#and have a reference without it all being bricks of text

[candycryptids]

…… sometimes when I just wanna fuck around with housing but not spend millions of gilci just boot up MakePlace (on itch.io) cos it’s, it’s just housing simulation for final fantasy 14

And you can look at the community posts for ideas if you’re feeling stumped but mostly I use it for character studies or boredom relief (you can tell a lot about a guy from their living space)

[leam1983]

Annoyances

Whenever I see a "if you like AI, pls die" post, a part of me wants to take a big, gigantic breath and blurt out the following, Wall of Text style:

Narrow AI is vital to several scientific fields and refers to algorithms that are geared towards the collection, classification and proper identification of datum. It doesn't steal, it doesn't crib from anyone else, but it certainly helps with overlaying false colours on CAT scans and MRI results, for example.

Narrow AI is in your spreadsheet documents. If a spreadsheet is based on a few formulae to keep track of your budget, some measure of AI is involved.

Narrow AI is your average spell-checker's brain, as well. Not Google's - Google Docs just outsources Gemini for some truly godawful proofreading - but your average offline, dumb-as-bricks spell checker qualifies as Narrow AI.

Narrow AI is in your GPS and in your phone's voice-activated commands. Remove it, and you'll have to lug maps around again, or run searches on your own.

When you excoriate someone for using an AI-based tool, you're referring to the more recent years' developments in the field of Wide AI - as in, generalist Artificial Intelligences. AI scientists the world over have all agreed that, by and large, the usefulness of Wide AI is limited.

Later evidence proves that even without the use of poisoning tools like Glaze, Wide AI is poisoning itself, all thanks to the excessive eagerness of content producers who see AI as a means to drive Search Engine Optimization. The Dead Internet Theory isn't quite proven yet; but what is is that AI-generated content is increasingly eating up its own generated slop. ChatGPT has, point in fact, already consumed every scrap of genuine human content there is to access.

So give props to your local neckbeard who wants to make sure we'll one day no longer need to remove someone's thyroid in the case of detected malignancies, because he's looking to use AI to save lives.

Artificial Intelligence isn't the problem, what is is the McDonald's-ized version of it that's being bandied about by publications like The Verge and TechCrunch.

[lalalychee-x]

"Face down— I think I'm okay"

Angst! Rodrick Heffley x reader pt 4

"You cry alone then he swears he loves you..." romantic. + platonic

♡ Ayyeee, I'm back with part 4, this will NOT MAKE SENSE WITHOUT PART READING THE OTHER PARTS, SO DO MAKE SURE TO READ THEM! So welcome to part 4 of "Think I'm okay!" CW: self harm (sh) reference, meth/drug use reference, smoking, sexual harassment??, misogyny, toxic relationships, genuinely this chapter made me feel so bad for rodrick.. you don't UNDERSTAND. word count: 3885 masterlist of all parts song4this: "Face down" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

-------story starts here-------

It all sort of happened in a blur. The kind of blur you try to convince yourself you’re actually in control of. Like when you hit “next episode” at 3am knowing damn well you’ve got school in five hours—but the dopamine hits just right, so you keep going. That’s what Nathan felt like. He started sitting next to you more often in class, casually offering you gum, or those energy drinks with labels that scream “toxic masculinity” and taste like wet batteries. He laughed too hard at your jokes. Called you “pretty smart for a girl who always wears pink.” And you hated how you liked that. Or at least, you think you did?

Somewhere between late-night catch-ups on homework you forgot to do and pics of half-finished math questions with dumb filters, you just... slipped into something. A hand brushing yours when you passed him your notes. Him offering to drive you home, even though you lived in the opposite direction. The way he texted “u up?” and your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a little too long before replying.

You didn’t even like football. You still don’t. But there you were, screaming under Friday night lights like it meant something, wearing his hoodie that smelled like Axe and bad decisions. And when he kissed you behind the bleachers, everyone knew. Rodrick knew and you felt bad he know. You're not sure why. He was in the parking lot, sitting alone in his van, eyes burning into the back of your head as you stumbled out of Nathan’s arms like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter.

You told yourself it was harmless. That dating Nathan made sense. It was easy. He was liked, respected, acceptable. Your parents didn’t question him. They smiled when you brought him up. Said things like, “He seems like a good influence,” as if that was all that mattered. And maybe it was. Maybe that’s why you ignored how empty it felt when he said you were “cooler than you looked,” or when he laughed a little too hard at Rodrick’s name.

Rodrick didn’t have your number. Nathan did.

And it made everything feel...lopsided.

Which was really strange because Nathan's face was everything BUT lopsided, like a poster-boy smile. Lopsided reminded you more of Rodrick and his aysmmetric bracelets—sorry, leather straps— that he swore weren't BRACELETS because that sounded too girly, even though they WERE bracelets. 

You catch yourself smiling at that sometimes. And thank god you catch yourself.

Because Nathan doesn’t like it when you drift off mid-conversation. Doesn’t like it when you go quiet. Doesn’t like it when you don’t laugh at his jokes, even when they’re always at someone else’s expense.

He calls it “being moody.”

He says things like, “You’re cute when you’re pissed.”

You say, “I’m not pissed.”

And he just grins like that proves his point.

He makes you feel like the problem even when he’s the one scrolling through other girls’ Instagram posts, liking them with the subtlety of a truck hitting a brick wall. 

He says stuff like, “Babe, relax—it’s Zach's girlfriend, I'm just being nice,” when you ask why he keeps snapping that junior girl who calls him Natey.

Which feels a little illegal by the way, but hey who's keeping score?

You also wonder how long until he calls her "babe" too.

At school, he’s all PDA and hallway hand-holding. Whispering things in your ear that make your friends gag with envy. Online, he posts blurry mirror selfies of you with captions like, “She’s alright, I guess,” like being desired by him is some kind of compliment.

And it worked. People started calling you lucky. Teachers said you two made a cute couple. Your parents? They were relieved.

“He’s just like his father,” your mom said once, smiling, like that was something to be proud of.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

Because even when Nathan says shit like, “Don’t wear that skirt, it’s kinda asking for it,” you let it go. Even when he jokes that “you’re not like other girls,” you laugh, even though you know he says it to every other girl too. 

Even when he touches your thigh under the table and says, “C’mon, don’t be boring,” you shrug it off because yeah, you let him go further than you would've liked, praying to god his hands never went any further than the hem of your shirt.

Because working on academics is one thing, but doing social gymnastics to fit in when you're really an awkward freak, is another thing.

That’s what you’re supposed to be.

So you swallow it. Like poison in small, pink doses. And pretend it doesn’t burn going down.

..

Rodrick flopped onto the beaten-up sofa in the corner of the room, dragging one leg over the armrest like he owned the place. His boots left a streak of grime on the fabric and he didn't even pretend to care. Typical.

You were...assigned to check every student room before closing up for the day, simply because there were noise complaints for how loud you (even if they didn't know it was you), were playing that one time.

“You’re early,” you muttered, tuning the guitar even if you had no intention of playing it—last time was nothing but a blip. You didn’t look at him, but you felt him grinning.

“I live early now. It’s part of my rebranding,” he said, stretching out his arms like he was advertising something. “Clean, punctual, model citizen.”

You side-eyed him. “Sure. What happened to the guy who used to hotbox in the parking lot?”

“He evolved,” he smirked. “...talking to a chick who apparently gets off with quarterback golden boys with vape pens and commitment issues.”

You pause. Just a flicker. Barely a breath between strings. “Nathan doesn’t vape.”

Rodrick shrugged. “Whatever. They all do. If not now, then eventually. Vaping’s, like, part of the jock starter pack.”

You shoot him a look as you get ready to lock up the room before the school closes. “Are you gonna be like this the whole time?”

“Be like what?” He blinked at you, all faux-innocent, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Just making conversation. I mean, I’m trying to understand. This guy? Really? The dude who said 'Slipknot is just screamo for virgins' in public?”

You roll your eyes. “He was kidding.”

“Oh yeah?” Rodrick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, expression twisted into that trademark I-don’t-care-but-I-care-so-much sneer. 

“Was he kidding when he said Paramore was for girls who peaked in middle school? Or when he asked you if ‘emo’ was still a thing? When he tried grabbing a junior by the wrists with a gluestick and went "beep" like he was at a self-checkout? C'mon, that was hella creative.”

Your hands froze.

Rodrick scoffed. “Didn’t think so.”

There was a weird silence after that. The kind that lingers in the air like leftover smoke. You kept your head down, strumming a soft note like it would muffle the noise in your chest.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” you finally said.

Rodrick leaned back, arms spread across the top of the couch like a devil at peace.

“Yeah. No one ever means it like that,” he muttered. “Until they do.”

Rodrick kicked a rogue guitar pick across the floor with his boot, watching it skid under the piano. “You know,” he said, tone too casual to be innocent, “you were cooler before all this.”

Your fingers paused as you scowled. You'd need to dish that pick out later. “Before what?”

He gave you a lopsided shrug. “Before wouldn't work because you're always like that. Well, you know, be”

You blinked. “I’m not pretending.”

Rodrick snorted, dark and low. “Right. My bad. You’ve always loved taking gym selfies with guys who say ‘you’re not like other girls’ like it’s a personality test.”

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t know Nathan.”

“I know enough,” Rodrick muttered, eyes fixed somewhere far off. “Enough to know he talks to other girls and calls it networking. Enough to know he repeats jokes he saw on Reddit like he made them up. And enough to know that if he ever saw you the way I’ve seen you...he wouldn’t get it.”

You turned to him, bristling. “Seen me how?”

Rodrick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice lower now. Not angry. Just tired.

“Oh, I dunno, in tears on my bathroom floor covered in blood. In my bathtub covered in your bra, or spinning like a table top in the gym after we broke in.”

You stared at him, cheeks hot. “For the record, YOU did most of the breaking in." You pause with a sigh.

"You think I’m fake.”

Rodrick didn’t answer at first. He looked at you—really looked. And then he leaned back again, sighing.

“I think you’re exhausted. And I think you think this is the only way to survive. But honestly?” He shook his head. “You were cooler when you weren’t pretending to be someone else.”

You looked away, chewing your lip. “Nathan...he likes me.”

Rodrick scoffed. “Yeah, when you’re convenient with his hands in your pants.”

“That’s not fair.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Because deep down, some part of you knew he was right and it was beginning to bubble over.

"Well, okay, fuck, what do I do then, genius? Run off to some other dude?"

Rodrick’s face twisted for a second—just one flicker. Then he scoffed.

“Didn’t ask you to,” he said. “Not like you have the balls to talk to another dude. I don’t even have your number.”

Your breath caught. He said it so quietly, you almost didn’t catch it. But it landed like a goddamn grenade.

He stood up too, brushing nonexistent dust off his sleeves, grabbing his hoodie from the chair behind him.

“Anyway. Good talk.”

He didn’t slam the door, but he may as well have.

..

It was afterschool. Late. You were supposed to meet Nathan by the vending machines, but instead, you ended up near the gym, standing awkwardly while Rodrick leaned on a wall nearby, half-bored, half-smirking, like always.

Nathan had just finished practice. He was sweaty, shirtless, and definitely basking in the attention of the freshman girls that wandered too close to the locker room exit.

You didn’t even register it at first. The way he leaned down just a little too close to one of them. The laugh he gave when she said something about his abs. The way he playfully bumped her hip with his elbow like they were already in-jokes deep.

Rodrick did.

“Wow,” he muttered, voice dry as ever. “Wonder if his hands even know how to stay in his own damn pockets.”

You tried to ignore him.

But he didn’t stop.

“You know, I wouldn't let that slide. Maybe he just had a dumb face. But nah. It’s not the face. It’s the brain behind it.”

You looked at him, sharp. “He’s just friendly. He’s popular, okay? Stop taking the piss and go hotbox in the carpark. I won't snitch to Mr. Huff this time.”

Rodrick snorted, half ignoring what you said. “Right. Friendly with every skirt that walks past.”

That one hit.

"Why are you even here? We aren't friendly." You roll your eyes, arms crossed.

Rodrick shrugged, kicking the wall behind him, "What? This is a free country."

Nathan spotted you then, coming over, wiping sweat off his brow like it was some cinematic move. He gave Rodrick a quick once-over, then said to you without even acknowledging him, “Ready to go, babe?”

Rodrick stepped forward. You wouldn't have guessed they were a similar height from afar; not with Rodrick's cricket limbs. But it was just enough to be annoying.

“You drop something back there,” he said casually, motioning toward where Nathan had come from.

Nathan blinked. “What?”

“Your balls.”

You nearly choked.

Nathan blinked again. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

You stepped in fast, looping an arm around Nathan's. “No one. He um, was just leaving.”

Rodrick stared at you for a beat. His face unreadable. Then he backed up, arms raised in mock surrender.

Nathan’s arm slipped around your waist like it belonged there. Like it was always supposed to be there. His fingers drummed casually on your hip, warm and too sure of themselves.

He looked at Rodrick again, this time with a crooked grin. “So, seriously. Who is this guy?”

Rodrick didn’t answer.

Just stood there, jaw tense, one brow raised, like he was daring you to say it.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. The silence between them buzzed louder than the vending machine beside you.

Nathan laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “What? What’s with the awkward pause? You guys, like, dated or something?”

You choked. “What? No! God—no.”

Rodrick’s face didn’t change. Not even a twitch. But somehow, it made it worse.

Nathan gave a dramatic, mock-relieved sigh and leaned his forehead down to yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your temple. “Good. ‘Cause I was gonna say—you can do way better, babe.”

Rodrick’s stare didn’t break.

You stiffened under Nathan’s arm, your mouth dry. You wanted to say something. Anything.

But instead, your face just flushed a shade deeper. You felt Rodrick’s eyes rake over the red crawling up your neck. Felt your own breath betray you.

Nathan tugged you a little closer, tilting your head up which prompted a very...slight...kiss on his cheek. “Come on. Tell me.”

He was smiling.

Playful.

Affectionate.

Soft.

Too soft.

And it was too loud in your head.

You said it before your brain caught up.

“He’s...just a guy in my math class.”

The silence that followed was nothing short of vicious.

Rodrick’s tongue clicked against his teeth. Once.

“Sure,” he said, low and even. “Yeah just a guy. Said guy was gonna ask if you wanted a pouch of meth or something.”

Nathan scoffed, laughing and giving Rodrick an unserious jab with his free arm, "Would love that, man, but coach would find out."

Rodrick laughed, sort of bitter, sour, unsure what to even say. He turned on his heel, grabbing his backpack off the ground, and disappeared around the corner without another word.

Nathan didn’t even notice the tension, still grinning at you like nothing happened. “Hey,” he said, “You wanna come to mine? Mom’s not home and I got that playlist you like.”

You nodded before your body could even think, but the bitter aftertaste in your mouth was unmistakable.

Your fingers itched for your phone. But Rodrick still didn’t have your number.

And suddenly, you kind of hated that he didn’t ask for it when he had the chance.

..

He didn’t even bother kicking off his boots. Just face-planted into his bed, the springs groaning under him like they were fed up too.

His room was dark except for the hazy blue glow of his lava lamp bubbling next to an ashtray that he swore wasn’t for cigarettes—just incense. Bullshit. He hadn’t lit incense in weeks since it was originally to get the smell of weed out the best he could.

His hoodie was still on. Backpack still over one shoulder. Didn’t matter.

Didn’t matter that the pillow smelled like cheap detergent and that the ceiling above him had that one stupid glow-in-the-dark star still stuck there from when Manny dared to sneak in one night.

Didn’t matter.

All he could think about was that guy’s hand on your waist.

The way you turned red. Not because he said something snarky, not because he caught you mid-thought, mid-banter, mid-stupid-inside-joke.

No.

You turned red for him.

That forehead kiss.

Rodrick rolled over, looking up. His arm flopped over his face like maybe it could block the memory out. Like it could choke down the bitter taste in his mouth.

Rodrick stared at his ceiling like it might suddenly start speaking. Maybe offer him some divine wisdom. Or a cigarette. Or a punch to the gut—anything but this god-awful silence.

The posters on his wall were curling at the corners, the tape giving up just like he felt like doing. Some band no one listened to anymore. Some stickers he’d slapped on when he was thirteen and angry. Still angry, really. But now it was quieter. Meaner. Turned inward.

He shifted on his bed, one arm slung over his forehead like he was in a music video about heartbreak—except it wasn’t that dramatic. Or maybe it was, but only to him. Only in this sad little space.

He’s probably got one of those houses that smells like... vanilla. Or pine. Or... whatever the hell people like that smell like.

He thought about Nathan’s house.

Big, clean. Hardwood floors. No creaks. Probably some bowl of decorative fruit in the kitchen that no one eats. Nathan’s mom was probably out of town a lot. Trusted him. Gave him space. Probably had a house with matching hand towels in the bathroom.

She’s probably sitting on his bed right now. Rodrick swallowed.

Probably all cozy, legs tucked under her like in those dumb-ass sitcoms. Laughing at something that’s not even funny. Maybe letting him touch her arm, her hip, whatever. Does he know how to make her laugh like that? Does he even care?

His room felt colder suddenly, even with the little space heater buzzing in the corner.

He looked around. At the dent in his desk where he’d dropped his amp last year. At the ripped flyer from a garage show he never played at. At the empty cans on his floor he still hadn’t thrown out.

Would she laugh if she saw this?

Would she think it’s gross?

Would she even stay if she stepped in?

He imagined her there. Right in his room. Curled up on his beat-up mattress, rolling her eyes at his CD collection, probably poking at his piles of laundry like she was judging them but in that half-smiling way.

He wondered how she’d look sitting at his desk chair, one leg over the other, chewing gum and pretending to be unimpressed. Wondered if her perfume would cover the weird stale smell of dust and cheap cologne in here. If she'd ever say something stupid like, “this place is so you.”

He wondered if that would hurt more or less than her never seeing it at all.

He scoffed.

“Fucking Nathan,” he muttered under his breath.

He kicked a hoodie off the bed, only to grab it back and clutch it to his chest like a fucking loser. Shut his eyes. Bit the inside of his cheek.

Does Nathan even know she chews her pen caps? Or that she makes those stupid little noises when she stretches? Or that she says she hates attention but always lights up when she gets it?

Rodrick didn’t have her number. Didn’t have her voice in a text. Didn’t have her smell on his pillow. Didn’t even have the guts to tell her to stay.

All he had was this goddamn room and the ghost of a girl who was never really his, couldn't be his, wasn't even meant to meet.

'That should’ve been me,' is all he can think about.

He didn’t want to say it, not even in his head, but it crept in anyway. Loud and hot and pathetic.

'That should’ve been me you leaned into.'

'Me you looked at all soft.'

'Me you went quiet for.'

He knew Nathan was all charm and varsity teeth and clean, punchable cheekbones. The kind of guy who fit into yearbook pages and parent fantasies.

And Rodrick?

Rodrick had chipped nails, an overbitten lip, and a reputation he hadn’t even earned properly—people just assumed shit because he looked like he didn’t care. I mean, they're mostly right but it still pisses him off because he's petty.

The worst part?

You looked happy.

Like actually happy.

And maybe he was just projecting—he probably was. But in that split second, you looked like you didn’t need him anymore. Not that you did, I mean, he looks at himself then looks at you and he knows you don't need him. You wouldn't have crossed paths if it wasn't a coincidence.

You’d needed him once. Right there on the floor with the guitar, where your laughter caught in your throat and your cardigan slipped and you said, “pass that,” with the stupidest half-blush.

He thought maybe that meant something.

But maybe it was just a moment.

Moments disappear all the time, he thinks so anyway. He's genuinely never thought that hard about his "life pharmacy". 

"Far-ma-see." He mutters the pronunciation under his breath, brows furrowed. It wasn't 'pharmacy,' was it?

He swallowed. The ceiling looked blurry now, NOT from tears—god forbid he's crying. Of course he's not crying, why would he be crying? He's stupid but not stupid enough to cry, no no no, he is not crying. It's something else. Maybe from the lava lamp, maybe from his eyes.

He wiped them roughly.

"Fuck this," he muttered.

But he didn’t move.

He just lay there.

Still wishing you had kissed him instead.

..

Nathan’s house was... white. Not white like hospital white—white like money. White like air-purified, thermostat-controlled, magazine-ready minimalism. The kind of place where the fridge water always tastes good and everything smells like coconut shampoo or expensive laundry detergent. Like you get it, you're not that far off this either you'll admit, but damn this was blinding.

You sat on his bed, pretending not to feel awkward while a playlist you helped him make streamed from his surround sound speakers. It was sorta shitty pop music. Except now it felt... different. Like background music to a scene you weren’t fully starring in.

He flopped down next to you, grinning with all teeth, hair perfect like it came out of a commercial. His hand was already on your thigh, a little too casual. But you didn’t stop him.

“You know,” he said, nudging your shoulder like you were sharing some cute, little secret. “We should throw a party.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“A party,” he repeated, propping himself up on one elbow. “Like... to make it official, y’know? Us. As a couple.”

Your brows furrowed. “What, like a... relationship party?”

Nathan snorted. “Okay, not like with balloons and cake or whatever. Just a regular party, but, like—everyone knows now. You and me.”

You laughed, but it came out weird and stuttered. “Right. Sure. That’s... not weird at all.”

“C’mon,” he said, voice all syrupy confidence. “It’ll be fun. My mom’s out of town next weekend. You don’t even have to plan anything. I’ll take care of it. You just show up and be the hottest girl there.”

Your face heated, whether from flattery or something more complicated, you weren’t sure.

You looked down at his hand on your thigh. Then back at him, smiling so easy. Like nothing in the world had ever been complicated.

You forced a laugh. "Yeah... okay, sure."

Nathan grinned. “Hell yeah.”

You reached over to steal the aux, distracting yourself with the screen, with the next song, with anything but the weird tightening in your chest. It was nice, he was nice when he wanted to be so you liked that. But not enough, clearly.

He kissed your cheek.

And you didn’t flinch.

But god, you weren’t really there either.

click for part 1 click for part 2 click for part 3 click for part 4 click for part 5 click for part 6 click for part 7 click for part 8 click for part 9 click for part 10 click for part 11 click for part 12

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you! Please do leave requests!

[the-housenextdoor]

Hello to the rp blog ooc! I'm new to this and I've just joined the rp! I'm still kind of new to this whole thing since I'm new to tumblr in general. But I'm really excited to join! I'm really only gonna play as an oc. But my name is just S or Sophus if you call me ooc.

I have now figured out how to run a blog! So this will be it! Joy!

For those who are unaware of the lore I will have it copy pasted here!

Oc Lore:

His name is Maverick Madlock and he's just a teenager (around 16) who lives next to John. His father and mother are strict devout catholics. Maverick is a rather serious teenager. He doesnt have many friends (or any at all). The local kids say that he does live up to his name of being "mad". The adults think he's sick in the head. Honeslty he might be. He's very good at putting up a perfect "good christian boy" front in the presence of adults. Yet they know how he acts anyways. Behind closed doors.. He's a demon from hell. He hangs around the local church often. Praying the rosary. Reading a bible tabbed and annotated in every margin in messy slanted cursive. God knows who this kid is. He's a perfect little angel really. Few have really seen the demonic fire that rages inside of him. (I have been writing Maverick to have sociopathic tendencies but I am going to research ASPD (Anti Social Personality Disorder) more to make sure I am not being in any way incorrect or offensive to those who have the mental illness! I do not want to make the mental illness seem villianized in any way! Many people with ASPD actually do live a normal life with proper medications and therapies! The only reason I will write my oc in this way is because the timeline most takes place in the late 80s without much knowledge on the mental illness. And because Maverick's parents don't know how to handle his behavior so they let him run wild. Thank you! And dont be afraid to inform me if I do write something incorrectly!)

Family Matters:

Mother and Father are strict Catholics. They live two houses down from John Ward. In that cute little red brick family home with the white picket fence. Truly the American dream. Father's name is Sebastian Madlock. Mother's name is Agatha Madlock.

Looks for Maverick:

He has inky black hair that falls to the nape of his neck in extremely unruly, fluffy layers. He had the same unruly curtain bangs framing his face. His hair a mess of waves and soft curls and fluffiness yet still tame enough to look proper. He has softer facial features than most boys his age. He had extremely tan and sunkissed skin not to mention his skin was littered with freckles. Literally. He had freckles all over his body from what it seemed. His cheeks, forehead, face, neck, collarbones, chest, arms, legs, waist, etc. The brown flecks absolutely covered his skin in large constellations. He always wore a dark black collared shirt with black dress pants and black Doc Martens on the days were they got to be out of uniform. He wore a saint necklace of Saint Agatha of Sicily. The Saint he had chosen for his confirmation. He has cold brown eyes that genuinely appeared black. Maybe they were black. No one ever got close enough to tell. They were harsh and apathetic. Observing and sharp. He's watching. His nails were short from biting them constantly. Bleeding at the edges sometimes. He has a look of perfection and messiness. Two sides of that same coin.

(He looks exactly like his mother for reference. Like a mini-me of her!)

Thank you! Super excited to rp on this new blog!

Adding a few bits of information!

I unfortunately cannot color code my character because I am on mobile and most of the colors have already been used. I will simply stick with a bold text to identify Maverick.

Maverick will be bolded.

His parents (Sebastion & Morana) will be italicized.

Also he volunteers at the Open Arms Shelter because his parents forced him because they often can't handle how he acts.

[torque-witch]

LONG POST - election topic

Anyhow I ended up talking to my mom about the election results for a little bit the other day and it was some good (considering) and some bad.

My dad voted for orange man. He’s totally bought into whatever Muskrat is touting after decades of AM radio listening. Because he owns a business probably, but he does not make over 400k if my mom is concerned they’ll lose the house over an $800/month mortgage plus whatever mortgage he has at his building. He’s the only employee, for reference. Just a one-man show. He doesn’t socialize. He doesn’t have friends. He just isolates in his photo lab and comes home for dinner maybe and then sometimes sleeps at work.

My mom voted for Kamala, which is nice but she’s still conservative. She’s been trying to subtly or un-subtly get my dad to read non-right wing media on things like tariffs because he doesn’t understand how it will affect his business.

She also acknowledges that both me and my sister would be at risk, but moreso my sister because she is on disability and can’t work. If she can’t get her meds but is forced to work, the cycle of her being homeless will continue because she becomes violent without meds. She could be thrown in jail again.

My dad just wants economic benefits and I guess forgot about his only daughters.

My mom isn’t great though. I’m still not able to tell her all my beliefs because she’s not a safe person at the end of the day, even though I don’t think she would not speak to me or anything.

She thinks abortion is disgusting - BUT agrees that ectopic pregnancy shouldn’t be a part of the conversation because there is no “baby.” Almost had it haha.

She also made her and my dad leave their current church because they were turning into vocal Trump supporters, which she rightly doesn’t think belongs in church. She also was pretty upset that trumpers at church and the Christian school she teaches at are calling liberals “satan worshipping trash” because I and her sisters/extended family are liberal. But ALSO

So my dad sent me a text about Musk’s $200 incentive to sign a petition or whatever - he also sent it to my sister, who is not mentally stable for a good portion of the time. I just said thank you, didn’t sign it and went on with my day. As my mom said, he conveniently didn’t send it to her because he knows she would shut him down.

Anyhow - this text caused a whole breakdown with my sister because she’s on disability, she can’t accept money without it affecting her benefits. She signed up for it. Hasn’t received money obviously. But she as afraid if she did receive money what would she do? What if she won a million dollars? And my mom had to talk her down and explain that she wouldn’t even get the full million, she could just rip up any check and that she shouldn’t accept money from Elon Must under any circumstance.

And my dad just…didn’t think ahead about how the potential for a large sum of money might mentally affect someone with a) grand delusions and b) on disability and c) always threatened with homelessness.

My mom KNOWS he’s just dumb as bricks and under a LOT of propoganda … SO JUST LEAVE HIM.

I feel like if she left him (she won’t because divorce is a sin in her eyes) and moved to the city she would probably learn that she’s actually liberal and highly educated too (she has a masters degree) but the threat of hell is strong for her.

I get it. But I don’t. And I’m grappling with how much I can interact or should because I’m also the executrix of the (paltry) estate. Do I want that future labor? Prob not. But also if it helps us in the future idk.

Idk if it’s worth it to keep holding on because she’s been learning a lot, but at the very least I’m glad that I live 6 hours away. I can’t be doing that kind of socializing anymore.

[roleplaymadness]

Roleplay Rules and Guidelines.

First and foremost, allow me to introduce myself. I am a 28 year old female from the USA. I do not give my real name out unless we have roleplayed for a while and become friends, so you can call me Azazel or Aza. I literally am comfortable being referred to with any pronoun. I am in the central standard time zone.

When it comes to roleplaying, I will not engage with anyone under the age of 18. As a personal preference, I prefer 21 and over. However, this does not mean I will not roleplay with you if you are 18-20. I just prefer 21 and up. This also means that any character you play must also be over 18. I will also only roleplay with females or non binary folk. This is because I have way too many issues with male writers, and I'm not going to get into why. Another main reason is because I only write the male role and only do the MxF pairing as of now.

Look, I understand that everyone has their preferences, but I myself am an author and I tend to be extremely nit picky when it comes to writing. Because I only write on Discord, I would like for us to type in the same format. Example: if I am using italics for thought or emphasis, and normal text for everything else, I would like you to follow that lead. Otherwise, I can easily get confused and thrown off by responses. Italics are not needed for speech or anything except thoughts, in character text messages, and emphasis. This might be ridiculous to you but it is extremely difficult for me to focus when the writing style is so different. Brick text is also a no go for me. Paragraphs need to be broken up and spaced out. Capitalization and proper grammar is important as well. I will happily overlook any typos or missing words as long as they aren't excessive. I hate requiring writing samples, but I may request one just to make sure we are on the same page. Back on the subject of writing, I only roleplay in 3rd person POV and will only roleplay with those who do the same. I could write an entire post about my objections against 1st person, but I am not going to do that here. Instead, I am simply requiring you to write in 3rd person as well. My responses are usually advanced lit (6+ paragraphs) to novella (10+ paragraphs) on a good day. Depending on the scene and what is happening, sometimes the responses will be shorter. I usually try to match length. Currently, I am obsessed with the character and idea I am advertising for (see next post), so my responses are going to be rapid fire, and I would like someone who can do the same, which is why I am currently only searching for those in a USA timezone. Obviously, the rapid fire does not apply while at work or sleeping, but during the day/afternoon/evening I usually have time to constantly be sending replies, and if for some reason something comes up and I will be unavailable for a certain amount of time, that will be communicated. I have no social life so the rare times I am otherwise occupied you will be made aware.

I roleplay the following genres: slice of life, fantasy, sci fi. All of these genres require a romance element of some sort. I will not do platonic roleplays. I am also not the biggest fan of doubling. For the slice of life genre, I require real life faceclaims. I will not accept anything animated, drawn, or AI. And yes, I can tell the difference between AI and real people. When I post my ads, it will clearly specify the genre I am looking for. Pay attention when reading them, as I have started to require a password due to people not actually reading the entire way through. I have no triggers and nothing surprises me. I have roleplayed nearly everything under the sun except my two hard nos: pedophilia and bestiality. When it comes to OCs, you can have set ones or create one for the story, but a semi detailed bio and pictures are nice to have. I probably won't accept an OC without a faceclaim. I put a lot of thought into my OCs and their faceclaims, so if you don't like the fc I am using, I will not be changing it. This just means we aren't going to be compatible partners (I usually have photos of my OC in the rp ad). This next rule is the one that most people balk at. I actually enjoy NSFW content in my roleplays. I am an adult, and NSFW content is very present in all of my writing. This means mainly that I do not fade to black and prefer to write out the smut scenes. However, I never do strictly ERP. There always has to be plot and story leading up to it. The ratio of plot vs smut is like 70/30 or 60/40 depending on how the story goes. Beyond smut, NSFW content can consist of mentions of drinking, drug use, sexual content, and more. Like I said, I have no triggers so I will need to know yours before we can even consider a roleplay. I also do not usually incorporate my own kinks into NSFW writing (this is hard to do when I'm a female playing a male), it is based off of my OCs and what I decide that they enjoy.

When it comes to partners, I like enthusiastic people that enjoy sending songs, aesthetics, plotting together, vibing with moodboards and thinking of the best ways to make our OCs suffer. I make playlists around my OCs so I will happily share those. I love OOC chatter as well. Talking about the roleplay OOC and other things can be quite fun. All of my roleplays are done via Discord with a 1x1 server created. There are no exceptions to this rule. Also, I will not share my Discord with anyone until we have chatted enough to decide that we want to go through with a roleplay and have decided we are compatible partners. One last thing. Ghosting. This is a big deal lately. Look, I have a thick skin and I can be a very blunt person. I have no issues telling anyone if we are compatible or not, and why. I also have no problem being told that someone isn't interested anymore or is just busy and cannot focus on a roleplay. There will be no hard feelings so long as this is communicated. So here is the general rule for roleplays on Discord. If you have not responded to the server in any way within three days, I will delete/leave the server. This is the only warning I will give for that. There is no excuse to disappear. Telling me something and communicating is fine, because I am patient, but without the communication I will not wait around. I am not a fan of having my time wasted :)

I know there are diamonds in the rough out there reading this post. If you are one of these people and can adhere to these rules and guidelines, do not hesitate to dm me or comment. An rp ad is coming after this, so if it is something you are interested in, do not be shy. I am not a mean person. I can just be a bit direct if necessary.

[sarahsyna]

What is Aldo's relationships with the Scions like? Who does he get on with best/least?

I think Aldo’s relationship is overall good with them. He took a long time to warm up to anyone (except Meiyi, who is one of the few quick connections he’s ever had) but over time he’s grown to care for them in the same way he did the people of his village. They work together, they hunt together. They are part of the pack.

In particular he gets/got on well with Urianger, Lyse, and Papalymo.

Papalymo To start with, he and Papalymo had a lot in common. They both had that thing of being perceived as the ‘handler’ to someone loud and ditzy, and that perception being only a shallow understanding of the friendship.

As well as that, Aldo just had a lot of respect for him. Papalymo was a fantastic mage, and a damn good Scion. He was a great person to talk to and to have aetherological discussions with.

Urianger Aldo has absolutely no trouble understanding Urianger, and he’s always a bit confused when everyone else says that Uri is incomprehensible because the guy is perfectly understandable to him. It’s just slightly flowery language, what do you mean you don’t get it?

It’s definitely not Aldo’s own way of talking though, he prefers to be direct, nigh-on blunt. So you have these two lads talking about a treatise they’ve both read, and one of them is using this very high language and the other is speaking with all the subtlety of a brick.

“Wherefore didst one acquire this misunderstanding of the fundamentals of the text?”

“My understanding is just fine, Urianger. Yours is just lacking nuance. Would you like to see my citations? Because I have plenty.”

“Oh, most gladly.”

Uri’s probably also the only person to refer to him as Aldous instead of Aldo or Al.

Lyse Aldo is a quiet guy so a lot of people assume that he doesn’t get along with people that are loud and cheerful. To the contrary, they probably have the easiest time. He doesn’t push people away so much as just not seek them out, so extroverts have an easier time with him.

Because of this, Lyse is one of the first people besides Meiyi that he bonded with in the Scions. She was just friendly, and it helped a lot. He did always have this feeling there was something she wasn’t telling people, but he also figured it was none of his fucking business.

When Papalymo died, I think he was able to give voice to some of Papalymo’s own perspective, help Lyse understand why he did what he did. He was also able to tell her how Papalymo would talk about her when she wasn’t around. It worried him that she might have considered herself a burden, and he felt he owed it to both of them as his friends to set that straight.

As for those he gets along with least, I’d say Thancred and Y’shtola.

Thancred’s long absences mean that Aldo’s never really warmed to him the same way as a lot of the others. Like I said above, he needs time to get to know someone.

He’s also run into some friction with Y’shtola. Aldo thinks that despite positioning herself as ‘the smart one’ she’s far too prone to taking risks without considering the consequences. She’s an intelligent woman doing godamn stupid things.

Now, he doesn’t dislike her. If anything, he’s more irritated because he does actually like and admire her and he wishes she’d stop doing things that could, would, and nearly do get herself killed.

[madamepestilence]

I swear to god I genuinely think Windows 11 should be reclassified as malware and banned internationally.

I have an extremely low-level economy laptop. I'm aware it's falling apart. My GPU is pretty bad, I only have 8 GB of RAM, last winter fucked up the fan, and the CPU is regularly hitting 92C now.

Unfortunately, that means that I get to experience shitty Windows 11 updates the hardest.

Over the past few weeks, multiple Windows updates have made my laptop increasingly worse. I used to be able to run Firefox, Steam, Discord, a Steam game, and even open Minecraft or GIMP and maybe have files open. I could watch Twitch streams or YouTube videos in the background of everything.

Then, suddenly, my computer starts freezing. Firefox is suddenly taking up 800 MB to 1.5 GB of RAM. For reference, I can only use 7.78 GB of my 8 GB RAM, and Windows 11 natively uses 4.5 to 5 GB of that at all times.

That means I actually have ~2.78 GB of RAM. This rendered me unable to watch Twitch streams or YouTube videos in the background while I have a game open.

Firefox updates. Windows updates twice. Suddenly it runs a bit smoother, and everything is using about 200 MB less RAM.

Then, suddenly, I can't have Firefox open at all in the background. It causes everything to freeze. I think it's the CPU temperature, of course, that would be causing issues.

Now, today, 22 May 2024, without any Windows updates, I suddenly cannot have even so much as Steam, Discord, and Team Fortress 2 open at the same time.

It uses 90-100% of my RAM at all times.

Windows 11 is malware. It is behaving as though it's a crypto miner or as though it's got an insidious AI creeping through it scraping data from my files.

On the off chance some fucker at Microsoft sees this, move to Windows 12 and remove all your bloatware. Don't think I haven't seen that thread on Microsoft Answers where a fuckton of people call out Windows 11 for being significantly worse than Windows 10.

To those of you who are itching to say Just buy a new laptop/buy a computer!, feel free to donate me several thousand dollars. I am in extreme poverty, I am currently a NEET, my phone is not currently able to text or call (meaning I can't get a job right now), and I cannot afford it.

To those of you who are itching to say Just use Linux instead!, the vast majority of people I talk to automatically assume I'm unfamiliar with Linux. Everybody knows what the fuck Linux is.

I miss using Linux Mint KDE, but again, I'm in extreme poverty, and I have a history of bricking computers trying to build them or install a new OS. This is my only laptop and I can't afford to replace it.

[brookebeebe-blog]

July 18th - Fort San Domingo, Tamsui Old Street, and Ferry

Last night, some of us decided to go on a bar crawl, which extended far into this morning. The bar crawl was kind of boring because they weren’t really any people in the bars except for us and they didn’t play any music. The last place our guide took us on the crawl was a club called Ruff, which was super fun. I have never been to a club like it. In Gainesville, we have clubs, but they are nothing like this. The music makes your entire body vibrate, there are lasers, smoke machines and women drink free. We were having a really good time and then all of the lights turned on. Then, around 20 cops walked in and started checking everyone’s passport. After about 30 minutes of waiting, the lights turned back off and the night resumed. I didn’t get home until about 3 am. Then, I woke up bright and early at 8 and couldn’t go back to sleep. I just laid in bed until it was time to go pretty much. First, we went to the Fort San Domingo, which reminded me a lot of the forts in St. Augustine. Next, we went to the Tamsui Old Street, which was pretty much like the night markets, but it just operated during the day. I picked up some tanghulu, which is Chinese candied fruit. Today I got grapes, but I think I prefer the strawberries. Lastly, we went on a ferry ride which was my favorite part of the day. After we crossed, there was some beautiful ocean scenery and boats. I even got to try some cuttlefish. I am extremely tired after the day, so I’m ready to go back home and get a good night of sleep before tomorrow!

Academic Reflection

There wasn’t a reading for today so I will focus my research on Fort San Domingo, which was our first activity of the day. It was built in 1629 by the Spanish in order to aid their conquest of the area against the local Chinese and aboriginal people. It was then captured by the Dutch in 1642 when they drove the Spanish from Taiwan. Then, the fort was referred to as “Hongmao Castle” which was derived from the read headed appearance of the Dutch inhabitants. Then, in 1867, the British leased the forts and renovated it, giving it red roof tiles and a red brick veranda, which gives it the iconic look it has today. We got to see some old brick protected by glass on our tour of the fort, along with some canons that helped defend the fort. I always think it’s so interesting to see how people used to live and I cannot imagine summers in Taiwan without air conditioning. With that being said, they did have an incredible view.

Citations

https://eng.taiwan.net.tw/m1.aspx?id=2129&sNo=0002091#:~:text=First%20built%20in%201629%20by,the%20Spanish%20from%20the%20island.

[nekobami]

Hi people look at my generic business man

Hes very evil, very rich and very gay

(And there's some text and unnecessary lore, like always)

(I guess some of this days I'm gonna build my mansion with texts as bricks, broo)

Basically he built his own wealth little by little while evolving his own body. His species used to be known for adapt and blend in with the fauna and flora of other planets without be perceived

(without the block of text and the close angle. Everything in pink/green is 99% sarcasm or whatever, just ignore it)

Basically he's Evo Hazard (got the reference? I'll probably change it someday) He's apparently 25 years old more or less and probably this one isn't his real name and is just a name he decided to use

More precisely, Evo has decided to adapt himself to technology. He sought to improve his body and mind in every way he could, not limited to biological evolution. But he still hasn't completely let go of being nice to see for other people. The biggest project he ever built was an immense tower with countless floors on a planet he had worked to modify and make it suitable for human life, just because he wanted to receive Ricks, Mortys and every other kind of life there. His tower were basically a Hotel, Nightclub but also a Laboratory at the same time, where his friends could have fun without being worried about money or whatever (a sugar daddy, obviously, why not) because anyway, he gets a lot of money for the unique studies, information, and discovers from his laboratory, He also has his own brand of drink, his own """"empire"""", I would say that money is not lacking anyway

Evo, despite being extremely kind and refusing to charge people to enter his tower, he's extremely controlling and possessive. It's not that he likes to give orders or trapping people inside his hotel. He specifically loves to know that everyone is enjoying something he has made. Like, too much. He could pass his entire life observing people walking and having fun inside his hotel. At his own parties, he is seen serving some of his guests and welcoming them. He gets all sorts of Ricks and Mortys, probably even Miami Rick and Morty have been to his club

His biggest goal was to create a place where no one has to suffer and life is totally balanced. In the middle of his plan, was eliminating the greatest danger to the life forms he loved most: the federation.

According to what Rick discovered from his searchs, (always having to get where NOBODY called him) Evo has worked on the cloning and controlled evolution of endangered species inside compressed artificial planets, mimicking the nature they used to live in, but causing changes on certain points to make them adapt and develop in the way he wanted. So, he would take their evolution for himself and restore them after (and there's nothing wrong with it, obviously) ignore the pink text it's REALLY wrong

Afterwards, when Rick confronted him, he told him that his plan was to become one with technology, a new form of life like no one had seen before. A marvel of technology, An unstoppable creature whose power would only grow. And with that power, he would build a utopia. An ideal place for living standards. Which he himself would protect with his life. A perfect world, where everyone could live in harmony in the way that was best for them. He told that he would use the tower and the federation to build this place, as soon as there wasn't even one person in the tower. Therefore, Rick invaded the laboratory when Evo had sent everyone to a safe place, those places could be their own home or other of his smaller buildings

However, when Rick heard these words from Evo, his face darkened.

He declared, amidst other arguments, that Evo should not be trusted with power, much less of that nature

And after that, I don't know what to do

I'll think about it later so the post won't get too long and if I think of something good I'll share the story in the other drawings I intend to do

[rookwurmwood]

The Rituals of Maggots

Many are of the belief that there is no room for superstition in our secular world. The Scientific Enlightenment would dispel the ignorance of the Dark Ages, bringing about an Age of Reason marked by progress and industry. Slowly, but surely, modernity crowded out the Old World:

The lightbulb would outshine the candle,

The saber would find its bride in the pistol,

The motorcar would outrun the horse,

Wilderness gave way to village, then town, then city until the ground mirrored the night sky above with countless lights which would banish the darkness to the loneliest corners of the world. There are those who know otherwise, however. Folks who have seen things so utterly fantastic and horrible which defy explanation. Very few boast of being counted among those tortured few. Those who discovered that the Old Gods of the Heathen Times never left and that magic and mystery still lurk behind the facade of the enlightened world. It all started in October with something which would otherwise be benign: a new exhibit at the local museum, an old book to be exact.

It was an ugly thing, that book. It sat 'neath a glass prism upon a marble pillar, illuminated in a halo of an electric light which shone from above. The centuries were not kind to it as the edges of the pages bore the marks of destruction inflicted by worms and water while the leather cover was cracked, dry, and riddled with mold. It had been shoddily bound in the Coptic style with dried sinew; a raw-hide cord affixed to the right cover which would of been wound around the codex to keep it shut was coiled up next to it like a serpent. The pages were of papyrus and velum, each bearing to columns of text written in a barely legible hand which was occasionally interrupted by some odd diagram or macabre illustration.

The placard set upon the pedestal below was engraved with the letters CÆREMONIAS VERMIUM which was doubtlessly the title of the tome, subtitled in English "The Rituals of Maggots". It had been unearthed a year prior in a mastaba amongst the sun-scorched desolation of the Black Desert of Egypt. The mud-brick tomb was bereft of inscription and bare of any semblance of grandeur. Only composed of a small room with an opening to a precipitous drop down a narrow chute which led to a small burial chamber containing a sarcophagus. The codex found tightly clutched in the mummified hands of its previous owner. The book was infamous and had been described by the Roman philosophers who inhabited Egypt at the time as the "handbook of dark mysticism" as it contained rites and ceremonies which were considered profane to their sensibilities. All copies which remained had been burned, the only evidence it had ever existed being the occasional reference to it by scholars who condemned it as soon as it was mentioned. The finders of the manuscript believed without a shadow of a doubt that this was the original copy.

The book itself was a compilation of several texts written in Koine Greek, Coptic, Latin, and even Ancient Sumerian with interjections and treatises interspersed throughout which were written by the unnamed priest who created the book. The passages outlined the practices of certain mystery-cults throughout the Eastern Mediterranean, practices which certainly deserved the ire of the ancient sages as they detailed how one may reach beyond the curtain of death through acts of necrophagy, necrophilia, and necromancy to excavate hidden or forbidden knowledge from beyond. As well as incantations which were said to conjure forth inhuman spirits, called dæmons by the chronicler, who may aid one in this pursuit. Many incantations bore such names as: Namtillaku, Agaku, Tuku, Lugalugga, Ahkharhu, and Ninnghizhidda which were identified to be Sumerian in origin. Curiously, the authors of the texts as well as the compiler made no attempt to syncretize these entities with other gods of the region, as is common when ancient authors would document the gods of other cultures, and instead always referred to them by their Sumerian names which points to these cults having their origins nestled between the Tigris and Euphrates.

News had spread far and wide. Many came to gawk at its gruesome drawings during or read the translated portions which were provided on pamphlets to the visitors during its brief exposition who wished to feed their morbid curiosity. Other, more devout, folks thronged the entrances of the museum while holding signs bearing Leviticus 19:31, Deuteronomy 18:10-11, and Revelation 21:8; demanding the item of supreme blasphemy be taken off display. Then one day, the police sped down to the museum in response to the high whining of a burglar alarm; finding the display case broken and the codex gone. The security guard had neither seen nor heard anything save for the breaking of the glass and all the doors and windows were found to be unmolested; bearing no sign of entry nor exit. The case went cold as there was hardly any evidence to follow to find the culprit of the heist and many forgot about the book save for the scholars of the local colleges who bemoaned the loss of an opportunity to study it. Some rumors were even abound that the security-guard had orchestrated the robbery himself and sold the book to a jealous antiquarian while others said that it had been the work of the local evangelists who wished to destroy the book, though such claims were easily disproven. Later that week, a grave-digger had arrived to St. Callistus' Cemetery early in the morning to begin preparing a plot for an upcoming funeral to find the grounds had been desecrated. Many of the stone crucifixes had been overturned and graves had been dug up. An investigation was sparked in order to find the grave-robbers but the inspection of the splintered caskets brought more confusion than evidence. No valuables had been taken but the bodies which had been interred in those worm-eaten pine boxes had been carved up like livestock. The grey skin peeled away to reveal the putrid black flesh beneath, crawling with maggots and gnawed by animals in the night. All of the corpses which had been unearthed the night prior were all uniformly bereft of the flesh on their abdomen, thighs, and hips. The incisions around the affected areas were precise and meticulous; showing that the portions of tissue which had been flayed off were deliberately selected by the ghoulish plunderer. At the same time, people began to tell of odd strangers coming into to town. Many assumed were vagrants who were forced to leave the prairies behind after the drought and dust-storms of September, 1930; which rendered the lands east of the Rockies a wasteland which refused to yield crops. Yet these wayfarers all bore a uniform aspect of furtiveness and secrecy, exacerbated by the fact that many of them often went into town hooded and veiled. Those who spoke to them claimed that their voices were of a frightfully singular intonation which hinted at some form of shared anatomical abnormality; while others who had seen their unobscured faces claimed that they were horribly deformed as if afflicted by leprosy or syphilis, a fact which garnered sympathy from some and disgust from others. Soon people began to darkly whisper about the cluster of tents the drifters had erected as they were all deep in the forest near the home of one Orey May, otherwise known as the Witch of Westfield.

Ms. May was a bent and ill-looking husk of a woman, a recluse who lived in an isolated shack deep in the remote Pine Barrens outside of town that was only accessible through a winding, thorn-bordered path through the forest. She had lived alone in her hovel long before the township of Westfield had been established, proudly boasting to those few visitors she hosted that her grandmother had fled from Salem during the panic of 1692. She was a practitioner of old ways and a prodigious scholar of wood-craft and herb-lore; nearly every shelf and windowsill of her cabin was occupied by pots and terrariums. All of which contained specimens of odd mosses, phosphorescent fungi, and baneful herbs. A few of the faded labels bore such names as: henbane, mandrake, belladonna, monkshood, and all manner of amanitas and boletes. Her reputation as a witch came about after a shocking incident in the Spring of 1909, when Orey had been seen dancing about a druidic circle of stones which crowned the hill, of whose shadow her cabin rested within, in the midst of a thunderstorm. This event would forever tarnish her reputation in the eyes of the largely Protestant inhabitants of Westfield to the point where now, even decades later, many avoid her without wholly knowing why.

The strangers openly conversed with Orey with an almost familial openness which they neglected to extend with the people of Westfield, speaking to her in unfamiliar tongues which even the most well-traveled and cultured of villagers could not place. The recluse tended to the charges whom she harbored and they often joined her during her sojourns into the forest and dances about the wheel-like arrangement of round stones which topped the hill, often lighting great fires which could be spied from miles away. Those among the misshapen interlopers who were questioned on the subject and answered with more than a wordless leer spoke vaguely of a coming event in their meeping voices.

Around Mid-October, another episode of grave-robbery had broken out in the town over and the sheriff's department managed to apprehend one of the perpetrators. He was one of three individuals who had broken into a mausoleum and spoiled its contents. The sexton who tended to the timeworn churchyard had phoned for the police after he had witnessed the three figures scaling the wrought-iron fence with ease and throwing aside the door to the crypt before stealing away within. The authorities had arrived to a scene taken from the deepest nightmare-depths of depravity. Three perverse shadows of men were hunched over the bodies of the dead, toiling away at some unnamable task of utmost degeneracy. Somewhere between consumption and copulation. In the ensuing struggle, one man was shot, the other detained, and the final one managing to escape back into saturnine safety of the forest. The police took their captive to the station, but upon returning to the cell they had left him in while he awaited questioning, he was gone. It was as if he had vanished into thin air as there was no sign of egress. The only remnant of the man's presence being a strange pattern on the floor reminiscent of a square within a square, framed by a series of strange glyphs or symbols drawn in coagulated blood. One of the officers on-duty said was really familiar to a piece of bizarre graffiti he had seen outside the museum while assisting with the investigation of the break-in earlier that month. The news was brought to Westfield where the pieces had finally been assembled and it was now widely understood that the slew of recent phenomena which had unfolded over the month had not been independent of each other.

The case of the missing artifact had been reopened, fortified by the additional crimes of grave desecration. The prime suspects were Orey May and her commune of degenerate vagrants. The authorities had received a warrant for search of Ms. May's property in search of the stolen codex as well as warrant for arrest for anyone who was suspected of being involved with the recent grave-robbery.

The police were content on awaiting for an opportunity to strike, then came the fateful call. In the early morning of November 1st, a series of frantic phone-calls were made to the police station, all of which were frantic summons to Westfield. As that night, the devil-flames were ignited atop the solitary hill which towered over the forest and the witch and her cult began their typical nocturnal revelries with an increased fervor. The baneful bacchanalia could be heard echoing throughout the Pine Barrens and the people of Westfield could take no more. At the same time a call came in from St. Callistus'; The grave-digger had been wandering the burial ground nightly after the first instance of grave-robbing and found that all of the graves in the cemetery had been disturbed and that none of the bodies could be found.

The police seized the opportunity and organized a posse at once, calling reinforcements from the town. Reports on what happened next are vague but there is an ongoing conspiracy regarding the events of that morning. Some say that the police dispersed the cultist with a series of warning shots that caused them to flee but those who were a part of the raid have never made an official statement. That was until the suicide of police inspector Lucas Emily. He had taken his own life that following December, having shot himself in his own home. The note accompanying the lifeless body explained the otherwise sane man's reason taking his own life and is summarized as follows:

The entourage had walked the path through the lugubrious pines towards the shack of the recluse, guided by the amber beacon and the echoes of the orgy atop the hillock. As they grew closer, the carnal ululations began to take on a more legible sound until the men could hear a demoniacal chorus of:

Ia! Enki! Lugal-la-ki! Ia! Marduk! Amar-utu-ak! Ia! Nergal! Lugal-ush! Ia! Namtillaku! Gu-de-da-adda Ia! Ahkharhu! Ummum-la-udug!

which harmonized with the hellish trills of ritual-flues from above the skeletal bows and branches which fruitlessly reached for the ephemeral jewels of the night sky. The group soon came across the shack and the veritable city of tents and shelters which encompassed it, finding it to be completely abandoned and assuming that all of the residents were on the hilltop and thus made their ascent. The gathering which they had haplessly intruded upon is what drove Lucas to take his own life and why the men had sworn an oath of secrecy, the breaking of which would be his final act.

They climbed the hill via a dirt path which coiled around the sides like a python about its prey. As they ascended, they were assailed by the foul odor of burnt hair and putrid flesh and the chanting grew intolerable. The men, having finally mounted the hill, laid eyes on the horrible spectacle at the height of its intensity. The revelers were leaping and frolicking about a ring of stones arranged like a six-spoked wheel. At its center was the blaze which acted as their corrupted Star of Bethlehem, though no wood nourished the flames and what wasn't being consumed by the fire was instead being ravished and devoured by the revelers. Many of them were unclothed, revealing an almost inhuman aspect which had been hitherto concealed by their vestments. Their legs were a crooked, canine shape, terminating in feet which sat in some liminal region of form somewhere between padded paws and cloven hooves. In the fire-light, some of them who had never been seen unmasked had strange, elongated faces like those of dogs. Orey May was present, similarly nude, and holding in her hands the moldering volume which had been taken from its place beneath a glass case.

Some of the posse cursed, the others screamed, and a few prayed, yet it was all drowned out by the sounds of the Boschian nightmare which festered before them. Though the detail which drove the group to silence and Mr. Emily to self-annihilation was the fact that the cadavers which were being both burned and fed upon moved and undulated in time with the chorus, some of them even contributed with raspy voices from decayed vocal-chords.

In an act of primal autonomy, divorced from reason and spurred on by indescribable terror upon sight of the abominable display, the men unanimously began to fire upon the cultists without regard or remorse. An act purely motivated by the desire to remove the act and its participants from existence. Orey May was killed in the ensuing massacre and the wretched, leprous abnormalities which were not also exterminated either escaped into the forest on all fours or seemingly evaporated once they had realized their ritual had been compromised. Once the slaughter had ended, the men methodically and diligently erased any evidence that it had ever occurred. They piled the bodies until they had burned to ash and then buried what remained, they swore to never speak of what they saw or what they had done and returned back to Westfield with wild eyes and pale faces. The Cæremonias Vermium was returned to the museum where it is still on display until this day under tight lock and key and unrelenting supervision.

[vgfm]

Deltarune’s Hidden Graffiti Artist

Here’s a quick thing I noticed that I haven’t seen anyone comment on yet:

[Image transcript: Kris and Noelle looking at a graffiti drawing of a tree. The text box on screen says “(The room between... There is a room between.)” End image transcript]

[Image transcript: Kris and Susie standing across from Bratty in a Hometown alley. On the brick wall is graffiti of Ice-E’s head and graffiti of Everyman, labeled with his name. End image transcript]

Deltarune now has two instances of cryptic graffiti in the game. Obviously the graffiti itself has been noticed by most players, but what I haven’t seen anyone point out yet is that two of these drawings use the exact same color:

Here they are isolated from their backgrounds and placed side-by-side to better illustrate:

To me this implies that these two graffiti pieces were made by the same person. However, one is in the Cyber dark world and the other is in Hometown. Since we have yet to see a confirmed case of a darkner existing in Hometown without reverting into an object, it’s safe to assume that there’s another lightner who’s going into dark worlds besides the Fun Gang.

This raises a lot of questions, like who this person might be or what purpose this graffiti serves.

So far we’ve only been able to read the tree graffiti, which mentions the “room between.” 

[Image transcript: Kris and Noelle looking at a graffiti drawing of a tree. The text box on screen says “(The room between... There is a room between.)” End image transcript]

If this text is meant to mimic the artist’s speech then it can be inferred that the artist does not speak with any sort of readily-identifiable quirk like all-caps or a special font. 

In Undertale, hand-written messages generally mimic the author’s style of speech:

[Image transcript: Frisk reading a note left by Papyrus. The note, written in all-caps in a papyrus font, reads: “HUMAN!! PLEASE ENJOY THIS SPAGHETTI.” End image transcript]

However, this is not always the case. For example, not all of Sans’ written messages in Undertale follow his speech quirks.

[Image transcript: Frisk reading a note from Sans. The note reads, in all-lowercase sans serif font: “didn’t you just say not to bring it back to my room?” End image transcript]

His note on his sock does mimic his font, writing style, and speech sounds.

[Image transcript: Frisk reading a note, presumably written by Sans, in all lowercase standard font that reads: “the truth is that you got owned, nerd......” End image transcript]

But the note on his treadmill (presumably written by Sans) only mimics his all-lowercase writing style but does not use a sans serif font or his speech sounds when read. 

Given that the identity of Deltarune’s artist is likely an intentional mystery, it’s not surprising that the text on the tree drawing doesn’t reveal much beyond standard font and capitalization, which 95% of the characters use. 

The main thing we can infer from the tree graffiti is that it refers to the tree in Chapter 2 where you find the egg.

[Image transcript: Kris standing behind a tree. The narration says “Well, there is a man here.” End image transcript]

Was this graffiti a warning from the artist? Were they looking for this room themselves? Or could it have been an open invitation from the person inside? After all, the man behind the tree seems like he might be happy to see you.

[Image transcript: Continued from the image above, Kris is still standing behind the tree and the narration says “He might be happy to see you.” End image transcript]

We have seen evidence that the tree man might exist in Hometown as well. If you interacted with the man in Chapter 1 then “a man” will appear in one of the cars outside of the Librarby. 

[Image transcript: Kris is looking inside of a car outside of the library. The narration says “(There is even a man inside this one.)” End image transcript]

This could make the tree man a strong candidate for being the artist, although there are other possibilities.

Besides the tree man, we know that there is the Knight and the “strange someone” giving out Shadow Crystals who’ve interacted with dark worlds. We don’t know if either of these people have directly set foot in a dark world yet or if they merely meddle from the outside. We also don’t know if these are three distinct individuals or if two or more of these roles are being filled by the same character.

Another possibility for the Artist’s identity, potentially overlapping with the above candidates, is Alphys. Not only do we see her standing in this alley in Chapter 1 but the files also refer to this area as “bg_alphysalley”, even in Chapter 2 when Bratty is standing there instead of Alphys:

[Image transcript: A screenshot of UTModTool with the sprite for the Hometown alley background opened. The filename for the background is “bg_alphysalley” End image transcript]

One could also argue that the writing next to each drawing lines up with Alphys having historically bad handwriting, although as far as I know she has no proven history of artistic aptitude.

[Image transcript: Frisk is reading a note from Alphys. The narration says “(It’s hard to read because of the handwriting, but you try your best...)” End image transcript]

(notably, Alphys’ letter in the image above is another example of a written message not using a character’s usual speech sounds when read)

On the other hand, the scribbly graffiti text could simply be a limitation of the pixel art or a way to prevent us from knowing what it says until we read it.

Conveniently, both Alphys and Bratty block our path from being able to walk up and examine the Hometown graffiti text directly. Given that the tree image had a message to read, it’s likely that the Hometown graffiti will also have a message when we get the chance to examine it.

Based on the subjects depicted in each drawing, it could be inferred that Ice-E, Everyman, and the tree man might share some connection or at least be viewed as equally-noteworthy entities/cryptids by the artist.

I could throw out other possibilities of who the artist is, like a runaway Dess, but I would be dipping into pure speculation at that point. We don’t have a lot to go off of here other than that the Artist exists and has almost certainly been to the light and dark worlds before.

I was going to make this discovery part of my next big theory post, but since that’s taking forever I decided to make this a standalone. I wonder if anyone out there can springboard an interesting theory off of this revelation.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @dreatine - thanks so much!! ♡

Eleven Minutes

7:20…

Spencer’s phone dings, snapping his vision away from scrutinising his reflection in the mirror.

“Ok, Im now leaving, see you there!”

A text. That’s how it all started, a single text from you. He remembers it like it was yesterday, but he remembers every single one of the 14 days since, even clearer. After 7 months of no communication, you appeared on his phone.

“Just saw the cutest dog in existence”

Of course he hadnt deleted your number, and your text proved you hadnt deleted his either, or maybe you had, but you’d memorised it. He’d replied with a single perplexed question mark, and you sent him another text in seconds.

“Seriously, look, you wont believe it”

With that one, you attached a picture of the dog you’d seen, and he realised what you were doing. Breaking the ice in the least awkward way possible. And you succeeded. Everyday since, you and Spencer have been exchanging casual texts, picking up right where you left off but in a way he’d never expected.

7:22…

He checks his reflection one more time in the mirror, fixing his hair and your favourite tie of his, before texting you a reply.

“Im on my way!”

It was like you’d never broken up. Spencer coped with not having an explanation for 7 days, then he couldnt take it. The curiosity was eating at him until he finally caved and called you.

7:24…

Spencer remembered the way his heart leapt, hearing your voice for the first time in so long. It brings a smile to his face as he locks his front door and begins walking down the street.

“Spence…it’s 2am, what in the world couldnt wait just a few more hours?” He could tell he’d woken you from a deep sleep, and he felt terrible, but he couldnt put this off any longer.

“This cant wait. Please.”

You cleared your throat, sensing the seriousness of his reasoning without even knowing what it was. “Okay, okay, what’s up?”

The question fell from his lips in a hurried jumble. “Why did you start talking to me again?”

Silence.

7:24…

The streetlights guide him, and he cant help seeing the coincidence within them. Spencer only ever notices how bright the world he is when you’re around.

That night, he took a breath, about to speak, but you finally answered.

“I missed you.”

And that was all he needed. He didnt question any further, and the two of you talked on the phone until the sun came up. He knew enough, and you could always read him like a book; he knew that you knew without even asking, your feelings were reciprocated, always.

7:26…

It was light night that Spencer suggested the two of you meet up for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and it was you who asked if it would be a date. That, he said, was up to you. Well then, I guess it’s a date, he recalls you chirping, his mind replaying your excitement, causing him to light up. Spencer looks down at the ground as he walks, to hide his expression in case anyone saw him walking alone and wondered why he was smiling so widely to himself.

7:28…

Round the corner is the bar you suggested meeting at, because it’s so close to where Spencer lives, so it’s one the two of you used to visit regularly. Like old times, he thinks blissfully. You arranged to meet at half past 7, and he’s close by, he doesnt want to arrive early or before you, he doesnt want to seem overly eager, so he stops.

7:30…

Leaning against the brick wall of the building behind the bar, Spencer lets his head roll back to look up at the night sky. He’s mere seconds away from being where you want him to be, where he’ll finally get to see you again. He wonders how this will work, is he supposed to greet you with a kiss on the cheek, or a hug? And at the end of the date, what happens in this scenario? Is kissing you too forward? Too soon? Spencer knows you better than anyone, but in this situation, when the two of you havent been in each other’s presence for so long, he doesnt know how much of you still responds to him in the same way. He doesnt want his excitement to be replaced by nervousness, he shakes his head and tries to focus on the positives. Like seeing your smile, hearing your voice and your laugh in person, looking into your eyes, making you blush, performing his cheesiest pickup lines so that you dramatically swoon before the two of you collapse into fits of laughter.

Scenes play out in Spencer’s head, making him dizzy in the best way, opening the door of the butterfly cage in his stomach. It’s time. His hands begin to shake lightly at his sides as he takes a deep breath and steps away from the wall, turning in the direction of the bar. But Spencer only manages to take a single step before the sound of a gunshot pierces the air, and his blood runs cold.

…7:21

Your eyes flick down from the street in front of you every few seconds as you await his reply. He might cancel, right now, he could get cold feet or realise this is a bad idea, he could-

A gentle smile overtakes your features as you read the text from Spencer. He’s going to be there, you’re really going to see each other again. Your cheeks flush pink at the thought of him just smiling at you, you feel like a high school girl with a crush, not an adult woman going on a date with her ex. That phrasing is so bitter, you shake your head, this is a good thing! It’s going to work itself out. You two will be fine, like you always are.

…7:23

Tucking your phone into your bag and zipping it shut, you nod to yourself as a mantra of positive thoughts towards this situation flood your mind, reassuring you that this is the right thing to you.

Last night you booked a hotel room down the street so that you could walk to the bar rather than have to rely on public transport. You want to arrive on time, early even, so that you dont miss a minute of tonight.

…7:25

You clutch the strap of your bag with one hand, your other hand flattening your dress against the gentle breeze. The material of the dress is soft, it’s technically a summer dress, not entirely weather appropriate for a colder-than-average night, but it doesnt matter. Spencer’s eyes used to fall out of his skull whenever he saw you in this dress. On the summer nights when he was working late and you’d show up at his desk, gifting him with food you’d prepared for him yourself. You’d keep him company until he was done with his work, keeping the smile on his face that he couldnt find the words to thank you for. Lost in thought, you tuck your hair behind your ears shyly, as though he’s smiling at you and calling you beautiful now, rather than in a memory.

…7:27

Another cool wind caresses you, and you’re quick to wrap your leather jacket further around yourself. A summer dress and a leather jacket, the best combination to reassure Spencer that you’re still the same badass who’s very obviously wholesome too. Exactly what you’re hoping he misses, even if he didnt verbally confirm that on the night you told him you missed him. Doubting is pointless and will only make you insecure, you remind yourself, Spencer suggested to meet, he replied to all your texts, he called you at 2am because you were on his mind. Everything is going to be fine, this is right.

…7:29

The warm glow from the lights beyond the bar windows greet you as you reach the building, and you lean against the wall. Looking over your shoulder, you peak in the windows, knowing Spencer wont be there since you arranged to meet outside, but wanting to check regardless. Just in case. You take your phone out of your bag to check the time. He only lives down the street, he’ll be here any second. You turn to face the direction you know he’ll be walking from, along the same street the two of you laughed down countless times, tipsy and serenading each other with whatever song you’d favoured on the bar playlist that night. Tucking your phone back in your bag, you let yourself relax. This will bring the two of you back together, where you belong.

“Hey there pretty girl, what’re you doing all by yourself?”

You roll your eyes at the voice behind you.

“Try to flirt with me again and I’ll rip your midget dick off.” You say without bothering to turn around, still waiting for Spencer to round the corner.

The voice behind you laughs. “I dont think it’s you that should be making threats here, sweetheart.”

The click of a gun takes you out of your badass state of mind. You slowly turn around, clutching the strap of your bag, annoyed at yourself for putting your phone away. Back when you and Spencer were together, he helped teach you how to call him with your phone behind your back. But that’s useless now.

“What do you want?” You ask, your voice less sharp, more negotiable.

The man tilts his gun towards your hip. “Your bag, it looks pretty expensive, and I need a ticket out of here, fast.”

You shake your head and take a step back. “No, I cant. There’s nothing of value in there, just sentimental stuff. Please, go, I wont tell anyone I saw-“

He cuts you off. “BULLSHIT! Give me your fucking bag!”

You nod and hold your hands up. “Okay, okay, calm down, let’s do this slowly. Im going to pass you my bag, but please lower your gun so you dont accidentally shoot me.”

He scoffs, but lowers his gun as you hold your bag out to him.

…7:31

He reaches for your bag, the moment seeming to pass in slow motion, until you take your chance. You yank your bag back to your side and make a run for it, knowing Spencer cant be far, he’ll protect you. A gunshot sounds before you make it round the corner, and before you have time to process it, you’re lying on the sidewalk.

Spencer runs down the street, reaching you in a few steps. He sees the man running down the street, the way your hands are still clinging to your bag as you lie on your side, and he puts the pieces together in less than a second. Crouching at your side, he gently takes ahold of your face with shaking hands. He’s always been so careful with you, but now so more than ever. Your eyes are closed, but you smile in recognition.

“(Y/N), stay with me, please!” Spencer pleads desperately, tears already cascading down his face at a rapid rate.

His hands make quick work of taking both of yours in one of his, which he then presses to the bullet wound in your side, while his other hand reaches for his phone and holds it to his ear. His report to emergency services is brief but informative, done in less than 20 seconds, before his full attention is back on you.

“I-I cant lose you again, not like this! Please, dont go!” Spencer sobs, using his now free hand to carefully move your hair out of your face.

“There’s something for you…in my bag.” Your voice is so quiet, so weak, as the pool of blood grows beneath you.

Spencer’s free hand digs through your bag, ignoring the feeling of things he expects to be there, like your house keys, until he finds a small piece of paper that’s folded in half.

“Open it.” You whisper, opening your eyes as much as you can, an exhausted squint watching him as he unfolds the paper.

Just in case I didnt have the balls to tell you tonight-

Spencer shakes his head. “I dont need to read this, you can tell me once we’re at the hospital, after a nap, okay?” His voice is as soft as yours, weak in an entirely different sense.

You smile up at him. “Even if that’s what happens next…I want you to read it. Didnt think I’d get to see your reaction to it, so I’ll take this chance. Please read it.”

Spencer sniffles and nods, reflecting your smile. “For you? Anything.”

He unfolds the paper again.

Just in case I didnt have the balls to tell you tonight, I still love you, Spence. I always have, and always will.

Spencer’s chin wobbles as fresh tears with an entirely different meaning fill his eyes. He doesnt waste another opportunity to verbally reciprocate feelings, and he clears his throat.

“I love you too, (Y/N). Always have, always will.” His voice is hoarse and shaky.

You grin up at him with everything you have, moving one of your hands away from your wound, Spencer having to loosen his hold on your hands in order to let you go. You lift your bloody hand to his cheek and he holds it there, nuzzling into your palm, neither of you caring about getting your blood on his face.

“Nice tie.”

Spencer parts his lips to reply, to tell you that you look beautiful in the dress he’d noticed you wearing as soon as he saw you, but your eyes flutter closed. He hadnt noticed just how big the pool of blood had gotten, it’s soaked through the knees of his suit trousers. His shaking hand goes to your neck, his fingers checking your pulse, desperate to detect any sign of life. But he doesnt feel anything. Except he does, he feels every aspect of his very being shatter, leaving him a shaking, sobbing mess. The gentle smile stays on your face, blue lights from the ambulance casting a glow on your beautiful face that makes you look even less alive. But Spencer doesnt hear the sirens, not over his own agonising screams. You are gone. If he had just walked around that corner, if he hadnt been so caught up in making a good impression on someone he already knew, he could have saved you. Or he could have taken your place. He’s without you, again, but this time in the worst way possible.

[silascody]

tattoo masterpost.

‘aka fuck knows he has too many and this is gonna be hell to explain from a mun standpoint without a frame of reference i can link to’

‘why are we here’ – back of his right thigh.

die young + skull in a whiskey glass – front of his right forearm.

‘it’s all a blur’ – back of right arm, just above the elbow.

large snake – wrapping around his left forearm with the head finishing on his left hand. 

1991 – on his abs just below his pecs, @jordanmitchell's birth year.

‘why not?’ – just below his right v-line. 

a rose – beside the crease of his index finger and thumb of his left hand. commemorating his 2 week post prison bender with a woman called rose raleigh.

D-I-C-E –  tattooed on his fingers from index to pinky on his left hand dice is the name he uses for dealing. loves to keep that ring finger bent to his palm so he’s throwing up a D-I-E, signature picture pose.

‘bulletproof’ – back of his right hand where it meets his wrist.

‘k’ – right wrist, matches the q tattoo @jordanmitchell has.

large geometric lion – on the inside of his right bicep for his dead brother jack who was a leo. 

skull in a panama hat – left pec. previously hatless but he had the panama added as a tribute to his best friend jasper and their misadventures.

large cannabis leaf – front of his left knee. 

large realistic red knife slash wound – on the left side of his chest, just below his heart. got it 17 when his mother told him the wrong son died to signify that she ripped his heart out. 

503 – top of his left arm. oregon area code. 

hands reaching out from the gates of hell – covering the entire back of his neck to the bottom of his hairline. 

eye in the centre of a spider web – front of his right knee. 

wall of text – near his right ribs. paragraphed collection of various texts @jordanmitchell sent him that he never wanted to lose pre-prison. only legible if he lets you close enough to read them. 

large compass dripping down his spine with red watercolors – his says ‘no-one, nowhere’ in typescript where reference pic says wanderlust.

feather – right shoulder. he doesn’t remember much of his paternal grandmother but she always said falling features brought luck and that stuck with him. 

LUCK in black lettering changed to FUCK! (F + ! in red lettering) – right pec. the red was done in the time that elapsed between his arrest and being sent to prison. he thought it was funny. 

stick and poke knife tattoo – just above the scar on his right shoulder blade from where he was stabbed during his second year in prison. he wanted it to look like he was being stabbed again but his cellmate wasn’t very artistically inclined. he’s glad he doesn’t have to look at it much. 

anarchist symbol on red brick wall – on his stomach. 

dragon – covers most of his right hand.

‘strange boy’ – just above his left heel.

oscar the grouch – inside of his right thigh. got called trash once and said bet. 

forked lightning strike – left ribs.

falling man – just below his left elbow.

born with horns – side of his right forearm. gets drunk and tells people it says born horny.

ak-47 – side of his right calf.

‘dead man walking’ – left shoulder blade. 

skeleton giving two middle fingers – back of his left calf. he likes to be permanently flipping people off when wearing shorts. 

1990 – just above his right foot.

skeleton climbing out of a coffin to do coke – back of his left thigh. 

‘SMOKE WEED DRINK BEER STAY HIGH DON’T THINK’ in black lettering with D, I and E specifically in red – left hip.

a pair of lips – left collarbone. an impression of @jordanmitchell's

‘fuck off!’ – along the side of his right hand. flashes at people in the form of a salute when he’s too tired or high to actually say it. 

[very-grownup]

Conventions of Fantasy Monarchs, Queens, and the Subversion Thereof

I think a lot about Megan Whalen Turner’s use of monarchy in her novels and how that compares to royalty as presented in children’s fantasy fiction (as well as adult fantasy fiction, although I think there has been a strong turn away from rulers as absolute moral arbiters in the past twenty-five years, maybe, in favour of portrayals that are not necessarily more nuanced or realistic but are certainly more corrupt and far from divine) and Turner as a feminist writer and how these two aspects of her writing are interlinked. The nature of her approach to her Queen’s Thief series, however, requires a finer focus to begin from the wide view. While other authors world build with brick and mortar, Turner’s books create their world through origami. Each book is a separate piece and is folded into the next.

In "The Thief", Turner starts by establishing the three kingdoms of the Little Peninsula: Sounis, Eddis, Attolia. King, Queen, Queen. Although “The Thief” is wholly Gen’s story, the King of Sounis appearing briefly at the beginning, the Queens of Attolia and Eddis appearing at the end, they are established as the powers that be, the decision makers, the three figures trying to maintain their country and their identity in balance with the martial and economic pressures from all out sides. We know little about any of the monarchs, beyond that Sounis is older and Eddis and Attolia are both young. That the young women are queens, not princesses, is immediately a quiet triumph, an eyeshiver of subverting the unquestioned status quo (you think now, as an adult, of all the uninterrogated eternal princesses in your media, the young women without fathers or with fathers specifically deceased, and the refusal to permit their ascension to an adult title).

Indeed, in “The Thief” it is impossible to envision them as princesses for they are not given names. This is not an oversight on Turner’s part, not a diminishment of their personhood or, at least, not a diminishment of personhood that is not considered part of the parcel of governance. The three monarchs are frequently referred to simply by the name of their country, even dispensing with King/Queen of [Country]. Of course this implies a degree of the individual as their country, their country as the embodiment of the individual, the placing of country before self which, in and of itself, calls on the typical mythos found coupled with a hereditary monarchy. But it also shapes the reader’s understanding of the dynamic between the three monarchs as equal. Queens instead of princesses is adult and the further step of country in lieu of title degenders them, allowing the reader to move beyond their expectations for these titles, these roles, based on previously consumed media or even an awareness of those monarchies which continue today.

It is easy to overlook these socially conditioned expectations; the woman who is a doctor but regularly addresses as “Ms.” without second thought versus the rudeness of anyone forgetting to address a man by his professional credentials. Turner lifts the reader away from expectations they may have for such archetypes as ‘king’ and ‘queen’ without any fanfare given for what she is doing.

Moving beyond the scope of the three monarchs, into the matter of Eddis and Attolia, the only female characters in "The Thief". When the women appear, Turner sets up a familiar feminine binary between the two queens. Eddis is ugly but kind. Attolia is beautiful but cruel. Subsequent books prevent this from being a reductive portrayal of women without invalidating the initial descriptors. Eddis is never described as particularly attractive, but in certain eyes she is beautiful, without it ever seeming like a case of a perceptive/quality man perceiving a non-traditional beauty. Her kindness is tempered, prevented from being a weakness as she makes hard, sometimes ruthless decisions in “The Queen of Attolia” and those decisions are not motivated by possessing greater kindness than Attolia. Instead, she is equal to Attolia in her fierce love and protection of her country and its people. Attolia, the supremely beautiful woman who is cruel, is not the beautiful but evil queen not because she is not truly cruel, but because her cruelness is an expression of her ruthlessness. It is not petty, this is not a governmental expression of a Madonna-Whore dichotomy. It is two women who are physically very different operating in very similar roles with identical goals.

The physical difference is not significant; it is fact.

The important difference, the real dichotomy, is not a question of which of these women is good and which is evil, which woman is ugly and which is beautiful, which woman is pure and which is corrupt. It is, in fact, not a reflection of the women at all, but a reflection of the society and men around them.

More than the other books, the complete understanding of how Turner has taken superficial expectations of kings and queens and the portrayal of two women who, by existing in the same text will always in some way be positioned against each other, is achieved in “The King of Attolia”. Not, as might initially be thought in “The Queen of Attolia” in which the Wicked Queen is given the history and explanation that Explains her; for once we understand why she is wicked, will her actions not seem more understandable and forgivable? Turner in fact says no, Attolia’s cruel acts remain cruel; the nightmare consequences of one particular action continue throughout the series in the form of literal nightmares. “The Queen of Attolia” also gives Attolia a stand-in for someone who appears to be filling the role the evil advisor who leads a good woman astray for his own power and gain in the form of Nahuseresh.

“The King of Attolia” has a protagonist who is not of the nobility and from his perspective the reader gains a deeper understanding for how Attolia the country has been affected by Attolia the queen, the disruption of tradition rippling out to a disruption in the land and its greater politics. Initially, Attolia is a queen governing without a king, contrary to tradition. As a result, Attolia is surrounded by men wishing to control the country through her, their own schemes kept at bay by Attolia making ruthless example of a few individuals and setting the survivors against each other, focusing their attentions on the immediate threat of their peers rather than the abstract threat of not having direct control of Attolia yet. There is a sense given that the history of Attolia’s reign has been a steady escalation of ruthlessness as the scheming and the impatience of her barons persists and under the distraction of infighting, spies, beheading, and torture she secures alternate sources of power which strengthens the tie of loyalty binding the lower classes to her by instituting policies of a non-traditional nature like: meritocracy in the military, terms of indentured servitude having finite limits, and financial compensation for people working for the crown.

Attolia’s political actions, once the reader comes to understand them, are actions which elevate the powerless in her country and in doing so it enables to cement her own power: the power of one who, traditionally, would also be powerless. That we only become aware of this, truly appreciating the impact of Attolia as queen, instead of just the difficulties and hardships personally suffered, from the point of view of an insignificant young soldier and guard, who both fears and is loyal to the queen, imbues this interpretation of Attolia as one of greater truth than what is shown in the previous books. The narrator of “The King of Attolia”, Costis has a simpler view of the matter, a man on the ground view. He has no experience of living under the rule of anyone but this queen. He is not affected by the wider inter-country politics, his position is one formed by experiencing Attolia’s rule. It does not read as propaganda or apologia for the actions of this woman which are influenced by our ancient history and the politics therein.

Turner’s series has now come to an end and the number of main female characters never expanded beyond Eddis and Attolia but, in a genre that frequently fails women, even now, Eddis and Attolia are nuanced characters, powerful characters stretching the expectations of their archetypes and growing beyond them. The way Turner constructs her novels builds slowly and subtly into works that are feminist, despite the predominance of male characters, and strong with class solidarity and an anti-monarchial bent, despite the majority of the protagonists and point of view characters being members of the nobility. The genre and demographic do not need to steer the politics and ideas of a narrative and, in turn, those aspects cannot be accurately represented by simple numbers and Megan Whalen Turner demonstrates this often overlooked truth with each of her books.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: as someone who’s been tormented for being a nerd, you’ve never viewed your friendly teasing towards your best friend seonghwa as bullying. but that is until he completely changes his style and image in school, confronting you about your past behaviour, so you have no choice but to admit the real reason why you’ve been making fun of him...

pairing: popular boy!seonghwa x nerd!reader

genre: high school!AU (the characters are 18 for the spicy parts huehehe), best friends to fake dating to lovers, angst, romance, smut, fluff

warnings: friendly teasing, clichéd/unrealistic portrayal of high school dynamics, hwa does kabedon on yn like once, seonghwa’s a bit of a tsundere, fake dating, hints of possessiveness, slightly problematic remarks, yn is briefly hwa’s slave?! (no, i will not elaborate), bullying, mean girls, insults, hair-pulling, kicking, death threats, some swearing, self-blame, power play, overuse of pet names (princess, baby, little girl, etc.), sir kink (i won’t apologize lol), begging, yunho being nosy (yes, that’s a warning), mention of hypothetical collars, insecurities, making out, loss of virginities, lots of kissing, soft dom!hwa, eating out, fingering, blowjob, consensual protected sex, dirty talk, praising, aftercare, crying, hurt&comfort, a lot of dorky references (cuz that’s me, after all), jumping off a balcony (don’t try this at home!), happy ending

author’s note: will i ever stop bullying poor hwa’s kermit hoodie? no. jk, i lov him so much, he’s so talented & gorgeous no matter what he wears ;-;

disclaimer: all jokes aside, i do not in any way condone bullying and this work is entirely fictional for entertainment purposes! i’ve been physically and emotionally tormented in school and though i have not talked much about it, i do not wish such an experience to anyone! treating people with kindness is cool and i hope everyone spreads more love! ❤️

word count: 9.4k

Having been best friends with Seonghwa for four years now (ever since your first year in high school), you couldn’t help but making fun of every little adorable thing he did. And honestly, you admired his patience when it came to putting up with your incessant teasing. Diligently cleaning up everything after him? You’d call him a neat freak. Not being able to drink coffee? You’d call him a teacup loser. 

So, when he started wearing that green hoodie of his to school, you couldn’t resist the temptation to call him Kermit the frog. And at first, it all started as a joke. But then the nickname kinda stuck and you just kept addressing him as Kermit, even if he wasn’t wearing the delectable green hoodie. And at one point, you could tell that poor Seonghwa was not a huge fan of the whole thing. But he never called you out on it or told you to stop. He never teased you back for being a hopeless nerd who studied 24/7 and read books for fun. So, you kept going.

Until the summer before your last year in high school arrived. Sadly, Seonghwa was going to be out of the country for the whole vacation. You were going to miss him terribly, you realized. You had become so used to seeing him everyday that you couldn’t imagine how you’d last three months without being able to see his pretty face all the time. You’d occasionally text him memes and ask him what he was up to. But as the summer was coming to an end, his replies became less and less frequent, more and more concise. You kept wondering if you’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be the Kermit thing, you began telling yourself. After all, it was normal to tease your best friend every once in a while. Right?

When the first day of your last year in high school came, you were nervously anticipating the moment when you’d see Seonghwa again. Summer without him had been so boring and you couldn’t wait to hug him again and find a new thing to joke about.

The second you saw him, you instinctively knew there would be no more joking around. Seonghwa practically walked into the school hallway like he owned the place. He’d completely changed his style and overall image. Gone were the dorky hoodies you secretly loved so much. Instead, they were replaced by a black leather jacket. Gone were the casual sweatpants he looked so good in. In their place were dark jeans that made him look kinda dangerous. And the whole confidence with which he carried himself was just totally different. 

If you had known that a summer abroad could change a person so much, you would have tried harder at convincing him to stay in the country. On top of it all, he was now hanging out with a bunch of popular a-holes that you had never talked to before. Honestly, you couldn’t even gather the courage to approach your best friend. He looked so distant and unfamiliar that you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Especially when you heard him laughing at the cool kids’ jokes. That should have been you...

You remembered when you were the one making him giggle, as if it was a century ago, when in reality it was just a couple of months. You kept sighing during the whole day, not daring to even talk to him. If he wanted to still hang out with you after his sudden “change in status”, he would, you kept convincing yourself. But he didn’t. In fact, he ignored you the whole day, making you feel like shit.

Just as you were leaving the school building in a hurry, mentally prepared for an evening of crying your eyes out and eating ice cream, you felt a hand grabbing you tightly. Turning around, you were surprised to find Seonghwa’s eyes staring back at you.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted you calmly.

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you responded dumbly.

“What? No witty comeback?” Seonghwa scoffed, smirking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you gonna bully me and call me names again? Kermit? Teacup loser? Neat freak? What’s it gonna be this time?” he spat out, pushing you against the school wall and extending his arms to touch the cold bricks so that you would feel trapped.

“Bully you?” you whispered in disbelief. “H-hwa, I wasn’t...I didn’t m-mean...”

“Oh, yeah?” he mocked your stuttering self. “Then, why did you say all these things, huh?”

“You know why,” you replied.

“No, I don’t. So, tell me right now or I swear, I can make your existence a living hell,” Seonghwa threatened.

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you cried out. “I like you so that’s why I’ve been teasing you. Because if I didn’t, I would have to admit how attractive I find all your habits. How adorable it is when you used to tidy your desk and how sexy you looked in that damned green hoodie. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

You were so frustrated with the way he ignored you all day only to accuse you of bullying him that you ducked your head swiftly beneath his arm, simultaneously bending your knees, and, thus, successfully escaping from Seonghwa’s ambush.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after you, but you were running too fast and luck was on your side, as the bus arrived at that exact same moment, allowing you to get on it, before he could.

You couldn’t sleep much that night, tormented by the fact Seonghwa had confused your friendly jokes with bullying and how foolishly you’d confessed your feelings for him. You were certain that your affections were unrequited and now that he had this whole new position in the school hierarchy, he would undoubtedly make fun of you for them. You were even considering transferring to another school to avoid the potential embarrassment.

In the morning, no sooner had you finished breakfast in the comfort of your room than you heard loud honks. They were unlike the ones in your dad’s car so you couldn’t help but wonder what jerk had decided to park in front of your house and make your day even worse.

“Sweetie,” your mom informed you a bit after. “Your friend Seonghwa is here. He said he’ll drive you to school today. As promised.”

“He did?” you mumbled in confusion. But maybe because you weren’t ready to talk to your mom yet about what happened yesterday, you lied. “Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot.”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted downstairs. You were curious to see what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you asked the minute you entered his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, no good morning for me, princess?” Seonghwa pouted and God, you hated how cute you found him after the way he’d treated you the previous day. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he rolled his eyes, starting the engine. “I’m driving you to school.”

“I can see that. But why?” you hissed.

“Well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he groaned. “If you’re so insistent on finding out, I’ll tell you. Ever since you told me how you felt yesterday, I’ve been thinking...And I’ve come to the conclusion that you have two options. Option number one is to enjoy your hellish last year of high school. You’ve had your fair share of teasing me so I’m definitely going to enjoy telling everyone about your little crush on me. It’s going to be so much fun to embarrass you in front of the whole school.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Seonghwa was supposed to be your best friend! Why was he suddenly acting like you were worth less than a dirty rug? Was it possible that he had changed so much in the span of three months? Or was he always like that? Had you been blinded by his good looks? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was the sweetest guy you’d ever known. How did he get so...cold? Cold enough to chill your bones.

“And what’s option number two?” you grunted, already anticipating the worst.

“So, there’s this annoying girl in our class I want to avoid at all costs. Just because her parents are doing business with mine does not mean I’m into her. Option number two is for us to pretend we’re dating in school. Considering how much you like me, I’m assuming it won’t be very difficult for you to pretend. If you agree, that is.”

What a jerk...You shared your sincere feelings with your best friend and that’s the first thing that crossed his mind? To use you in order to avoid some random girl? If it was any other guy, you would have said no. If you weren’t desperate for even a fraction of Seonghwa’s time and attention, you would have said no. If you weren’t so pathetically whipped for him, you would have said no.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “For how long do you need me to be your fake girlfriend?”

“Just until graduation. Then, we’ll fake break up and each go our separate ways. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible! You wanted Seonghwa to be a part of your life forever. But with the way he was treating you, you weren’t confident he felt the same way anymore.

“Sounds great,” you lied, because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your thoughts. You’d never be perceived as weak again.

The second you walked into school, Seonghwa’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder, everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like high-schoolers had no better thing to occupy their time with but to gossip around the latest dating news. If you weren’t enjoying his company so much, you would have found their reactions pathetic. And somewhat unnerving.

“When did you two lovebirds start seeing each other?” one of Seonghwa’s popular friends Yunho asked.

“Oh, you know what they say. A girl and a guy can’t stay just friends for long,” Seonghwa responded.

You internally rolled your eyes. Your best friend before the summer would have never said such a thing. Whatever the reason for his current behaviour was, you would get to the bottom of it. And right now, you felt like going along with this whole fake dating thing was your best chance at unraveling the mystery.

For the first day of your little arrangement, everything seemed to be going fine. Everyone was staring at you two but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was him. However, soon enough Seonghwa started asking you for weird things.

“Carry my bag for me.” / “Get me a drink from the vending machine, will you?” / “Bring me a snack from the supermarket across the street.” / “Oh, and for my friends, too, doll.”

Seriously, it was getting infuriating. You no longer felt like you were his bestie. You didn’t even feel like you were his fake girlfriend. At this point, you had practically become his slave! Running any errand and carrying his stuff for him. But what was the alternative? If you refused to play your part in this pretend dating scheme, he could easily turn against you and make fun of you in front of the whole school. So, you kept your mouth shut and swallowed your pride.

One evening, around a month after the fake dating agreement had started, you had stayed in the library a bit longer to prepare for an upcoming assignment. By the time you were out of the school building, you supposed that Seonghwa had already gone home. Frankly, the only nice thing he was intent on doing for you was driving you to school and back to your place most of the days.

As you were making your way towards the bus stop, you had the strangest suspicion you were being followed. Not daring to turn around, you started walking faster. But unfortunately, your attackers also sped up and soon enough, you were surrounded by a group of angry faces. Their leader was obviously Eunhee, the most popular girl in the whole school. And coincidentally, this was also the girl whose parents were doing business with Seonghwa’s parents. The very reason you were fake dating your best friend in the first place.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bookshrimp,” she mocked you, sticking a sharp nail into your chest. You didn’t bother correcting her that the right term was bookworm. You were already in enough trouble as it was. For some reason, teasing Seonghwa had been easy because you meant well and you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Not really. Because he knew how badly you’d been bullied in middle school. But now that you were met with so many threatening figures, you froze rightaway, unable to defend yourself.

“Just l-leave me alone,” you stammered.

“Aw, aren’t you a little pathetic shrimpie?” Eunhee cooed and started pulling your hair harshly and kicking you onto the ground. The other girls were holding you down so that you wouldn’t fight back. “Did you seriously believe you can steal Seonghwa from me? We’re meant to be together and if you stand in our way, I will fucking kill you!”

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” you exclaimed sorrowfully. You tried your best to shield yourself and push her away but her loyal minions were preventing you from doing so. Just as Eunhee was about to slap you across the face, you witnessed as her threatening hand was stopped mid-air by the interloper whose features you couldn’t quite discern in the dark. But whose voice you would recognize anywhere.

“You think you’re so brave?” Seonghwa yelled at Eunhee and her friends. “Ganging up on her like that? Six against one? You’re the pathetic ones.”

“Hwa, we were just trying to teach her a lesson. She should learn her place, after all,” Eunhee tried to explain.

“A lesson?” he scoffed. “You dumbasses can’t even pass Calculus and you want to teach the smartest girl in our school a lesson?” your heart melted with warmth at how highly he thought of you. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“You won’t tell my dad, right?” Eunhee was suddenly on the defensive. She’d probably be in big trouble if he found out how his precious daughter was behaving in school.

“Get out of my sight right now or I’ll tell the whole country,” Seonghwa threatened through gritted teeth. (Later on, he actually did tell her dad about the incident and Eunhee, along with her followers, were suspended from school for two weeks. Oh, and their rich parents cut off their money, which was pretty impressive an accomplishment). And so, the vicious girls scattered like roaches in daylight. Pulling you onto your feet, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car which you somehow hadn’t noticed parked nearby. Getting inside, he started the engine immediately but his hands were clutching the steering wheel so hard you were feeling a bit scared. You had never seen your best friend so angry. Well, maybe the only other time that came close was when you were telling him about your past experiences with bullying...

“Are you mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“At you?” he chuckled harshly. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t know...”

“Why didn’t you fight them back?” Seonghwa inquired.

“I tried, but I was reminded of middle school and just...froze. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not blaming you,” he replied calmly. “I was just wondering. Cause I know you’ve been going to self-defense classes. And I thought you were making progress. I mean, the last time I came to watch, you were pretty good.”

That was before the summer. Of course it was. Still, you were touched by the fact that he remembered. Despite acting like he didn’t care, you instinctively knew he did.

“I mean, I was,” you said. “But I panicked.”

Seonghwa let go of the wheel with one hand and placed it on your bare knee, rubbing calming circles around it. You two were alone so you were certain this was no longer the fake dating thing. This was just your best friend being there for you when you needed him the most.

“If anyone tries that shit again, just tell them you’re my girlfriend, alright? They have to be idiots to mess with you,” he spoke angrily.

“Fake girlfriend,” you reminded him sadly.

“That’s none of their business,” he replied, but didn’t correct you. Oh, how badly you wished to be his real girlfriend. To show him how much you cared for him.

“Why did you change so much over the summer?” you suddenly asked, while Seonghwa was driving you home.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa responded harshly. “You don’t like my green hoodie and you also don’t like my leather jacket? There’s really no satisfying you, is there?”

“I didn’t mean your clothes,” you mumbled. “Just...your overall attitude towards me. Before the summer you used to let me squeeze your cheeks and sit in your lap and now you seem so...unapproachable. I’m just saying, we were closer when I was your best friend than we are now that I’m your fake girlfriend.”

Seonghwa stopped the car abruptly, making you blink in shock.

“I changed because I was sick of you treating me like a little boy and I wanted you to start seeing me as a man,” he admitted but without looking into your eyes.

“W-what are you saying?” you swallowed nervously.

“Nevermind.”

“No, you have to talk to me, Hwa!” you insisted desperately. “If you still consider me your best friend, be honest with me. Please.”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at you as he finally met your gaze. “This is exactly why I changed so much, Y/N. I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

His cruel words hurt you more than anything you’d ever experienced in your life. More than all the bullying, the slapping and getting pushed against a wall. Losing your best friend was your worst fear. But you had promised yourself to never be weak again. So the second he said that, you pulled the handle of the side door, attempting to get out of his car. Before you could do that, Seonghwa grabbed your hand, effectively keeping you in place.

“I want to be your boyfriend. For real this time,” he elaborated.

You stared at him in utter confusion.

“But...when I confessed, you acted like you didn’t care. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Forget how I acted. I only offered the fake dating shit because I wanted to get closer to you again. Make up for the lost time during the summer. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about what Eunhee thinks or says about me? I just used that as an excuse. I’ve told her I’m not into her hundreds of times. And yes, maybe I have changed. Not because I don’t care about you. But because I do. You used to gush about Count Dracula and Darth Vader so much that I thought if I became the bad guy, you’d finally notice me. I wanted so terribly to impress you and make you stop seeing me as your adorable best friend that I got too lost in the feeling of holding power over you...Too lost to notice you liked me all along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you whispered teary-eyed. “I do,” correcting yourself. “H-hwa, I’m so sorry to break it to you but-”

“If you reject me, I won’t be responsible for attempted murder,” Seonghwa interrupted you jokingly.

“I’m so sorry to break it to you,” you repeated with a sly smirk. “But no matter how hard you try to change, I will always see you as my adorable best friend. And though I have to admit I did stop teasing you temporarily, that was only because you suddenly started behaving like the dangerously sexy king of the high school. Can you blame me for feeling a little intimidated? I know I’ve said this before but I didn’t think me teasingly calling you Kermit would go this far. I never meant to hurt you, Hwa.”

“I know you didn’t, princess,” Seonghwa whispered, gently stroking your cheeks.

“And yes,” you smiled shyly, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to be your real girlfriend. It would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, as if the very idea seemed amusing to him. “How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, I would do anything for you, sir,” you uttered the last word without thinking much, your brain somehow recalling a time when you two had discussed how you’d enjoy being called by a potential significant other. In retrospect, that wasn’t really a thing best friends generally talked about.

“Sir?” Seonghwa grinned, leaning his head against your forehead. “Keep that up and your real girlfriend status will be confirmed.”

“I want to kiss you so much,” you were on the verge of begging. Oh, screw it. “Please, please, let me kiss you.”

He didn’t respond, just connected your lips with his own softly, taking his time with you. It was pure magic. You had thought about kissing your best friend thousands of times. But nothing compared to the reality. Parting your lips further to let his tongue in, you physically couldn’t prevent yourself from moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How insanely intoxicating he tasted. How you were burning alive and it would be the sweetest death imaginable.

“Not if I kiss you first,” Seonghwa said once he broke the kiss apart. “Oh, wait, I just did.”

What the hell...had just happened? Sneaking a peak at the time, you were suddenly panicking by how late it was.

“Holy shit, my parents are going to kill me!” you exclaimed. “Can you please drive me home?”

“Sure thing, princess,” he laughed, increasingly amused by your flustered self. “That’s exactly what I was intending to do anyways. I’m not in the habit of keeping little girls past their bed time.”

“Shut up, I’m not a little girl!” you complained. “I’m just a few months younger than you. Asshole.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your devoted boyfriend?” Seonghwa scolded you teasingly.

Oh, God. You loved the sound of that. Your best friend was now your boyfriend. It still felt unreal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewled apologetically, already knowing how to make him weak for you with just one tiny word. “And thank you for taking me home.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa smiled. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

You could get used to it. Reaching forward to open the door for you, he whispered in your ear:

“I’m taking you out on our first date. Doll yourself up for me, will you?”

You nodded, your heart beating too fast to actually manage a verbal response. After you got inside and suffered a brief interrogation from your parents (using the library+extra assignments excuse), you hurried up the stairs, took a quick shower and then went to bed. No sooner had you closed your eyes than your phone buzzed with notifications.

Kermit the Frog: You still up?

Kermit the Frog: For fear of sounding lame, I moss you already

Kermit the Frog: *Miss...damn autocorrect

You chuckled upon seeing his messages. Whatever demon possessed you to still keep that nickname in your chat, you knew you had to change it immediately. If he saw it on your first date tomorrow, you would never hear the end of it.

You: I’m awake, yes

You: And I moss you too 😉

You purposefully misspelled the word to tease him. After all, it was only in order.

Boyfie 🐸: That obnoxious Kermit nickname better be gone by tomorrow

He texted as if he’d read your mind and you gasped in surprise.

Boyfie 🐸: Or we’re having our first couple fight!!

You: How did you know?!?

Boyfie 🐸: Not my fault you keep your phone unlocked sometimes

Boyfie 🐸: I’m not kidding, change it right now 😡

You: Changed it already

You texted him back quickly, sending him a screenshot.

You: Can I at least keep the frog emoji? 🥺

Boyfie 🐸: NO!!! REMOVE IT OR WE BREAK UP 😡😡😡

You: Damnit, Hwa, your angery Aries is showing...okay, fineee

You sent another screenshot of the now changed emoji.

You: Happy now?

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Much better, princess 🤗🤗🤗

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Now go to sleep, we have early classes tomorrow

You: Wow, so bossy. Okay, sir, I’m going

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Good night, my baby 😘

You: Staaahp, ohmygosh. And good night, Hwa 🥺

The next morning you ran outside faster than The Flash as soon as you heard the oh-so-familiar honks. When you saw Seonghwa waiting there to pick you up, your heart did a backflip as you excitedly took the passenger seat.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you greeted him and kissed his cheek. “This still feels so strange.”

“Well, you better get used to it, doll. Wow, you really cleaned up nicely today,” he complimented your pastel pink dress. “Not that you usually don’t! You’re always gorgeous, I just meant that you’re especially gorgeous and...nope, that also sounds wrong. Okay, I shut up now.”

“Relax,” you giggled. “It’s fine. I appreciate the effort. You don’t look so bad yourself. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re practically sex on legs 24/7. I think it’s time for me to shut up now.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you,” you admitted.

Once you walked into the school, it was like everyone noticed the subtle change in your dynamic. Because Seonghwa did something he never did before. He carried your bag and gave you his leather jacket! And Hwa’s friends were immediately onto you like bees to honey.

“I mean, I knew you guys were dating,” Seonghwa’s friend Yunho observed. “But I never saw the chemistry before, to be honest. Until now. I mean, come on, Y/N was like a loyal puppy, always following Hwa around.”

“Hey, don’t give him any ideas!” you joked.

“Too late. Already ordered the collar,” Seonghwa winked.

“Kinky. Can’t tell if I’m into it or want to cut off my ears,” Yunho grinned. “Probably both.”

“Nice chat, but we gotta head to class, Yu,” Seonghwa said because his friend was in a different class.

“See you for lunch?” Yunho suggested.

“Can’t. Already made plans with this little girl,” Hwa tilted his head towards you.

“Whoo, enjoy, then!”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you groaned, feeling uncharacteristically embarassed.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa smirked mysteriously and pulled you towards the room you had class in.

“Nothing involving collars and puppies, I assure you!” you yelled (perhaps a little too loudly), twisting your head, not wanting to give Yunho and the rest of Seonghwa’s friends the wrong idea.

When your classes for the day were over, Seonghwa led you towards his car once again. You were a bit nervous to make a good impression on your first date. Even though it was silly. Your best friend of four years had surely made a first impression a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” you asked to break the awkward silence.

“It’s a surprise, princess. Can you be patient for me?”

“I can,” you promised dutifully and placed your tiny hand on top of his. “Anything for you, sir.”

Seonghwa lost focus on the road for the briefest of moments in order to give you a warning look. One look and that was all you needed to keep you quiet and obedient. Eventually, you realized where he was taking you. Though you hadn’t been to his place for a couple of months now, you couldn’t forget how the drive to Seonghwa’s home looked.

“I dressed myself up and we’re just going to your place?” you hmphed in playful annoyance. “So much for our glamorous first date.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my cooking skills. Shit, I sorta ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Aww, you were planning to cook for me on our first date? Hwaaa, I’ve only had you as a boyfriend for less than 24 hours and you’re already pulling out the big guns! I don’t mean to push my luck but if you’re cooking now, I’m trembling to witness our one month anniversary.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You’re very ambitious to think you can put up with me for an entire month.”

”Hwa, sweetie, I’ve put up with you for four years.”

“Not as your boyfriend, you haven’t.”

“We’ll talk again in 30 days,” you vowed enigmatically.

“Here we are,” Seonghwa announced once he parked in front of his home. “My parents are currently at work so you don’t need to worry about...well, anything, really.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” for some reason his words made you even more worried.

“Nothing, I just meant you can...like, be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

“There’s you,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget your parents already know me. And besides, you’re the only person I care about impressing.” 

“Not to stroke your ego, but you’ve already impressed me. After all, you’re the only one who’s had the audacity to compare me to a freaking muppet and survived.”

“Point taken,” you chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Seonghwa suggested and the two of you entered his house. No matter how much you begged him to let you help with the cooking, he was insistent that he would do all the work. Said something about making up to you for the times you had to carry his bag or buy snacks to him and his friends. When you argued that you also had some making up to do for all the times you teased him a little too insensitively, he said that you agreeing to be his real girlfriend was enough to satisfy his wounded heart. Seeing that there was no point in arguing, you gave up and occupied yourself by mindlessly scrolling through social media. About an hour later, Seonghwa finally deemed his culinary masterpieces ready to be eaten. He allowed you to at least help set the table which you considered a small victory. The second you tried the first meal, you were so overwhelmed by the exquisite tastes that you spoke without thinking much.

“God, I wanna marry you.”

Seonghwa simply chuckled, amused by your unexpected reaction.

“Did I say that out loud?” you whispered, completely mortified, covering your mouth in embarassment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit, I’m such a mess,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment. Now, eat up before it gets cold. If my wicked plan works, you’ll have bought me a wedding ring by the time dessert arrives.”

“Truly wicked. I’m in danger,” you laughed and kept enjoying the various meals Seonghwa had prepared. 

Once the plates were empty, you felt so full and warm you couldn’t possibly move. And no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Seonghwa had to physically carry you to the couch so that you two would re-watch Star Wars: Return of the Jedi together, warmly cuddled up under a blanket.

Suddenly, you were possessed by the urge to speak your mind and be as honest with him as possible. After hiding your true feelings for four years, now that you were finally given the chance to be yourself, you were feeling uncharacteristically brave.

“You know, even though I was messing around earlier, I had indeed daydreamed about marrying you back in our first year of high school. You were the first boy who ever treated me like I wasn’t the walking joke of the universe. The first who ever hung out with me not as a prank but because you actually saw me as a friend. When I started teasing you about your cute habits, I hope you know I never wished to hurt you. I just wanted to show you that I notice and appreciate every single detail about you. So, yeah, I really like you, Hwa. Have liked you for a long time.”

Seonghwa had paused the movie the second you started talking. And now that you were done sharing your thoughts, he seemed unable to say anything. The silence was a bit awkward so you interrupted it once again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable so early in our re-”

This time, he interrupted you with a kiss, pulling you into his lap, just like the good old days. You smiled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.

“It wasn’t silly. I appreciate you saying all that,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And for the record, I know you meant well with all the teasing. In a sense, a part of me even suspected that you liked me back. But I was also feeling a bit insecure. I kept thinking that you could do so much better than go out with dorky Kermit guy who has an obsession with tidying up, you know? That you deserved someone else. But I couldn’t allow anyone else to be that someone. So, I changed myself.”

“Maybe you did change a little. But in my heart, you’re always going to be my Frog Prince Hwa.”

“I hate you so much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Naw, you don’t.”

“Fine. I hate that you’re right.”

Things between you and Seonghwa were going great. It had been three months since you two started dating for real. He was super attentive and caring towards you. However, you were a bit bummed out since not much changed compared to his behaviour as your best friend and as your boyfriend. Sure, you did start kissing each other and occasionally making out (which wasn’t exactly a best friend activity). But there was one thing that still had not happened. And the more time passed, the more anxious you felt to bring it up.

One evening, you had miraculously convinced your parents to let you have a sleepover at Seonghwa’s place. After insisting that nothing out of the ordinary was going on between you two and even if something unusual did happen (which you highly doubted but secretly hoped for), you were going to use protection (and no, you were certainly not referring to Seonghwa’s collection of action figures who carried weapons).

As you and your boyfriend were enjoying your snacks while watching TV from the comfort of his bed, you couldn’t help but finally raise the question that had been tormenting your mind for a while now.

“S-seonghwa...do you not find me attractive?”

“What the hell are you asking me that for? Would you be my girlfriend if I didn’t find you attractive?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before so...I was just wondering if there’s a particular reason why we still haven’t...taken things to the next level?”

“The next level?” he chuckled. “Relationships aren’t video games. And to answer your question, the reason’s actually the exact opposite of your concerns. We haven’t done anything more than making out because I find you ridiculously attractive. And it’s taking every last inch of my self-restraint to not pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

“Ready? So you knew that I haven’t...with anyone...yet?” you purposefully left out some words because you were feeling incredibly shy discussing this with Seonghwa.

“Of course I knew, princess. You’re my best friend. And my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least. That you’re not repulsed by my...inexperience.”

“Why would I be when we’re in the same boat?”

“We are?” you whispered in shock.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since forever. Did you honestly think I would just screw anyone else?”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have options,” you pointed out, referring to all the potential love interests swarming around him like bees. “Unlike me.”

“Are you regretful, little girl?” he inquired, running a lazy finger across your cheek. “Jealous?”

“No, I just...want to be the best for you, sir,” you confessed nervously.

“You’re already the best I could hope for,” Seonghwa responded and kissed you hungrily, burying his hands into your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you curiously needed to know. “That you haven’t either...”

“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation?” he pointed out. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, bestie, let’s have lunch together. Oh and by the way, I’m a hopeless virgin pining over you?”

“You’re right,” you laughed. “It would have made things awkward.”

“Now, unless you have any other pressing issues, I suggest we go back to kissing.”

And without giving you the time to argue, Seonghwa devoured your lips rightaway, gently pushing you down so that your back hit the sheets. Then, he started slowly taking off your jeans. Anxiously trembling under his vigorous touch, you placed a hand against his chest. He immediately noticed and put a temporary halt to his ministrations.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he comforted you with all the seriousness in his voice.

“No, I want to, I swear,” you nodded eagerly.

“Princess, you’re literally shaking,” Seonghwa remarked.

“What’s wrong with me?” you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Tell me to stop if you feel even the slightest hint of hesitation or discomfort and I will, I promise.”

“I know you would, Hwa. I trust you. But even if I’m a bit nervous, I want to do this with you. Please?”

“Well, I can’t deny you since you’re asking so nicely,” he grinned and continued where he left off. “Can I get rid of these?” Seonghwa inquired, carefully pushing your panties to the side.

“Yes, you can do anything to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled darkly and tore your underwear savagely. You couldn’t even gather the energy to complain about the ruination of your new pair, you were far too turned on by Seonghwa’s aggressive nature to care. He didn’t waste any more time, grabbing your thighs to hold them in place, he began licking your pussy with his tongue and stimulating it with his long fingers. It didn’t take long for you to start squirming beneath his touch, helplessly moaning his name. He didn’t cease his merciless movements until you reached your orgasm. When your breathing finally eased, you gathered the energy to speak again:

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before? How were you so...so...”

“So good?” Seonghwa smirked confidently and bit his lower lip. “I mean...I’ve seen videos. Read some things here and there.”

“Honestly? I think you’re a god.”

“You’ll have to stop complimenting me so much or I’ll develop a god complex,” he joked. “What do you want to do next, baby?”

“I want to suck you off,” you mumbled.

“Who taught you such dirty language?”

“Hey! I read, too,” you pouted and assuredly made your way towards the carpet next to his bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seonghwa asked.

“Aren’t I supposed to kneel in order to pleasure you, sir?”

“Princesses never kneel,” he instructed and got up from the bed, urging you to lie down with your head hanging from the very edge of the bed and make yourself comfortable. “Open up that pretty little mouth for me, will you?”

You did as he asked obediently and even went the extra mile to stick your tongue out. Unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side, Seonghwa was quick to follow your wishes and let his cock spring free from his jeans. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his monstrous size. Seeing your worries if it will fit reflected in your eyes, he expressed his concern for you:

“Are you sure about this?”

“Please, please, I need you,” you whimpered without thinking, eager to have a taste. Without making you wait any longer, Seonghwa pushed the tip of his cock inside, gently letting your cheeks get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly, he went deeper, allowing you to acquaint yourself with the stretch. When you kept blinking at him in anticipation, he realized you were ready for more and began moving faster, fucking into your mouth at a steady pace. As he neared his high, his motions became less controlled you were sucking more intently, impatient to swallow every last drop of him.

“Shit, I’m going to-” he attempted to break away, but you managed to wrap your hands at the back of his legs in order to keep his cock inside your mouth. 

Seconds later, he released his cum and you began drinking it thirstily. When you had made certain that no drop was wasted, you finally let go of his legs, allowing your boyfriend’s dick to dangle freely outside of your mouth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Seonghwa praised you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “My incredible girl.”

“I’m only yours, sir,” you mumbled, way too affected by him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he mocked you teasingly.

“Yes, sir, I want to belong to you,” you whimpered and turned around to pull him back into bed.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Seonghwa smiled fondly and took a mysterious package out of the back pocket of his jeans. Soon enough, you realized what it was, as he started lining up the condom on his cock.

“Oooh, I brought one of those, as well!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“You came here on a mission, didn’t you? Wicked little thing,” he tsked in fake disapproval.

“It’s not my fault you’re walking around like an Adonis,” you defended yourself boldly.

“You’re one to speak. Freaking goddess,” Seonghwa complimented you and slowly began unbuttoning your shirt you had somehow forgotten you were still wearing. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, always making sure you were feeling safe.

“More than okay,” you consented. Left in nothing but your baby pink bra, you unintentionally shivered at the sudden cold air surrounding you. Soon after that, Seonghwa undid the clasps and you were now only wearing your birthday suit. Feeling a bit timid, you self-consciously covered your breasts and broke eye contact with your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he pressed the palm of his hand against your cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

You weakly shook your head and somehow managed to gather the strength to look into his beautifully dark eyes once again.

“Then, let me see you, yeah?” Seonghwa nudged your hands away gently. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You blushed at his sudden praise and allowed him to have a look. But seconds later, you were getting a bit impatient.

“Please, Hwa, I want you so much.”

“Anything for my princess,” he chuckled and coaxed his tip at your entrance slowly. When you gave him a sign he could go deeper, his movements became bolder. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“M-more, sir, I swear I can do this,” you begged as you were beginning to unravel beneath him. As he fucked you faster into oblivion, you were no longer thinking straight and his name was the only word you were capable of uttering. Over and over again. Until you both came, blissfully lost in each other’s arms.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Seonghwa offered sweetly, picking you up with little effort and carrying you to the bathtub. 

When he started shampooing your hair, rubbing body lotion into your sensitive skin and covering your neck with soft kisses, you couldn’t stop your tears from falling, touched by his infinite tenderness and by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

“Darling, are you crying?” he questioned you upon hearing your hiccups.

“N-no,” you lied but it was useless, because it was quite obvious you were, in fact, bawling your eyes out.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet princess?” Seonghwa asked in concern.

“How...how could you think that?” you whimpered. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me. It’s just that...this is the first time I’ve felt so...special, so worthy, so...”

“Loved?” he offered the word you had been seeking for but had been too scared to utter out loud.

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed shyly. “Is it too early to say this? I’m sorry if it is but...I love you, Seonghwa.”

He simply stared at you in disbelief for a couple of seconds. This time, you were once again the one to break the deafening silence.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just...I wanted you to know. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I love you too, baby. Of course I do,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And I’m not just saying it, I don’t feel obliged to say it. As my best friend, you know me better than anyone else. And you know I don’t do things unless I want to. So, believe me when I say this.”

“Fuck,” you uttered and only started crying harder in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I would never harm you,” he comforted you and stroked your hair lovingly, putting all your worries and self-doubts at the very back of your head.

After you were all dried up from the bath and had put on your boyfriend’s shirt while he was still in the shower, you were feeling uncharacteristically confident. Confident enough to look for something you hadn’t seen for a while. You had been wondering if he had it hanging around somewhere in his wardrobe. And after a short period of rummaging you found your treasure. The green hoodie. The Kermit hoodie. You smiled mischievously as you changed into it. It still smelled like him, you beamed. Back when he was simply your best friend, the amount of times you had fantasized about him lending it to you should have been illegal. So now that you had been promoted to his girlfriend, you simply couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by.

Once Seonghwa got out of the shower, water droplets running down the divine skin on his bare chest, you were too busy staring at him in all his beauty and glory to notice the angry look on his face.

“How did you even find this? It was hidden so well in my wardrobe,” he scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” you pouted adorably. “I look so cute in it, right?”

“Cuter than me, that’s for sure,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tickled your belly.

“That’s impossible, you make the cutest Kermit,” you giggled, enjoying how easy it was to get on his nerves.

“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he groaned.

“Never ever, my stunning Frog Prince,” you vowed and kissed him quickly, taking him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed too flustered to continue scolding you.

“You’re in luck today. Nothing can ruin my good mood,” Seonghwa was determined.

“Great,” you grinned gleefully. “Cause from now on, I intend on making all your days filled with joy.”

“From now on?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, princess, my days have been filled with nothing but joy ever since I met you.”

And indeed, both Seonghwa’s days and yours were nothing but pure happiness ever since you decided to make your relationship real. And despite his foolish statement that he no longer wanted to be your best friend, you had somehow managed to convince him that he was both your boyfriend and bestie and that was perfectly okay. As if in the blink of an eye, spring came which meant that the whole school was in nervous excitement about the upcoming prom. Generally, you weren’t the type to get overwhelmed about such a trivial topic. But now that you were dating Seonghwa, the most popular guy in the school, you couldn’t help but worry a little. What if he wanted to go with someone else? Someone equal in “status”? Your worries and insecurities further intensified when he started asking questions in a weird way.

“I need your help,” Seonghwa blurted out over lunch.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend. And he really likes this girl and wants to ask her to prom. What do you think would make her happy?”

You blinked in surprise. You knew that when people pulled the “I’m just asking for a friend” card, they were most likely talking about themselves. Was he seriously thinking of inviting another girl to prom? You tensed a little but tried really hard to remain neutral in your answer and actually make an attempt to help your bestie.

“I mean, all girls are different,” you reasoned. “If you describe her to me, maybe I’ll be able to give a more appropriate suggestion.”

“She’s a bit like you. You know, kinda bookish and-”

“It’s alright, Seonghwa, you can say it. I’m a nerd.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“It’s not exactly a slur,” you chuckled coldly.

“I know, but that’s what your bullies in middle school called you. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwa put his hand on top of yours in a gentle, comforting manner.

“It’s fine when if you say it,” you smiled. “I won’t get offended.”

“I was going to say my friend’s crush is intelligent like you but, oh well.”

“That does sound better, I admit,” you giggled.

“She’s also a bit shy and introverted so maybe she wouldn’t enjoy a public promposal. Crowds tend to make her nervous,” Seonghwa observed.

“Seems like you didn’t need my help after all,” you scoffed playfully.

“No, I do! I still haven’t come up with an actual way to propose. I mean, for my friend.”

“Right. Your friend. Well, he can’t go wrong with some poetry under her balcony. If she has one, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure she does.” Seonghwa smirked. “Alright, thanks.”

He jumped from his seat, not even having finished his lunch.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta prepare my friend’s promposal,” he shrugged and disappeared from your sight, leaving you a bit crest-fallen. If he was intending on asking you, he wouldn’t have turned to you for help, right? That would sorta ruin the element of surprise, wouldn’t it? And yet, you knew that Seonghwa wasn’t the type to care about people’s opinions and randomly ask a more popular girl out because of public demand. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to just date you for kicks and then ditch you at prom. Despite those very logical reasons, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

A week later, you realized all your worries had been for nothing. It was a Sunday morning and you had just finished having breakfast with your family. You were leisurely reading on your bed when you heard some suspicious noises coming from your window. You looked up from your book and you could swear you saw tiny rocks hitting the glass! You jumped up angrily, half-expecting to find a bunch of neighbour kids pulling a prank. But you were surprised when you spotted your boyfriend standing under your balcony. Wearing his iconic green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, though a hopeful part of you already knew the answer.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he recited diligently in a song-like manner.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic acting but it was the effort that touched you immensely.

“And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he continued sweetly.

You were so in love with this man it was insane.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return,” Seonghwa kept going.

You couldn’t resist the urge to leap off the balcony. It was just the second floor so what could possibly go wrong? Other than a scraped knee and a bit of a limp. God, you were such an idiot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked in terror and wrapped his arms around you.

“The excruciating pain is worth it if I get to hug you like this,” you grinned, leaning against him for support.

“Why couldn’t you just walk down the stairs like a normal person?”

“And what’s romantic about that?” you joked. “Jumping off a balcony makes for a much better story.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Only for you, my sweet Frogmeo!” you teased and kissed his cheek.

“Wait, I wasn’t finished!” Seonghwa exclaimed excitedly, not bothering to act offended about your obsession with him and that Kermit hoodie. “There was something about cheeks, I swear.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” you helped him out dutifully.

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” he finished proudly and placed his palm against your cheek.

“Only you could possibly mix Romeo and Juliet with The Frog Prince and somehow make it work,” you praised him.

“Does that mean you’ll go to prom with me?” Seonghwa tilted his head to the side adorably.

“Of course I will, baby,” you responded happily.

“Thank God, ‘cause learning that monologue drained my soul and brain,” he whistled playfully.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second,” you confessed reluctantly, because you didn’t want to keep any secrets from your doting boyfriend.

“When?” Seonghwa asked in confusion.

“Lunchtime. A week ago. When you asked me for advice. I thought that...”

“That I would ask someone else?” he correctly guessed your suspicions. And you nodded. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“No, you’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. It makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Seonghwa smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head. But he wasn’t angry with you. Just wanted to erase those silly thoughts from your mind.

“You deserve so much more, princess. But I’ll try my best to give you all I can.”

“As will I,” you promised and mischievously pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie, making his face squished adorably.

“If this is the best you’re capable of, I dread to see your worst,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Prince Frogmeo and the Nerdy Princess,” you sighed wistfully. “That would make a hell of a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?”

“How about Kermit the Frog whoops the Princess’s ass for being a brat?” Seonghwa threatened jokingly.

“You know what? I wouldn’t say no to that,” you giggled and started running away from him. “If you catch me first!”

Prom night arrived and despite all the preparations and excitements around it, it was nothing special in itself. What made it special, however, were the moments you spent with Seonghwa. Just dancing and talking seemed to be enough to make your heart leap with joy. And the smile never left your face the entire night.

“School’s really ending, huh?” you spoke aloud without thinking, while you were swaying slightly to the music in your boyfriend’s arms.

“This isn’t the end of us. We’ll go to college, we’ll grow up. The best is yet to come, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” you replied, a hint of sadness tinging your tone. “In college, I’ll study Literature, you’ll study Music. We’ll no longer be able to sit next to each other in class or exchange notes or hold hands under the desk.”

“We’ll do all sorts of other things,” Seonghwa responded cheerfully, trying to think positive. “We’ll have study dates in college, we’ll visit new restaurants and make more memories together. Just because high school is over, doesn’t mean we are. I’m not giving up on my best friend ever.”

“Your girlfriend,” you corrected him playfully.

“My best friend,” he repeated. “You were right. Being in love with each other doesn’t nullify our friendship. Both are equally important to me. You are the most important to me.”

“God, Hwa, how can you say such things so easily?”

“Is your heart fluttering?” your boyfriend and best friend teased you, swirling you around while dancing. You were met with his beautiful dark gaze again as he murmured: “Hi, princess.”

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you chuckled in response.

And you were finally home.

The End