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[therosebookshop]

An Unhealthy Obsession

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Warnings/Contains: Dead dove? Yeah, dead dove; yandere, yandere, yandere; not cringy yandere, if you’re looking for yansim type yandere you will not find that here; stalking on both sides; mentally unwell on both sides yeah duh; gender neutral pronouns and reader as always; you’re aware you’re fucked in the head and why, but therapy is expensive; an ‘accidental’ murder; I hc sol to have a tongue piercing because god knows he should’ve had one, that creep from the arcade but this time bbg Sol is there to save you first <3

A/N: um hi I got sucked in by sol and for any followers sorry I’ve been absent I have ✨burnout✨ so

Inspo: a tumblr post and the title came from ‘An Unhealthy Obsession’ by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

Yandere.

A mix of two words- yanderu, “to be sick,” and deredere, “lovestruck.” Most of the time, yandere are portrayed to be sweet, caring, and innocent before switching into someone who displays an extreme, often violent or psychotic, level of devotion to a love interest.

You know you have a problem. Something wrong in your brain, having developed from your childhood abandonment and neglect. The need to be loved turned into an obsession with a boy in kindergarten. You’d thought he would be perfect for you, because he seemed so sweet and caring. And well.. that girl you’d pushed into traffic one day after she’d given him a flower and they’d sat together at lunch had been an accident, of course. A horrible, tragic one.

Your obsessions had never been this bad. Of course, some of them had been over fictional characters. Some had been over real boys in school, but they had never returned your feelings. And you’d cried your heart out after the rejections. You simply didn’t understand why they didn’t love you. You’d stalk them to see what they liked, change your clothing and your personality and everything, just for them. To be their type.

But this obsession… had turned so bad.

He plagued your every thought. His gorgeous eyes, pretty hair, nice hands. His lips, his arms, how tall he was. Everything about him was so perfect. He was perfect. The fact that he didn’t seem to have many friends.. well, that was okay. When you finally got him as yours, he wouldn’t need anybody else. He’d have you.

You’d gained a reputation as a weird kid, one that had apparently followed you to your new college. There was a boy at the back of your class, who was nearly always accompanied by a boy who was about a head shorter, blue hair. You were jealous. But you weren’t stupid. No, you had to plan carefully to dispose of the boy.

Years. Painful years, of learning about the object of your obsession. You had a whole wall in your closet covered in Polaroids of Sol, each one neatly dated on the back in a green marker that matched the green in his hair. You had shoeboxes full of Polaroids of him, too, all of those neatly dated in legible handwriting and stacked by date. You followed him home once to set up a camera in his bedroom, complete with a mic, right near his bed to hear him sleep. You recorded it once, for if you ever needed the comforting sounds of your darling to sleep and he wasn’t available. Surprisingly, it was hard to learn anything about him just from searching his name- a lot of the kids here were from richer families, more popular families. So you simply stalked him, learned everything about him you could, and kept note of everything about him in a black hardcover notebook, kept on your person at all times.

Every little tick, nervous habit, anything. Noted. How his tongue prodded at hot food before taking a bite. The absolutely hot looking tongue piercing he had. The cute way he fiddled with his sleeves sometimes, or tapped his foot. When people were being annoying he rolled his eyes, or crossed his arms. He had a sibling-like relationship with his best friend, and you had a few pictures of his cute little pout when he was teased.

You learned from careful observation that he was in the nurse's office every other day, so you started to give yourself little injuries to be in the office too. A cut, a bruise, other injuries.

Little did you know he was obsessed with you too. You'd heard this town could be dangerous for pretty young women at night, but you hadn't ever had any issues. Because he followed you home every night. Why would you need a recording of him sleeping when he climbed into your room through your window and spooned you every night? He knew about all the Polaroids and everything. And it made him more obsessed, that you felt the same way about him.

You started to leave him little gifts- cute ones like a tiny bouquet of geranium blooms held together with twine placed on his desk (he knew about the flower box in your living room), a hoodie casually tossed over the back of his chair (it smelled like you and was oversized, so fit him well). Or bigger gifts- a horse plushie, snacks. All of them were from you, he knew they were. It was obvious, how you'd always be at your desk, which was just a couple away from his so you could inconspicuously look at him, before he was in the classroom. How you'd watch eagerly as he put the hoodie on, or slipped the snacks or plushie into his backpack to take home.

Then came the day in art class- three Expressionism drawings. You weren't an artist in any form (unless taking a lot of photographs of one person counted, and it probably didn't) and anyway, even if you were, you didn't want to spend a lengthy amount of time with anybody but Sol.

Everybody moved around to their partners, and you were the only one left without one. And, as your eyes fastened on Sol... he didn't have a partner, either.

You went over, sliding into the seat beside him. "You don't have a partner, right?"

You'd never spoken to him before. Not once. You'd heard his voice so much, but now, actually face-to-face with the object of your obsessions and sleepless nights, your heart was beating out of your chest.

"No. I don't. He ditched me." He said. And god, is his voice hot.

"Well, I don't either." You have to remind yourself to breathe, even though your knee is bobbing under the desk. "Want to be partners?"

His eyes don't miss the rapid, nervous movement of your knee bobbing, heel tapping against the floor. The corners of his lip twitch slightly. Adorable.

"I don't see why not." He says finally, eyes focusing on yours, and you have to remind yourself again to breathe. His eyes are so gorgeous. Like warm honey. You could fall into them and be trapped, like a fly in amber.

"Great." And the word comes out a little breathless, a little flustered. "I'm (user), by the way." You offer your hand to shake. "What's your name?" Like you don't already know it.

He stares at your hand for a minute, as if contemplating. Then he shakes your hand. "Solvian Brugmansia. Just call me Sol."

His hand is warm and bigger than yours, unsurprising because of his height. You can't help but grin. "Nice to meet you, Sol."

You talk a little, ideas of what to draw. He had a sketchbook open on his desk, and to see it without straining your neck, you scooted your chair over, leaning into his personal space bubble. But for such an introvert, he didn't seem to mind one bit.

He smells so good, you think. Comforting. Like paper and something akin to blood- an irony smell. And something under that, something so distinctly him you want to bury your face in his neck. You want to rest your head against him, maybe put your hand on his thigh for 'balance'. To touch him in some way.

He shifts, clears his throat, and when you glance up at him you realize his cheeks are flushed, and he looks down at you. You realize when you can see the faint blemishes on his face- oh so pretty- that you're very, very close.

You lean away, flustered and embarrased. You don't think you blush- he can see faint pink on your cheeks- but you do grin like an absolute idiot. You've learned this through playing dating games (a way to familiarize yourself with relationships, to be as good a partner as you possibly can for your future darling). You're not grinning as wide as if he had flustered you with his words, but you've still got a smile on your face.

And almost without thinking, his hand squishes your cheeks between his fingers to tilt your face up. You're so pretty, he thinks, those eyes never looking away from his, eyes that he could spend hours staring into. With the faint blush coloring your cheeks and the smile on your lips, you could be a perfect subject to draw.

"Stay like that for me." He murmured softly. "I'm going to draw you for this project."

Your lips parted, cheeks growing red, even if you couldn't feel their warmth. He opened up a page of his sketchbook, releasing your face to start sketching. He tells you how to pose- your chin on your palms, head tilted slightly. You watch him as he sketches, how focused he is, his lower lip caught with his teeth. Your eyes soften. He's gorgeous like this, pretty eyes occasionally flickering between the page and you.

Your eyes unfocus, simply staring at him. When he looks up his eyes lock with yours. He can practically see hearts in your eyes, adoration in your gaze. His cheeks turn red. You're adorable this way, oh-so-pretty. Stunning, really.

There's not enough time to finish the drawing within class, so while everybody files out he makes you stay there, finishing the sketch. When he's done he closes his sketchbook and stuffs it into his bag. "I'll show you when I color it in." He says as you grab your stuff and exit the classroom.

Out in the hallway, the two of you stand off to the side. "Since we're, um, gonna be partners, we should exchange numbers. To keep in touch and talk about projects and stuff." You add.

Please, please, please-

“Yeah. Here, put your number in.” He pulls out his phone and opens the contact app before handing it to you. You couldn't stop grinning as you typed in your number and handed his phone back. Your phone went off- a text from an unknown number, no doubt him.

You changed his contact nickname to 'Darling ♡ ' in your phone, grinning to yourself. You're so much shorter than him, he can easily see your phone screen, and he smiles to himself. He's added your contact name as 'Pumpkin'.

The obsession was so obvious.

Over the next few days of the project, the two of you ended up hanging out a lot. Usually at each other's apartment. You even went to the arcade with Sol while Hyugo went and saw a movie nearby.

It was really a cute arcade date, and you dressed as cute as possible that day- oversized sweater, baggy pants, oversized chunky boots that you sometimes lost your balance in... but it was fine, because you always had Sol to lean into for balance.

At the arcade, you played games together, laughing. Sol went to get more tokens and you insisted on sticking by his side. Somebody brushed past you, and in your horrible balanced fashion, you stumbled.

Sol caught you by the waist, steadying you. "Are you okay?"

He seemed to realize what he'd done and cleared his throat, moving his arm, but you stopped him, lacing your fingers with his, begging he wouldn't freak. His cheeks went bright red but he didn’t pull away, and you grinned to yourself as you went up to the counter with him, giving him a cute little side hug while he bought some more tokens. His cheeks were even redder now. It was adorable seeing him like this.

The cashier smiled at the two of you. "How long have you been a couple for?" You hastily released him. Sure, you knew that could be considered slightly romantic, but-

"Not long at all." His arm loops around your waist to tuck you into his side. Your face flushes a bright red. He looks down at you, noticing your blush, and his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

When you get more tokens you go to plushie machines. One of them has horse plushies. You give Sol, who's at a claw machine with plushies of your favorite animal in it, a quick look before going to the machine and putting in a token.

You're laser focused on it, cheering when you get the plushie. You don't even notice when an unfamiliar man comes up to you with a sleazy look, his two bodyguards in tow. He throws an arm around your waist, and you startle away from him, horse plushie clutched in your arms.

"Hey there, pretty. You alone?" He reeks of tobacco, and your nose wrinkles.

"No, I'm here with my boy-" You try to back up, but you bump into one of his bodyguards that blocks your way.

"What kind of boyfriend would leave a pretty thing like you all by yourself? C'mon, come with me, pet. I'll show you a good time." He starts to try to pull you away, but you stomp on his foot, hard, and run. Sol was nearby, he can protect you-

You collide right into Sol, and he keeps you from falling, eyes darting over your face with concern. "What's wrong, pumpkin?" The cute little pet name slips from his lips without him even realizing.

"This man- he grabbed me- he wanted me to go with him but I ran-" You're shaking, Sol can tell, the horse plushie still clutched in your arms. His eyes literally darken in anger, looking up and around for the man who dared to touch you without your permission.

I'm gonna kill him.

He gives you a hug, and you hug him back tightly, the horse plushie held in your hand, the bag of other prizes you two had collectively won bumping against your back as he held it in his hand. "It's okay, I'm here now."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering. You smell amazing. He should find out what scent you wear, so he can buy one for himself.

But he should focus on the situation at hand. He runs his fingers through your hair. "It's okay. Let's go, yeah?"

So you walk home with him, and he holds your hand, keeping you close. Your hands are cold, and he pauses, setting the bag down at your feet and holding your hand to his mouth. His cheeks redden as he kisses the back of your hands, and you blush too.

He's so pretty. And so, so close. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the same sort of adoration and obsession in his eyes that are often in yours when you look at him.

And it makes your breath catch. He feels the same way. That's what that look has to mean.

He holds your hand the rest of the way to your cozy little apartment and you invite him in. He accepts, of course, acting like he's never been inside your apartment- he knows it like the back of his hand.

And maybe you do kiss him that night. Maybe he stays over, cuddling in your bed with you. Maybe more happens. But you're his. And he's yours.

But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee—

[centrally-unplanned]

3 questions:

What is it you like... do, where does all the political expertise come from?

Do you have a platonic ideal of city development and what is it?

What's your take on communitarians? I never got the basic intuition about what makes it appealing, honestly smells totalitarian

- I lie about having political expertise on the internet mainly, that is where the expertise comes from!

But otherwise I am an ex-political analyst/quasi-academic - I took many classes and read many books on the subject. And also blogs, which certainly used to be an incredibly good source for more "foundational" knowledge - still good ofc, but we are past the heyday of the blogosphere. I personally think there is no substitute for "reading a bunch of diverse books in sequence on a topic", not only because you learn about the subject but because you start to see all the diverse approaches to any subject and how to synthesize it all, which can be applied elsewhere.

My actual job these days is in higher education, I build courses, degrees, etc. It definitely is something that keeps me exposed to good info sources but it is not load-bearing on how I grow as a writer. It's true perk is giving me access to good scanning equipment for anime archiving.

- I don't "actually" have one as I think all city development should be organic and contextual, no two places should look identical. In particular you can't really force economies, the industries be where they are. Overall I think the key things are to reduce localism while preserving democratic engagement, so you build up a strong regional government with elected officials holding critical power that can't be overridden by institutional stakeholders so they can pursue majority-benefitting policies. To be more granular, I think diversity of housing options is perpetually underappreciated - you want neighborhoods having studios to 4 bedroom units to even detached homes as you trickle out from the metro stops all next to each other so you can cultivate local economies that cater to diverse crowds and governance units that are "full stack" on the people they need to support. This happens pretty organically without zoning restrictions - US cities just try very hard to force housing types into specific zones.

I do also support every city of a sufficient size having a Kowloon Walled City-esque hyperdense housing complex at their center as a "stopgap" housing option for anyone of any stripe who wants to come to the city and try their hand at it. I am not even joking on that.

-Definitely too diverse a field to have "one" take! So to paint a very broad brush, they are a classic "cause" ideology that hits on correct social problems but doesn't give their solutions the same treatment. It is true that no one is an island, that social dependence is endemic to modernity, that "we are all connected" and individualist decision-making results in suboptimal outcomes. And not only for "others", but even for the individual, the isolating anomie of modernity that everyone falls into is a legitimate problem. In the abstract "more community" can do a lot of good.

But once you move away from abstraction the grubby realities of implementing something like the Responsive Communitarian Platform it tends to fall apart. Individuals are not the best deciders for themselves, but they are typically better than the rest of the options on the table as flawed, biased, or openly hostile governing authorities are the only real alternative. Community orgs are often populated by niche interest groups and oddball activists as typical people are too buys living life to care. Welfare is typically better done by distant, standardized, centralized cash payments instead of a "community" with its fickle resources and personal agendas. And so on. Obviously community has its place, but it is a place that typically already exists - we have had say schools and school boards for a long time! So as a movement it tends to collapse back to good ol' incremental social liberalism as those are the only practical things it can offer.

(But again YMMV based on individual thinkers, a diverse field)

[jenn2sec]

English vers.

Based On My Dreams Series (MAIN LINE):

❝ Healing Trip ❞

start - thursday20022025

couple - bigbang(you decide who) x fem!reader

chapters summary - after your strong resistance against the abuse from your boyfriend's (now ex) family, you were suspended from school for a year, so what will you do during that forced break? of course, take a direct flight to korea to heal! lets see how lucky you will be with bigbang-boys!

note - chaotic, bad words, side characters, this post won't feature bigbang, but read on and make your choice at the end!, funny, quantum multiverse, alcohol

caption section - after reviewing and organizing more ideas for the plot, i decided to officially develop the Based On My Dreams Series into a long-form fanfic (when i say long, i mean it will have a more structured storyline). y/n is in the late twenties and about to enter their thirties, a third-year student majoring in film scriptwriting.

We’re always open to feedback and ideas to make the story better!

[ Before I could make sense of everything, my feet were already standing on his grave. ]

After reviewing the entire script draft for the short film, you sent it to senior H/n. Just thinking about it made you frustrated—why did you have to do his work for him? This was supposed to be his graduation project! Your head felt as hot as a furnace, yet you still had to sit in the library after your morning classes, rushing to finish his “problem.”

“That jerk…” you mumbled, slamming your laptop shut before quickly stacking up your books into a neat pile and dragging yourself out of the library.

Time flew by, and you were already close to completing your second semester of your third year in university. Just one more semester and another year, and you’d finally have that bachelor’s degree in your hands. Lost in your feverish state, you found yourself daydreaming about internships—completely unaware that the so-called "talented" senior you had just cursed was now striding towards you with an air of arrogance.

“Hey, y/n! Come here for a sec.” He waved a hand at you like an impatient boss calling over an employee just to scold them. Just great. You had only insulted him in your head a moment ago, and now he had appeared like a summoned ghost. With a deep sigh, you bit your lip and walked over.

"I really appreciate your help, but you should really reconsider $#%&—" He kept rambling, his words buzzing in your ears like an annoying fly. What was this? Was he actually complaining about a script that he got for free?

You were too stunned to speak. The only reason you put up with this lunatic was because he was your boyfriend’s older brother and the son of the head professor of your department.

Let’s see… He was the son of the department head but was still drowning in over ten failed courses, barely hanging onto his chance to graduate. And ever since you had visited your boyfriend’s house and discovered that both of you were in the same screenwriting major, more than half of his overdue assignments had magically ended up in your lap. Call you stupid if you guys want—at first, you thought dating someone from the same school would be nice. His mother was a well-respected professor, and surely his older brother must be talented too, right? Wrong. And now, your so-called “future brother-in-law” was acting like he was the professor and you were the clueless student, lecturing you in the middle of campus with no regard for your dignity.

"I am sorry, but I’m really exhausted. Can’t you see the fever patch on my foreh—" You weakly protested, carefully choosing your words to avoid bruising his ego, but H/n immediately cut you off, clicking his tongue and placing his hands on his hips.

"Y/n, if you’re going to do something, do it properly. You can’t use being sick as an excuse to hand in a script full of plot holes!"

You froze. Your face went blank, as if someone had just smacked you over the head with a hammer. You could only stare at this shameless man in disbelief.

"Hey, are y—" Just as you were about to snap back, your younger boyfriend suddenly appeared from afar, grinning as he approached. Without hesitation, he hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek.

"What are you two doing out here?"

Seeing your boyfriend felt like spotting a lifeline in the middle of an ocean. You turned around, ready to whine about your suffering, but before you could even speak, the brat jumped back in horror, shoving you away a few steps.

"Wait, you’re sick?! Hey, hey, don’t get me infected! I have an internship next week!" He hurriedly pulled a mask out of his pocket and put it on, while his brother scolded him for overreacting.

And then, just like that, he kept going. Your dear senior resumed his endless criticism of your script, delivering yet another long-winded lecture about character development and scene construction.

A childish boyfriend. A useless, arrogant brother-in-law. And you—sick to the point of collapse, with a very solid pile of books in your hands.

Yes. With a rage-induced fever clouding your mind like a drunken haze, you didn’t hesitate. You hurled the entire stack of books at that senior’s face, then grabbed the thickest one and jabbed it straight at your stupid boyfriend, who is gaping.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU BASTARDS!!! ALL OF YOU, OUT! RIGHT NOW! F* OFF YOU MOTHER F******!!!!!!!!"

"That damn bastards….my gosh how can I know I’d break the library window! It’s all their fault! Huhuhu—" You wailed into your phone, sobbing so hard that your eyes were practically swelling shut.

On the other end of the call, your online best friend sighed. "So… what about your ‘future mother-in-law’?"

The mere mention of that woman made you cry even louder. "That witch! She only acted nice because she saw me as her eldest son’s academic lifeline! But the moment I broke their noses today, she went insane and demanded that the school expel me! Huhuhu—!"

Your friend let out a long, tired sigh. "So let me get this straight… You got suspended for a whole year just for assault and property damage? That’s kind of harsh. I’d say one semester at most." You sniffled. "No, no. Before that, I went to the academic office and reported that entire damn family—especially that bastard H/n—for forcing me to do his coursework."

"WHAT?!" Your friend shrieked in shock before bursting into laughter. Meanwhile, you grinned victoriously.

"Serves those assholes right."

You don't mind graduating a year late, you're a pretty good student after all—it's basically a gap year. But that asshole? His record's been erased. And his mom? Suspended for a whole semester. Ha!

"Why do you keep listening to those gay dudes all the time?"

A slipper flew straight toward the speaker—unfortunately, it missed. You've heard this comment enough times to no longer take it to heart, but you still had to put up some kind of resistance. Your older brother kicked your slipper further away—specifically, out onto the porch—before lazily walking over to the fridge to find something to snack on.

Meanwhile, you sat idly on the sofa, listening to your favorite music: K-pop.

It had been a long time since you last had the chance to relax like this. Ever since you got involved with that damn family, even your holidays were spent helping H/n.

So now, being able to unwind felt a bit unfamiliar. You started feeling like you had rested too much—your hands and feet were itching to do something.

"If you're so free, why don't you go out or get a job? Doesn't staying home bore you?" your brother asked, plopping down on the couch with a bag of snacks. He grabbed the remote and switched the TV to some streamer’s YouTube channel.

"HEY!" You grabbed your other slipper and threw it straight at his face—this time, it hit. After a brief scuffle, both of you lazily slumped back onto the couch.

"Getting a part-time job doesn’t sound too bad—"

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was your online best friend calling.

And with just one phone call, your plan to get a job turned into a healing trip abroad.

The room you rented was in an apartment complex located deep within a neighborhood already slated for redevelopment. Despite this, quite a few people still lived here. Most people—including your online best friend—found the place too cramped and bustling, but you actually liked it. Having lived with your parents and brother your whole life, you never had the chance to "coexist" with strangers like this. So even though you felt a bit uneasy, you valued this experience—it was something worth having!

Your online best friend picked you up from the airport and helped you find a short-term rental. (You had decided to stay for an extended period, given that you had an entire year of free time.) After finishing the move-in process, she immediately switched into tour guide mode and took you on an adventure through Seoul.

This was only the second time you two had met in real life—the first being when she visited your country for a trip. Now, it was your turn to visit hers. Twice was more than enough to erase any awkwardness. The two of you went all out, exploring every corner, from delicious street food to fun entertainment spots.

“Lucky for you, you know enough Korean to communicate, right?” she asked, biting into a strawberry tanghulu—the popular sugar-coated fruit snack often seen in TikTok dance videos. You nodded slightly, using your own candy stick to poke at the hardened sugar stuck on your molars before replying.

“Just a little. I’m definitely not fluent enough to compete with the locals.” You joked, recalling how, during your first meeting, she had been too flustered to even speak English properly.

Both of you had made an effort to learn each other’s native languages, but for the most part, you still communicated in English for convenience, occasionally throwing in phrases from the second language. So naturally, she reacted quickly to your teasing:

"야! 놀리지 마!! (Ya! Don’t tease me!!)”

She laughed awkwardly at her own outburst, making both of you burst into laughter. Your attention was then quickly stolen by a brightly lit bar nearby.

“Hey, I didn’t know Aven Star had a branch in Korea,” you remarked.

“Of course they do! They even invite artists over all the time. Wanna go in? Who knows, maybe you’ll run into one of your ‘husbands,’” she teased, nudging your shoulder.

You were about to agree instantly, but one glance at your outfit made you hesitate. “I can’t. I look like a complete mess right now.”

“Excuse me?! Stop acting like a pick-me girl! You look amazing, so get in there and have fun!”

Well, if that damn family knew you were out here vacationing and enjoying yourself, they’d be fuming. Just the thought of it made you relax a little more and confidently step inside.

The moment you entered, your ears were greeted by remixes of old-but-gold US-UK songs, refreshed with an upbeat twist that made them even catchier. The dim, flickering lights were adjusted just right—not harsh on the eyes—but the place was packed. That was typical for this bar. You never went bar-hopping much during your school days, but if you did, Aven Star was always your go-to. It was surreal that your favorite club had somehow followed you across the world, making your healing trip feel even more complete.

You quickly let yourself soak in the atmosphere while waiting for your best friend, who was busy flirting with the bartender (and ordering more drinks for both of you). The tension in your body gradually melted away, your shoulders feeling lighter by the second. It was hard to believe this trip was already working wonders—on just the first day.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold liquid spilled down the back of your neck, soaking your entire back. A sharp shiver ran up your spine, triggering an instant wave of shock and discomfort that shot straight to your brain, making you yelp. Luckily, the bar was noisy enough to drown out your outburst.

Spinning around, you searched for the culprit—and found yourself facing a guy dressed in a breezy, casual outfit. His face was undeniably Korean, but he wasn’t bad-looking at all. In fact, when combined with his overall aura, he looked…pretty cool!

His expression, however, was hilarious. Though the dim lighting made it hard to see clearly, his wide eyes, hand-over-mouth reaction, and panicked mumbling made it obvious he was apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You were in too good of a mood to get mad. You were about to say something, but then you spotted your best friend scanning the crowd for you. With no time to linger, you flashed the guy a quick grin, leaned in slightly, and said a few words before slipping through the dancing crowd to rejoin your friend.

"________"

| If You Choose to Say Something Playful.

| If You Choose to Say Something Reassuring. [comingsoon]

_____

F i x a r a w S o f t e n

thursday20022025

23:46

︾︾︾︾︾︾︾

to speed things up and because my english isn’t really that good, i decided to use a translation tool to help with the language switch. a bigbangxreader fanfic operating on the quantum multiverse theory, why not?!

every choice you make leads you to a different person, opening up distinct storylines, what do you think?!

hope you all understand and enjoy ♡

[ddwcaph-game]

Update Previews!

Today's update post has three new changes/additions:

New Character Development Variables for F6E

New Difficulty Settings

Trait and EXP Updates

Before I show the previews, I just wanna say that after this update, I'll try to focus more on the story, and less on the gameplay stuff. I've actually gotten a bunch of breakthroughs with the story recently, so look forward to the introduction posts of the other two crush options soon!

New Character Development Variables for F6E

I'm thinking of adding a second set of character development variables for F6E! While the primary purpose of the first set of variables is to determine how major story branches will play out, the second set is intended to be less impactful, and only affect flavor text and dialogue.

New Difficulty Settings

Instead of the starting twin relationship traits secretly modifying your NP cost and NP recovery stats, I decided to add new difficulty settings to the last choice in the prologue.

Here are the difficulty modifiers:

🟢 Slice-of-Life Difficulty: +10% Overall EXP, +25 Max NP, +12% NP Recovery, -20% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are capped at 25% 🟡 Adventure Difficulty: Normal EXP, NP Cost, and NP Recovery modifiers 🔴 Superhero Difficulty: -10% Overall EXP, -25 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +50% NP Costs when retconning stat checks 🔥 Apocalyptic Difficulty: -33% Overall EXP, -50 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +100% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are 25% Worse

It's important to note that the difficulty settings DO NOT change the stat check requirements, so this wouldn't really affect you much if you don't use NP very often. Your Max NP is now also tied to your Total EXP gained (you gain 1 Max NP for every 2,500 EXP gained instead of gaining Max NP every chapter), so that's why the settings give EXP Bonuses/Penalties. Of course, these are all subject to changes later.

Trait and EXP Updates

As I've said before, I'm reworking the "bucket list" idea to be much simpler. Some traits/passives will now give a small amount of EXP when you pick certain choices.

I'm adding these bonuses to make picking traits more impactful, make gaining EXP more meaningful, and to add a sense of progression/character development for your MC. For example, Troublemaker MCs will now gain a small amount of EXP when picking Sensible/Disciplined choices.

Here's the full list of additions:

The EXP bonuses are minor enough (most choices will only give around 10-30 EXP), so you won't really miss out on much if your Troublemaker MC wants to keep causing chaos anyway. The bonuses do stack however, so we'll see if the numbers need adjusting in the future.

The EXP Notification won't appear if you gain EXP this way, so don't worry about extra clutter! Speaking of, I actually found a bunch of bugs that made certain Traits give more/less EXP all the time while coding, so whoops! 😅 It's not really game-breaking so I'll just include the fix with the next update.

Anyway, that's all I got for now. Let me know what you think of the new changes!

[sandsorghum]

wc: 1.1k (more drabble than fic tbh)

tags: Virgin Higuruma | Friends to Lovers (?)

a/n: Really just an excuse for me to spew unhinged thoughts about FirstTimeHiguruma...Suggestive but nothing really explicit. Kinda told in his POV. Dunno if I'll ever develop this into a full story but enjoy...whatever this is??

Maybe...maybe he's in his mid20s, 2nd year of law school. Is a little insecure and defensive because he's got a bit of that internalised misogyny. Just a smidge. What's the big deal anyway, why are people so obsessed with sex - those conversations aren't worth his time. Don't his peers have better things to brag about or bond over?

Keeps his head down and mostly to himself. Ignores the couples snogging under the shade of sycamore trees as he cuts across the quad, averts his eyes from insufficiently surreptitious fingers skimming up thighs in coffee shops - Even the damn library isn't a place of refuge; with people sneaking off to the dimly lit, dusty sections where the obscure maritime law tomes are shelved but no apparently he's the one committing an invasion of privacy when he just wanted to look up the applications filed at the Tribunal for the Hoshinmaru case (2007, Japan V. Russian Federation) and not get an eyeful of folks sticking hands down pants.

So one day the two of you are hanging out in his room and somehow the topic comes up and he goes on an amusingly/impressively feminist rant about virginity just being a sexist myth and concept contrived to make (women's) chastity a commodified fetish as if they were prized chattel and why would he want to acknowledge any part of that antiquated invention and he has better things to do and why are you looking at him like that when you both have a Commercial Law exam to mug for, isn't that why you showed up in the first place?

And umm do you want his jacket, seems like you'd be chilly in that loose hanging top - it's slipped a little off your shoulder by the way - and why are you stalking- walking towards him like that and hangonhangonhangonhey-

Now see what you've done! You made him trip backwards on his bed and you're still leaning in way too close and since when did you start wearing lip gloss - wait you aren't? And that's just the natural shade of your mouth? oh ok cool cool cool fine goodtoknow - huh? why's it good for him to know? No- no reason- no he hasn't been wondering all evening - and wait why are you dropping to your knees now, come on, stop, you're taking this joke way too far like always - can't you tell it's humiliating for the both of you - huh? Did you just say you've always found him cute? The adjective ascribed to marsupials? You're associating it with him??

You like seeing his cheeks this colour? It reminds you of his frostbitten face when the two of you were the last to leave the library last winter semester, trekking across the field with just his nose peeking out from the higgly-piggedly stacked layers of his scarf, still trying to crack jokes to make you laugh and it had worked because you remember the sting of your chapped lips long after he walked you back to your room?

And well that's um...quite a vivid portrait of him, he doesn't really have that type of memory - No, he didn't mean that - of course he remembers the first evening you and him met and quickly became study buddies, pals, friends - definitely friends - and uuuhhhh are you sure this is something friends do?

Because now you have both hands resting on his parted thighs, your head nestled on his knee, how can you look so comfortable like this, with your cheek nuzzling lightly into his lap, moving a little further and further up to the throbbing, pounding pitch in his pants with every passing minute that he doesn't push you away or tell you to stop, he's never ached like this before, not even in his hormone-swamped dreams of the cloying feverish adolescence he thought he'd left behind years ago, and he thought he'd given into those futile impulses often enough not to be controlled by them, but no, the stifling denim swelling rises faster and faster the more desperately he tries to fight it, till the tented fabric is just about sweeping your cheek and hell, you shouldn't look so pleased with yourself, having this effect on him just by looking up at him through dark lashes and a darker gaze, but something's midnight-bright in them, like starlight in the pitch of winter

Like that night you'd both clambered up to the roof, abandoning the cacophony of the house party below, precariously perched with a couple beers and a quarter of the vodka you'd snagged on impulse, and you'd clung so tight to him, scuffling on the shingles, burying your squeaks and breathy giggles into his nape, shushing his chastisements midway as you passed the swig of the bottle directly from your mouth to his, and he remembers this, a careless question he's pondered more often than he'd like to admit, how he'd been unable to distinguish if the lingering scorch was from the distilled juniper or your lips, puffing little white clouds in this cloudless, snow-crisped evening, with you pressed into his body heat, teetering on the ledge and looking up at the spray of diamonds embroidered into the velvet of night, pointing out patterns in the celestial tapestry, both of you feigning expertise in astronomy before bursting into laughter at the blatant fibs when one of you, he can't recall which of you, gestures at a cluster of seven stars and declares it "the Big Slipper" and who knows what other snarky quips and idle half-truths you exchanged that night, he only recollects your confession that you were actually pretty terrified of heights, the admission crystal clear in his memory because he remembers the evidence, remembers the way your pulse was embedded in his bones, the way his blood was thrumming with the wild thudding of your heartbeat until he wrapped his arms securely around you, your ribs rising and falling slowly into sync with his and some other memory splinters its way to the surface now, crackling through his subconscious, how the air froze in his lungs for no reason, no reason at all, when his eyes settled on you looking up, again with your lips looking a little chapped, enraptured by the stars above, murmuring how you wished this night with him could last forever...

And of course it didn't, winter thawed into spring, which crept into summer, which slouched into autumn, after hundreds of highlighted paragraphs on mens rea and thousands of annotations on procedural processes, after so many shots of espresso long past closing time at the on-campus coffee shop where he was a part-time barista, fuel you'd always insisted on paying for, although he'd raided innumerable cans of redbull from your dorm free of charge, and you said you didn't really like their taste anyway so then why did you always happen to have a full six-pack stocked in your fridge?

Just another mystery he's never given much mind, with all the case studies the both of yall have had to cram in your heads instead, and after losing count of the stacks of flashcards blurring in your hand and the smirks you'd flashed him every time you scored a few points higher than him on a pop quiz, and now you're here, in his room, on your knees, having pulled the Milky Way galaxy into your gaze, dragging a comet up through his belly, pillars of fire erupting in his lungs as he witnesses the moonrise of your mouth, soft lips curving crescent sharp around a question, a question just for him, both the sincere desire - the hunger - in your eyes and lilt in your tone makes his pulse leap to his throat, makes his blood plummet south as you ask, just this once, if he trusts you to make him feel good too?

And he's trembling, as is the answer on his tongue, only the familiarity of your audacity grounding him somehow, because you're asking it with that smile, the smile which has been wrapped and squeezing around his head, for longer than you could possibly know...

© sandsorghum. 2025

[whentherewerebicycles]

my baby is eight months old and every month of his wonderful little life has been better and more joyful than the last (which is saying something, because every month has been so good). he is still very Baby but he is also suddenly blossoming into a little kid before my eyes and it’s so much to handle 😭 he has always been an expressive talker but these days he has the most delightfully animated little conversations with himself, full of complex baby feelings like surprise and delight and shock and glee and of course spluttering indignation (you would not BELIEVE the wrongs done to angelic little babies these days! they have to take naps in their CRIBS!!). he laughs and gasps and hoots and fake coughs, and then he looks at you with a sly little expression to see if you think he’s funny. he is silliest with me by far (he still gets a bit shy and reserved around new people) but he also absolutely adores Liz & A and his nanny and breaks into the most bashful gummy little grin as soon as they walk into a room. he is still bald as an egg but NOT FOR LONG, as he wakes up every morning with more dark fuzz on his big round noggin. this month he learned to sit up and now he wants to be sitting up playing with his toys all the time (he is over the moon to have discovered a mother-approved alternative to accursed tummy time). he has developed strong preferences for certain toys along with the motor skills to select the objects he wants, and he is quite discerning—last week’s toys are so last week and he gets an impatient expression on his face if you try to entice him with formerly beloved objects that are just like sooooo over, mom, pleaseee don’t embarrass him in front of his friends (the dogs). speaking of the dogs it is his most cherished desire to pat them but they give him a wide berth except for the occasional facewash sneak attack. he spends a lot of time bouncing up and down in his seat reaching longingly for them while they ignore him completely. he has the chonkiest most solid little baby feet you have ever seen in your life and little fat bow legs that curve down to his chonky little feet and perfect fat little baby hands that he loves to slam repeatedly against his tray or his mat or your face. he has one little razor-sharp sliver of a front bottom tooth and I genuinely CANNOT handle it, it is just too much, he gives you his square little gummy smile and then you see the TOOTH and you’re like that’s it, I’m dead, this killed me. he had perfectly shaped little orecchiette ears when he was born and I am delighted to report that they remain absolutely perfect and when you nibble on them he acts like you’re tickling him and does his little turtle-in-a-shell teeheehee reaction. I would say that his basic temperament is the same but perhaps tends more towards a happiness default than the reserved watchfulness of previous months. he is still quite watchful—in all the daycare videos I get he is sitting with the big kids observing them play with a totally focused expression—but he is also delightfully silly and laughs a lot, especially at home. if he’s not hungry and has napped reasonably well, he is easygoing, adaptable, and game for pretty much whatever. he is such a good sleeper I can’t tell anyone in my offline life about it except liz whose baby is also a unicorn sleeper… but honestly I think that’s probably the root of his default good mood (if I slept 12 hours a night I’d also be the best possible version of myself). let’s see what else… idk this month has just been so fun. he’s just a little person now and I genuinely enjoy hanging out with him. I just think he rocks.

his favorite toy in this exact moment: his stacking cups, especially when you put a plastic ball inside of them for him to tip out onto the floor. his most beloved object: his squishmallow, of course, which sends him into transports of delight when he sees it. his favorite food: with the exception of arugula this child has never met a food he didn’t like. he LIVES to EAT. words his daycare teacher most frequently uses to describe him: “Owen is SOOOO hungry!!!” other favorite activities this month: kicking in the bath or in the pool, watching trees go by on car rides, slamming his hands as hard as he can against his high chair tray, watching the dogs wrestle, being swung slowly back and forth like the pendulum in a giant clock, gazing at his beautiful reflection in the mirror, kissing his beautiful reflection in the mirror, having mom make his squish swoop down from high above to CHOMP him, chewing on the edges of plastic bins, and scritch-scratching the rock wall outside of our house. he’s perfect. my beloved little kiddo.

[comically-callous]

OK SO HI AGAIN I have an idea for Reggie again (I am sorry if this is getting annoying please let me know and I will stop)

But I had a thought like were in the library or something and reader is reading with Reggie and then she blurts out a random nickname (idk what there called) but instead of it being cute like love or darling it something stupid like chicken nugget?? And then you can have Reggie’s reaction to it being like are you okay what was that??

ALSO PLEASE DO NOT FEEL PRESSURED TO WRITE ANY OF THESE AND TAKE YOUR TIME IF YOU NEED

Ok, this. But, I've decided to take some creative liberty and change the nickname to

😚🦄💖 Babygirl 💖🦄😚

Thank you.

Regulus Black x gn!Reader

A/n: This one's a little short. But, that's okay. Y'all already know, requests are open

You loved spending your afternoons like this.

Cooped up in the library, studying with Regulus. It was nice, quiet, sweet. Plus, knowing you'd get to spend time with Regulus while studying was good motivation to actually do it.

The two of you sat next to each other at a table in the corner of the large library. You were working on a Herbology essay you had to turn in tomorrow while he read about some boring old wizard for his history of magic class.

A few textbooks were stacked on top of each other beside you, some were for you and some were for Regulus. You were in the middle of writing when Regulus spoke.

"Could you pass me that textbook that's on the top of the stack?" He whispered.

You looked up from your parchment and smiled at him.

"Anything for you, babygirl."

...

Oh my God, why would you say that?

You and your friends had all developed a habit of jokingly calling each other "babygirl", because... Well, because you all thought it was funny.

But, that was an inside joke reserved for your friends. You never intended on calling your boyfriend babygirl.

And yet, you just did. And now he was looking at you with a look of bewilderment.

"What?" Regulus managed.

"Uh-" There was no way to go but down. "Anything for you, babygirl." You repeated.

He paused, just looking at you with that same look of bewilderment for a moment and then snickered. Not long after it had turned into a full on laughing fit. His head was down and his hand covered his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter. You couldn't help but quietly laugh with him.

"That was so stupid." You said, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"Yeah, I can't argue with that." He said as he finally stopped laughing. "Why did you-"

"I really don't know." You chuckled, uncovering your face to see his amused grin. "It slipped out."

"It slipped out?" He repeated. "Is that how you refer to me internally? Was that something you'd just been holding in?" He said through quiet laughter.

"No! That not what I meant. I just-" You ran a hand down your face. "It's a dumb joke I have with my friends. I didn't mean to-"

"Call me your 'babygirl'?" He finished in a teasing tone.

You blushed. "Yes." You shook your head. "That was so dumb. I can't believe I said that."

"Still not the worst nickname I've ever been called." He shrugged.

You tilted your head. "Really? What's the worst one, then?"

"Barty once called me his pookie bear, and I-"

You let out a loud laugh, quickly covering your mouth as Madam Pince shushed you. Regulus quietly chuckled along with you. "Pookie bear is definitely worse than babygirl." He stated.

"That's fair." You agreed.

There was a brief pause in which you both got all of your laughter out. Regulus sighed and spoke up again. "I still need that textbook."

"Right. Of course." You grabbed the textbook he needed and handed it to him.

"Thanks."

You smirked. "Anything for you, babygirl."

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Love At First Sight (2023)

Okay, we’re going to talk about the new Netflix romance directed by Vanessa Caswill, Love At First Sight, because I’m seeing almost no chatter about it and that cannot stand. Full disclosure, I’ve never read the book on which this movie is based, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, so I’m reacting only to the film (which I’ve now seen 4.5 times in 2 days).

The Surface Reading

It’s a perfect, tight, adorable little RomCom that’s heavy on the Rom and light on the Com, with a wrenching dash of angst and the most hair-twirling chemistry between two leads that has graced our screens in years. Truly, if all you want is 90 minutes of two actors being saccharine precious cinnamon rolls, look no further!

There are simple takeaways here, like that chance can only take you so far, but in the end you have to choose to love. Or that change and loss are part of life and you can’t run from them. Or that London is a massive labyrinth of eccentric people that probably looks 400% cooler onscreen than it is in reality (I wouldn’t know, I’ve never visited, so this and the 90s Parent Trap are the extent of my knowledge about the city, sorry).

Anyway, I adored how straightforward the story was - that the narrator (played brilliantly by Jameela Jamil) tells you directly in the first two minutes that it’s a story about love, fate, and statistics. She then repeatedly describes every development as it is happening, the characters’ histories and internal monologues, and all the context you need to follow the thin but fast-paced plot. The writing, performances, and production design are all solid, allowing the audience to get lost in the romance as it unfolds.

BUT if you’re slightly unhinged like I am and you’re always looking for more layers in your media, HAVE NO FEAR! There is in fact more going on in this little movie than you might expect.

Color Theory

For starters, the use of red and green in the film is fascinating. Yes, I realize the action of the story takes place a few days before Christmas, so you might assume it was just a seasonal aesthetic choice, but if you look closer, you can see very carefully selected shades of red and green repeating throughout the film. The red is a cool, deep rose color, sometimes pink, while the green is cool and dark, like oxidized bronze rather than emerald. Further, while they appear over and over, these hues are rarely used in a purely decorative or festive way. Instead, they play a role in the separation and coming together of the couple. On a color wheel, red and green are complements, perfect opposites that are never adjacent but always joined in the middle.

The title card during Hadley’s introduction is literally a green stripe over a red stripe, then the hallways of the airport are green, and of course Hadley’s ever-important backpack is a rosy red. As the couple grow closer on their flight, the light turns pink. Once in London, a green van takes Oliver one way while a red taxi takes Hadley the other. At her father’s wedding, Hadley is dressed in red (“the color of a bruise” she calls it), contrasting beautifully against her green jacket. Upon realizing Oliver’s true purpose, she chases after him on an iconic red double-decker bus. Meanwhile at the living memorial, Oliver’s father is dressed in red while his mother wears a faded green, as if to say she is already beginning to fade away. The event is decorated with green drapery and streamers, and there are even stacks of red and green chairs in the stairwell where Oliver begs his mother to receive treatment.

Hadley gifts her red and green bouquet to Tessa, and when she is driven away, a green-clad narrator returns the red backpack to Oliver. Wandering London alone, Hadley exchanges her painful red heels for a pair of green trainers (“sneakers!” she insists), and tries to call her dad first in a red phone booth and then on a phone from a stranger sitting in a cluster of red chairs. Finally, Oliver chooses to pursue Hadley to the wedding reception which is lit in pink, and where they finally share the long-awaited kiss.

There are many more examples, but in general we see that green indicates separation and loss, while red symbolizes joining, intimacy, and (what else?) love! It lends the film a gorgeous, subtle aesthetic without being garishly festive, and shows the lovers’ emotional journey from lonely childhood to vulnerable, loving adulthood.

Death and Rebirth

Speaking of which, there’s plenty of rebirth imagery too! When Hadley and Oliver meet, they are both still children, struggling with the impending loss of parental security through divorce and death. Thus, when they board the plane, it is as if they enter an underworld or womb, separated from their families and remade as new adults. They emerge on the other side into a hallway (read: birth canal), as each must still confront their own dying childhood before they can join as full and equal partners. Hadley journeys to a bright, red-strewn celebration of life, while Oliver must enter a dark green commemoration of death, his fear driving him deeper to hide in another hallway. Here his mother comes to find him, begging him to emerge into life, but Ollie still can’t confront her death alone.

Thankfully, Hadley travels to this underworld to find him, bursting into the memorial like a bright red flower. Even the bruise metaphor works, acknowledging the pain they are both experiencing at the changes in their lives. But Oliver still refuses to face his fears, trying to take a shortcut around death to life with Hadley. Still, she knows he’s not ready (likely because she’s not yet, either), and gently pushes back. And so, Oliver returns to the underworld, and Hadley walks off alone until she descends barefoot through a soggy riverside tunnel (birth canal again!). Finally, she calls her father and admits she is “lost.” When he arrives, Hadley at last gathers the courage to ask why he ended their old life, and to tell him how much it hurt her. But as Oliver predicted, she forgives her dad and even begins to accept his new bride.

Back at the memorial, Oliver is reminded by Hadley’s red backpack - his unaddressed emotional baggage - to be honest about his pain. In at last openly mourning his mother and his own childhood, Ollie takes a step into adulthood, just enough for his family to nudge him that extra bit to go after Hadley. And so, the family delivers him to his bride, who has meanwhile learned to dance again, even through her heartbreak. With one last confession, the two consummate their love with a kiss, bathed in pink light before an open door.

Happily Ever After

There’s so much more, with the hand-holding, numbers, Shakespeare, Dickens, the music, and beyond, but the point is that this cute, charming little romance is actually very deliberately constructed. It follows timeless patterns and motifs which we instinctively understand through visual and auditory language. And the narration plays a huge role in this as well, not unlike the prologues and epilogues of the Bard’s plays in that they state the story’s lessons plainly: that we cannot always be prepared for unwelcome surprises, but that we can make the choice to love every day.

Anyway, Vanessa Caswill deserves all the flowers and if you haven’t seen her gorgeous adaptation of Little Women (with all due respect to the marvelous Greta Gerwig and Gillian Armstrong), please do yourself a favor and watch that after you finish this!

[missjanjie]

Curtains Up | Chapter 1

Title: Curtains Up Summary: 'All of the pieces of the puzzle were there; now they had to turn their rough draft of their concept – a popular show with an all-female cast and crew – into something fit for a Broadway stage, and they had about a month to do it.' And once the show opens? No one could predict what happens next, but everyone is along for the ride, whether they like it or not. Word Count: 2614 Relationship(s): Lydori (Lydia B. Kollins/Kori King), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Anarcia (Anetra/Marcia Marcia Marcia), Jewelzie (Jewels Sparkles/Suzie Toot) Jasya (Daya Betty/Jasmine Kennedie) Rating: T Chapter Summary: In fair Manhattan where we lay our scene... It's day one of rehearsals, where we meet the main players in this story, and get a peek into what the future may hold for them.

Read on AO3

“Okay, Kori,” Lydia prompted, walking backward down an empty hallway as she filmed her girlfriend, “where are we, and what are we doing?” 

Kori laughed softly, trying to split her focus between answering the question and making sure Lydia didn’t walk into anything. “We are in the studio for the first rehearsal with the full cast and crew, get into it.” She stopped in front of the door to the room they would be using and tapped on the sign. “Call time is at nine, it’s currently 8:45, so let’s see when everyone actually shows up.” She looked at the sheet and chuckled. “Of course, our stage manager, Jackie, got here five minutes ago.”

The two of them entered the room, the center empty with tables and chairs pushed off to the sides. There were sections for wardrobe and tech, but most things were in boxes, and Jackie was standing beside a stack of them, scribbling on her clipboard and muttering to herself with the occasional nod of approval. She looked up, startled when she realized the phone was pointed at her. “You’re starting that already?”

“I take my job very seriously, Jackie,” she replied. While the social media manager position wasn’t critical to the show itself, it was essential for establishing its presence in the social consciousness, which would hopefully reflect in ticket sales. Lydia wasn’t hired to work with her, but everyone had developed a fondness for the unofficial assistant manager, and the two quickly became a package deal. 

The door opened moments later, and the lead actress, Marcia, walked in with her roommate and understudy (and overall swing), Jan. “8:49,” Kori noted, writing it down so she could edit it later. 

8:51 - Rosé and Onya arrive one after another. Two minutes later, they were joined by the choreographer, Denali.

8:55 - Suzie opens the door for Anetra, carrying in her tech equipment with help from Daya.

9:00: Lana and Jewels arrive. Like Jan and Marcia, the pair shared an apartment and made the commute together.

9:02 - Symone was late for the first time, but she brought donuts, so she got a pass.

9:05 - Lexi runs in frantically, desperate to not be the last person to sign in. Being the last cast member bothers her, but she will be over it by lunch.

9:12 - Jasmine thought rehearsals started tomorrow. She is very sorry. 

Once all of the cast and crew were signed in and ready, rehearsals went underway. At this stage of development, lines had been learned, songs had been scored. All of the pieces of the puzzle were there; now they had to turn their rough draft of their concept – a popular show with an all-female cast and crew – into something fit for a Broadway stage, and they had about a month to do it.

When it came time for the first break, everyone dispersed into their groups. Denali was the first to step outside for a smoke break, with Daya following soon after, the latter in a notably worse mood. “Got a light?”

“Here,” Denali passed her lighter over, her brows then knitting together. “It’s a little early into the game to look like you’re about to punch a hole in the wall. You wanna talk about it?”

Daya shrugged as she took a hit off her joint, exhaling deeply. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Jasmine’s just getting on my last nerve. The whole ditzy blonde might be cute to some people, but it’s like she just uses it as a cop-out whenever she fucks something up. Twenty-five years old is too old to be pulling that shit if you ask me.” After her lament, she added, “This is my first role on this level; I can’t afford to have any distractions.”

“She can be a lot,” she conceded, “I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose, though, just kinda scatterbrained. Probably has ADHD or something. I get where you’re coming from, but it seems like a ‘mind over matter’ type of thing.” 

“That’s the only reason why I try not to be a bitch to her face. That and, like, team morale or whatever,” she mused with a dry laugh, taking another hit before her expression softened. “What about you, though? I can’t imagine working with your ex is all that fun.”

Denali shrugged. “I’m cool, but I guess it’s easier being the one who chose to end the relationship. Don’t get me wrong, Symone is an amazing person… It was just that our plans for the future didn’t align.” She felt an ache in her chest, a mix of guilt and sadness. “I think it’s best to just keep things as professional as possible for the time being.”

Daya leaned over the railing, staring out at the city before looking over at her. “I guess we could both stand to compartmentalize our feelings for the sake of the show.”

“Oh, so we’re using SAT words now?” She chuckled. “You’re right. At least it was a clean break. I heard Anetra’s divorce is still messy, her ex is doing everything she can to drag it out.”

“I guess crazy exes come in the lesbian variety, too.”

Denali chuckled and shook her head. “Honey, you don’t know the half of it. I’m pretty sure Symone is my only mentally stable ex.”

“That’s concerning, Denali.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is.”

—

Jackie’s eyes scanned the expanse of the studio, making small notes and observations of everyone who came into her field of vision. Then there was Jan. Her gaze always went back to Jan, with her sun-lightened hair and warm brown eyes, her inviting smile, and infectiously upbeat demeanor. Looking at her felt like staring into the sun, but she couldn’t get herself to look away – she never could; it was her kryptonite. 

“Is your lack of subtlety the reason why you chose not to pursue acting?”  

The voice coming out of seemingly nowhere caused Jackie to startle and turn around, then let out a quiet sigh of relief when she realized it was just Rosé. Her first instinct was to go on the defensive, but it was clear that it was a moot point. “As long as I keep a healthy distance, it’s fine… right?”

Rosé chuckled softly. “Honey, with all the shows I’ve been in, I’ve seen and heard worse than whatever type of way you’re feeling about her.” Given that she was the most established of the cast, the recognizable name to the more casual Broadway fans, it wasn’t hard to believe. “I mean, she’s an adult, you don’t have a creepy age gap, and you’re not using your position to exploit her.” 

Jackie quirked her brow. “Is the bar that low?” After a beat, she amended, “Never mind, we both know the answer to that.”

“For what it’s worth, this isn’t the first show I’ve done with Jan. She’s incredibly approachable, almost jarringly so. I’d say it’s worth shooting your shot. Even if she’s not into it, she’ll still be nice,” she suggested.

She hemmed and hawed for a moment, putting her feelings in as much of an analytical and pragmatic perspective as she could. “I suppose you have a point, it’s not the most precarious situation around. I’ll sleep on it.”

“It’s not even the most precarious situation in the room,” Rosé murmured under her breath as her gaze drifted over to the window where she could see Denali and Daya talking outside, then over to Symone sitting and scrolling through her phone. A knot of guilt made her stomach clench, but she did her best to swallow it.

“What do you mean?”

She waved it off, ever the actress with the ability to recover. “Don’t worry about it, it’s better to live in the present. Focus on how you’re going to make your move.”

—

Suzie looked at herself through her phone’s camera, stretching her neck out to examine it better. “What do you guys think?” She looked next to her, where Onya was putting Marcia’s hair into a French braid. “Do I need a touch-up?”

“I think you’re just rubbing it in our faces that you’re getting laid,” Marcia mumbled before assuring, “You’re fine, you’d have to get up real close to notice.”

“I promise that wasn’t my intention, but my defense, this is the only place I can talk about it.” When she received two perplexed stares in response, she elaborated, “The cast and crew here are the only people Jewels is out to, and I’m not gonna jeopardize any of her relationships because of a friends-with-benefits situation.”

“So you guys aren’t dating because of that? Isn’t most of her family still in Florida?” Onya asked. 

Suzie’s face reddened, and she bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to choose her words carefully. “There are a lot of reasons, it’s complicated, and with social media, family can keep tabs on you from anywhere unless you keep all of your shit locked down. Besides, it’s not my place to say anything. I’m just gonna be there to support her if and when she wants to come out all the way.”

Marcia nodded understandingly. “Believe me, I understand putting romantic feelings aside for pragmatic reasons.” While her crush on Anetra was an open secret among cast members, they had collectively decided to cover for her. Even though they knew the head of tech had been separated for a couple of months now, the timing simply wasn’t right. That’s what she kept repeating to herself, anyway.

Suzie hesitated to add anything to the conversation at that point. Marcia had a better reason to keep her crush a secret on paper. Not only would it be inappropriate to pursue someone going through a tumultuous divorce actively, but Marcia had been catapulted into the Broadway spotlight, and a scandal like that could stop her rise to fame in its tracks. 

But Suzie could overthink and ‘logically explain’ her way out of a paper bag, and this situation was no different. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone can blame you. Her service top energy matches your pillow princess one, after all.”

“Is it that obvious? Me being a pillow princess?”

“Yes,” Suzie and Onya answered in unison. 

—

 “Hey,” Symone greeted as she sat on the floor beside Anetra, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her phone since their break started. “How’s everything holding up?” While she did genuinely want to support her friend, there was a small part of her that took solace in someone having it worse than she did. As much as her breakup stung, it was still a clean break – no paperwork, no combined finances. Denali had moved all of her things out within a week. Maybe comiserating with Anetra would make her healing process easier to bear.

“‘Holding up’ is debatable at this point,” Anetra replied, her voice devoid of emotion. She sighed, allowing her unaffected expression to drop into one of exhaustion. “I swear, it’s like every time I think we’re making progress, she changes her mind or comes up with a new demand. I know it’s fucked up to say, but I almost wish she had cheated on me or something, ‘irreconciable differences’ has a whole lot of gray area since I can’t prove how unhinged she is.”

“Maybe she’ll snap eventually,” Lexi chimed in. “Crazy can only be contained for so long. That’s what my therapist said… Well, she didn’t say that, but it was implied.”

“And I’m sure she earns every dollar of your copay,” Symone replied with a laugh. “Still, she might be onto something – if your ex is as unstable as you’re saying, she’ll probably show her true colors sooner or later. She must have in front of you, at least, for you to decide to leave her, right?”

Anetra chewed on her lip for a moment. “Not no.” Her eyes darted around as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “There were signs, probably. But it did take her accusing me of cheating on her with my cousin to wake the fuck up.” She had to force the words out; the embarrassment of taking so long to figure out the obvious dragged the bitterness of anger through her throat and out of her mouth. She was smarter than this. She was better than this. How could she have been so blind? So naive? 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lexi told her. “Love makes you do crazy things. I almost moved to France for a girl I was dating online for two months… Bitch, I don’t even speak French. She does still send me nudes sometimes, though, and they’re muy bueno.”

“That’s Spanish,” Symone pointed out.

Lexi waved it off. “Semantics.”

—

As the cast returned to rehearsing, Kori shifted her focus to editing the day’s video. While she didn’t take herself seriously in the slightest, she did take her work seriously and needed to make sure that her content lived up to her standards. But after a few moments, she found herself staring at her screen blankly.

Lydia glanced over, sensing her girlfriend’s frustration. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, running her fingers through her hair, hoping that by buying herself time, she would figure it out on her own. Alas, her efforts were in vain. “Does Symone spell her name with an i or a y?”

“Y,” she answered without looking up from her phone.

“Because I need to– oh, right, thank you.” Kori pointedly did not look up from her screen, knowing she would just see Lydia laughing at her. “Save it,” she preemptively warned, a small smile tugging at her lips nonetheless. 

“Save it,” Lydia mocked, mimicking her cadence to a T, which caused both of them to laugh. “Do you have a specific content plan, or are you winging it?”

She shrugged. “Somewhere in between, I guess. I have some general ideas, but not in a ‘I’m going to film this video on this day and have it up at this time’ sort of way.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out – this is where you shine,” She cooed as she pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll be right back, gonna run to the bathroom.” With that, she pressed a kiss to her forehead and headed out of the studio.

“You guys are so cute together,” Jewels cooed as she sat beside Kori on the couch. “I’m kind of jealous,” she admitted.

Kori clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You wouldn’t need to be if you just asked Suzie out like a normal person. I don’t see what the big deal is – Miss Toot is not exactly the epitome of intimidating. I’ve met stray cats that are scarier.” 

The young actress sighed as she dramatically sprawled her arms across the couch, her head tilting to rest on the back of it. “It’s not that I’m afraid of her. I’m afraid of my family. My parents, they’ve been through enough lately. I don’t know what coming out would do to them, to our relationship. I think I’ll know when the time is right. At least, I hope so.”

“Shit, I hope so too. ‘Cause all of this,” she gestured to her, “is a lot.” In a softer, kinder tone, she added, “I’m rooting for you guys, though. I think you’ll be cute together. Not as cute as me and my future wife, of course.”

Jewels sat up enough to face Kori, smiling softly. “You see you guys getting married someday?”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed off as she saw Lydia re-enter the room, her heart still fluttering when their eyes met, just like every time before. “Someday…”

[khaenriahn-anthropologist]

Genshin Improvements for Endgame Content

I'm just going to ramble about what I think would be better for the game.

At the moment there's not much we can do that feels fulfilling once you've completed an area. Seeing as how Genshin has made this Natlan region so small on release I feel it more than ever that we really lack any real substance once we get to endgame and exploration is complete. I finished it so quickly despite having a full-time job and there's significantly less random world quests in this expansion too.

I'm really feeling the pinch in terms of content.

Don't think this is going to be another "We need a new end-game combat mode" rant because I think there are things we could do for everyone no matter the type of player you are.

Furniture Mini-game

Similarly to animal crossing, have NPC's request decorations for a room. They will have a set of mandatory items and a list of requested items. All items aside from those will also earn bonus points towards the reward of the game. You'll have a new NPC every 3.5 days or every week, this will give teapot enjoyers something to do casually and encourage people to use the system.

This would also encourage players to diversify the items that they craft and to pursue furniture recipes from chests. People that were previously using the old Screen stacking thing to get realm currency will now have to begin farming more furniture items.

Since our current realm currency is silver, we could earn Golden Realm Currency instead. These golden coins can be used in a special shop that resets monthly, allowing players to work towards buying the limited items throughout the month. This would finally give players something interesting to buy every weekend since the traveling salesman has not had an inventory update in a very long time.

Rewards could be things like the following:

Wood Bundles: As I think farming wood is rather tedious and this could be a nice way to get a small chunk of different wood types every month. This would not replace farming wood in the wild but would be a nice supplement for people who enjoy making furniture. The wood bundle might include 20 pieces of a certain wood type.

Limited Furniture Items: What's a better way to reward teapot builders than to give them more furniture? At the moment there's tons of furniture pieces that are unused/unobtainable. This could be an easy way to give people furniture. These items could be ones without recipes which makes their recycled appearance in the shop still valuable as some builders may be interested in having more than one copy of an item.

Something that would minimize the strain on the developers is to utilize a recolor system, offering color variants of existing models in the game. This would also open up a lot more opportunities for decorators! And of course brand new items that haven't been seen in game would be wonderful to get as well.

New flooring and wall colors would also be super awesome to see.

Other Rewards: Primogems, Special Glider, Namecards, Mora, EXP Books, Etc. The Basic kind of rewards.

Downsides to this game mode:

Players may craft only the essential items and not decorate. This isn't too much of a big deal. Players who enjoy decorating will decorate and those who don't shouldn't be held at gunpoint to do so if they at least went through the effort of farming mats and crafting them to begin with.

Newer players will have to play catch up in order to get the recipes that they need but this is why I think it should reset NPC's every couple of days to give everyone the opportunity to get the recipe and to craft it.

______________________________________________________

This is it for now, I have other game modes as well but this is the big one for me. Let me know what you think!

[rookfang]

*claps my hands together* So—

I've been sort of vaguely talking about rewriting Laika's backstory for a week or so, but I figured I would write out a step by step of what I want to do & how that will affect this blog.

ONE: As I've stated before, I am writing out the Mercar adoption plotline. This is for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because I was never satisfied with it, and I had shoehorned it in in the first place. It's always kind of detracted from my Intended Laika Experience. As much as I love the character development work I put in there, it was never cohesive.

TWO: I am also editing bits and pieces of Laika's leaving the Threads plotline - just to make it a more active plotline as opposed to a passive one. This shouldn't change much for anybody. Currently, the about document has no backstory listed, but a few supplementary headcanons are linked for any new people who happen to stumble in.

THREE: As such, I will not be dropping plotted relationships. Mostly because they shouldn't be all too affected! We can always go over stuff in DMs if something comes up, and I do think a few threads will be retconned out, but nothing too drastic.

FOUR: I also have no plans to drop any replies I owe. I've yet to reach the critical mass where it's unmanageable, and I think I have a solid, concrete plan to get the ball rolling. That said, school is also getting busy, so all of this shall come at a snails pace.

FIVE: I wanted to say how absolutely grateful I am to y'all. This blog ( and everyone who has written with me ) has allowed me to explore Dragon Age in a way I haven't before. I love reading all your writings, I love seeing how we all interpret the text and how we can expand and play around in this space. I've been having the time of my life with you.

Thank you if you've read this far. Under the cut is going to be my like... personal guide for how I'm going to handle the rewrite.

THE PLAN: - Firstly, I am putting -100% pressure on myself to write replies. If I have the time and inspiration, I will, but combined with rewriting and some other projects, plus preparing for a month abroad in May/June, I have my plate stacked full. - I will spend at least 30 minutes each day working on the bio doc rewrite, barring any Insane Circumstances. - One thing I would like to do in the Bio Rewrite Phase is at least reply to asks, but I am not making that a guarantee. - I am also working on a full fanfiction, but that's very much a 'simmering in the background' kind of project. - Once the bio doc redo is completely, I'll transition that "at least 30 minutes each day writing" rule onto my replies. No obligation to finish writing anything, but at least enough to get ideas on the page. - Of course, during all of this, I'll be available in DMs / Discord for my mutuals. Talking about writing, for me, helps me actually write, so I always love stopping to chat.

and if you really got this far : a secret cat picture

[cursedonyx]

HL Cast in a Muggle Nursing Home

Time has passed, as it does so well, and our sweethearts have all ended up in the same nursing home in the late 1900s/early 2000s for the sake of convenience. Why a muggle nursing home? Why not?

Sebastian Sallow

Still a troublemaker through and through. Sebastian’s charm has only increased with age, and it only takes a wink and a smile before whatever tomfoolery he got into is forgiven. He has no concept of curfew (has he ever?) and will regularly wander off either alone or with Ominis to see if they can get into mischief or visit the local library (or pub). He will absolutely use his advanced age to excuse whatever nonsense he gets up to, but he’s still sharp as a tack and perfectly lucid. He really enjoys quieter moments as well, settling in his favourite chair with a good book, though the muggle TV holds a lot of fascination for him. He loves watching The Bill, and he once stole a muggle policeman’s hat, though his absolute favourite thing to watch is cartoons, particularly Tom and Jerry.

He doesn’t have family to visit him, he never had children, but he’s more than okay with that. He’s got his friends and his partner, and that’s all that matters to him.

Ominis Gaunt

Extremely proud, he refuses even the slightest help, and gets very angry if the staff don’t respect this. He would quite literally rather die than have someone help him shower or feed him, and he has on occasion used the Confundus charm on staff that won’t leave him alone. Aside from this, he is unendingly polite to the staff and generally keeps out of trouble, unless he feels things have gotten too quiet. Then, it’s a whisper in Sebastian’s ear, and the pair of them cause no end of bother, reliving their school days with abject glee. His favourite muggle invention over the last century is absolutely personal audio players, and he’s got a little mp3 player stuffed full of audiobooks and dramas. Make sure he’s got plenty of tea and a good stack of sandwiches, pop him in a patch of sunlight, and he’ll happily stay there all day, listening to his books.

Similarly to Sebastian, Ominis never had children, but he’s content with this decision. Considering what happened with Voldemort, he’s even more convinced that he did the right thing by not breeding. He and his wife are perfectly happy together as they are. Besides, the other's grandchildren/great-grandchildren get on his nerves, and he'll hide away if they visit.

Garreth Weasley

Loves a spongebath, our Garreth. He’s definitely the type to pretend he’s more helpless than he actually is just so he can flirt with the staff. He has absolutely dropped something on purpose and asked for someone to pick it up for him just so he can smirk at the view as they bend over. He’s energetic for his age and has visitors from his family at least twice or thrice a week, who always try and convince him to come and live with one of them instead. The main reason he’s here instead of at home is so he can keep Leander company. Garreth’s not able to experiment with potions so much in a muggle nursing home, so he’s swapped his passion for potions into culinary experiments. He’s a surprisingly talented chef, and when he’s allowed in the kitchen, everyone enjoys a magnificent meal. He keeps up a friendly rivalry with Sebastian and Ominis (house pride and all that), but over the decades they’ve all become extremely good friends.

Leander Prewett

Leander’s grown in confidence over the years into quite a suave person. Of course, it's not a patch on Ominis’ charm but he’s no longer interested in imitating people to try and seem impressive – he’s just happy with who he is. He’s developed a bit of an eccentric fashion sense and his wardrobe is huge. Poppy can often be found raiding his closets looking for something he doesn’t wear anymore so she can make outfits for her pets. He’s still reserved in some ways, and his favourite thing to do is potter about in the garden (usually wearing his favourite feather boa and some 1991 novelty glasses that he picked up somewhere). He does sneakily grow some magical plants among the usual muggle ones, and it always makes him chuckle when the staff think they’re hallucinating the big bush by the window moving by itself. If the weather’s not right for gardening, he’s tinkering with muggle items, and Garreth’s great-grandson, Arthur, is more than happy to show him a thing or two.

Natsai Onai

Natty is the kind of granny everyone loves to sit by as she tells the most fantastical stories. She’s filled out quite a lot over the years, and she gives the warmest hugs. Natty’s more often than not surrounded by all the grandchildren of all the residents that have them, including her own, who call her ‘Nana Nats,’ much to her delight. She’s a published author, writing about her adventures at Hogwarts and as an Auror as though they were fantasy detective stories. Though she’s quite well off because of this, she stays here with her friends and uses her money to always make sure there are sweets for the grandchildren and presents for her friends and the staff. In quieter moments, she’s either cozied up with Amit or taking tea with the girls, gossiping and pouring over muggle magazines about knitting and crochet. She adores making jumpers for everyone for Christmas.

Poppy Sweeting

Poppy is just as obsessed with animals as she has been all her life, and she’s constantly rescuing birds that fell out of their nests, squirrels with injured paws, hedgehogs that need a good clean, not to mention the veritable army of stray cats that know they’ll get fed if they come to this particular nursing home. The staff have long given up trying to stop this, and Poppy’s bedroom looks kind of like what would happen if Snow White sang for three hours straight. She frequently frightens the life out of the staff when they find her halfway up a tree in her slippers and poncho, trying to see baby birds in their nests.

When she’s not hoarding every wild animal under the sun, Poppy can most often be found trying to use the internet to learn more about animals, or watching nature documentaries by Sir David Attenborough (something she and Ominis share a fondness for). She enjoys helping Garreth in the kitchen when he’s allowed, especially if he’s baking, but that’s mainly so she can lick the bowl.

She leaves cat hair everywhere.

Amit Thakkar

Amit is a kindly old grandpa who knows more about space and the cosmos than perhaps anyone else alive, and he’s written several books on the subject that are popular in both wizarding and muggle communities, though he is best known as one of the country’s leading Magical Historians. He delights in sharing this knowledge with anyone who will listen, and he’s usually got a pocketful of Indian sweeties to share with anyone who endures his lectures for longer than ten minutes. He likes to keep active and loves going out for walks with Natty when they’re both feeling up to it before enjoying a hot chocolate and retiring for a nap.

Imelda Reyes

Imelda achieved her dream of becoming an International Quidditch Star, and even now, seventy years later, she will not shut up about it. Her trophies are proudly displayed in her room along with banners and posters that she’s had to charm to stop the muggle staff noticing anything weird, and if asked, she poutingly tells them she used to be a Rugby star, which is also true. Imelda played Rugby in between playing quidditch, and she was very, very good at it. She adores the sport and watches it religiously on the muggle TV, deriding football as a ‘game for ninnies.’ Any Rugby matches happening nearby, no matter who’s playing, she’s going to nab herself some tickets and go. Poppy frequently tags along to these, and these two little old ladies cause no end of mayhem once there. They’ve even been on the news a few times by accident.

Masterlist

[jamiesfootball]

🎧

From You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

“One has to wonder though, if this is how well he’s playing right now - with his experience in Europe, with his experience internationally -with all of that under his belt: how much more could a player like Jamie Tartt have improved if every week he was playing under a real coach? Because you can see it in his style of play, in how he's developed. Under Pep, he was meticulous. Richmond, City, even back in the U-21's, you take Jamie Tartt, you put him anywhere in your attacking line, and you're going to get results. Now, after Ted Lasso, after years playing under Roy Kent, I just don't see the same, uh, the same structure, we'll call it, to his style of play. It's much looser now, not nearly the structured prowess he had before."

"You make it sound like they're not winning, Ian. Do you need to see the table?"

"Hah! No, no, no, of course not. I'm not saying he's not a talented player, of course he is. I'm just wondering if, by staying on at Richmond for as long as he has, he hasn't hit a wall. Don't get me wrong, I love Jamie Tartt; I think he's one of the most exciting players out there, week after week. But that's because he’s entertaining. He gets the job done, and he has full run of the pitch to do what he wants, but you got to admit that that sort of thing wouldn't stand if he were still playing under the likes of Pep Guardiola.” “I see what you're saying, I see what you're saying, and you're right. That sort of development starts from the top down, and as much as he's been able to achieve results, the fact of the matter is that Roy Kent doesn’t have a system. He stacks his team with players, he goes out there, and he hopes for the best.”

"Sort of makes one start to hope that those transfer rumours mucking about might be true, eh?"

[fadingdaggerr]

Hey can I request a melissa schemmenti x femreader based on season two episode 1.where maybe the reader is rlly stressed out and maybe she can’t park bc Ava is using her parking spot to celebrate the eagles game and maybe mr Johnson comes into to tell the reader her is getting toed away so her,Melissa and the other teachers run outside and maybe the reader is getting angry and shouting at the man,melissa is begging her to calm down.and then she does what Janine did in the actual episode and she gets in the car and try’s to drive off and everyone is telling her to stop and Melissa try’s to get her out the car and out of rage she kicks the car and hurts her foot and then maybe the reader storms back into the school and melissa goes to find her when the school day is over and the reader has a panic attack and Melissa comforts her. Tysm ❤️

delphinium blooms

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! i made little changes, mostly just so i wasn’t just rewriting janine’s scene but with r and mel but i hope you still like it :)

warnings: hurt/comfort, r has a morning of unfortunate events, r is kinda mean (to a man so it’s fine), stress/anxiety crying

note: i rewrote so much of this because i kept thinking of things and creating nonsense lmao but i had a lot of fun writing

development week has always been the calm before the storm. you had everything planned already: each month’s separate decor to keep a lively room, the giant drawing paper for the wall so students could doodle during free time (and you could proudly display their art), and even the seating chart was done. everything was perfect and in order, everything just needed to be set up.

but sometimes the storm comes before the calm, or the calm packs its things and jumps out of the moving car.

the coffee maker in your apartment died on you, only about half a cup of watery coffee in the bottom of the pot. you didn’t have the money, nor the time, to stop that the cafe one block over. rent’s more important, we can get coffee at work, you tell yourself. you soon found that it was nearly unbearable to eat breakfast without your coffee and splash of oat milk creamer. coffee and maybe breakfast at work, i guess.

at nine in the morning, there is a full-on barbecue in the parking lot of abbott elementary. janine’s parking spot was a grill station. your spot, which was two down from janine’s, was currently being used as a blow-up pool splash zone. you roll down your window when you see ava close by.

“ava! what the hell is this?” you yelled out your window.

“it’s a development day party!” the principal responded with a big, happy grin.

you sighed, “your party’s in my parking spot.”

“pay valet or park somewhere else, i have a party to host,” she waves you off as she turns to talk to whoever approached her. after a, give-or-take, nine hundred point turn, you parked your car on the street. you prayed to the meter-maid goddesses that you’d have time to move it before someone came and ticketed you.

you pulled box after box out of the backseat, stacking them in your arms, creating the leaning tower of heavy-as-shit. as you slowly walk towards the fourth grade classrooms, you top few boxes get lifted away, easing the load significantly. you look to see who it was, expecting gregory, but instead you’re met with jade green eyes and fiery hair.

“trynna show off carrying all these?” she says with a laugh.

you laugh with her, “oh, of course. how else am i going to impress the ladies?” melissa snorts a laugh at this, opening the door to your classroom and letting you in ahead of her.

“and who are these ladies?” she jests.

you look at her, taking in the smirk on her face before answering, “we both know it’s just the one.”

she helps you spread out the boxes and get everything open before asking, “ready to head to the opening meeting?”

“you mean the ava show?”

she laughs, “yeah, come on.”

—

you half-listen to ava’s little speech and flirts to gregory, your eyes trained on melissa’s rings instead of ava’s vacation photos. you only perked your head up when janine mentioned donuts at her little mixer.

“and why would i wanna go to that?” melissa answered janine, barbara nodding in agreement beside her.

“you said donuts?” you ask janine, she nods eagerly, “then count me in teagues, but if there’s no strawberry frosted i’m leaving.”

there was no strawberry frosted. you dropped into a seat next to melissa, who was happily eating a chocolate frosted donut. she sees your pout and offers you a bite, which you accept with a smile. she wiped a blue sprinkle that managed to land on your cheek, the action is enough to make you smile a bit, warmth spreading through your cheeks.

just when you think the worst part of the morning is over, the tried and true mr. johnson walks into the library.

“anyone drive a beat up sedan?” all the hands in the room rise up. “who drives a silver one?” less hands, but still a good amount. “one with a sticker that says ‘if you see this, thank a teacher’ on the bumper?”

janine pipes up, “oh that’s mine!”

“you’re getting boot on your car, young lady,” he answers, and janine immediately is running out with jacob, gregory, and barbara behind her.

“oh and anyone got a green sedan? little cat bobble head on the dash?” mr. johnson speaks up.

melissa turns to look at you before you say, “don’t tell me it’s being booted.”

“course not,” you sigh in minor relief, “you’re about to get towed.”

you’re immediately running out to your car, melissa hot on your trail. you get outside to see a boot placed on janine’s car and the tow guy is rigging your car to the truck.

“aye, back off the car! what are you doing?” you yell, getting close to the tow operator, eric.

“no parking zone, can you read? it’s for the buses. we’re pulling ya,” he says as he continues his work. you groan in anger, walking closer to the car where he had already hooked it up.

“what fucking buses? school hasn’t started yet,” you counter.

“it’s still a bus zone, and you’re still getting towed,” eric says.

before you start throwing hands with the guy, melissa steps in, “how much to not tow the car?”

he laughs, “you can get it back at the lot, should be two hundred. might be three for wasting my time. you’re not getting it back now, it’s parked illegally.”

you see red when he mentions raising the cost, you couldn’t even afford the original one, “wasting your time? your time?! i’m supposed to be in that building making lesson plans for children who will be here next week, and i’m wasting your time?”

“yeah, you are. now move your ass or i’ll move you,” the man answers angrily.

you bravely taunt him, “try then.”

“sweetheart…” melissa tries to reach for your arm, but you step just out of reach.

barbara and gregory say your name at the same time, both of their tones advising caution. melissa is stuck between wanting to help and letting you just handle it. she wearily watches as you squat down and start undoing clasps and hooks, taking the chains off the car. you’re movements are fast, getting two wheels free from the rigs.

“hey! you can’t be touching that!” eric yells once he hears the disconnect. he stomps over to you and grabs your arm, harshly yanking you away from the car with a tight grip. “stupid little shit,” he mutters.

“touch me again and i’ll break your fingers,” you threaten, and by the look on your face, melissa knows you’re serious. now is when she has to step in, she knows that much.

“twenty bucks says our scrappy-doo over here wins!” ava yells over, holding her phone up, ready to record if you followed through.

“not helping ava!” barbara and melissa shout at the same time.

melissa moves to gently wrap her arms around you from behind, pulling you away from your car and away from the tow guy. when you try to pull away, she tightens her hold, muttering to you to calm down and slow your breathing. you’re irritated, and melissa can feel you shaking against her. she knows you’re using your anger to coverup how much you want to cry.

once the car is all set, the man speaks to melissa only, “here’s the address of where to pick it up. and thanks for keeping your dog,” he pointedly looks at you, “on its leash.”

once he drives off with your car, melissa releases you slowly. your chest rises and drops with every unsteady breath, and you groan loudly. immediately, and without much thought, you repeatedly kick the stone wall around the entrance, even when pain strikes after the first one.

“sweetheart. baby, stop…” melissa grabs you again, “you’re going to hurt yourself.” barbara ushers away everyone else, giving the the redhead space to calm you.

it took a few moments for your breathing to slow, but when it stuttered, melissa turned you in her arms and hugged you tightly. your face instinctively tucked itself away in the junction of her neck and shoulder, your arms firm around her waist. you could feel her arm around your shoulders, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back and she swayed from side to side, in hopes the motion would help you focus your breathing.

“baby?” melissa asks with a hushed tone.

you pull away from her to sniffle but tuck back into her skin before answering, “i can’t afford a cup of coffee. i can’t afford a new coffee maker. i haven’t eaten since we had dinner last night. and this half-wit just stole my car and put it up for ransom, because there was a pool in my parking spot.”

the accumulation of everything from today being said aloud made fresh tears fall from your eyes. melissa held you tighter, whispering soothing words to you even if they fell on deaf ears. after you’ve calmed down again, she coaxes you back so you can see your face. her hands hold your face delicately, thumbs stroking away left behind tears.

“i will hand deliver you coffee every morning until you find a new coffee maker,” she says making you huff through your nose, “and i’ll buy you lunch, maybe make you dinner too, if you want,” she sees you perk up at the offer, “and i’ll stab a hole in the pool.” you laugh for real this time, making melissa smile. these days, she found that making you laugh was her favorite thing to do.

“what abo-” you start, but melissa cuts you off.

“oh, you’re not paying a dime,” you go to tell her not to pay it, but she’s ahead of you. “and neither am i, trust me. i could pull a uncle carlo and get them to give me three hundred bucks, for my time.”

you shake your head, “you bringing the bat or just that cute face?”

melissa cheeks grew rosy at your words, “you were crying five minutes ago and now you’re flirting?” you nod, biting your lip, but still waiting for an answer. she gives in, “the bat will be stay in the car unless they really deserve it. scout’s honor.”

you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek, mumbling against her skin, “thank you.”

she turns her face, pressing her forehead against yours with her eyes closed. she leans in and presses a sound, loving kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then the other, a final one placed on your forehead. she holds your face once more, “you needed me, and i was there. you don’t have to thank me, i love you. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

you kiss her again, very quickly, then say, “i love you, too.”

—

after she bought you lunch, she didn’t drive you straight back to abbott. no, melissa was parked in front of market street towing company. she wordlessly got out of the car, but motioned for you to stay when you went to undo your seatbelt. you just watched her walk away nervously until she disappeared inside.

two songs and one radio ad later, you see your car pulling out of the fenced lot, melissa behind the wheel. you jumped out of the car as she got out of yours, grabbing her tightly.

“oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you say excitedly, only hearing her laugh a bit.

“no one was harmed, except maybe a couple egos,” she says before pulling back to drop your keys in your hands. “we still on for dinner?”

you grab her chin between your forefinger and thumb, bringing her lips to yours in a slow kiss. when you pull away, you revel in her stunned look, and it’s just too tempting to kiss her again, but she beats you to do. she breaks the kiss for air, and you speak quietly in the small space between you, “dessert, too.”

i hope u like this anon and i hope i did ur vision justice <3 feedback appreciated as always

[mariacallous]

On paper, the first candidate looked perfect. Thomas was from rural Tennessee and had studied computer science at the University of Missouri. His résumé said he’d been a professional programmer for eight years, and he’d breezed through a preliminary coding test. All of this was excellent news for Thomas’ prospective boss, Simon Wijckmans, founder of the web security startup C.Side. The 27-year-old Belgian was based in London but was looking for ambitious, fully remote coders.

Thomas had an Anglo-Saxon surname, so Wijckmans was surprised when he clicked into his Google Meet and found himself speaking with a heavily accented young man of Asian origin. Thomas had set a generic image of an office as his background. His internet connection was laggy—odd for a professional coder—and his end of the call was noisy. To Wijckmans, Thomas sounded like he was sitting in a large, crowded space, maybe a dorm or a call center.

Wijckmans fired off his interview questions, and Thomas’ responses were solid enough. But Wijckmans noticed that Thomas seemed most interested in asking about his salary. He didn’t come across as curious about the actual work or about how the company operated or even about benefits like startup stock or health coverage. Odd, thought Wijckmans. The conversation came to a close, and he got ready for the next interview in his queue.

Once again, the applicant said they were based in the US, had an Anglo name, and appeared to be a young Asian man with a thick, non-American accent. He used a basic virtual background, was on a terrible internet connection, and had a single-minded focus on salary. This candidate, though, was wearing glasses. In the lenses, Wijckmans spotted the reflection of multiple screens, and he could make out a white chatbox with messages scrolling by. “He was clearly either chatting with somebody or on some AI tool,” Wijckmans remembers.

On high alert, Wijckmans grabbed screenshots and took notes. After the call ended, he went back over the job applications. He found that his company’s listings were being flooded with applicants just like these: an opening for a full-stack developer got more than 500 applications in a day, far more than usual. And when he looked more deeply into the applicants’ coding tests, he saw that many candidates appeared to have used a virtual private network, or VPN, which allows you to mask your computer’s true location.

Wijckmans didn’t know it yet, but he’d stumbled onto the edges of an audacious, global cybercrime operation. He’d unwittingly made contact with an army of seemingly unassuming IT workers, deployed to work remotely for American and European companies under false identities, all to bankroll the government of North Korea.

With a little help from some friends on the ground, of course.

christina chapman was living in a trailer in Brook Park, Minnesota, a hamlet north of Minneapolis, when she got a note from a recruiter that changed her life. A bubbly 44-year-old with curly red hair and glasses, she loved her dogs and her mom and posting social justice content on TikTok. In her spare time she listened to K-pop, enjoyed Renaissance fairs, and got into cosplay. Chapman was also, according to her sparse online résumé, learning to code online.

It was March 2020 when she clicked on the message in her LinkedIn account. A foreign company was looking for somebody to “be the US face” of the business. The company needed help finding remote employment for overseas workers. Chapman signed on. It’s unclear how fast her workload grew, but by October 2022 she could afford a move from chilly Minnesota to a low-slung, four-bedroom house in Litchfield Park, Arizona. It wasn’t fancy—a suburban corner lot with a few thin trees—but it was a big upgrade over the trailer.

Chapman then started documenting more of her life on TikTok and YouTube, mostly talking about her diet, fitness, or mental health. In one chatty video, shared in June 2023, she described grabbing breakfast on the go—an açaí bowl and a smoothie— because work was so busy. “My clients are going crazy!” she complained. In the background, the camera caught a glimpse of metal racks holding at least a dozen open laptops covered in sticky notes. A few months later, federal investigators raided Chapman’s home, seized the laptops, and eventually filed charges alleging that she had spent three years aiding the “illicit revenue generation efforts” of the government of North Korea.

For maybe a decade, North Korean intelligence services have been training young IT workers and sending them abroad in teams, often to China or Russia. From these bases, they scour the web for job listings all over, usually in software engineering, and usually with Western companies. They favor roles that are fully remote, with solid wages, good access to data and systems, and few responsibilities. Over time they began applying for these jobs using stolen or fake identities and relying on members of their criminal teams to provide fictional references; some have even started using AI to pass coding tests, video interviews, and background checks.

But if an applicant lands a job offer, the syndicate needs somebody on the ground in the country the applicant claims to live in. A fake employee, after all, can’t use the addresses or bank accounts linked to their stolen IDs, and they can’t dial in to a company’s networks from overseas without instantly triggering suspicion. That’s where someone like Christina Chapman comes in.

As the “facilitator” for hundreds of North Korea–linked jobs, Chapman signed fraudulent documents and handled some of the fake workers’ salaries. She would often receive their paychecks in one of her bank accounts, take a cut, and wire the rest overseas: Federal prosecutors say Chapman was promised as much as 30 percent of the money that passed through her hands.

Her most important job, though, was tending the “laptop farm.” After being hired, a fake worker will typically ask for their company computer to be sent to a different address than the one on record—usually with some tale about a last-minute move or needing to stay with a sick relative. The new address, of course, belongs to the facilitator, in this case Chapman. Sometimes the facilitator forwards the laptop to an address overseas, but more commonly that person holds onto it and installs software that allows it to be controlled remotely. Then the fake employee can connect to their machine from anywhere in the world while appearing to be in the US. (“You know how to install Anydesk?” one North Korean operative asked Chapman in 2022. “I do it practically EVERYDAY!” she replied.)

In messages with her handlers, Chapman discussed sending government forms like the I-9, which attests that a person is legally able to work in the US. (“I did my best to copy your signature,” she wrote. “Haha. Thank you,” came the response.) She also did basic tech troubleshooting and dialed into meetings on a worker’s behalf, sometimes on short notice, as in this conversation from November 2023:

Worker: We are going to have laptop setup meeting in 20 mins. Can you join Teams meeting and follow what IT guy say? Because it will require to restart laptop multiple times and I can not handle that. You can mute and just follow what they say ...

Chapman: Who do I say I am?

Worker: You don’t have to say, I will be joining there too.

Chapman: I just typed in the name Daniel. If they ask WHY you are using two devices, just say the microphone on your laptop doesn’t work right ... Most IT people are fine with that explanation.

Sometimes, she got jumpy. “I hope you guys can find other people to do your physical I9s,” she wrote to her bosses in 2023, according to court documents. “I will SEND them for you, but have someone else do the paperwork. I can go to FEDERAL PRISON for falsifying federal documents.” Michael Barnhart, an investigator at cybersecurity company DTEX and a leading expert on the North Korean IT worker threat, says Chapman’s involvement followed a standard pattern—from an innocuous initial contact on LinkedIn to escalating requests. “Little by little, the asks get bigger and bigger,” he says. “Then by the end of the day, you’re asking the facilitator to go to a government facility to pick up an actual government ID.”

By the time investigators raided Chapman’s home, she was housing several dozen laptops, each with a sticky note indicating the fake worker’s identity and employer. Some of the North Korean operatives worked multiple jobs; some had been toiling quietly for years. Prosecutors said at least 300 employers had been pulled into this single scheme, including “a top-five national television network and media company, a premier Silicon Valley technology company, an aerospace and defense manufacturer, an iconic American car manufacturer, a high-end retail store, and one of the most recognizable media and entertainment companies in the world.” Chapman, they alleged, had helped pass along at least $17 million. She pleaded guilty in February 2025 to charges relating to wire fraud, identity theft, and money laundering and is awaiting sentencing.

Chapman’s case is just one of several North Korean fake-worker prosecutions making their way through US courts. A Ukrainian named Oleksandr Didenko has been accused of setting up a freelancing website to connect fake IT workers with stolen identities. Prosecutors say at least one worker was linked to Chapman’s laptop farm and that Didenko also has ties to operations in San Diego and Virginia. Didenko was arrested in Poland last year and was extradited to the United States. In Tennessee, 38-year-old Matthew Knoot is due to stand trial for his alleged role in a scheme that investigators say sent hundreds of thousands of dollars to accounts linked to North Korea via his laptop farm in Nashville. (Knoot has pleaded not guilty.) And in January 2025, Florida prosecutors filed charges against two American citizens, Erick Ntekereze Prince and Emanuel Ashtor, as well as a Mexican accomplice and two North Koreans. (None of the defendants’ lawyers in these cases responded to requests for comment.) The indictments claim that Prince and Ashtor had spent six years running a string of fake staffing companies that placed North Koreans in at least 64 businesses.

before the hermit kingdom had its laptop farms, it had a single confirmed internet connection, at least as far as the outside world could tell. As recently as 2010, that one link to the web was reserved for use by high-ranking officials. Then, in 2011, 27-year-old Kim Jong Un succeeded his father as the country’s dictator. Secretly educated in Switzerland and said to be an avid gamer, the younger Kim made IT a national priority. In 2012, he urged some schools to “pay special attention to intensifying their computer education” to create new possibilities for the government and military. Computer science is now on some high school curricula, while college students can take courses on information security, robotics, and engineering.

The most promising students are taught hacking techniques and foreign languages that can make them more effective operatives. Staff from government agencies including the Reconnaissance General Bureau— the nation’s clandestine intelligence service—recruit the highest-scoring graduates of top schools like Kim Chaek University of Technology (described by many as “the MIT of North Korea”) or the prestigious University of Sciences in Pyongsong. They are promised good wages and unfettered access to the internet—the real internet, not the intranet available to well-off North Koreans, which consists of a mere handful of heavily censored North Korean websites.

The earliest cyberattacks launched by Pyongyang were simple affairs: defacing websites with political messages or launching denial-of-service attacks to shut down US websites. They soon grew more audacious. In 2014, North Korean hackers famously stole and leaked confidential information from Sony’s film studio. Then they targeted financial institutions: Fraudulent trades pulled more than $81 million from the Bank of Bangladesh’s accounts at the New York Federal Reserve. After that, North Korean hackers moved into ransomware—the WannaCry attack in 2017 locked hundreds of thousands of Windows computers in 150 countries and demanded payments in bitcoin. While the amount of revenue the attack generated is up for debate—some say it earned just $140,000 in payouts—it wreaked much wider damage as companies worked to upgrade their systems and security, costing as much as $4 billion, according to one estimate.

Governments responded with more sanctions and stronger security measures, and the regime pivoted, dialing back on ransomware in favor of quieter schemes. It turns out these are also more lucrative: Today, the most valuable tool in North Korea’s cybercrime armory is cryptocurrency theft. In 2022, hackers stole more than $600 million worth of the cryptocurrency ether by attacking the blockchain game Axie Infinity; in February of this year, they robbed the Dubai-based crypto exchange Bybit of $1.5 billion worth of digital currency. The IT pretender scam, meanwhile, seems to have been growing slowly until the pandemic dramatically expanded the number of remote jobs, and Pyongyang saw the perfect opportunity.

In 2024, according to a recent report from South Korea’s National Intelligence Service, the number of people working in North Korea’s cyber divisions—which includes pretenders, crypto thieves, and military hackers—stood at 8,400, up from 6,800 two years earlier. Some of these workers are based in the country, but many are stationed overseas in China, Russia, Pakistan, or elsewhere. They are relatively well compensated, but their posting is hardly cushy.

Teams of 10 to 20 young men live and work out of a single apartment, sleeping four or five to a room and grinding up to 14 hours a day at weird hours to correspond with their remote job’s time zone. They have quotas of illicit earnings they are expected to meet. Their movements are tightly controlled, as are those of their relatives, who are effectively held hostage to prevent defections. “You don’t have any freedom,” says Hyun-Seung Lee, a North Korean defector who lives in Washington, DC, and says some of his old friends were part of such operations. “You’re not allowed to leave the apartment unless you need to purchase something, like grocery shopping, and that is arranged by the team leader. Two or three people must go together so there’s no opportunity for them to explore.”

The US government estimates that a typical team of pretenders can earn up to $3 million each year for Pyongyang. Experts say the money is pumped into everything from Kim Jong Un’s personal slush fund to the country’s nuclear weapons program. A few million dollars may seem small next to the flashy crypto heists— but with so many teams operating in obscurity, the fraud is effective precisely because it is so mundane.

in the summer of 2022, a major multinational company hired a remote engineer to work on website development. “He would dial in to meetings, he would participate in discussions,” an executive at the company told me on condition of anonymity. “His manager said he was considered the most productive member of the team.”

One day, his coworkers organized a surprise to celebrate his birthday. Colleagues gathered on a video call to congratulate him, only to be startled by his response—but it’s not my birthday. After nearly a year at the company, the worker had apparently forgotten the birth date listed in his records. It was enough to spark suspicion, and soon afterward the security team discovered that he was running remote access tools on his work computer, and he was let go. It was only later, when federal investigators discovered one of his pay stubs at Christina Chapman’s laptop farm in Arizona, that the company connected the dots and realized it had employed a foreign agent for nearly a year.

For many pretenders, the goal is simply to earn a good salary to send back to Pyongyang, not so much to steal money or data. “We’ve seen long-tail operations where they were going 10, 12, 18 months working in some of these organizations,” says Adam Meyers, a senior vice president for counter adversary operations at the security company CrowdStrike. Sometimes, though, North Korean operatives last just a few days— enough time to download huge amounts of company data or plant malicious software in a company’s systems before abruptly quitting. That code could alter financial data or manipulate security information. Or these seeds could lay dormant for months, even years.

“The potential risk from even one minute of access to systems is almost unlimited for an individual company,” says Declan Cummings, the head of engineering at software company Cinder. Experts say that attacks are ramping up not just in the US but also in Germany, France, Britain, Japan and other countries. They urge companies to do rigorous due diligence: speak directly to references, watch for candidates making sudden changes of address, use reputable online screening tools, and conduct a physical interview or in-person ID verification.

But none of these methods are foolproof, and AI tools are constantly weakening them. ChatGPT and the like give almost anyone the capacity to answer esoteric questions in real time with unearned confidence, and their fluency with coding threatens to make programming tests irrelevant. AI video filters and deepfakes can also add to the subterfuge.

At an onboarding call, for instance, many HR representatives now ask new employees to hold their ID up to the camera for closer inspection. “But the fraudsters have a neat trick there,” says Donal Greene, a biometrics expert at the online background check provider Certn. They take a green-colored card the exact shape and size of an identity card—a mini green screen—and, using deepfake technology, project the image of an ID onto it. “They can actually move it and show the reflection,” says Greene. “It’s very sophisticated.” North Korean agents have even been known to send look-alikes to pick up a physical ID card from an office or to take a drug test required by prospective employers.

Even security experts can be fooled. In July 2024, Knowbe4, a Florida-based company that offers security training, discovered that a new hire known as “Kyle” was actually a foreign agent. “He interviewed great,” says Brian Jack, KnowBe4’s chief information security officer. “He was on camera, his résumé was right, his background check cleared, his ID cleared verification. We didn’t have any reason to suspect this wasn’t a valid candidate.” But when his facilitator—the US-based individual giving him cover—tried to install malware on Kyle’s company computer, the security team caught on and shut him out.

Back in london, Simon Wijckmans couldn’t let go of the idea that somebody had tried to fool him. He’d just read about the Knowbe4 case, which deepened his suspicions. He conducted background checks and discovered that some of his candidates were definitely using stolen identities. And, he found, some of them were linked to known North Korean operations. So Wijckmans decided to wage a little counter exercise of his own, and he invited me to observe.

I dial in to Google Meet at 3 am Pacific time, tired and bleary. We deliberately picked this offensively early hour because it’s 6 am in Miami, where the candidate, “Harry,” claims to be.

Harry joins the call, looking pretty fresh-faced. He’s maybe in his late twenties, with short, straight, black hair. Everything about him seems deliberately nonspecific: He wears a plain black crewneck sweater and speaks into an off-brand headset. “I just woke up early today for this interview, no problem,” he says. “I know that working with UK hours is kind of a requirement, so I can get my working hours to yours, so no problem with it.”

So far, everything matches the hallmarks of a fake worker. Harry’s virtual background is one of the default options provided by Google Meet, and his connection is a touch slow. His English is good but heavily accented, even though he tells us he was born in New York and grew up in Brooklyn. Wijckmans starts with some typical interview questions, and Harry keeps glancing off to his right as he responds. He talks about various coding languages and name-drops the frameworks he’s familiar with. Wijckmans starts asking some deeper technical questions. Harry pauses. He looks confused. “Can I rejoin the meeting?” he asks. “I have a problem with my microphone.” Wijckman nods, and Harry disappears.

A couple of minutes pass, and I start to fret that we’ve scared him away, but then he pops back into the meeting. His connection isn’t much better, but his answers are clearer. Maybe he restarted his chatbot, or got a coworker to coach him. The call runs a few more minutes and we say goodbye.

Our next applicant calls himself “Nic.” On his résumé he’s got a link to a personal website, but this guy doesn’t look much like the profile photo on the site. This is his second interview with Wijckmans, and we are certain that he’s faking it: He’s one of the applicants who failed the background check after his first call, although he doesn’t know that.

Nic’s English is worse than Harry’s: When he’s asked what time it is, he tells us it’s “six and past” before correcting himself and saying “quarter to seven.” Where does he live? “I’m in Ohio for now,” he beams, like a kid who got something right in a pop quiz.

Several minutes in, though, his answers become nonsensical. Simon asks him a question about web security. “Political leaders ... government officials or the agencies responsible for border security,” Nic says. “They’re responsible for monitoring and also securing the borders, so we can employ the personnel to patrol the borders and also check the documents and enforce the immigration laws.”

I’m swapping messages with Wijckmans on the back channel we’ve set up when it dawns on us: Whatever AI bot Nic seems to be using must have misinterpreted a mention of “Border Gateway Protocol”—a system for sending traffic across the internet—with national borders, and started spewing verbiage about immigration enforcement. “What a waste of time,” Wijckmans messages me. We wrap up the conversation abruptly.

I try to put myself in the seat of a hiring manager or screener who’s under pressure. The fraudsters’ words may not have always made sense, but their test scores and résumés looked solid, and their technical-sounding guff might be enough to fool an uninformed recruiter. I suspect at least one of them could have made it to the next step in some unsuspecting company’s hiring process.

Wijckmans tells me he has a plan if he comes across another pretender. He has created a web page that looks like a standard coding assessment, which he’ll send to fake candidates. As soon as they hit the button to start the test, their browser will spawn dozens of pop-up pages that bounce around the screen, all of them featuring information on how to defect from North Korea. Then loud music plays—a rickroll, “The Star-Spangled Banner”—before the computer starts downloading random files and emits an ear-splitting beep. “Just a little payback,” he says.

Wijckman’s stunt is not going to stop the pretenders, of course. But maybe it will irritate them for a moment. Then they’ll get back to work, signing on from some hacking sweatshop in China or through a laptop farm in the US, and join the next team meeting—a quiet, camera-off chat with coworkers just like me or you.