the future

- If there is one drug that brings super power, would you choose the one that (1) make you look young like your 20-year-old self or (2) keep the same appearance, but have the strength of a 20-year-old? 2, the inner strength (health)

- Who is the most affectionate member? Must be me

- Who is the best at telling lies? Must be Shinya

Die > Kyo

- Any scary experience at the hotels while touring? a fan peeping through a peephole and put their ear to the wall (in Osaka)

- Favourite game console? Mega Drive

- The most intimidating movie character in your opinion? Norman Bates

- How many pair of sneakers do you have? about 50?

- FOOD (don’t know why he’s using english here lol) that touched your soul lately? Blowfish dish from the restaurant that senpai took me to

Shinya > Kyo

- Which country do you like aside from Japan? None. Aren’t you Shinya!

- Which manga did you like the most as a kid in elementary school? Jojo. Aren’t you Shinya!

- Are you becoming farsighted? Dunno. Aren’t you Shinya!

- Have you gotten more tatoos? I’ll get more when I’ve become a skin-head. Aren’t you Shinya!

- Will you give up smoking? No. Aren’t you Shinya!

Die

Kyo > Die

- How many times do you go to the beach each year? when I think about it, I guess I haven’t went to the beach for years

- What is your choice of drink on a cruiser, beer or wine? I get drunk immediately after having wine so I think it’s better to go with beer

- The whole world is destroyed: If everything and everyone dissapear all at once then I’m not scared

- Won’t you dye your hair red again? or would you dye it blue? Frankly, during the pandemic when I could not see anyone, I’ve made a mistake and dyed my hair blue. It didn’t suit me at all, to the point that it gets creepy. So I cover it with red dye right on the next day.

- What’s your favourite colour other than red? BLACK&WHITE (he used english here)

Kaoru > Die

- Any recommendations lately? Prison’s book of rules

- Favourite type of meat for Yakiniku (grilled meat)? high-quality outside skirt steak, thick-sliced beef tongue, beef organs

- After Hara Tatsunori, who’s going to be the GIANTS next manager? I wanna see Abe Shinnosuke as the manager already

- What would you say if Kyo send you a picture of him standing on top of the mountain that he’s just climbed? The Zoom meeting has already started

- How do you want our next song (album) to turn out? raw (fresh) sound

Toshiya > Die

- We will die at some point in life, would you rather (1) be remembered by everyone in the world or (2) always be remembered by one particular person until they die? I’ve spent my whole life with this band so maybe 1

- If you have a chance to time-travel for once, which timeline would you choose (1) before you were born, (2) after you’ve passed away? If I can not return to this life time then I’d want to see what the future is like

- If there is one drug that brings super power, would you choose the one that (1) make you look young like your 20-year-old self or (2) keep the same appearance, but have the strength of a 20-year-old? 2-I’ll work on my appearance somehow…

- Who’s a foodie among the members? Our interests may vary but isn’t everyone a foodie?

- Which members hold the most secrets? All of us are secretive but I think “that person” definitely stood out.

Shinya > Die

- Which country do you like aside from Japan? The humidity right now makes me really want to feel the air of Los Angeles

- Which manga did you like the most as a kid in elementary school? Captain Tsubasa

- Are you becoming farsighted? I’d say my vision has gotton worse from 2007-when I got lasik surgery

- Favourite GIANTS player? It’s hard to choose one, but I’d say Kuwasa Masumi, he lived near my house back in Osaka, and used to be my hero when I was in PL Academy

- Your luggages always seem heavy, which item is the heaviest of them all? Dyson airwrap styler, hair dryer, hair iron, hair oil, hair cream, hair treatment spray… most of the items that added weight to my luggage are hair related

Shinya

Kyo > Shinya

- You’re already dead. No, I’m not dead

- If you can become another person, would you choose to be Yoshiki san or Gackt san? please choose one. I’ll choose Yoshiki san because I’m a drummer

- Aren’t you going to build a room in your balcony? I don’t have a balcony in the first place

- Would you try the punch perm hair style? I really want you to try it? or eipper. you only have two choices, punch perm or eipper? If only these two choices then eipper…

- You’re already dead. No. I’m not dead.

Die > Shinya

- Would you wear anything other colour aside from white at the liveshows? Please answer with something different from “No”. Maybe there’s no other options in the future?

- Would you change your hair style? Please answer with something different from “No”. Maybe there’s no other options in the future?

- Would you change your phone to the iphone 15? Please answer with something different from “No”. I’ll skip for once next time

- Favourite Apple’s product that you’ve owned? please also explain why. I’d say the Macbook Pro that I’m currently using. Without it, nothing will work out

- If you didn’t become a Youtuber then who would you be? Maybe a drummer

Kaoru > Shinya

- Any recommendations lately? What kind??

- What kind of game should I, Tooru and Fujieda play? Who’s “I”??

- If you have the Rock f Solo sheet for Kurenai (ロックfソロシート), please give it to me. I only have DIR’s records

- What would you say if Toshiya send you a picture of him DJ-ing in the club? You’re spinning the Kurenai Solo Sheet! Yay

- How do you want our next song (album) to turn out? Ah! the person who ask this question… must be Kaoru kun? Am I right? 😏😏😏

Toshiya > Shinya

- We will die at some point in life, would you rather (1) be remembered by everyone in the world or (2) always be remembered by one particular person until they die? Maybe everyone in the world

- If you have a chance to time-travel for once, which timeline would you choose (1) before you were born, (2) after you’ve passed away? Absolutely the future, I want to see the future world

- If there is one drug that brings super power, would you choose the one that (1) make you look young like your 20-year-old self or (2) keep the same appearance, but have the strength of a 20-year-old? Inner strength

- Who the most domestic member? Die san

- Most ambitious member? Kyo san

——————

And that’s it. They haven’t change one bit 😂

[mbari-blog]

One of the best ways to hide in the deep sea: Ultra-black skin

Deep-sea animals have a variety of remarkable adaptations to help them hide in the midnight zone. But the fascinating fishes featured in this video have the best strategy to hide from predators and prey in this dark expanse: skin shades among the blackest of blacks known.

While there is no sunlight deep in the ocean, more than 75 percent of deep-sea life can produce light, a process called bioluminescence. When a single photon can blow your cover, ultra-black camouflage keeps these fishes hidden in the wide open darkness and also enables them to sneak up on unsuspecting shrimp or fish for a tasty meal.

Ultra-black fishes have unique structures in their skin that very efficiently trap and absorb light. Melanin—the same pigment found in human skin—is densely packed into super thin layers on the outermost surface of their skin. While most light photons are immediately absorbed, the specific shape, size, and configuration of these melanin layers scatters any missed photons into neighboring skin cells, where they are absorbed. Ultra-black skin absorbs 99.5 percent (or more) of the visible light with virtually none reflected.

The very blackest fishes known in the deep sea are the dreamer anglerfishes (Oneirodes sp.). Anglerfishes have a bioluminescent lure they use to attract a snack. Their ultra-black skin absorbs the bioluminescent glow so as not to reveal the giant mouth just beyond the lure. This incredible skin adaptation has evolved in many other fish species as well.

You can learn more about these amazing animals of the deep on our website.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Sweet Dreams

Secret Garden

Yandere Neo Anderson x Reader

Warning: Stalking, questioning of sanity and reality, slightly dubious consent, somnophilia, theories and philosophies, existential crisis and a lot more.

Word Count: 9k+

The GIF is NOT mine. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

Unedited

Was she dreaming again? (Y/N) was unsure. Maybe she was. There was no other explanation for what she felt and saw. it was a man, partially hidden in shadows, standing tall, dressed in all black, at the corner of her room.

He was still, hands behind his back. (Y/N) never saw much of him though. If she did, she would not remember it. But she saw him wearing black sunglasses. It was the middle of the night…It was dark, so dark but he appeared darker, like a void sucking everything in. A void calling for her.

But (Y/N) could not move, she could only see. She saw him as he stepped closer, and closer, and her eyes closed again before she could see his face. But she could feel him, looming over her. And his chilling touch. His hand palm on her cheek was not cold as such. But there was something otherworldly about the sensation.

Wake up.

Soon

You will wake up

She gasped as her eyes flew open. Blinking groggily, (Y/N) watched the morning light filtering into her room through the blinds. She let out a breath, touching her bedding to ground herself. 

It was a dream…

Yes, a very realistic dream. 

Her eyes fell into the corner of the room, where stood the mysterious man in her dream. It was, indeed, the darkest corner at night. But with the natural light seeping into her bedroom, she felt safer. 

Not that she felt exactly unsafe in her dream. Just…strange. 

(Y/N) realised that she had been fisting her bedsheets and loosened her grip. Getting off, she made her bed and went on to freshen up. It was a dreaded Monday after all.

—----

“Did you hear about Brad?” (Y/N)’s colleague’s tone suggested yet another juicy piece of gossip, but that barely interested her. 

In fact, nothing truly interested (Y/N). For as long as she could remember, she never felt like she belonged. Not in the office, at home, or with friend circles, or family. She always felt like a misfit. Not in a glaringly obvious way, but it was a subtle yet constant reminder somewhere in her mind that she did not ‘belong’. But (Y/N) had grown up to hide it well. She could mix up with people and laugh—genuine laughter at times. But there was no…deep connection, home, in a way.

Yes, home.

(Y/N) never felt at home.

It was not the kind of feeling that would push one into soul-searching. No, it was…it was like she could never tell if she was dreaming, or was awake.

“Hi, are you even listening?”

“Huh? I–right sorry. I missed coffee this morning.”

“Let’s get some now, I can tell you all about it on the way.”

“About what?”

“Brad.” she leaned closer, looking around “I’ve heard some special agents came to pick him up. 

“Pick him up?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, following her colleague towards the.

“Yeah, for interrogation. He was into weird stuff. Sending crazy voice recordings to his family and friends.”

“As in?” (Y/N)’s curiosity sparked at that. 

Her colleague shrugged “He was into meditation and stuff. Was speaking of things like reality, stimulation, dreams…I don’t know. Not sure. All I know is that he was picked up from his house two days ago and he hasn’t returned.”

“Oh.” that was all (Y/N) could muster up. 

Those mysterious ‘agents’ were special forces, keeping the nation safe but she never felt right about them. The whole system as such—nobody knew their identity, they answered to no one and there was nothing concrete about their department. It was like some ultra-confidential, higher office or something.

Brad was, as far as (Y/N) knew, a normal man, kind. He thought deeper, he perceived differently. The kind to spend more time in the woods, fishing, or camping than on movies, partying, or games. It simply didn’t fit.

Because (Y/N) never felt off about him. Her feeling like that mattered because (Y/N) could sense things. Things that were not visible to the plain eyes. If she felt off about something or someone, it would be proven right. No matter how many hours, days, months or even years later, the uneasiness or eerie sense would prove to be a warning.

Like she had always felt uneasy near her previous neighbours. They were the friendly, bright couple everybody loved and knew. But (Y/N) never went beyond polite greetings and smiles. Small talks, sure, when she had to. But nothing beyond it.

Something just didn’t sit right in her stomach. No, she felt it with all of her body.

And she was proven right, two years later. But she was right after all. The police stormed into their apartment. Nobody knew what was happening, but the forensic team was called in too. The news headlines and stories had all the answers. 

The police found human remains in their house. At least five different samples. But they somehow survived the meticulous cleanings and scrubbings. No human could ever be an open book—there would always be a hidden passage, a hidden chapter somewhere, a part so deftly concealed in plain sight, that it simply did not exist for the onlookers until it was extracted out.

The human mind indeed was a dark, dark place. So complex, so wonderfully efficient and creative but so fragile. Filled to the brim with contradictions.

—---

She knew she was dreaming this time. At least it felt so. How could the long, endless corridor not be a dream? A larger metal door awaited at the end. While all other doors she passed by were coated with a distinctive shade of green—deep, matt but somehow striking. The metal door should have been her destination. Such dreams were not new to her. 

But this dream simply felt different.

Because her steps ceased midway before she turned to the door on her right. It was identical to all other doors she had passed by without much thought. But this door felt like an invitation. It should have been the metal door at the end but it seemed almost foreboding. Turning her attention back to the green door, she twisted the knob. (Y/N) held her breath when she found that it was unlocked.

The man standing behind it looked somewhat familiar. He was a towering figure dressed in all black. With his hair brushed back and black goggles concealing his eyes he seemed—wait! It was the man she saw in her room—dreamt of it, hopefully.

The man frowned at her.

“You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was quiet but held a pleasant depth.

“Wh–what?” (Y/N) blinked. She never had such a dream. “What is this place?”

Before he could answer, the metal door dinged.

“They are here.” his voice held an urgency to it and the air shifted immediately. Now, she felt off. Something was very wrong.

“Who?”

The man did not answer, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside the room, as soon as the door shut, she was plunged into pitch-black darkness.

(Y/N)’s eyes shot-opened. She could feel her heart thundering against her ribs and the way her thin t-shirt clung to her back. It was not supposed to be so hot. It wasn’t hot, but she was drenched in perspiration. 

It was just a nightmare. 

“Calm down, calm down, just…calm down.” (Y/N) repeated to herself.

It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. 

It would have been easier to believe that, had it not been for the tingling sensation on her wrist. 

—--------

(Y/N) was dreaming again of that man.

But he was closer this time. Looming over her bed like an omen. And she could only watch as he stood there. The darkness in the room concealed his face but she knew that he was looking down at her. Peering at her through those dark shades over his eyes. And then, she felt his palm on her cheek. Only this time her eyes were wide open. And his touch felt real, but still otherworldly, like she had touched something charged with energy. It did not hurt her, but it was jarring in a way that felt like she was waking up from a long sleep.

The dark liquid swirled as she mixed sugar into her coffee. It felt like forever since she had had proper sleep since she started having those strange dreams. How could one stranger plague her dreams like that? 

How could she function without proper sleep? Without answers?

Turning her gaze back to the computer, she sighed and resumed her work. Bills needed to be paid anyway—it didn’t matter how many hours of sleep she had.

—----

She was with that man again. But this time, she saw him. All of him, except his eyes. Was she lucid dreaming? Was it even real? And if she were indeed a lucid dreamer then why couldn't she control her dreams? 

What was this man doing in her bedroom? 

She could feel and only watch as his thumb swiped over her lips. It was soft, and smooth but left an electrifying sensation behind. And she thought that was it. She was going to wake up after this and it would be morning—

His movements were smooth when he leaned in. She registered the sensation of his lips first. Before she felt it…Nothing like she had felt before. She felt awake and alive and thousands of tiny electric sparks travelled from her lips to her toes. It was a foreign sensation, but she did not hate it. Instead (Y/N) closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

It was just a dream, after all.

He wasn’t real he wasn’t real

He—

(Y/N) woke up, gasping. There was a lingering sensation on her lips but it was all a dream, right? The morning sun was filtering in and…and there was no one in her room. There was no one in her fucking room. But it felt so real.

And it sparked a longing in her heart.

She was yearning for a man who wasn’t even real?

How pathetically lonely was she?

—-----

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the window glass this time. She knew it was all a dream. But there was a nagging feeling in her mind that simply won’t stop. It had to be a dream, there was no other way. No way that it was real. She had not spoken to anybody about it, afraid that one day those ‘agents’ would come, knocking at her doors. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking. It was like a splinter in her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering if she was living in a dream itself. Nothing felt—

(Y/N) stilled. 

There was a shadow, at the corner of her room. The darkest corner. It wasn’t exactly decipherable but it wasn’t as empty as before, share realised it, peering through the glass. And even through the uneven reflection, she could tell that the shadow moved, it was a man—his silhouette. But by now she knew who it was.

It was the same man she dreamed of.

Or was she even dreaming all the time? 

Had some crazy man been visiting her at night?

And was she crazy enough not to feel the fear? At least not before but now, she felt it with every ounce of her being. The hair at the back of her neck rose, her skin prickled but she remained frozen. Only breathing, trying—really trying to keep her breathing in control. 

He would know.

She knew he would know. Somehow she did.

He was looming over her bed again. In silence, he stood there like a creature of the dark, just observing waiting.

And then with a deliberate slowness, he leaned in. His motion seemed inhumanely slow. Was he…Was he a demon or something?

Did she have her personal sleep paralysis demon?

(Y/N) forced down the whimper that had made its way to her throat. 

Keep quiet, fucking keep quiet!

She shut her eyes close.

That was—

“I know you are awake.”

His voice reverberated in her mind. It was like his essence that travelled through her system. It was low, deep and calm. The kind that had discipline and understanding to it. She couldn’t put a point on it but it was oddly reassuring. The kind of control and confidence that was extraordinary, something that came with a different practice, something that made one stand out.

Her heart thumped against her chest, and somehow (Y/N) just knew that he knew how her heart raced. And the fact knowledge made her cheeks warm, it made her body warm. His breath fell on her cheek before she felt his lips. Soft and warm. His kisses trailed further, making her shiver, until he bit her ear and she gasped.

(Y/N) gasped, waking up to her lit-up room again. 

Was she…Was she dreaming again? But she distinctly remembered that she stayed up last night. She touched her cheek and ear. It was like she could still feel him there—his breath, his lips, his voice!

“Am I losing it already?”

She whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. Had this constant sense of alienation, this loneliness, the longing to be understood gotten to her?

She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never truly belong. Anywhere. With anyone. She was a lost cause. A hopeless case. Her life never felt hers as such. There was no true passion, no hobbies, nothing she felt truly connected to. Nothing she felt was truly hers. Only her intuition. 

But that would not be valid in this world. ‘Intuition’ was a myth—scoffed at, discarded. 

And this every intuition was telling her that everything she felt, saw and heard was real. But a larger part of her mind refused to agree. Logically, it seemed impossible.

Maybe she should book an appointment with a therapist.

But for now, she needed to get going. She couldn’t afford to be late for work again.

Gathering the last bits of her courage and some logic, she managed to book an appointment before she went to work. Perhaps the lack of sleep and company, a true connection was catching up to her finally. Perhaps a few sessions would help her.

—---

When (Y/N) trudged back to her apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall on her bed and sleep. But as soon as she stepped inside her apartment, she sobered up. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in warning, and the goosebump washed over her whole body.

“What the hell?” the whispered words were a part of her reflex. 

The air in her apartment felt still…charged.

Of all her ‘abnormal’ experiences, this was perhaps the most unnerving. (Y/N) felt like she walked right into a room of conflict. Like someone was seething. 

Gathering her courage, she checked each room and corner. Nothing.

Her apartment seemed untouched and pristine.

But the feeling lingered. Like some residual energy.

She knew this made no sense but it felt like something or someone was there in her room. So powerful that the is in her room was charged with the energy.

“Oh, I am truly going mad now.” (Y/N) whispered to herself, baffled by her own conclusions. 

Her intuition had never been stronger but this was making her doubt her sanity. She sat down, her palm supporting her head. Was she truly losing it? 

She was perfectly fine as long as she remembered but ever since those ‘dreams’...

Did something similar happen to Brad as well?

She reached her computer. What time was her appointment again? She was supposed to receive an email of confirmation and a call. But, now she realised, there had been no call from the centre throughout the day.

“What the—” (Y/N) could only stare at the email from the centre. It was sent around an hour ago. A confirmation of her cancelling the appointment.

How was it possible? She had made the appointment the same morning and—and…

(Y/N) searches through her computer frantically, trying to remember if she had sent any email by mistake. There was an email sent. From her computer but it was sent during the hours she was in the office.

Her mind went back to the strange, prickling sensation she experienced the moment she stepped back into her apartment. So someone had been at her place. 

But nothing was missing. 

Only this addition. This email was sent from her computer in her absence. She stared at the telephone across the room. Perhaps, she should be calling the cops? What was stopping her? Nothing.

But she hesitated.

Something in her did not want to—

No. Fucki it!

(Y/N) marched towards the telephone and dialled the number. But she was introduced with nothing but static. There was no ringing, on the other hand, only the constant static. She pressed the button to disconnect the line, but the beep never came. Instead, the static remained.

“What the—”

She stopped the moment she heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone breathing from the other end, even through the static.

“Don’t.”

The sound that escaped her lips was a mixture of a panicked gasp and a terrified whimper. Slamming down the phone, you scrambled back. The apartment was still and silent, but her heart was thundering, screaming in fear.

It–It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

She was awake, how could he hear the same haunting voice from the other line of the phone? But it sounded hard, like a warning this time.

(Y/N) stood there, watching the phone, anticipating it to ring. She had seen enough horror movies to know that the phone rang if it was a sleep demon that was haunting her. It had to be, she had no other explanation for this. This, or she was indeed going mad.

Had the crippling loneliness, the yearning to belong caught up with her? Was it stress?

Or.

Or maybe…

Maybe someone was playing some dirty tricks on her.

Yes, it had to be so. 

Without a second thought, she rushed for her mobile phone. Flipping it open, (Y/N) dialled the police. 

The never-ending beep made her flinch. She did not wait long this time. She did not want to find out what would happen. She simply hung up. Exhausted, frightened and almost in tears, (Y/N) dragged herself to the couch and fell on it. Her fingers gripped her hair and ran through the surface of the couch—anything to ground her to reality. It all felt like an unending dream, a long, vivid dream. 

But how could it be? 

She was awake. She was in the real world. In the physical world and yet she had to keep reminding herself that because some dumbass was playing a sick prank on her. Added to this were her dreams that blurred the lines between wet dreams and nightmares.

Somehow, (Y/N) fell into a restless slumber on the couch. Her dreams were bizarre this time. Green walls, wavy? Moving walls? And—and guns? He was there, shooting. In a black leather coat, blazing guns, making his way through a corridor.

Why did it feel like she had been here? Right here?

What was she?

"It’s a programme."

“You choose to stay away, we hand to replace you somehow, otherwise, he would never make a choice.”

It was a different voice. But somehow she felt like she knew this voice. Something in her was desperate to grasp what he said. She—-she felt like she knew what he meant she simply had to…

What was she doing?

Who was he?

“We cannot do with simply a part of you, you must step in. This is the Seventh. It’s happening again. He is growing desperate, he will turn rogue.”

“Who is he?”

No answer.

“Who are you?” 

“Wha–what is happening?”

“What—”

(Y/N) caught herself speaking in her sleep. Waking up mid-sentence. 

“What the hell is fucking—” 

She gulped in a desperate attempt to soothe her aching throat. She parched again. Looking around, (Y/N) noticed that all the lights in the room were switched off. The space would have been pitch dark if not for street lights—

Wait.

The street lights were golden.

Where was the green hue coming from?

She looked around frantically until her eyes landed on her computer screen. Wasn’t it switched off? She never realised it but she was inching closer, and closer to the device, that showed what seemed like gibberish in neon green, moving downwards vertically.  Blinking her eyes, and on closer inspection, she realised what they were.

“Codes?”

(Y/N) whispered out before the screen abruptly went black, startling her. And then, the typing began. This time, in simple language. (Y/N) pressed on the keyboard, trying to make it stop, to escape the screen, but there was nothing.

I have been searching for you (Y/N)...Through every universe, every cycle. Every lifetime.

“What the hell…”

With shaking fingers, she tried to do away with the screen, but it just won’t go. Nothing sense.

I know you feel it. You feel like you never belonged…

Okay, that was it. With quivering breath and shaking fingers, she unplugged her computer. Relief, at last, came, with a blank, dark screen without any sign of greens or neons, or anything that was driving her mad.

Breathing a sigh, (Y/N) sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall as if she had fought a battle. And perhaps she had indeed. She did not dream of that man this time. But if this was what would replace those ‘dreams’, she would gladly go back to them.

—-----

 This time, she was planning to visit the clinic herself. Maybe she would have the energy and time to do so on the weekend. But she needed to see a therapist. (Y/N) had begun to believe that she was truly going mad.

It was Friday already, one more night, that was it.

That sleep demon did not appear last night, and she dared to hope that he might leave her alone for another night as well. Maybe she finally stopped having such weird dreams. The bed felt softer, or perhaps it was the fatigue that was pulling her into a deep slumber. (Y/N) could barely care, her eyes closed and she embraced the bliss of sleep.

She was in amongst lavender fields. The ground was green, but as far as her eyes could see, she, it was stretches of purples and some occasional patches of green. The sky was golden with a parting kiss with the sun. It had been a while since she had dreamt something like this— peaceful, the place she wanted to be, a place she could lay down and forget the rest. An upward slope in the field ended with a single tree on the top. This place felt familiar. It felt like home. She wished to make her way to that tree on the top. But it was like she was waiting…But for whom?

Instead, (Y/N) lay on the ground, surrounded by the blooms and the gentle breeze teasing her skin. It was all peaceful for a while until she felt the dip on the grass beside her, and then, the warmth over her torso. It was all dark with her eyes closed, but when they opened...

(Y/N) gasped. That was all she could manage with his thumb pressing over her lips. It was him. It was him, and she was no longer in some idyllic lavender field she was trapped in her room, on her bed, unable to move, or even speak with him hovering over her like a true sleep paralysis demon.

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real it’s not real, it’s not real

It’snotrealit’snotrealit’snotreal

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as she felt her heart threatening to break free of her ribcage. Perhaps that was how she would die. 

He was the same man, he could see him clearly now. With his eyes still veiled under those dark goggles. 

Fuck.

Sleep demons weren’t supposed to be this attractive. She blinked, feeling the warmth of her tears as they escaped the corner of her eyes.

The fear was visceral, if she were able to move, she knew that she could at least attempt to hurt him, just to get away. With him inches away from her, she felt trapped. Like, the world around did not matter, would not matter. He had this…aura around him. Magnificent but chilling.

“Why would you do that? Why would you deny this, me?”

He spoke, but she felt it in every part of her brain. As if they were connected, somehow. (Y/N) was terrified, sure, but she was confused as well. His touch felt like sunlight after storm, his voice was a haunting melody to her senses. It was a frightening combination but it was real, more real than anything she had felt all her life. 

And then, he removed those dark shades, revealing his eyes. Dark, deep eyes that had a sense of recognition and melancholy. And something else…it felt almost old—ancient almost. A yearning she never wanted to dig deep into, the kind of confidence that came with knowledge and power.

Perhaps she was hypnotised, maybe transfixed. Or probably, she had gone truly mad. Why else would she flutter her eyes close in anticipation? Her lips almost prickled, waiting to feel the softness once more. A potent drug that could make anyone an addict. It was beyond reason, beyond fear. The fear remained, but this was not new either. It simply reared its head up.

“You feel it too, don’t you? You have felt it all your life.”

She felt his breath, she could almost feel his lips move. He was so close, and yet just out of her grasp. Like the feeling. The answers she had searched for all her life. 

What was she searching for?

The answers felt just out of her grasp and—

She tasted heaven again. The warmth, the moisture, the feeling that made her toes curl. If it was a dream, it felt more real than the reality itself and if he was real, then perhaps she had never known anything more real before. 

Had she been so isolated, so alone that one dreamy kiss awoke something in her that she did not even know existed? It was arousal, yes, but there was something more to it. It was like she could feel her blood rushing a bit faster, her heart beating just right.

Like she was awake.

"Don't do this, they will come after you if you go."

And she was awake again. His words reverberated in her mind, though she did not even remember him talking. Heck, she remembered nothing beyond that maddening kiss. 

How did he know...Wait, wasn't he a dream?

A peaceful dawn of the weekend.

But her heart was sinking. It was like she had tasted a divine nectar and it was snatched from her after just a touch of the tongue. It made her yearn more. The realisation of how miserable she felt because all her life, she wanted to be understood, to belong, even to the point of desperation. She wanted to be part of the very crowd she unconsciously looked down upon. They appeared so…puppet-like. They had had no proper thought, nothing out of a box, a system. They were almost unreal to her. She pitied them initially. But eventually, she came to envy them. They did not feel that something was wrong, they were happy, they were living, and she was the one observing, turning more disillusioned with each passing day. Questioning. Trying to find a purpose. 

She had all the reasons to go and see a therapist. She did not. Somehow, she could not bring herself to do that. His eerie, unexplained warning rang in her mind.

Instead, she lay on the bed for a while, for a long while, thinking. By the time she was fresh out of the bath, watering her plants, it was afternoon. Her stomach had ceased to grumble, and it was no good news, not with the slight chest pain that came with bad eating habits. Begrudgingly, (Y/N) boiled some eggs and cut some fruits. The leftover spongecake would complete her brunch.

The weekends were a mindless loop, like the weekdays. But (Y/N) felt trapped inside her apartment. A safe trap at that.

She was messed up, wasn’t she?

Feeling trapped and oddly safe at the same time in her own home?

Maybe a walk outside would do her some good.

It was not a pleasant day by any means. Cold, cloudy, gusty wind slapping on the face, ruining people’s hair. Yes, her favourite kind of weather. All she needed was—oh, there it was! A flash of thunder in the sky followed by rumbling. (Y/N) leaned against the bench, casually observing as life went by.

She had seen people marvel at nature, at architecture. She loved this weather, she really did, but she never could truly ‘marvel’. She was sick of this feeling, something in her inherently felt wrong, misplaced. She could never marvel at things, get all those morality and principles fed into her system. They never felt to be…genuine. She felt like the odd one out, no one would understand her. They could not even empathise with her, although all her life, she could feel the aura around people, their energies, their perception, their reasonings, she understood them, to some extent. But what she failed at, was to make sense of the world she was in. And it left her desperate, gasping, tormented.

But the moment she felt his lips on hers, she felt alive. The emotions, the reactions in her felt so real, so intense, it was like something shifted in her. She felt thrilled, truly thrilled by something. Because it felt so real, it felt exactly what she had been searching for all her life, through meaningless relationships, friendships, and interactions.

Nothing felt this deep, this real.

She could not go to a therapist. She was afraid that if she went, she would lose those…dreams and would never see him again. He scared her, true, but she craved him beyond explanation. Like, it was always meant to be. She was meant to crave him. 

It was already pouring when she was walking back to her apartment. (Y/N) rushed through the streets, bumping and brushing against umbrellas and people. 

The moment she stepped inside her apartment, she was ready to carefully keep her shoes away so that they would not dirty the carpeted floo—

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. How could this be?

There were no muddy footprints. Heck, there was not a single trace of wetness on her clothes, or mud, or anything that would indicate that she rushed through a bustling street while it was pouring. Peering out, it still was raining cats and dogs.

“What’s going on here?”

She checked her arms and back, anywhere she was expected to find dampness. She did not even have an umbrella. How could this be? She felt the rain on her clothes and skin, she felt the chills that came with it. But looking at herself now, it felt like a figment of imagination.

(Y/N)’s eyes kept wandering back to the windows. It was raining when she fell asleep.

And it was raining when she opened her eyes. The heavy downpour was now reduced to pitter-patter. But that was just the background noise. Her focus shifted to the familiar figure looming over her. This time, she could move, she realised it the moment his lips descended on hers and her fingers went instinctively for his hair. 

He mumbled something like ‘I missed you’ but she could not heed that. Not when his lips devoured hers. 

“You aren’t even real.” (Y/N) whispered it out. An attempt to keep herself grounded in reality. 

His eyes had a strange gleam to them. Something akin to a menacing amusement. It reminded her of her fear. But well he was tenfold more attractive with that smirk and there went down her self-preservation. She was doomed to die alone, perhaps in the hands of this sleep demon.

“Oh, honey…I am more real than anything you have felt all your life.”

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, words seeping into her brain, and she knew they were to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Yes, you do feel too real though…

She wished she could delve into it more, but how could she, when his hands were all over her? They cupped her breasts just right, with no trace of uncertainty— unlike the touches she had felt before with her previous lovers. As if just doing things for the sake of it. No, with him, she felt seen and appreciated. Like he was invested, like he was experiencing her, not just looking. She felt the tenderness with which his lips traced her skin, as he had craved her, yearned for her as she had yearned for this…something so real, it tasted nothing like all the realities she had ever known.

His lips measured her through her skin till her breasts, stopping for her buds. And she felt like they should have been on wet grass, underneath jasmine blooms on a full moon night, be the inspiration for the poets who could make the ink and paper make love. He paid attention to each of her buds, until they were erect with need, like the wetness between her thighs, it was almost uncomfortable, added to his warmth. 

His fingers never felt intrusive, instead, they were like the guests her walls had been waiting for all day. They slid in through a smooth motion, and her walls clamped around his digits as they rubbed through her essence and her fluttering walls, delving deeper, bending just at the right angle and meeting her eyes the moment they pressed against the sweet spot that made electricity run through her veins. 

If this was a dream, then perhaps it was the universe’s twisted way to compensate her. For (Y/N) never felt so loved, never felt such intense attention, like he was studying her to be a devotee, not a puppeteer. But wasn’t he one already? Moving her as he wished, parting her legs, digging his fingers deeper—knuckles buried into her whispering wetness until she sprung into a violent bloom, shuddering, moaning into his mouth, then his thumb as it entered her mouth and sat on her tongue. 

His parting kiss was sweeter than the dreams of lavender fields. Her eyes were already closing when she felt him untangling himself from her arms. The separation scratched her painfully, but the pull of slumber was so deep, the dreams were so sweet…

The digital columns on her computer screen stared at her. The dreams were turning vivid. Every night, she would feel him, touch him. Experience a strange burn that felt like a cremation of her soul. It was ironic, how the filthy acts felt like purification. If the dreams were her prison, she would be a willing prisoner. He was her night jasmine. Haunting her all day but letting her experience him only under the veil of the night. The darkness was their shroud of secrecy and he was the fire that consumed her. Burned her desires, put her heart and body on fire and consumed parts of her soul.

“What are you doing?”

(Y/N) flinched at the familiar cold voice. Of course, her boss had to come at the time she was zoned out.

“Uh, completing the table?”

“Yeah, I can see that. Technology hasn’t reached the level of completing by itself, so you must work on it. Like a regular employee, you know. Or do you think you are entitled to free money?”

This asshole…

“No, Mr Rick, I am not. I will take care of it.”

The man squared his shoulders, lips curling into a snarl.

“I need it done by today itself.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but one tilt of his head made it clear that it was either this or her job. Well, rent was expensive in the city.

“I will complete it, Sir.”

His lips turned up into a cold smile “Thank you miss (L/N)”

And with him, went away her night’s sleep. She won’t be going home at all, it seemed. But there was still some hope if she started now. With a sigh and popping some gum into her mouth, she straightened up in her chair and cracked her neck. 

Back to work.

By lunchtime, she could see light at the end of the tunnel. But she needed her dose of caffeine and some food in her stomach too. It was a pleasant break away from the headache-inducing work. She hated the monotonous computer screen, something in her felt repulsed by it. But it paid for her expenses so…

At least her colleague’s rambling was far not as bad. Not that (Y/N) ever was truly invested in small talk. The question she had almost never concerned the weather, was…’Why’. Why were they doing what they were doing? Why were things like this, or that? Was the true purpose of existence only to work, and go home? Be born, study, work, reproduce, work, die and then? Repeat? It felt like a factory, a prison to her. Sure, there were things to marvel at and entertain but that was it. They were small dopamine dosages. 

But recently, other than the toe-curling hot sleep paralysis demon haunting her, something else had been on her mind. One of her colleagues basically vanished. He was arrested and then? Nobody seemed to even care. Nobody spoke of him after that day.

“Do you have any news of Brad?”

Her colleague frowned at that.

“Brad?”

“Yes, like, our colleague, Brad.” (Y/N)  stated the obvious.

“Who's Brad?”

—---

Was she seriously losing it?

Was she past a sitting with a psychologist?

Was her place in some institution?

At this point, all the cubicles seemed identical.

Focus. Focus on the numbers.

She remembered Brad’s cubicle number. There had been no new employee who had joined in the department recently so that cubicle should be empty. Thoughts raced in her mind as (Y/N) rushed towards Brad’s cubicle. Reaching his cubicle, she walked into it, expecting it to be empty but, there was already another man sitting there. He had Brad’s hair and his eyes but…he wasn’t Brad. No, not at all.

“Oh, hi, (Y/N), how may I help you?”

“Uh, where’s—”

Wait, how did he know her name?

“How do you know my name?”

The man chuckled incredulously “What do you mean, we’ve been working in the same department for months.”

“Wh–What?”

She took a step back when he rose from his seat “Are you alright? You seem pale.”

“Wh–where’s Brad?”

The man had no trace of recognition “Who Brad? (Y/N) you are sweating…”

She gulped and shook her head. She felt nauseous. “No, I’m good…Need some sleep I guess.”

“You do not look well, why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head, managing a shaky smile “I’m good, thanks.”

She rushed back to her cubicle, avoiding the curious glances of her co-workers.

—---

The empty rows of dark cubicles along with the dull lighting above had an eerie effect on the visual of the workspace. The otherwise silent space echoed with the subtle sound of (Y/N) typing away on her computer. It was already one in the morning, and her home was a thirty-minute drive away. Oh, and the best part was, she wasn’t even close to being done yet. 

At this point, she was losing focus on the task. Whatever had happened in the office had left her shocked. 

Was she losing it?

How come no one remembered Brad? What was wrong with people? She even checked the entry data, there was no trace of Brad. Not anywhere. Like he never existed.

There was either something very, very wrong with her…

Or there was something very, very wrong with the world.

Rubbing her palm over her face, (Y/N) leaned away from the computer. The sickly white body, the keyboard, and the stagnant screen made her uneasy. Standing up, (Y/N) stretched her limbs a bit. She needed to wash her face, or she would drop dead.

It was wonderful how a few splashes of cool water could make someone feel so much better, or refreshed. (Y/N) felt much lighter. Though she was still disturbed regarding whatever was going on with the case of Brad and—

“Shit!”

She rushed to her screen, which was blank, other than one green dot blinking. She was stupid enough to not have even saved hours worth of work and they were probably gone!

“Fuck, go back!” No matter how hard she pressed the ‘ESC’ button, the screen remained black with one glowing green dot blinking. She felt mocked by it. 

Long day?

The green dot typed out. Her mind instantly took her back to the nightmarish evening a few days ago.

“No, no, no…” she pressed to switch the device off. But nothing happened.

Stop trying to switch it off. Listen to me. Do not mention Brad. They will know.

“What the hell is happening?” her voice cracked at this point. 

The events until now made no sense, she could not grasp but it felt almost like a computer glitch. A glitch in reality. Taking several steps back, she rushed to collect her things. 

Fuck it!

She was out of this place.

—---

(Y/N) had already prepared another resume. She was getting fired, there was no way that her boss would believe her, or give her another chance. She had spent the remaining hours drafting a new resume for herself. 

“(Y/N), Mr Rick wants the report submitted to his table.” One of her colleagues informed her as soon as she entered the office. 

Of course…

Nodding at her, (Y/N) made her way into her cubicle. Looking at the computer, everything that had happened a few hours before seemed like a dream. The device was switched off, even if she distinctly remembered fleeing from her office without switching the computer off. After starring contest with the device for what felt like hours, she gathered her courage and switched it on. She was being fired anyway, so who cared? The creepy computer would be left behind. Like this shitty place.

Perhaps a less stressful job would be better for her. Maybe a barista? A receptionist? No, they won’t pay her—

It felt like the screen was staring back at her. The columns that should have been empty due to what had happened last night…were filled?

(Y/N) checked it, several times, again, and again. No mistakes. The table was completed without any correction required. At least there was nothing her eyes could catch.

“(Y/N), I think I asked the files to be submitted!”

She jumped at the voice, Mr Rick stood at the entrance of her cubicle. At her stunned silence, he rolled his eyes and moved towards the computer, pushing her away. It was his turn to be stunned.

“It’s...completed.” 

“Yes, it is” (Y/N) added, still in disbelief.

—----

It was raining again. As the droplets descended in a rush, mingling into the flowing water, (Y/N) sat by her window, eyes on the glass despite the obscured view, only flashes of blue, green and red remained visible with the street and traffic beneath. It was late, but she refused to fall asleep. Instead, lighting up a cigarette, she leaned against the cushioned surface of her couch. As the cigarette stick hung from her mouth, she let her mind wander off, counting all the bizarre events that had followed her in the last few weeks.

At first, she thought that it all started ever since her…dreams but, then, she realised that she had been having those dreams for months.

It may not be her sleep paralysis demon. Unless…

(Y/N) sat up, realising that it all began after she started to… acknowledge him, interact with this…thing, this man, whatever or whoever he was. He was a dream, of course, he was, but he felt so real, and the recent events turned it more difficult for her to decipher what was real, and what wasn’t. She glanced at her computer. (Y/N) had not plugged that device in since that evening. The television wasn’t working, the weather was turning worse and sleep had turned into an experiment for her. 

She sat by the window, exhaling the fumes, inhaling and exhaling. Thinking, watching…Thinking…

Turned out, she did fall asleep. But there was no trace of the man this time. She woke up, drooling, with the sun rays falling over her eyes, disrupting the blissful slumber she was granted after a trying week. The cigarette was only half-finished, but extinguished and kept safely on the ashtray. She did not even remember doing that. But then again, she did not remember falling asleep either. 

—-----

The day at work had been particularly draining. Though on the streets, passing through the crowds, or even silent alleys, she thought she saw him—the man who haunted her dreams and her mind like some life-altering enigma. But every time she would turn around, he would be gone, as if he were nothing but a wisp of her imagination. 

One night without a sight or touch of his and this is what she was reduced to? Her mind bringing him up in random public places? Just out of reach, out of sight, driving her mad.

Oh, wasn’t she already mad, though? 

(Y/N) scoffed at herself. Her pathetic self, unable to build any real relationship, unable to accept what was being given to her, searching for something event she did not know or could name. Just searching, like a lunatic. Waiting, for what? For whom?

She was tormented and she did not even know the source, the cause, the end of the road. Heck, she did not even know the road.

All that was left was to accept what she saw. All that was left, after a long, tiring day of meaningless toil was to fall on the comfort of her bed, be thankful that she at least had that.

.

He returned this time. When she wasn't expecting him to. She wanted to laugh at herself. Like a silly schoolgirl, her heart leapt at the sight of the familiar dark coat. She felt underdressed in front of him. Laying there, in nothing but her bedclothes. But something told her that he appreciated this.

“Did you miss me?”

All thoughts evaporated, there was no doubt left when his touch felt so warm, so real, his hand sprawled over her thighs, the comforter long tossed away while he spread apart her legs, A delicious smirk curled his lips at the absence of any undergarment. An answer to his question. She could not wait. She missed him. She missed him like water and air. Cupping his cheeks, (Y/N), pulled him into a kiss—desperate to feel his lips, desperate for the same awakening feeling his touch ignited. 

And he followed gladly, pulling her closer, hand slithering on the back of her neck as he pulled her into a sitting position flushed against him. And she wish they were closer. Skin to skin, soul to soul. Melting into one another. 

But it did feel like milk and honey when his lips descended to her neck, her heaving chest, over her stomach until they reached her womanhood. He was a man starving—why else would he put her legs over his shoulder? Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel the strength they carried while his lips explored her dewy folds. He made her cry out and twist, tug at his hair and see the dancing stars right in front of her eyes. And yet she wanted more. Needed more.

When he faced her again, lips glistening, smelling like her desire, she knew she was an addict, even though it was his eyes that gleamed with a promise to wreck her the sweetest way possible. 

“Open your mouth”

His voice was a siren’s call and she was a willing sailor. Dreamy eyes looked up to him as if she were the poet, and he, the moon. Perhaps he was the moon. The way he glowed, draping himself in a black attire. For him, she could be a poet. For him, she could be a sailor, it meant seeing him one more time.

She opened her mouth, a twinge of uncertainty, though, still rang somewhere in her brain. He recognised it, she could see his eyes soften.

“What are you?” 

She was breathless when his fingers danced along her opening once more like the tides soaring up—-high, higher and higher until they crashed—tremors shook her form, as she realised what it was to be loved the right way between the sheets. 

“I am what you have been searching for.” 

He replied moments before dipping to fuse his lips with hers once more—a perfect fit where she could taste his tongue and her essence. She found a home in his arms, the heat in his eyes had kept her warm through the cold reality.

“But aren’t even real.” Her tears came in silence while her body still savoured the pleasure.

“Oh, honey…only if you try to know…”

—----

His words echoed every now and then in her mind, all through the day while she waited for the night. He would not visit her dreams every night though, and it made her crave him more. Even if she saw the devotion in his eyes, she felt like he was the deity, and she was the devotee…offering herself to him every night. 

He was the night jasmine, blooming at the darkest hours of the night, and just dawn would kiss the sky, he would be gone, the blooms falling on the soil, spreading essence until the soil smelled like the flowers. He haunted her similarly—- she could feel the ghost of his touches when he was gone, the finger in her mouth, against her fluttering walls, the warm and folds—it was like his essence was fused with hers, like he left something of him behind every time. 

She had other dreams too—snippets, images, someone speaking, not him, someone else. Saying things that went over her head.

‘Integral Anomaly’ 

Something that came up often, but she had no idea what or who it was. A deviation in the system? But that would be something to do with computers. The dreams never made sense. 

But (Y/N) relied on her experience, and if experience had taught her anything, it was that her dreams had seldom been ‘meaningless’. What they meant, she had no idea. But they had to mean something. Even the attractive sleep demon. Well…she did not like to ponder much on his existence.

In his dark eyes, she could drown. Give up this life and live in his realm. It was a fleeting thought that would be followed by dreamy sighs, but (Y/N) knew, that ultimately, he was just a dream. A dream that felt disturbingly more real than anything ‘real’ she had ever known. But that was it. He ‘felt’ real, but there was no way that he was, real (Right?).

“What do I call you?”

 She asked one night, feeling particularly vulnerable at the realisation that he had never taken off a single layer of his clothing, while he had her sprawled for him, all bare, twisting and arching as he played her like his favourite instrument, creating a symphony, eliciting the most sinful of sounds and words. 

She panted with his fingers buried deep inside her, thumb pressing on her engorged clit just the right way, her dress bunched up, showing parts of her breasts. He did not answer her immediately, instead, fit her lips with his and pressed his fingers harder on that sweet spot that made her mewl out for him.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she had a feeling that this was no dream, that he was real. Somehow, anyhow, but he was. But if she were to believe and acknowledge that, nothing else made sense. It threatened her sanity.

“Neo.”

He finally replied, after tipping her through the edge, letting the pleasure crash on her like hungry waves while his thumb slipped into her mouth again. Somehow, this act made the whole experience more intense.

Her dazed, blinking eyes must have given away her confused state of mind, he smiled at that, kissing her forehead with the tenderness she had never known before him.

“That’s my name– Neo.”

Neo…

The name struck with her. Haunted her like his voice and touches. Every morning, she would wake up and look in the mirror, hoping to find a trace of him, any evidence that could tell her that he was real. That could break her out of the hypnotic effect he had on her. 

He was magnetic, addictive and she knew her ultimate demise. The very staircase that was spiralling down to an abyss of madness and she was descending it, doing nothing to stop herself.

How long had it been since she first acknowledged him?

(Y/N) could not remember that. 

A month, a week?

Weeks? Months?

How could she care about any of it with his face buried between her thighs? Tongue and lips fueling a fire that was consuming her in its slow, agonising flame. She wanted more, she wanted to scream out to him to undress and let her see him as he saw her—- all bare, vulnerable and exposed.

But how could she demand from a dream itself? A lucid dream, a piece of her imagination giving her what she had craved all her life. Her eyes fluttered closed when she came crashing through the flames, it licked her like it wanted her in ashes. And perhaps she would be turned into ashes under him. Nothing to complain though.

She felt his thumb over her lips again, a silent gesture, and like every time, she parted her lips— eyes closed, so trusting, a dream was a dream, and she could be and do anything in a dream world.

He wasn’t even—

It was a different feeling this time. Something cold and tiny that stuck to her tongue moments before his thumb pressed it further down.

(Y/N)’s heart dropped to her stomach with a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes in a snap, finding those dark eyes on hers already. The fear she had almost forgotten rushed back in her system with vengeance, she wanted to spit out whatever he had given her, it felt something like a pill. But she had gulped it down already, he made her gulp it down.

“It’s time to wake up (Y/N)...”

Spoke his honeyed voice.

And suddenly, it was freezing cold---everything convulsed in and around.

****

Phew! Completed this finally, the idea had been with me for a while and thanks to my mutuals for helping me with it. It's still unedited, please excuse the errors.

[vyl3tpwny]

why it ourple

ok.

i'm going to tell you the story of how purple became my favourite colour. and then, where the name vylet pony came from.

———————————————————

ch.1 the mace windu incident

once upon a time. I really liked star wars. i kind of still like star wars i guess. but when i was a kid, i REALLY liked star wars.

in my room, i had a mace windu poster.

i still can't find the exact poster. it looked something like this

mace windu was my fav star wars character for an inconceivably long time. with that, i also became fascinated with his purple lightsaber. nobody else had a purple lightsaber. i loved it. staring at that poster constantly made me really like the colour purple. ever since the poster started exerting its technicolour pressures and whimsies upon me, i became fixated on the colour purple. forever.

"hai!~ im mace windu and i loveee Videos!" - mace windu, star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

———————————————————

ch. 2 the viny scratch era

fast forward like 7 years. i am in the my little pony fandom now. i am 13 years old. i really like vinyl scratch. she is pictured here:

my first online presence in the mlp community was as a vinyl scratch / dj pon3 roleplay account. for a good year, people called me vinyl and "vy".

however when it came time to start releasing music in the fandom, i couldn't go by vinyl scratch at the time. this name was already being used by the artist who currently goes by Scraton!

this is still one of my favourite songs by them:

anyway. i actually held a really insane, irrational grudge against scraton for being named "vinyl scratch" as a music artist before me. i got past that after a while, because i had to stop being 13 first. i stopped being 13 and eventually fell in love with their music and we became friends later after!

but it's 2013 and i can't be vinyl scratch anymore. people already called me "vy" because of being a vinyl scratch persona.

so.

———————————————————

ch. 3 it's vylet time-wait is that can opener? CANNI?

it started on december 28, 2012. i posted to my then-instagram account this image:

you may recognize this as my oc canni. here's their reworked look in the 2022 album (10 years later) can opener's notebook: fish whisperer (illustrated by @astroeden):

can opener's original name was "ultra vylet". their colour scheme was originally intended to be the inverse of vinyl scratch's, as a sort of strange protest to not being able to be vinyl scratch. i was like ok. well if i cant be vinyl scratch, i am going to make a character that swaps the main colours. within a few months of "ultra vylet" existing, i discarded the design in favour of a completely different one:

this would be the only time vylet consistently had purple in her design until 2018 or so.. lol.

then. on april 15, 2013, i posted this to my instagram:

i had essentially combined three things:

The fact the people called me "vy'

The fact that my favourite colour is purple (violet)

The fact that I wanted to be vinyl scratch (dj pon3) before

———————————————————

ch. 4 vylet pony ≠ vinyl scratch

that is to say, i never really put a lot of thought into "vylet pony" as a name. i just made it when i was 14 and now i am going to be 25 soon. will i keep vylet pony as a name forever? not sure. do i take great pride in its insanely snarky origin? absolutely.

after i had decided firmly on "vylet pony" as a name — after dropping the "3" from it — i made a new instagram account. the very first thing i posted to it was this:

illustrated by my friend, shade.

now that looks slightly vylet-like, design-wise, oc-wise. oh. but now she is grey and black? ok.

she stopped being purple from 2013-2018.

here is how her design progressed through the years:

the first one is by my then-partner sara. this is when vylet's cutiemark was still an upside down music note, reflected from "ultra vylet" / can opener's original design. i'll show how it became a puzzle piece next.

the second one is by shade

the third one is by chibadeer

the fourth one is by astroeden

———————————————————

ch. 5 the puzzle piece

to this day, i still cannot find the fanart in question. but over instagram, someone asked to draw fanart of my pony. in doing so, they misconstrued the shape of the upside down music note as a puzzle piece, like this:

i've been looking forever for the original fanart/fanartist that made this mistake. because ever since that art, i just stuck with it anyway. i like puzzles and puzzle games. i'm also a puzzling and enigmatic person. and the puzzle piece can go into so many different things. all sorts of problem solving is like a puzzle. music fits neatly into that category in my opinion. so because of its intrigue and ability to mean so many different things, i just went with it. i never looked back.

———————————————————

ch. 6 that is the history of the colour purple and vylet pony character design

i hope this answers the question "why it ourple"!

[omgthatdress]

Oh my god I hate Mattel so much.

They took the American Girl brand and gave it a lobotomy.

I was going to make a very very very very bad joke about one of the 90s girls getting an eating disorder after watching Britney Spears, BUT DECIDED AGAINST IT because eating disorders are something you don’t joke about, BUT. HERE’S THE THING.

Here’s the thing. Being a tween-to-teen-age girl in the late 90s early 2000s was BULLSHIT. You had 16-year-old Britney Spears singing “Hit me baby one more time” in her Lolita schoolgirl miniskirt and crop top showing off her perfectly flat abs, and then you went to school and had abstinence-only sex ed mandated by the evangelical right wing who gave out purity rings and told you that only sluts had sex before marriage. And then there was the issue of being a fat girl trying to find jeans that met her school’s dress code the days of low-rise jeans and belly button rings.

I ended up adoring Linkin Park because their music gave voice to the rage that I had inside of me because of all that. I wore men’s pants from Hot Topic not only because I thought they were cool, but they actually fucking fit and they covered my ass crack. I wore black because I didn’t fit in to the ultra-skinny, ultra cool kid Abercrombie aesthetic. And THAT is what growing up in the 90s and coming of age in the 2000s was like.

“Nicki Hoffman is a nine going on ten year old girl living in Seattle, Washington just before the year 2000 (the turn of the millennium). She is six minutes older than her fraternal twin sister, Isabel, but one inch shorter. Nicki prefers grunge, ska music, rock, alternative, and skating; she is the "grunge" to Isabel's glitter. She does not like eating raw fish and sushi; her father teases that they can's spell "finicky" without Nicki. She likes sour candy--the more sour, the better. She's known to be shy, to the point Isabel points this out; she initially doesn't have other friends than Isabel. She's very anxious about the Y2K problem and the risks and worries that have been circulating, so Isabel and her create a list to take her mind off her worries of things to do before New Year's.Her favorite color is purple, her favorite animal is a dog (she adopts her puppy, Blossom, as a Hanukkah gift), her favorite band is No Doubt, and her favorite show is The Powerpuff Girls (her favorite character being Blossom). She likes to snack on Wild Berry Pop tarts. She does not like her middle name, Pearl.The family is interfaith and celebrates both Hanukkah and Christmas. “

It’s a sterilized and dumbed-down version of growing up in the 90s, one where they only real problem facing girls is the y2k bug. It’s about the aesthetic but not the experience. Honestly the girls of today deserve to see that their moms had it difficult, too, and that the pressure to grow up incredibly quickly and be beautiful and flawless and instantly become a woman is nothing new, now it’s just on TikTok instead of MTV.

It’s the trap of nostalgia. Just because you were younger and not as aware of the issues going on in the world doesn’t mean the world was better.

[tenelkadjowrites]

Arrow in the Dark - Part One: Money - Seonghwa x Reader

PART TWO HERE.

💸 Summary: Your quiet life of working at a convenience store is upended when ultra wealthy Seonghwa convinces you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night in order to fool his parents.

💸 Word count: 11k

💸 Genre and warnings: wealthy seonghwa. fem pronouns for reader. fake dating trope. depictions of emotionally manipulative parents. there is no smut in this part - parts two and three will have it.

💸 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multihoe-net - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @dreamtof0rget - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @meowmeowminnie - @revehosh - @nevieatiny - @nirvanawrites111 - @madamdionysia - @a-tiny-teez - @idunnowhatonameit - (sorry if i forgot anyone, i’m horrible with tags.)

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               The street is laced with puddles reflecting the city lights back at you through the rain streaked window. Your chin rests in the palm of your hand, staring at the small restaurant across from the convenience store that you work at. Half of the sign is burnt out, the other half flickering, and the water droplets falling down the window distort it just a little.

               A customer who has been milling in the back debating what ice cream flavour to purchase for ten minutes finally meanders their way to the counter, holding a pint of vanilla. All that time and that’s what they settle on, you think, scanning the item and telling them the amount owed.

               As they rummaged for their wallet, the door to the store opens and a man steps inside. Having worked here for a couple of years, you know the regulars by now and he is one of them. The designer coat is a clear indication he lives at one of the fancy apartment complexes just down the street. The convenience store is on the cusp of the financial district and occasionally rich people dart inside to grab something and leave quickly. He always takes his time, checking each aisle as if something new might appear.

               The customer with the vanilla ice cream mumbles a thank you and leaves, their fingers gripping the container so hard that you wonder what sort of day they’ve had if that is their lifeline. Now it is just you and the rich guy.

               It is nearing midnight and your shift is almost finished. The tinny music that plays over old speakers is background noise to you, easily filtered out. When you first started working here, the fluorescent lights gave you a headache. You are used to that now as well. The shop is small, unremarkable, but in a good location and always has steady business. You know every object on the shelf. Comforting and depressing at the same time.

               The man ducks his head, grabbing a few items off the snack aisle before walking up to the counter. He is tall, high cheekbones, not a blemish on his skin. Wearing all black, with light blonde hair, he looks as if he stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Of course, that’s easy to do when you have money.

               You scan the items, tell him the total and wait. The man pulls out a Gucci wallet, removes some cash and hands it to you. His fingernails are painted black. That’s new, you think absentmindedly. When he popped in last week, his nails had been bare of any polish.

               “You’re short.” You say after counting, tapping the counter.

               “What?” It is the first time you have heard him speak and his voice is deeper than you would have expected.

               “The total,” You say, waiting for it to click that you aren’t insulting his height, “You’re short. See?”

               He glances downward at the money on the counter, his brows furrowed before opening his wallet again and fishing out more cash. You finish the transaction and he leaves without another word.

*

               The next night, to your surprise, Rich Guy returns. He is wearing slacks, dress shoes, and a button up black shirt as he looks at the beer selection. There are two other people in the shop this late, a giggling couple with their heads bowed together as they look at the snack foods. You glance at the clock. Just ten more minutes and your shift is done.

               Someone’s phone goes off, cutting through the music from the speakers and a low voice answers. You turn your attention to the window, watching yet another night of steady rain. The couple goes to the counter with a random assortment of items waiting to be purchased. After ringing them up, they leave, cozying up to each other as the rain takes them.

               “No, I told you that isn’t needed,” The voice says, floating over to the register, “I’m bringing someone.”

               It’s Rich Guy talking, you realize. He sounds on edge. Maybe he always sounds like that. It isn’t as if you sit and chat with him all the time. Yesterday was the first time you heard him speak.

               “I’m bringing my…girlfriend,” He hesitates on the word before going on, his voice growing louder as he approaches the register, “So, please listen to me and cancel whatever you had planned.” He stops in front of you, putting down a few energy drinks, having apparently decided against the beer. “I have to go.”

               Rich Guys hangs up the call as you ring up the items. Of course someone like this would have a girlfriend. He probably has twelve of them all around town, competing for his attention and money. Does he switch to a different one each night or…

               Suddenly acutely aware of Rich Guy staring at you, your hand falters scanning one of the drinks, glancing upwards at him. He even looks handsome in this horrible lighting, some part of your brain thinks.

               “You’ve worked here awhile, right?”

               For a split second, you wonder who he is talking to before it sinks in. “Me?” You ask, a little thrown. When he nods, you reply, “Uh, yeah. A couple of years now.”

               “Do they pay you well?” is his follow up question.

               You wonder if the frown shows on your face. What a weird question, you think. If Rich Guy is having some sort of mental crisis in the convenience store about giving up his wealth and trying to live a “regular” life, you aren’t sure you can handle that right now.

               “Uhm. It’s a convenience store job,” You say slowly, “So…” You give him the total for the energy drinks.

               But it is as if he hasn’t heard you. Something is spinning in his head, pieces coming together for some problem that must be floating around in his life. What sort of problems did someone like him have, anyway? You couldn’t fathom it.

               “Why don’t you get a different job?” He asks.

               You picture tossing the energy drink at his head but manage to restrain yourself. You aren’t even sure why you keep replying to his invasive questions. “All retail jobs are the same.” You fight the overwhelming urge to add the word dude to the end of the statement just because you doubt anyone has called Rich Guy a dude before.

               The answer seems to quell whatever is going on in his head because he falls silent, handing you some cash. Giving him his change, your hand brushes against his. His skin is soft, almost unnaturally so, probably because he buys high end lotion or something.

               Rich Guy leaves without another word, the rain swallowing him up. You shake your head when he leaves, thankful your time here tonight is finished.

*

               Your shift wraps up a couple minutes later and you step outside, ducking under the overhang to try to find your umbrella in the bag. The rain is steady and has been for some hours now. The puddles glow from the lights and the gasoline run off. In the distance, a group of drunk people laugh loudly, exiting a bar. You wish you took your bicycle this morning but the tire popped a couple days ago and you cannot afford a new one at the moment. It’s fine, just a twenty minute walk back home to your place and then –

               “Excuse me?”

               Startled, you jump, looking to the right of you. Rich Guy from earlier is standing under the overhang, one hand on his bag of energy drinks, the other gripping his cellphone. In the dark, the screen is bright as the sun, illuminated on a text messaging screen. He shuts it off hastily, taking a step towards you.

               “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

               “Uhm…” Perturbed and on your guard, you move away from him to create some distance. “Sure.”

               Rich Guy has always been silent, coming in to buy snacks, sometimes beer, and leaving. Why he is suddenly feeling so chatty is beyond you.

               “My name is Seonghwa,” He introduces himself, the earlier tone he had with whoever was on the phone is now gone, replaced by a casual confidence. “It’s fine, I know your name already.” He gestures to your name tag. “I’ve been coming in here for like a year.”

               “Close to where you work or live or something?” You ask, mostly because you don’t know what else to say.

               “That’s right. I live in Garden Gates.”

               Garden Gates isn’t just for rich people. It’s for the rich rich, the sort of people who could go into a high-end designer store and they would close the entire place of business down so they could shop in peace. Just standing next to this guy feels wrong as if you should be dropping to your knees and cleaning his shoes or something.

               “Listen, not to be blunt, but you could use some money, right?” Rich Guy – no, Seonghwa, asks.

               You take another step away from him, guard raised even higher. “What?” You ask because how does someone answer such a rude question.

               “I have a proposition for you,” He says, his phone lighting up again with an incoming message.

               You have no idea what sort of American Psycho shit you are stumbling into but it’s time to leave. Forget the umbrella.

               “Not interested, sorry.”

               “Please, just a few seconds of your time.”

               “Nope. Uh, have a good night though.” You turn around, wondering if there is an alternate way home through a lot of traffic or something so the crowds could make you feel safe –

               When Seonghwa speaks next, he sounds positively desperate, his voice higher pitched and raised. “It’s nothing like that! I’ll pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend!”

               The words bring you up short, your feet stopping automatically even as your brain tells you to keep moving. Out of all the things you thought he was going to say, this was not one of them. Even though you know better, you still turn around to look at him.

               “What?” You want to tell him off – you may be inexperienced when it comes to matters of romance and sex but you aren’t a fool. Pretending to be my girlfriend most certainly has to be code for paying for sex. What is with this guy?

               Buoyed by the fact you have not run off screaming, Seonghwa approaches you carefully, peering at you.

               “I know how this sounds but I swear it is just that. I need someone to attend this dinner with my parents and pretend to be my girlfriend. After dinner, we’ll leave and that will be it.”

               “Uhm. Why?” You ask, perplexed, “Don’t you have an actual girlfriend?”

               “No and my dad is trying to set me up with the daughter of another company to create some sort of merger between our families.”

               What year is it? You wonder. “Is she that bad? That you don’t want to go on a date with her?”

               “It’s nothing against her personally. But my father simply won’t drop this idea.”

               “So…” You speak slowly, “In the shop. You said you had a girlfriend…”

               Seonghwa rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I said it without thinking. Just to get him to back off. But now, I actually have to show up with someone.”

               “Okay, so you take a strange woman with you to this dinner and then what? I mean, they will want to see your girlfriend again at some point, right? Then what?”

               Seonghwa blinks. You can tell that he has not thought this out very much. Impatience nips at your heels. You could be halfway home by now and instead you are listening to this man you don’t even know try to explain the most batshit idea ever.

               Continuing, you say, “So, I don’t think just one dinner will work. Especially if he is pushing this other woman on you. Would your dad drop it just cuz your ‘girlfriend’ shows up to a single dinner?”

               Seonghwa looks resolute now. “I’ll figure that part out. I just need to get through this dinner. I’ll pay you whatever amount you need. Would a few thousand be okay? It’ll be at my dad’s penthouse for a few hours. I can always lie and say that we are going overseas for a month or two afterwards and he won’t know you’re not with me.”

               There’s a lot to take in here: the use of penthouse casually, the fact Seonghwa can apparently fly overseas for weeks at a time without blinking, the prospect of money for one dinner. Would a few thousand be okay? He had uttered that sentence without hesitation.

               But there is one big issue that stops you from accepting.

               “Sorry, but I can’t. I don’t even know you. The entire thing just sounds too sketchy.” You tell him, all of it being partially true but not the whole truth.

               Seonghwa’s face falls silently but he nods. “Right. I get it. I know how odd it sounds. But if you change your mind, the dinner isn’t until Friday. May I give you my number? You can text me if you decide otherwise.”

               “Uhm, sure,” You reply, mostly to look polite, “Is that why you asked me those questions in the store? I was the first person you saw who might agree to such a thing?”

               Seonghwa looks up from his phone. The screen illuminates his face, driving home just how attractive he is. Next to him, you feel like the crypt keeper.

               “I pop in here a lot and you’re always working. I thought maybe the money would help. If there’s something you needed it for.”

               Well, I need a new wheel for my bicycle, you think but don’t say it because it sounds so pathetic. Seonghwa gives you his number and then opens his umbrella, stepping out into the rain. He turns to look back at you. In his tailored coat, and hair perfectly in place, he makes for a slender and well put together shape in the streetlights.

               “Have a nice night.” He says, nodding his head in your direction before turning around and walking down the street.

               You watch Seonghwa go, frozen in place, as he traces a neat and clean line through a small crowd until he is swallowed up.

*

               Opening the door to your apartment, you drop your bag on the floor, still wrangling with your umbrella which won’t close properly. Your roommate is out, probably for the night, which is fine by you.

               Once the umbrella finally closes, you look around the apartment. Small is an understatement. You bet Seonghwa’s closet is the size of your apartment. Stop thinking about him, you scold yourself. His offer was ridiculous. Pretending to be dating someone is a joke because the real problem at hand is that you have barely any experience in that department.

               You’ve gone on dates, you’ve even had sex a few times, but all of it fizzled out pretty quickly. Now, between working all the time and just trying to scrape up enough money to get by, you have let that entire aspect of your life go to the wayside. How in the world could you try to fool a rich guy’s family that you are dating someone you don’t even know when your own experience is so limited? That’s the real reason you turned Seonghwa down.

               Going to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes, you step under the water when it’s still cold because it takes ages to get the hot water going. By the end of the shower, it will be nice and warm but you aren’t going to run up the water bill waiting for that in the meantime.

               Washing the day off your body, your mind wanders back to Seonghwa. Some part of you wishes that you had enough experience to agree to the fake dating thing. It would be one night, make you thousands of dollars, and then you can wash your hands of it. Unless you are being blinded by the money and there is more going on here than it appears. You would hate to agree to such a thing and it turns out Seonghwa is some lunatic who made the whole thing up just to get you alone somewhere.

               And even if he is legit, how could you pass off as truly dating him in front of his parents? You could count the number of people you’ve kissed on one hand. To act like some adoring girlfriend is well beyond the scope of your abilities. He might not even pay you when the night is finished because you aren’t convincing enough. I’d have to ask for half up front, just to make sure I don’t leave empty handed. Then you catch yourself – there won’t be anything up front because you aren’t going to agree to such a thing.

               After the shower, your bed is calling. Sinking underneath the covers, ignoring the worrisome way the bed frame shakes, you grab your laptop off the night table and turn it on, wondering what mind numbing stuff to put on tonight. But you still don’t know anything about Seonghwa. He comes in a couple nights a week to buy snacks and then goes back to his Barbie Dream Life. The whole thing sounds like it is way too good to be true. To make that much money from pretending to date a guy for a night…why doesn’t he have any friends to pull into this scheme? Surely, someone close to him would agree to such a thing just out of friendship. Wait no, damn it, you aren’t supposed to be thinking about this. The entire thing is over and done with. Focus on a TV show.

               But even as the images flicker across the screen, your gaze sweeps the small bedroom. Most of the things in here you got at thrift stores; some pieces are even hastily repainted in an effort to personalize them. Your lava lamp broke a few weeks ago and is still on the shelf. A stack of books are shoved in a corner with no space to put them anywhere. You don’t even own a TV and instead hope your ancient laptop can last as long as possible. If you agreed to Seonghwa’s idea, you could get everything replaced in this room. It would look like a proper bedroom, not a hidey hole. You bet Seonghwa’s room at his Garden Gates place must look immaculate. The thought depresses you.

               Chewing on your bottom lip, you reach for your phone. The battery is almost dead but you manage to fire off one final text before the screen goes black.

               “I changed my mind. I’d like to meet with you to discuss it.”

*

               The coffee shop Seonghwa agrees to meet at the following afternoon is the sort of overpriced place you never step foot in. But he offered to pay so you are ready to take advantage of that and order the most ridiculous drink you can imagine at his expense.

               It takes about half a second to locate Seonghwa. It is difficult not to. Between his height, slender frame and annoyingly good looks, most people are shooting glances in his direction. He is studying the menu as if never been here before, something you doubt very much.

               Immediately, you wonder if you are underdressed. But no one glances in your direction minus a friendly greeting from the barista which gets Seonghwa’s attention. When he notices you, he gives a small wave. Today, his blonde hair is slicked back, while wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black turtleneck. He just screams money in a low effort sort of way whereas you scream on three hours of sleep and propelled out the door only by the hope of money.

               “Good afternoon,” He says formally, nodding his head as you approach, “I was just looking over the menu.”

               “You haven’t been here before?” You ask doubtfully.

               “Not in some time. I can’t recall what I got last time.”

               Seonghwa smells amazing. Some cologne, you assume before turning your attention to the menu. It has more options than you know what to do with and that doubt from last night blooms in your chest. If I get anxious ordering coffee, how in the world could I pull off being his fake girlfriend?

               Seonghwa goes to the register, placing an order of something you didn’t even know existed. Whatever the baristas are being paid, it cannot be enough. Seonghwa’s order sounds like a foreign language. Timidly, you order next – something simple in contrast to the big dreams from this morning of ordering something super overpriced and fancy.

               Seonghwa pays, you mumble a thanks, and then trail after him as he grabs a seat by the window. The coffee shop is next to a small side street where you can watch people hustle and bustle in and out of stores. The sun is high in the sky, not a cloud in sight for once.

               Seonghwa doesn’t even look out the window, turning his attention to you. “I assume you wanted to discuss specifics?”

               It had been your idea to meet today. The idea of not seeing him until the night of the dinner left you unsettled.

               “Uhm, yes,” You take a deep breath, “Just because…you know…this situation is unusual and I don’t actually know you.”

               “Right, of course, I understand.”      

               “Like, I was wondering why a friend can’t do this for you? You don’t have anyone else in your life who could pretend to be your girlfriend?”

               Seonghwa shakes his head, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. “No, it can’t be anyone my father knows. It won’t work then. He won’t believe I am dating anyone he’s met before. He knows I don’t see them in that light and no amount of lying would convince him otherwise. It has to be someone brand new.”

               His explanation made sense. Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you say, “We need to establish what is allowed then. I understand you need to convince your dad that you are dating but I don’t feel comfortable doing certain things.”

               It is then the barista comes over, dropping off the drinks. Seonghwa has gotten some fancy looking latte with pretty art on top. He admires it for a few moments, momentarily distracted, before taking a small sip. He didn’t even stop to take a pic, you think thunderstruck, because he drinks them all the time and this is just another coffee in a long list of coffees.

               You regret not getting a nicer coffee just for the sake of posting it on Instagram and looking fancy for a few seconds.

               “What is that?” You ask curiously, unable to help yourself.

               “It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

               “Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

               Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

               “Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it.” You explain.

               “I never…thought of it like that before.”

               You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

               “Right…” He looks incredibly thoughtful, as if you just told him the meaning to life and not to take a photo of a latte.

               You clear your throat a little when it is evident he isn’t going to speak. “Anyway, like I was saying. Ground rules. For the dinner.”

               Seonghwa breaks out of his thoughts, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the top of his hands. “My father isn’t big on public displays of affection so you don’t have to worry about anything overt. I was thinking some handholding and maybe touching your shoulder or waist occasionally, sitting really close together, things like that.”

               You could handle all of that. “Okay. But obviously, no kissing.”

               “Naturally. I’d rather die than kiss someone I was seeing in front of my parents anyway. What about kissing your cheek? When we leave for the night.”

               Seeing as all that requires of you is to stand there, you agree. “There is one more thing,” You tell him, “I want half up front.”

               Seonghwa raises one eyebrow delicately. “Do you not trust me?”

               “No,” You reply bluntly, “Sorry. But I don’t even know you. You could be leading me upstairs and turn into Hannibal, I have no idea.” Setting boundaries and asking for things is not your strong suit but given Seonghwa is brand new to your life, it is less anxiety inducing to ask him for things versus someone you have known for a long time.

               “Hannibal, the Carthaginian general?” He asks, confused.

“What? No, Hannibal Lecter, the fictional serial killer – forget it. You understand the risk I’m taking, right?”

Seonghwa looks stricken. “Of course, I understand. I’ll give you half before we go upstairs. Would this amount work for you?” He gives you a total that is enough to make you pass out on the spot and it is all you can do to nod.

               Taking a moment to collect yourself, you add, “I also want the address of where this penthouse is and the full names of you and your parents. Oh, and we should add each other on Instagram cuz who is dating and don’t have each other added on at least one social media site?” You rattle off the ideas as they pop into your head.

               “I’ll text you everything you need. Whatever you need to make you feel comfortable, of course.”

               On a whim, you add, “I’ll also be telling my friends where I’ll be that night.” You aren’t sure if that one will actually happen for the mere fact you don’t know how to explain something this ridiculous to your friends, especially your best friend. But better he thinks you will.

               Seonghwa is nodding so much he looks like a bobblehead. You finally stop talking to take a sip of your drink, giving him a chance to speak.

               “Like I said, whatever you need. I’ll also give you half before we go to the penthouse. Do you need me to send a car to pick you up?”

               “Uh, no, I’m okay,” You say quickly, unsure how you would explain such a thing if your roommate saw it, “And this is all just for one night. I’m not your fake girlfriend after this.”

               Seonghwa shifts positions, his fingers back to tapping against the table. “I know. However, if my lie about going overseas doesn’t swing, maybe I could ask for your help again? For more money, naturally.”

               “Let’s just wait and see how the first night goes. You might not be impressed with my performance. Your dad could possibly tell it is total bullshit.” You see, Seonghwa, I actually have no clue what I am doing and am just doing this to get your money and leave. The chances of anyone believing we are together is laughable and you definitely won’t want to see me again after this dinner.

               The two of you fall silent, drinking your coffees together for a few minutes before you talk again. “I don’t know anything about you. You should probably tell me stuff about yourself and your life or your dad won’t believe that either.”

               “Oh.” Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I’m not very good at talking about myself.”

               Join the club, you think but instead go, “Just tell me generic stuff, I guess. Your favourite colour.”

               “Black.”

               That’s not a colour, you think but instead go, “What do you do for fun?”

               “For fun?”

               “Yes, you know like…a hobby. Something that gives you joy.”

               Seonghwa’s brows come together. Wow, he actually has to think about this. “I like going yachting,” He answers finally as you take a sip of the drink.

               Which you then almost promptly choke on, coughing at his reply. He looks alarmed, asking if you are alright. You nod in between coughs. Yachting! Imagine having that as your hobby. This is so not going to work.

               “Do you own a yacht?” You ask once the coughing fit passes, afraid of the reply.

               “Me? No. Father does and so do a couple other families we know well.”

               “What do you do on the…yacht?”

               “Soak up the sun, drink a little, just relax. We usually take the yacht to the island we own and spend a few days there before taking it back. A mini vacation, you know?”

               No, you don’t know. Your idea of a mini vacation is faking an illness to call out of work and then staying in bed to shove your face full of potato chips while watching the worst movies imaginable for twelve hours straight. Wait, he said they own an island. Oh, this is a clusterfuck.

               “Uh, right. I like to watch movies.”

               “Oh, my movie knowledge is pretty limited,” Seonghwa replies.

               I assumed that when you thought I meant Hannibal from a war twelve billion years ago, you think but don’t say. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did your family get rich enough to own a yacht and an island?”

               “Oh, my family owns a chain of supermarkets. It started about a hundred years ago. But then the chain expanded out of the country about thirty years ago and our money with it, very quickly.”

               “What chain?” When Seonghwa tells you, your stomach clenches. I’m going on a fake date with the heir of one of the biggest supermarket chains on the planet…I should’ve asked for more money.

               The doubt, which has been a wiggling creature in your stomach since Seonghwa first proposed this idea, is now screaming for attention. It is difficult not to wonder if this is going to be a giant mistake. You are not only out of your depth in regards to his money but also the fact you are woefully inexperienced in relationships. The need for money is blinding your common sense – and it continues to because you grab your coffee, standing up.

               “I should go. I have work tonight.” Which isn’t a lie but you suddenly desperately need to get away from Seonghwa before you call the entire thing off and miss out on making money.

               He looks surprised. “You’re going already?”

               You find his answer a strange one. What did he think, you two were gonna hang out?

               “Yup. Thanks for the coffee. Just text me all the information, okay? See you later.”

               You dart off before Seonghwa can even reply. You know that it appears as if you are running away – and fine, maybe you are. But the gravity of what you agreed to is hitting you and it is hard to breathe.

               For some reason, you know that Seonghwa is staring at your back as you walk down the street, leaving him behind in the coffee shop.

*

               It is past ten at night and the store is completely empty. Bored to tears and knowing your manager has snuck off for another cigarette break, you finally give in to the urge that has been tugging on your sleeve all shift.

               Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you bring up the text Seonghwa sent a few hours ago. It has the address, his parents’ names, and his Instagram handle. Curiosity gets the best of you, clicking it to see what sort of things Seonghwa posts online.

               His follower count is obnoxious and anxiety inducing; the idea of that many people seeing what is posted would freak you out. The page itself is clean and minimalist and Seonghwa is barely in any. Most of the photos are of streets at night. One is even of the outside of your store, the windows frosted over with snow from last winter, the yellow lights of the sign bright and visceral.

               You aren’t sure how long you scroll. You aren’t even sure what you are looking for. Does he just wander the streets at night or something? Most of the feed is of the city lights, the tall towers glittering like gems, occasionally a photo of a gorgeous hotel lobby, always the location tag with some other country.

               You finally find one photo of Seonghwa, with his hair dyed a more vibrant blonde than it is currently. He also doesn’t have black on, instead wearing a dark red button down shirt with the sleeves hastily rolled up a bit. There is a glitter smear across one cheekbone, catching the light. He is in some restaurant, face somewhat covered by his hand as he laughs. The angle is slightly tilted as if someone took the photo on a whim just to capture Seonghwa’s expression. Behind him is what appears to be the ocean dotted with expensive boats. The restaurant must open out onto some sort of balcony. You linger on the photo, unsure what you are looking to discover in Seonghwa’s laughter. Who took the pic of him? What made him laugh this hard? You have a difficult time picturing that same Seonghwa laughing like this now. Maybe you just don’t know him well enough but he seems to be much more distant and static than what this photo shows. Perhaps you are just overthinking it.

               You are so entranced by the post that when you bring your finger down to keep scrolling, you accidentally heart it instead. Breath catching, your eyes drop to the date on the post. It is from two years ago.

               “Fuck.” You say aloud and then quickly make sure a customer hasn’t come in when you were busy scrolling.

               But the shop is still empty. Looking back at your phone, you feel momentarily frozen at the idea of Seonghwa realizing you scrolled back years through his Instagram. The embarrassment rolls through you. You aren’t even sure why you scrolled back so far in the first place.

               Panicked, you unlike the post and drop your phone on the counter as if it burned you. Would it still notify him? Had you waited too long in unliking it? Maybe he won’t mention it.

               Deciding your phone has brought you enough danger, you shove it in your pocket and turn your attention back to work. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, I’m sure he didn’t even get the notification.

               You don’t check your phone again until you get home from work a few hours later. To your surprise, there is a text from Seonghwa and a notification on Instagram. He had hit like on a photo of yours from two years ago, a poorly lit picture of you and your best friend at a shitty bar for someone’s birthday.

               His text message reads: I can scroll too.

*

               When you turned down Seonghwa’s offer to pick you up for the dinner, you’d forgotten that your bicycle still had a popped tire. That meant texting him and asking if he could, in fact, come get you. Originally, you planned to walk. But when another storm rolled in, you knew that showing up looking like a soaked rat wasn’t going to sell the lie that Seonghwa was dating you or that you were taking this entire thing seriously.

               For some reason though you assumed Seonghwa would come by in a normal person car so you are baffled at the sight of a limo in front of your small apartment complex. Great, you think, so much for not attracting attention. To make it worse, a driver opens the door for you to scamper inside. You can practically feel people staring from their windows at the sight. Your roommate isn’t home again but if anyone mentions it to her, she will ask you a thousand questions.

               Seonghwa is sitting comfortably in the limo, another surprise. You hadn’t thought he would be here too. Having never been in a limo before, you take in the sight of the plush seating, a small TV playing the news, a bottle of champagne cooling in ice, untouched and unopened. Tiny lights run the floor length of the seats and the partition separating you and the driver is rolled up.

               “Good evening,” Seonghwa says, always slightly sounding like he belongs to the early 19th century, “Before, I forget…” He opens a formal looking bag next to him, looking for something.

               Seonghwa is dressed in a black button down shirt, the Prada logo evident on the small front pocket. With matching dress slacks and formal shoes (also Prada), he looks well put together as usual. His hair is slicked back again, making his cheekbones as attention grabbing as ever. Everything about Seonghwa is professional, distant, and clean. Your mind flashes to the photo of him in the restaurant. For some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the Seonghwa in that photo and the one currently in front of you.

               “Do you want to put this in your bag?”

               His words shatter your thoughts. In between slim fingers, he is holding a white envelope. Hesitating for a moment, you take it, glancing inside. It is a fat stack of money. Seeing the amount like this makes your head spin. You hastily shove it in your purse.

               “Don’t want to count it?” Seonghwa asks.

               “Uh, no, I’m fine, thanks.”

               “You look nice.” He says casually before looking down at his phone.

               You narrow your eyes a little, trying to gauge if he is making fun of you. Your outfit feels like a dismal imitation of what someone would wear around a bunch of hyper wealthy people. But Seonghwa’s attention has already shifted away from the compliment.

               “I told my father you were coming to dinner tonight. Listen, my parents…” He pauses for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable, “They obviously don’t want me with anyone they don’t pick for me. So I apologize ahead of time if they come off rude or ask too many personal questions. I’ll do my best to step in.”

               Great…like that doesn’t fill you with a sense of growing dread. You nod, lapsing into silence. The moment is quickly arriving. You have no idea if you are going to pull this off. What the hell am I thinking?

               When the limo slows down, your heart jumps to your throat. The door opens, and you get out of the limo first, looking at the extremely tall building. There is no name on the front, no indication it is an apartment complex minus the doorman. You assume every floor is a penthouse and it has to be at least seventy stories high. It is dizzying. You have gone past this building many times during life in the city and never glanced twice at it. It belongs to a different world than you. Now you are stepping directly towards it like a tiny fish getting ready to be swallowed by a whale.

               Seonghwa stands next to you and asks, “May I hold your hand?”

               You take a small sharp breath. This is it, you think, panic poking at the edges of your brain. You nod and Seonghwa slips his hand against yours, holding it gently. Your heart immediately starts to race. Seonghwa walks towards the doors and you let him pull you along. The doorman nods at him, pushing the wide silver doors open, and then you are in the lobby.

               It is as silent as a tomb in here, so minimalist that it feels completely uninviting. A large sleek reception desk makes up one of the walls, a large fountain in the middle, and the temperature just low enough to remind you of a morgue. The floors are black and white marble, sparkling in the soft lights. A row of elevators along the right side catch your attention as Seonghwa goes towards them, pressing a small key against one of the buttons which emits a soft dinging noise as it registers.

               As you wait, you catch your reflection in the elevator doors, slightly distorted. Seonghwa, looking posh and professional, handsome in that untouchable way…and then you. Absolutely no one will believe we are dating, you think, this is insane.

               The doors slide open silently and you realize the elevator only has one floor – the top one. Holy shit, his parents have their own special elevator. He presses the small key against the button signaling the top floor and the doors close.

               “Hey,” Seonghwa says, “You’re so tense.”

               “There’s no way this is going to work.” The words spill out before you can stop yourself, “Your dad will know in two seconds we aren’t really dating.”

               Seonghwa gives your hand a small squeeze, standing very close to you now, one hand resting on your hips. It is intimate and your heart is fluttering. “This will work. Just follow my lead.”

               Whatever the hell that means. Before you can ask, the doors open and you are suddenly in the penthouse.

Alright, let’s go.

*

               The next hour is an overload of information. You meet Seonghwa’s mom first, who takes you on a tour through the penthouse. You end up being glad that Seonghwa is holding your hand because it is the only thing that steadies yourself to the overwhelming show of wealth that is touted in front of you. If the lobby was minimalist, then the penthouse is maximalist to the tenth degree. Every section is covered in expensive artwork in gold frames, vases on display that look incredibly old and easily breakable, and even a large salt water aquarium running along one wall.

               Yet in all the objects and jewels and beautiful things that fill the penthouse, it is hard to find anything personal, anything that indicates this belongs to a family with a history or affection for one another. Who doesn’t have any photos of their kid? You wonder, not seeing a single photo of baby Seonghwa anywhere.

               By the time you finally sit down in the living room (on a couch so plush that you worry for a second that it is going to suck your body inside and never free you) your head is spinning and your grip on Seonghwa’s hand is so tight that it probably looks less romantic and more horror movie.

               It is then Seonghwa’s dad enters. You assume it is his dad because it is the first time Seonghwa lets go of your hand, standing up immediately to greet him. You also stand up to introduce yourself and the gaze his dad gives you is enough to curdle milk on the spot. Oh, he hates me, you think, but he probably would hate anyone dating his son who he didn’t pick.

               After everyone sits down again, there is a few seconds of silence. You can feel Seonghwa’s parents staring at you, their eyes scanning your clothes, the necklace you threw on at the last second (fake gold, can they tell just by looking? Probably.) and the way you scooch over closer to Seonghwa, closing the gap between the two of you while still keeping it respectful. It doesn’t matter what they think of me. All of this is bullshit. So, why am I so nervous?

               Seonghwa is grazing his thumb against the top of your hand, a minor touch that feels so strangely intimate that your heart skips a beat for a second. His father is staring daggers at the gesture and it is all you can do not to yank your hand away, apologize and leave hastily.

               “Have you lived in the city long?” It is Seonghwa’s mom, Mrs. Park, who breaks the silence, beginning the interrogation.

               “Since I was about five.”

               “What do your parents do?” This one is from Mr. Park.

               You tell them, watch the subtle change in both of their faces. It is evident the answer does not please them.

               “And what do you do?”

               This is about to please them even less. “I’m a convenience store clerk.”

               Seonghwa’s parents glance at each other. In that millisecond of a look, tons of information is exchanged, none of it positive. The scent of dinner is wafting into the room, cooked by an entire staff hired just for that purpose. Last night, you made instant ramen for dinner.

               Seonghwa speaks then, “It’s not too far away from where I live. I go in there sometimes to buy stuff when other places are closed.”

               “It’s dangerous to be out that late,” His mom scolds, “You could just get it delivered.”

               “I don’t mind,” He replies breezily.

               “What do you like about Seonghwa?” Mr. Park asks suddenly, his eyes focused on you and only you.

               Great, you think, I know almost nothing about this man besides the fact his favourite colour isn’t a colour and he thinks going to his own private island is a hobby.

               You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your answer. This will make or break the belief that you are dating Seonghwa and you regret not learning more about him at the coffee shop before running off. Seonghwa has stopped grazing your hand with his thumb as if he hadn’t expected his dad to ask a question like that.

               You glance at Seonghwa out of the corner of your eye, hoping to glean some last minute information from him. But nothing is forthcoming. Your mind randomly flashes back to the pic of him smiling at the restaurant, the slightly blurry nature of the photo, the glitter smear on his cheek, the dark red fabric bright against his skin.

               Turning your attention back to his dad, you reply, “He’s focused and professional. Always well put together,” Thinking of his face as he laughed, you go on, “But once you get past that exterior, Seonghwa is funny and charming. He’s thoughtful and considerate,” Where is the Seonghwa in the photo now? “He knows what he wants even if he puts other people’s needs before his, sometimes to his detriment. But there’s something in him that,” The glitter smudge on his cheekbone. “…that wants a sort of freedom that I hope I can give him.”

               His parents gawk at you. But it is Seonghwa’s gaze who feels the heaviest. You turn your face to look at his. His lips are parted slightly as if in question. You cannot read his expression. You haven’t seen it on him before. Something about it tugs on you.

               On a whim, just to twist the knife further against his parents, you lean forward and very softly kiss his cheek. The touch is so slight that it barely counts. But Seonghwa stiffens slightly in surprise before relaxing into it. When you pull away, your eyes meet for a moment and then you turn back to look at his parents.

               Mrs. Park stands abruptly. “I should go make sure dinner is coming along. Seonghwa, perhaps you can help.” It is not worded as a question.

               Seonghwa pauses for a moment before releasing the hold on your hand and following his mom into the gigantic kitchen, leaving you alone with Mr. Park, glancing worriedly at you over his shoulder before he vanishes.

               You should probably ask him a question now but your mind is completely blank. What do you ask a man like this? How many millions he made in the last five minutes? You would rather not know. Shifting uncomfortably, you scan the room trying to find literally anything to remark on. His gaze is heavy on you, almost suffocating.

               “You understand my worries, I’m sure,” Mr. Park begins instead, “And why I ask such questions. Seonghwa comes from a family of considerable wealth and there are those who would take advantage of it.”

               “I understand, sir.” By the way, your son is giving me a fat stack of thousands to pretend to date him tonight.

               “How am I not to know that you recognized him and decided to approach him simply because of his money?” Mr. Park is clearly trying to intimidate you but it is difficult for it to work when the situation is entirely fake.

               “He approached me, actually,” You reply which technically isn’t a lie, “I wasn’t familiar with his connections until recently. He doesn’t flaunt his wealth around or give any indication on who he is.”

               His dad chews on this for a moment. Deciding this would be a good time to flee, you stand up, asking where their bathroom is. Mr. Park rattles off a confusing amount of instructions which you pretend to understand and turn around, shuffling towards the hallway.

               The path you take, which may or may not be in the actual direction of the bathroom, takes you past the massive kitchen. You glance inside to see a few people hard at work making dinner. The sight is strange to see and as you go to turn the corner, the voices of Seonghwa and his mom float over, stopping you in your tracks.

               “This is all very funny, Hwa,” Mrs. Park is lecturing, “But bringing some poor girl to the house and flaunting your wealth around to make her smitten with you is in poor taste.”

               Great, we are definitely going to be caught already. Maybe your speech had come off completely artificial –

               Mrs. Park continues, “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong. All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. People like her only care and want one thing. You know that.”

               Your heart drops to your stomach at her words. You know that. How many times had his parents paid someone off to leave Seonghwa? Sounded like more than once. And wait…arranged marriage?

               “That isn’t why I’m dating her,” Seonghwa replies sharply, “I’m dating her because I like her. I know you and father have other plans for me but that doesn’t mean I have to marry whoever you pick.”

               “You know what happens if you don’t,” His mom’s tone is slightly pleading now, “I don’t want to see you left with nothing.”

               All this new information is throwing you for a loop. So not only is Seonghwa being forced into an arranged marriage, which he conveniently left out, but he might be kicked out of his family if he doesn’t agree to it?

               “I don’t know why we are talking about this. I told you. I’m dating her because I like her a lot. You should give her a chance. I wouldn’t bring her around if I didn’t care about her.” Seonghwa sounds convincing as if every word out of his mouth is completely true.

               However, there is a low rumble of anger in your stomach now towards Seonghwa’s parents and the intensity of it is throwing you off. You don’t know why you care so much about this new information when you took Seonghwa’s money to pretend to be his girlfriend. But before your logical brain can stop yourself, you come around the corner and feign surprise.

               “Oh, sorry to interrupt. Seonghwa, I think I got lost finding the bathroom, sorry.”

               Seonghwa moves towards you, one hand coming to rest on your waist. “No need to apologize.”

               “I guess it’s because my own apartment is so much smaller,” You say with emphasis, looking over at Mrs. Park, “All these fancy things are kinda over my head.”

               Mrs. Park looks stricken at the reminder of the disparity in wealth which you take secret pleasure in. When she replies, her voice is steel. “Seonghwa can show you. I should get back to the kitchen.”

               Right, time to boss around the servants. Seonghwa, his hand still on your waist, gently wheels you around, heading down the hallway and making a left. Then he opens the bathroom door.

               “Thanks,” You say, “But I actually don’t have to use the bathroom. I just wanted to get away from your dad grilling me.”

               Seonghwa’s mouth quirks at the corners and for a second, you think he might smile. But he doesn’t. Instead, he searches your face to see if you have heard the conversation with his mom. You want to bring it up but now isn’t the time – not in the middle of the penthouse, his parents breathing down your neck, and a fake date to complete.

               “How did you come up with that speech? And the kiss on the cheek at the end was genius,” Seonghwa asks, his voice quiet, taking a step closer to you. You get the feeling he has done a lot of whispering in this penthouse and the thought makes you a little sad.

               You can’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the Prada logo on his shirt. Cologne faintly clings to the fabric, a warm and spicy scent, mingled with clean laundry. “I don’t know,” You lie, “Just came to me. You know what? I actually do have to pee. Sorry, excuse me.”

               Slipping past Seonghwa, you close the bathroom door, trying not to be visually assaulted by how over the top and spacious the room is. Your heart is beating quickly. Just nervous. This shit is stressful. That’s all it is.

*

               Dinner is as awkward as the living room conversation. Between thinly veiled insults from Seonghwa’s mom about being beneath the family and his dad asking you questions as if you’re on the stand in a court room, it is all you can do to remember you are supposed to appear as if you are dating Seonghwa. Remembering to touch his shoulder when you are laughing, to look shy when Seonghwa tilts his face close to yours to tell you something and to cast adoring glances his way when he speaks while juggling his parents acting as if the world is ending in front of them is draining.

               On top of that, the food is rich people fare, which means most of it is completely new to you and the portions are so small that you are daydreaming about inhaling French fries once you get out of here.

               By the time the night is winding down, you think that the ruse may have worked. Mrs. Park seems thoroughly disturbed at the idea of you dating Seonghwa and his dad watches you like a hawk. The two of you fall into a simple routine of light touches and hand holding although there are no more kisses on the cheek. The singular one you gave Seonghwa earlier seemed to do the job.

               And while you are waiting for Seonghwa to finish saying goodbye for the night, you think maybe I don’t need a lot of experience to pull this off. In fact, maybe I just found my secret talent of acting. I could get into that. Maybe –

               “I was thinking perhaps your girlfriend could come with us to the beach house next weekend.” Mr. Park suddenly speaks, directing this at Seonghwa but carefully watching your face.

               Oh, he doesn’t believe us, you think with a thud of your heart, glancing at Seonghwa and trying to compose your expression into one of subtle questioning versus the panic that is bubbling in your chest.

               Without hesitation, Seonghwa replies smoothly, “I’m not sure if she is working next weekend.”

               Mr. Park gives a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you can work your schedule out?” He asks you and without waiting for a reply, goes on, “We like to go every six weeks or so to the beach house as a family. It’s important. And since Seonghwa is clearly so taken with you,” He lingers on the words, “We would love to have you.”

               You don’t work next weekend. Actually, it is the first weekend you have off in months. The universe is clearly laughing at you. But Mr. Park doesn’t know that and the last thing you plan to do is go to this beach house and pretend to date Seonghwa for an entire weekend.

               Stumbling over your words, you reply, “I would have to see my schedule. I can’t remember if I work or not. We are short staffed so I can’t just take off. As much as I would love to see the beach house.” You amend quickly.

               Seonghwa is pressing the elevator button multiple times as if that will make it arrive faster. Mr. Park is still staring at you as if he can read your mind. You take a step backwards, your hand going to Seonghwa’s lower back as the elevator doors finally open.

               “Thank you so much for dinner,” You tell his parents, trying to shove Seonghwa into the elevator without it being too obvious, “It was nice meeting you.”

               His parents say goodbye and the doors glide shut, leaving you alone with Seonghwa. You go to open your mouth to tell him that you failed when his hand circles around your waist and crushes you against him, lips grazing your ear. The touch is sudden and electric that your skin breaks out in goosebumps, heart racing so quickly that you wonder what in the world is wrong with you.

               “H-hey,” You stutter.

               “There’s a camera in the elevator and my father might be watching,” Seonghwa whispers in your ear, “Don’t talk about anything until we are in the limo.”

               Your cheek is against his chest, his hands around your waist, lips near your ear. The entire position is incredibly intimate which conflicts with his words of basically being spied on. You realize you should probably hug him back or you will look like a limp fish. Gingerly, you wrap your arms around Seonghwa, hating the fact your face feels warm and your heart is racing. You have no idea what is wrong with you tonight. Seonghwa smells even more amazing this close and your fingers press against his lower back, realizing how slender his waist is. His chest underneath your cheek feels hard and firm as if he works out or something….which you suppose he does because what else did he have to do all day?

               The elevator ride feels roughly fifty years long this time around. You can hear Seonghwa’s heartbeat in your ear, the warmth of his body and it feels so personal that when the elevator doors open it is all you can do not to run fleeing from the small space like someone desperately swimming to the surface for air.

               Scuttling through the lobby holding Seonghwa’s hand into the city lights outside, you are ushered into the limo and it is only then you finally speak.

               “We failed. You saw your dad, right? It was like…” Your mind searches for some sort of example, “It was like when Katniss failed to convince President Snow she was really madly in love with Peeta.”

               Seonghwa stares at you blankly. “When who didn’t convince who about who?”

               Frustrated at the fact Seonghwa is apparently too rich to understand basic pop culture references, you slump in the limo seat, secretly enjoying how comfortable it is. “We failed.”

               “We didn’t fail. He just knows me too well,” Seonghwa replies.

               “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong.” Mrs. Park’s earlier words float back to you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if it is time to mention to Seonghwa what you learned. It feels wrong not to bring it up.

               But Seonghwa keeps speaking. “I know I told you it would be for just for one night. A weekend is asking a lot –”

               “Wait. You’re not asking me to actually go with you on this beach trip,” You blurt out.

               Seonghwa looks resigned as if he expected that answer. “Even if we say you are working next weekend, my father will just push it off to when you are available.”

               “And? I thought you were going to lie and say we were going overseas. You know, rich guy showing poor girl all the wonders of the world, making her wonder if she’s in love with him or just the fact his money opens every door sort of thing.”

               You mean this as a joke but Seonghwa’s face darkens like a storm rolling in. Whoa, hit a nerve with that one, you think, wondering if you pissed him off.

               But if you did, he doesn’t say anything about it, opting to ignore the remark. “I know. I told you this would be my problem, not yours,” He opens the bag he had left in the limo, pulling out another white envelope, “This is the rest of the money.”

               He hands it over but you find yourself hesitating to take it. “Are you sure? We didn’t technically pull it off a hundred percent.”

               “It’s fine,” Seonghwa’s voice is stiff, “We convinced my mother. It counts.”

               You slip the money in your purse, thinking about how much cash you have in there. More than you ever had before. “All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. You know that.” The two of you fall into silence. Seonghwa is staring wordlessly at the unopened bottle of champagne, most likely trying to figure out his next move. This has nothing more to do with me. I agreed to this for the money and nothing else.

               As the limo turns down your street, you try to think of what to say to Seonghwa but no words come. The limo comes to a stop, the driver opening the door for you to get out.

               “I’ll walk you,” Seonghwa says suddenly, ignoring your protests when you say that isn’t necessary.

               Your apartment is on the ground floor which means escorting Seonghwa through the courtyard made up of mostly dead plants and a bench that has seen better days. You really didn’t feel like showing him where you lived any more than necessary.

               As you cross the courtyard, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll pay you triple.”

               Stopping in your tracks, you look over your shoulder. “What?”

               He seems to be mentally chewing on something, his brows furrowed and his gaze intense. “For the beach weekend. I’ll pay you triple what I paid tonight. I’ll pick you up Friday, bring you back Monday morning.”

               Silence settles across the empty courtyard. Somewhere, very faintly, you can hear thunder. Seonghwa has shoved his hands in the pockets of his overpriced slacks but his posture remains as regal as ever.

               With a tiny sigh, you say, “I heard you. With your mom. About the arranged marriage.” Seonghwa stiffens, his lips pressed in a thin line. You keep going, “Why didn’t you tell me they are trying to marry you off? There is way more at stake here than your parents wanting you to date someone. You’re going to be…what, cut off from the money if you don’t marry who they choose?”

               “I’ll be cut from the inheritance and not allowed to take over the company when my dad retires. I have money of my own but my family’s wealth won’t go to me if I don’t marry who they pick.”

               You exhale slowly, starting to pace the courtyard. You make a mental note of the fact his mom made it sound like he would be left with nothing which is obviously far from the truth. You are getting a sinking feeling that they know how to manipulate him. The thought makes you sad.

               “Seonghwa, you have so much at stake here. And I don’t think I’m a good pick for what you need. Don’t get me wrong. As you can see,” You gesture to the building, “I need the money. I want the money. The amount you’re offering for the beach trip…that’s life changing. But there is no way I could pull it off for an entire weekend.”

               Seonghwa, perhaps panicked at the thought of his already tenuous grip on this absurd plan falling apart, takes a step towards you. “I – I can’t suddenly change people. It has to be you. I didn’t think – I didn’t think my father was going to invite you to the beach trip. He’s never done such a thing before. I can do the overseas lie after, I just –”

               “No, Seonghwa, I mean…” This is so awkward, you think. “My dating experience is tragic. You understand? I’ve never even been in a real relationship. I’ve gone on a few dates. That’s why I said no originally until I changed my mind for the money. I don’t know how to be in a fake relationship because I’ve never been in a real one. That’s probably why we didn’t convince your dad tonight. Going to the beach house means I have to act 24/7 and there is no way I can pull it off. I’m not just saying no because of me. I’m saying it for you too. If I had known…if I had known there was this whole marriage thing going on, I wouldn’t have agreed to it. There’s too much at stake here.” You want to crawl in a hole now – what an embarrassing speech.

               You see a flicker of surprise cross Seonghwa’s face which only makes you feel worse.

               Adding on before he can reply, “It’s like…you’re paying me so this is a job, right? I’m not qualified for the job. So, you should fake break up with me and find someone better.”

               You have stopped pacing now and Seonghwa approaches you. Your nails dig into the palms of your hands as he does so, your breath catching in your chest.

               “So what if you’re not qualified for the job? Have you seen most people at their jobs? Anyone in middle management usually doesn’t know how to rotate a PDF.” His voice is quiet, his gaze steady. “We have a week until the beach trip. We’ll do a crash course in relationships.”

               “Uhm, I don’t think that is how relationships work.”

               “I’ll show you the ropes so you can act better next weekend. We will go on dates, spend a lot of time together, you’ll learn more about me so you can loosen up at the beach house. I’ll show you what a relationship is like and you can use that on the trip. By the end of it, my parents will be convinced we are in love with one another and they will give up on the arranged marriage. I’ll lie and pretend to go overseas with you, threaten elopement. I might need to see you one or two more times after, which I’ll pay you for, and then I’ll tell them you left me and I’m too heartbroken to consider anyone else.”

               “Seonghwa, that is a batshit plan.”

               “I’ve tried everything else with them. You’re my best shot. I’ll pay whatever you want. I’ll pay your rent for a year. I don’t care.”

               You want to ask him if this is how his family does things – just pay for someone to stick around, pay for someone to leave. You want to ask him who his parents erased in his life with money. You want to ask him what happened to the Seonghwa in the photo.

               But your brain is glitching on this whole relationship practice thing followed by an entire weekend around his scary parents. No words leave your lips and instead you just stare at him.

               “Do you need time to think it over?” He prompts.

               Your mind flashes back to the elevator, his lips near your ear, his arms around you, your heart racing. There would be more of that if you agreed to this ridiculous idea. But then you think about the money in your purse. There would be more of that too. A lot more of that.

               Thunder again. Louder this time. It rains in the city constantly at this time of year. You haven’t been to the beach since you were a kid. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be an asshole. There could be way worse people to fake date or learn about relationships from.

               “No,” You say, “I don’t need any time. I agree.”

PART TWO HERE.

[schnuron]

Electronic albums I like from the 90s

Talking the 90s might be a lengthy way to explain in some segments why I chose these records. While grunge was getting some attention, there were underground music going on like death metal, black metal, techno, electronic music, etc.

This post is the same premise as the last one.

1990: Depeche Mode - Violator (my fave album) The Shamen - En-Tact Leather Strip - Science for the Satanic Citizen Nitzer Ebb - Showtime Angelo Badalamenti - Twin Peaks OST

1991: Lords of Acid - Lust Front 242 - Tyranny For You Delerium - Stone Tower Biosphere - Microgravity LFO - Frequencies 808 State - ex:el Massive Attack - Blue Lines

1992: Front Line Assembly - Tactical Neural Implant Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works 85-92 Vangelis - 1492 OST KMFDM - Money Go West - Indian Summer Jeff Greinke - Lost Terrain

1993: Polygon Window - Surfing On Sine Waves Depeche Mode - Songs of Faith and Devotion F.U.S.E. - Dimension Intrusion

1994: Vangelis - Blade Runner Underworld - dubnobasswithmyheadman Massive Attack - Protection Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works Volume II Autechre - Amber

1995: The Frozen Autumn - Pale Awakening Aphex Twin - …I Care Because You Do

1996: burger/ink - Las Vegas Underworld - Second Toughest in the Infants

1997: Depeche Mode - Ultra (my fave album) The Frozen Autumn - Fragments of Memories The Prodigy - The Fat of the Land Information Society - Don't Be Afraid KMFDM - Symbols Savage Garden - Savage Garden Aqua - Aquarium

1998: Plastikman - Consumed UNKLE - Psyence Fiction Bola - Soup Madonna - Ray of Light Massive Attack - Mezzanine VNV Nation - Praise the Fallen

1999: Underworld - Beaucoup Fish VNV Nation - Empires Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile Forest Silence - Winter Circle