#inspirations for this file include:

[nofollowgame]

No Follow 「game」 :: File #000008 Updates!

A Cult Classic

🔶 New stuff added to No Follow :: File #000008 :: Browser game about the internet of yore & w/e else.

🔶 File Synopsis :: Wes critiques your original fiction. Seo infiltrates a Spider-worshiping cult. Midi reunites with the anime webring. Java gets banned from a local restaurant. Huh? What's with all these toolbars?!

🔶 You can also now enjoy in Text Only Mode – it’s got auto night/day color themes (depending on your OS/browser settings), works on small devices, and you can toggle fonts between hyperlegible and monospace.

🔶 Or play from the beginning:

[fashionbooksmilano]

Animal Patterns

100 Royalty Free jpeg Files

Design Exchange Co., Tokyo 2004, 108 pages + CD, 21,5x21,5cm, ISBN 978 486 0835620

euro 60,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

30/05/24

[tasty-littl-snack]

me knowing nothing abt theme park rides writing a whole post abt the meaning of things only to realize they are referencing the theme park ride in question.

[vjonk]

a couple of progress photos of my gabriel cosplay:

[moonwoodhollow]

Spice Market №1—a San Myshuno Shell by Moonwoodhollow. San My is one of my favourite worlds and yet I've never shared any build I've built there before. With the new pack coming, I thought it was finally time to change this. I created this build with the new lot type of a combined residential/business in mind and created 4 apartment shells and 6 business/shop shells. I hope this lot inspires you to create the San Myshuno of your dreams!

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

So what do you get?

Spice Market №1 is a 30x30 lot best placed in San Myshuno in the Spice Market neighbourhood. The lot is currently set as a residential lot, but you could set it as a residential rental, or once the new pack comes out combine a residential lot with a business. The lot consists of 4 apartments; 3 of these apartments comprise two floors while one only has one floor, but a rooftop terrace. There are also 6 businesses/shops/cafés/restaurants/etc. shells. 2 of these are in the basement, while the others are all on the 1st floor and potentially have more floors. It's all up to you! I wanted to give you as much freedom as possible with the interior and let your creativity run wild!

Uses items from the following packs: looks best with almost all packs. But a tip: take a look at the build in the gallery and click on the packs to see the items I used from that pack, it might also look good with fewer packs.

Download: google drive (470mb) | and up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you'll need the cc from the drive folder)

Is the cc included? yes.

-> Update (17.02.2025): I reuploaded this build with DX11. I also added some files, which makes the download bigger, but this is due to me forgetting to include the texture files of the items, which meant some items were showing up with question marks if you didn't have the other items from said cc sets. I tested the lot today and everything should work correctly now!

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the building, I’d love to see it in your games.

If you like what I do and want to show your appreciation, I have a ko-fi!

[valiasims]

Wisteria Whisk - Part 3

Hey everyone!

Finally I'm finished with the new set which is the 3rd and last part of the Wisteria Whisk Collection and I'm so excited to share it with you. I'm really sorry for the delay, I had planned to release it earlier, but as some of you know, I took a one-week break to start the Camino in Northern Spain. After that, I had to catch up and ran into a few small issues with the mixer.

But we're here now, and I'm truly proud of how it turned out. This part is inspired by the all-metal look and feel of commercial kitchens in bakeries and restaurants. My main focus was to create a cohesive set that can fully furnish a space like that.

My favourite item of the set is the stand mixer, I just love the bright swatch colors I chose for it.

This time, I don’t have a long explanation for each item, they’re all pretty straightforward.

As I mentioned at the beginning of the post, this is the final part of the Wisteria Whisk Collection. Now I’ll be starting something new, and we’re heading back into residential territory. As always I'm really excited to be doing something new! I'll keep you updated about it shortly!

This time, I didn’t forget to save the kitchen as a room and upload the tray files for you, so you can easily get everything included in this set. You’ll still need to download the package files , but if you’d rather not use the search function in-game, just place the tray files in your Tray folder, the room will then show up in your Gallery.

Since some of you asked, in the coming weeks, I’ll be uploading new variations of the kitchen set from the first part, along with a floor tile that matches the wall from the second part.

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to let me know. I really hope you all have a wonderful day or night, wherever you are! I'm so grateful for all of you!

The Set Includes

Metal Counter (+Accent Counter)

Stand Mixer (requires Home Chef Hustle)

Fridge

Commercial Oven

Workbench

Sink

Shelf

Wall Dish Rack

Cream in a Glass Bowl

Springform Pans

Marble Roll Pin and Chopping Board

Stack of Metal Trays

Pots

Ingredient Bin

🔹 Compatibility All items are Base Game compatible except the Stand Mixer which needs the Home Chef Hustle Stuff Pack.

-BECOME A MEMBER- Public release on the 19th of June 6PM CET

[illogicalsims]

Casanova Cave Plus & Comfy Gamer Plus - CC Addons for Casanova Cave and Comfy Gamer

Hello! Here's my first CC release of the year!

These two kits are probably my current favourites, so I had to make addons for them.

The Casanova Cave addon provides more living room seating options, as well as a modular shelving unit inspired by the existing TV that is included in the kit.

The Comfy Gamer addon contains computers with more monitors, new desks with storage space, as well as a couple of new shelf options.

Merged packages and separated zip versions can be downloaded below. Only download one option for each kit.

Comfy Gamer Plus

Merged Package

Separated ZIP

Casanova Cave Plus

Merged Package

Separated ZIP

My Patreon if you’d like to support my work. 100% Optional

Install

To install, place the .package files into your Mods folder found, by default, in My Documents > Electronic Arts > The Sims 4 > Mods. Alternatively, you can place the individual .package files from the separated ZIP into it’s own folder within the Mods folder to keep things tidy.

As usual, you will need to have the respective kits in order for the addons to appear in-game.

[novafire-is-thinking]

With great sorrow, I am choosing to exclude Percy, Swindle, and Magnus because I just can’t bring myself to turn down your challenge in the tags.

(All are IDW1 unless stated otherwise)

Autobots:

Prowl

Ironhide

Jazz

Windblade

Chromia

Pharma

Brainstorm

Kup + the Wreckers

Decepticons:

Deadlock

Shadow Striker (IDW2)

Ravage

Flamewar (IDW2)

Makeshift (TFP/Aligned)

Flatline

Bombshell

The Constructicons

The Decepticons were so much harder to choose. You took away all my beloved strategists and scientists. 😢

I went for a variety in skill sets and moral alignments to make things interesting.

Looking at the cast I’ve chosen, I genuinely don’t know which side I’d be rooting for, which is exactly what I was aiming for.

On the one hand, I have Prowl with his powerhouse team of strategy, stealth, and audacity.

On the other hand, I have my beloved Deadlock and his team fueled almost entirely by rage and chaos.

Congratulations! Hasbro has agreed to let you write for a Transformers story! However, there's a catch. As you're a new writer, they aren't ready to trust you with their most popular/lucrative characters yet.

You must pitch a cast that does not include:

Optimus Prime

Megatron

Bumblebee

Starscream

Ratchet

Shockwave

Wheeljack

Soundwave

Grimlock

Arcee

If you wish to have human characters, you may not reference Spike Witwicky

Who is your lead cast?

[lijoue]

ITALIA WORLD MOD PACK

Hello hello,

I've been working hard to create something really good to share with you. This is my most ambitious release yet, so I hope it was worth the wait!

ITALIA is a custom cc 'game pack' that transforms Tartosa into a beautiful Italian-inspired destination! Tartosa is my favourite world in the game, but I feel like it never gets any love because everyone hates My Wedding Stories. I want to help you fall in love with the beauty of Tartosa! If you don't have My Wedding Stories, there's plenty of base-game friendly items for you as well. There is A LOT of stuff in this pack (around 125 items).

Download Link & More Details on Patreon (early Access)

CORE FEATURES

Tartosa world override with new world lighting, buildings, trees, streetlights, functional objects, marketstalls, and decor.

New food & drinks (gelato, pasta, pizza, wine, and coffee!)

New custom-tuned functional objects to elevate your gameplay.

NEW FUNCTIONAL OBJECTS (custom tuning)

Picnic Blanket | Sit, eat, gaze at the sky, and even bathe in the moonlight. *DLC interactions require their respective packs (Lovestruck, Life & Death)

Beach Bathroom | Using this outdoor bathroom costs 1§ and restores hygiene & bladder without the uncomfy public bathroom buffs.

Beach Bag | Works like a dresser to change outfit on-the-go.

Cooler Bag | Stock with drinks & snacks. Functions like a picnic basket on blankets and picnic tables. Helps keep food fresh and fixes the picnic basket inventory to store up to 99 food and drink items.

Stovetop Moka Pot | Brew a quick pot of espresso from the countertop or stovetop.

Souvenir Stand | Purchase from a curated selection of art & objects. Includes items that are difficult to obtain in-game, as well as cc from two of my favourite creators bbygyal 123andPierisim. CC items will only show up in the shop if you already have the files in your Mods folder, so please check out their work if you haven't already! Sims can also purchase wearable souvenir t-shirts and baseball caps.

Gelato Stand | Purchase gelato, ice cream, and drinks.

Beach Stand | Purchase beach stuff, drinks, snacks, and souvenirs.

Coffee Stand | Purchase coffee and snacks

Park Fountain | Toss a coin in the fountain and have a seat. The XL version spawns butterflies.

Drinking Fountain | Wash hands or grab a drink of water with the infinitely refillable water bottle.

Nectar Bottle | Pour a glass of nectar. Includes 7 new nectar drinks and new custom buffs. Also includes in-game nectars from Horse Ranch, Dine Out, Bistro etc.

Classic Pool Float | Please download my mod Better Pool Floats for optimal experience.

Restaurant | Call a waiter to serve a curated menu of food & drinks. Sims in a rush can also order to-go (without a waiter).

NEW FOOD & DRINKS 

Nectar: Vigna Bianco, Sparkling Luminoso Bianco, Sparkling Luminoso Rosé, Rosa D'Amorosa, Amanti del Rosso, The Devil's Nectar, Bianco Spritz

Gelato: Pistachio, Pesca, Fragola, Bacio, Fior di Latte, Vanille, Caffè, Limoncello

Pasta: Carbonara, Spicy Carbonara, Spaghetti Alle Vongole, Cacio e Pepe, Spaghetti Marinara, Shrimp Spaghetti Marinara, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio

Snacks: Margherita Pizza, White Funghi Pizza, Fruit & Cheese Charcuterie Board

Cooler Drinks: Bottled Water, Aranciata Soda, Lemon Soda, Mojito Soda, Barbet Light Wave, Barbet Wild Card, Barbet Love Bite

Espresso: Caffe Latte, Cappuccino, Italian Hot Chocolate, Mocha, Macchiato, Americano

Download Link & More Details on Patreon (early Access)

[erebus0dora]

some of you asked if you could print/chew/otherwise consume my Devil's Minion art, and i did ask if you needed a masterpost on the topic, so-

may i offer you this Google Drive folder, o gentle creatures..?

i'll add more, and i believe it's sensible to add the links to the original posts with these images, but frankly speaking i am chill with whatever way you use or share them if that's for your personal use

just keep them free, that's my only request

what was born as a free art should remain free art

any questions left? ask them, i don't bite unless you would really like that

now, have a peaceful day and my digital hug

💜UPDATE💜

it feels appropriate to make it a fully shaped masterpost, links and all, so... links to each and every artwork on the theme - below the cut

the Tarot cards (Hermit/Death)

"...rest" (but mirrored)

first take on Armand that looks like anime

some thoughts on the age of the magnolia tree

human!Daniel deliberately thinking of beautiful things

The Magnolia Tee Print

animated Daniel (literally, as in, a gif)

a very vampire!Daniel, thoroughly researched

Byzantine Icon Armand

a tender moment which is vague but there you go

sleeping Armand from a fic

hugs (the quiet)

more hugs (abrupt)

more hugs (headphones on, updated)

Daniel gently cleaning Armand's face

some extra somfte quiet gremlin

crack!chibi!Daniel on tees

crack!chibi!Daniel on teefs

sneaky sleepy uncertain hug for another fic

moar tender touch for another fic

beige pillow

the return of the beige pillow

"i see you"

kissing the maker's hand

more tender face-touching, couldn't choose one

Daniel comes to Louvre

Daniel collects art

four pages of Armand running and Daniel chasing

Hug The Gremlin

Hug The Gremlin For He Is Art

Armand as a candle, literally

Armand and magnolia petals (the art)

Armand and magnolia petals (the sculpture)

(slightly off-topic, but) Perforated Heart because ffs Eric knows his shit

good old don't you maître me thing which i keep forgetting to include

Only Fangs Molloy - keep in mind there's a JPEG and a TIFF version in the Drive folder, the TIFF works better if u wanna print it

(+bonus TALK SHIT GET BIT file is also there)

A LOT of traditional stuffs, scanned in 350 dpi for your entertainment

Daniel gently feeding his feral master, which is honestly one of the most tender things i have created

cozy sated hugs on a sofa

a domestic scene of Daniel waiting for Armand to enter his space, i suck at descriptions

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 1, Luke

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 2, Assad

an inspired old dogboy Molloy because face it, the world needs more hot aged people

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 3, Armand

trad art bonus! Salomé Armand (+ vid)

MORE trad art! sculpting dat old hot man

what happens when you use ur own slightly inaccurate sculpture as a ref

EVEN MORE trad art!! Eric vs. watercolours, for his face compels me and his wild ig inspires me (+ vid)

TRAD ART AGAIN, since i found paper that looks like fun base for bookmarks (+ vid and bonus Daniel)

"he is behind my back, isn't he" (+ linked explanation)

"he is 100% behind my back and i have ideas about it 😈"

MORE TRAD ART WITH TIMELAPSE VIDS:

an honest-to-God oil-painted Eric

a very purple-eyed Eric/Daniel (gouache testing)

feral tenderness (tm)

lost bois found (a bit of LBF and ebogo in the same frame)

power imbalance pic (the one with face grab)

home dot jpg

tbc🫀

[simkhira]

New Year, New Save File ✨

Simkhira’s Small Town Save File is inspired by my little hometown in Southeast, USA. For this save, I wanted to create a world that caters to all of my favorite gameplay styles (country core, university core, legacy core, etc.) in a nostalgic way that made sense to me. Over the past couple of months, I have been able to transform Willow Creek into something that I am really proud of. I hope you all enjoy the lots, the backstories, and the small town political lore just as much as I do.

Please continue reading for more details and download information:

What’s Included in Version 1:

Willow Creek

21 Lots (5 Community Lots / 16 Move-In Ready Residential Lots)

17 Households (50 Sims / 64 including animals)

All of the Sims have relevant careers, skills, lifestyles, public reputations, likes and dislikes, gender preferences, romance preferences, turn ons and turn offs, relationship dynamics, defined walkstyles, and defined voices.

Disclaimer: I own all of the EP's, GP's, SP's, and Kits.

Custom Content (Included):

This save file contains 1GB worth of custom content. I have included these files in the download to save any hassle. If the game opens and says you are missing content, no you are not. I have play-tested this save file using only the files included and did not find any issues.

Required Mods (Included):

More Selectable Icons Mod by @zerbu

Willow Creek Clickable Mod by @awingedllama

Working Elevators Everywhere Mod by @littlemssam 

21 Calendar Days Instead of 28 Mod by @littlemssam 

The calendar mod allows the game to have 12 weeks in a “year”. So, each week is a “month” (i.e. Week 1 = January, Week 2 = February, etc.). The calendar holidays have been created according to this method. Recommended Mods (Not Included):

707 Nature Replacement Mod by KHippie

Grannies Cookbook Mod by Littlebowbub  Disclaimer: The restaurant in Crawdad Quarter will still function without it - however, I have included some menu items from Grannies Cookbook.

Sim Spawn Overhaul Mod by Lotharihoe

NAP Policy Overhaul Mod by Kuttoe

How to Install Save Files:

Make a backup of your “Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Saves” folder.

Download the file, unzip, and place the file in your “Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Saves” folder.

If you already have a file with the same name, change the slot number to a number that you don’t have. (i.e. change Slot_00000000d.save to Slot_00000009d.save)

Once you open your game, you will see “Simkhira’s Small Town Save V1”. Open it!

Once opened, “Save As” to create a copy of the save file for your own gameplay.

If the game says that you are missing custom content, no you aren’t. I have double-checked.

Lastly, enjoy and have fun!

Inspiration: 

I want to say thank you to all of the amazing save file creators who inspired me throughout this process. Some of my favorites include (but are not limited to) @folkling, @wolfxdreamersims, @coolpuppy12, @florwal, @awingedllama, and more. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Download (Google Drive)

[madeleinejubileesaito]

Dictators, fascists, and oligarchs want us to believe that they are all-powerful and that we would be nothing without them. The reality is: They don’t create anything. We, the people, create EVERYTHING!

I made this poster for the Justseeds graphics library and it’s under a creative commons license and free to download and use! More details + download high-res files on my website: here.

Inspired by this passage from the Daniel Hunter article 10 ways to be prepared and grounded now that Trump has won:

“It will be helpful to have a power analysis in our minds, specifically that’s known as the upside-down triangle. This tool was built to explain how power moves even under dictatorships.  The central tenet is that like an upside-down triangle, power can be unstable. It naturally topples over without anything supporting it. To prevent that, power relies on pillars of support to keep it upright. Casually, the left often focuses on pillars of support that include governments, media, corporations, shareholders and policy makers. Describing the pillars of support, Gene Sharp wrote: ‘By themselves, rulers cannot collect taxes, enforce repressive laws and regulations, keep trains running on time, prepare national budgets, direct traffic, manage ports, print money, repair roads, keep markets supplied with food, make steel, build rockets, train the police and army, issue postage stamps or even milk a cow. People provide these services to the ruler though a variety of organizations and institutions. If people would stop providing these skills, the ruler could not rule.’ Removing one pillar of support can often gain major, life-saving concessions. In response to Trump’s 2019 government shutdown, flight attendants prepared a national strike. Such a strike would ground planes across the country and a key transportation network. Within hours of announcing they were “mobilizing immediately” for a strike, Trump capitulated.”

[echlime]

[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn. WORD COUNT. 9k.

NOTE. my goal for this fic is to make as many male characters either detestable or unesttling, and make you like them against your will. in other words, meet mark and doyoung HAHAHAHAH. this is mostly still exposition!!! establishing facts and relationships and dynamics and whatnot. more jaemin next chapter. too much jaemin, even. anyway, enjoy! CHAPTER TWO.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR OFF DAY TODAY. You’re on sick leave— that is, sick and tired of drafting legal papers, meeting clients, reading piles and piles of documents every single damn week, so you decided to use your once-a-month get out of jail free card to stay in bed playing Stardew Valley. It’s pre-planned. You’ve already faked sneezes and coughing fits at the office yesterday. You’ve already called your Division Chief this morning. Kim Doyoung can’t do shit when you’re allegedly bedridden and downtrodden with a fever. He can eat his own ass and suck it.

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.” 

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams? 

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs. 

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you. 

��Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground. 

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries. 

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut. 

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.” 

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination. 

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh. 

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission. 

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. 

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

*‎

The next morning, Nalkkeutta’s boss is gracious enough to answer your request for a meeting. 

Mark Lee shows up to the conference room of JSS’s Criminal Division, accompanied by a polite knock on the already open door, a humming smile, and a Kim Doyoung— who you very clearly don’t remember inviting to this meeting. Mark enters the room with a good morning. You nod and your eyes skip over him, flitting over to meet your boss’s gaze by the door instead. “You must be very busy, sir. What are you doing here?”

The wrinkle that forms between Doyoung’s eyebrows signifies that he very much understood your polite version of a fuck off. “I just wanted to escort our client,” he replies, adjusting his glasses. 

You smile at him. “The escorting usually ends when the client has arrived at their destination.” 

Doyoung’s jaw stiffens. Mark seems to be sufficiently entertained by the exchange, attention hopping back and forth between you and your boss. The latter surrenders and ends the episode with a sigh and a nod, completely glossing over you to speak to Mark instead. “Mr. Lee, please let me know if you need anything.”

You hear Mark respond in a pleasant tone, “Don’t worry, I know I’m in good hands,” but you don’t look at him yet. You force the gravity of your gaze onto Doyoung— an unwavering smile that creeps him out just enough to finally give up and leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a click, and finally allowing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the glossy, wooden table.

“Ugh.”

Stuck-up prick. The bane of your fucking existence, had it not been for the reappearance of Na Jaemin, the other capricious asshole in your life. Your head cocks up, hearing the scratching noise of a chair being pulled out. Mark sits right in front of you, maintaining a smile. “Bad morning?” And you finally speak your first words to him, in the form of a raging rant about his hot mess of an executive.

“Hey, be honest, do you want me fired? Do you want me to make my first ever loss? Your employee, Na Jaemin, told me he got into this mess because Yoon Naksung and his friends were looking at him for too long. Does that make sense to you? Is that how a sane man operates? How the hell am I supposed to defend that in court? How the hell am I supposed to defend his ass when he gives me fucking nothing to work with, and all while having the balls to call me useless?”

You’re out of breath by the end of it. Whew. That felt so freaking good. 

“Sorry.” You eject yourself out of your tantrum upon hearing Mark’s not-so-apologetic apology. You leer at him from across the table, watching the stillness of his apparent pleasant expression. “Jaemin can be kind of rude sometimes.”

This guy is Nalkkeutta’s boss, you remind yourself. He’s the source of your fattened up bank account and worsened sense of justice and morality for the past five months—

“Rude is an understatement. He’s a fucking piece of shit.”

—and he’s also somewhat your friend.

“I’ve never seen you this angry.” Mark laughs, relaxing into his seat. “Was he that bad?”

Nalkeutta and JSS Law firm’s partnership has existed prior to your employment here. However, you’ve know Nalkkeutta’s boss even before you’ve entered law school, much less started working here. Kim Doyoung doesn’t know this, obviously. Their background check on you did not go as far as finding out your regular patrons throughout the four years you spent working at a run-down cafe-bar downtown throughout the entirety of your undergrad.

The cafe’s name was The Hangman. Pirate-themed, which was used as a frequent justification by your boss to never fix the broken chair legs, unkempt storage boxes, and occasional leaky ceilings. They add to the aesthetic, he says. 

Anyhow, it was then that you first met Mark Lee, around three weeks into your first shift. He’d usually come in at around 10 p.m., order an old fashioned at the counter, flash you a pretty and boyish smile, then quietly read on the same spot until one in the morning before thanking you and leaving. Each time, you clock the hardbound cover titles. The Laws of Human Nature. Man’s Search for Meaning. Leviathan. Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. 

Frankly, the crap he regularly reads worked better to make him look more daunting than his overall appearance. Mark Lee wore the visage of a cute, college literature major— covered in knit beanies and warm cardigans and all— but carried books and ordered drinks that made him seem like he was fifty-seven years old. The only time you found an opening was the time he finally brought a long something other than self-help or pretentious nonfiction. Kafka on the Shore. “I didn’t peg you as a Murakami guy.” 

Mark Lee was taken aback when you first talked to him. He asked what made you say that. 

You referenced the previous books he’d been carrying along. He blinked, laughed, then said that he actually preferred reading fiction. He’d only been reading all that obnoxious bullshit (your words) because he was fascinated with the mental gymnastics (his words) some people were capable of, and he was just compelled to read more. You’re still not sure how much of that defense was true, but that doesn’t really matter because your conversations gradually strayed away from books to your daily life instead— your classes and readings and the annoying customers you’d regularly had to deal with at work. It’s mostly you doing the talking, and it’s mostly because you otherwise had no one else to talk to to kill time during your night shifts at The Hangman.

“Was he that bad?” you parrot, sarcastically. “He said that you did a shit job picking a lawyer. You tell me, Mark Lee. Do you think your executive is a stellar guy?”

Mark only laughs. You grunt and slump in your seat, arms crossed as you observe Mark’s expression from across the table. It seems like he doesn’t mind you talking shit about his people this much. His lips are pressed in a perpetual, easygoing smile as he eyes the set of folders and documents on your side. You bite the inside of your cheek. From his appearance alone, you wouldn’t have guessed him to be the head of the most notorious gang in the underbelly of Yeongdeungpo. In fact, you would never have guessed it if you didn’t take an extra shift one day at The Hangman. 

You ended up staying later than your usual 2 a.m. to cover for a co-worker. It was a weekend, so you didn’t mind much. Mark Lee hadn’t shown up that night. That is until you saw him come in at the store thirty minutes after two— deviating from his usual routine in more ways than one when he didn’t stop to order a drink, when he was with someone else who you were frankly too intimidated to look at for too long. When he went in and up the staircase at the back of the bar that was otherwise off limits because it led to your boss’s office in the upper area— and none of your supervisors came to stop him nor even attempt to look at him when he came back out with his big, scary companion walking three steps behind him while carrying a large and heavy looking black bag.

This happened a few more times. And Mark Lee would always smile at you when he’d pass by the bar counter. That’s when you knew something was up. But you knew better than to dig your nose into that kind of business. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the ability to see the future back then.

You look at the guy sitting in front of you right now. Mark Lee’s eyes flit up from your documents to look at you again, hands clasped together and resting gingerly on the conference table. “I’d sincerely like to apologize on his behalf,” he starts. You feel a thump in your chest.  “But I hope his uncooperativeness isn’t making it impossible for you to win the case, attorney.”

Yup. That was a threat. Get my errand dog out of jail— even if he bites you in the process, is what he’s trying to say. Mark Lee may have been your bar regular and friend at some point, but right now he is your client— the most important client your firm has ever had the pleasure of receiving. He is not your friend right now. He is your high school bully’s boss. He is the head of the biggest organized crime group in the district. And your law firm is just one of the many cogs running his criminal machinery. One slip up, and he could just wrench you out without a second thought.

“Of course it’s not impossible. What do you think of me?”

You slide the first file you have down the table. Even if Na Jaemin is fucking useless, you’re not letting him ruin your flawless performance record. You’re not letting him give Mark Lee a reason to throw you away.

“What’s this?”

“The witness list. Yoon Naksung, Hong Hyunjae, and Ma Gildong,” you start. “Your dog fucked them up really badly. I already met their lawyer. He was being dodgy about it, but I doubt they’d let him off with a simple settlement.”

A glint flickers in Mark Lee’s eyes are your introduction.

“I already have another meeting scheduled with him this week. I’d like to talk to the three victims personally, but you know I’m not allowed to do that.”

He hums, glossing over your file before setting it back down on the table, fingers pressed firmly on the page as he looks up with a pleasant smile. “When should I take care of them?”

A shiver crawls down your spine. “I’ll let you know depending on how the second meeting goes,” you answer. “Even if the three of them testify, there won’t be enough evidence to prove his guilt beyond reasonable doubt based on what the prosecution has so far. I don’t know why the fuck their counsel is even bothering with this. Na Jaemin would effectively be acquitted from his criminal charges.”

Your client appears to be satisfied, but you’re not done yet.

“However, that won’t absolve him from civil liability.”

No way in hell.

“Yoon Naksung’s party can still sue for damages. And they have enough evidence to guarantee a win. Na Jaemin would be fined at most, and I’m sure it’d be very easy for you to cough up a couple thousand for him. But that’s still a loss for me. And I can’t have that stain on my record.”

Your brows wrinkle. You release a breath.

“Talk to Yoon Naksung. Or Hong Hyunjae. or Ma Gildong, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It might be hard to get through Yoon since he’s the one fighting the most for this, but the other two would be pretty easy. I hear Ma Gildong’s business isn’t in good shape lately. The address is on the file.” You rise up, leaning forward to reach an arm over. You drop an index finger on the exact spot on the document you were referencing, landing a firm thump on the table. “If the court hears that all of them were all equally beating the shit out of each other in a drunken episode, not remembering who started what, instead of it being a one-sided beating from your exec just because they looked at him wrong—”

Your eyes flit up. You meet Mark’s gaze— unblinking and dilated. You clear your throat and look away.

“Then—then, their case won’t be merited. The court would dismiss it in pari delicto.”

Mark Lee seems pretty fucking happy to hear that. He’s all smiles and applause and it stresses you the fuck out. “I knew I could count on you, attorney.”

You sigh, slumping back down in your seat. “I already have Na Jaemin’s medical report. If you could get at least two of the witnesses to cooperate, that would be great.” Mark responds with a nod and a hum. You sigh again. “We have so many competent lawyers here. Why do you keep specifically asking for me? Next time, go ask Doyoung, or something. I’m tired.” You’d give up this illegal but lucrative money machine just to see Kim Doyoung experience the life-or-death stress you’ve been experiencing these past five months. You really would.

“Because you’re good,” he responds lightly— genuinely. A little too genuine for your liking. Mark shoots you a smile as he tucks his abandoned seat back under the conference table. Uh oh. Here he goes again. “How about officially joining Nalkkeutta as the head of our legal department?”

“Hah,” you snort. “My hands may have gotten dirty, but I can still wash them, Mark Lee.” The look on his face tells you that he isn’t taking you seriously. You leer your eyes. You’re serious. You don’t intend on being Nalkkeut’s clean-up dog forever. Five months ago, you just happened to have shit luck with the desperation to match. Both bad luck and desperation are bound to run out at some point. You just hope they manage to burn out before this guy could burn you alive. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve met with their lawyer again. For the meantime, just keep an eye on the witnesses. Let me know if you find anything of importance.”

His eyes linger on you for a while, still smiling. You know where his head is at. Your grimace— even harder when he asks again to confirm, “So, is that a no?”

“Hell no.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “Worth a shot.” At this point, he’s already halfway out of the conference. “See you again, attorney,” he bids farewell

“God, please, no,” you respond with a grunt. He laughs. The door clicks shut. You groan and become one with the almond table.

How many times has he tried to recruit you already? You’ve lost count. You’re already being regularly run through the wringer at JSS, how much more under Nalkkeut? Jesus, you don’t even want to entertain the thought. So, you busy your head with your  current main stressor: the Na Jaemin case. You force your face off the table with a grunt and pull out your ipad to double check the trial schedule. Two weeks from now. Thursday. Fuck all. How did you end up here?

In retrospect, maybe it was actually all your fault. Three months ago— two months into working at JSS Law Firm— you decided that you were sick and tired of being trapped in Kim Doyoung’s legal counsel team as an associate, without being granted any personal recognition or accolades. You wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to get your credit. This time, you’re going to get  your first fucking big girl case. Even if it meant discourteously bulldozing into Kim Doyoung’s office like a chihuahua looking for a fight.

Which you did, only to be shell-shocked and surprised to see the face of your old bar counter friend— who might also be a gang leader— in the middle of a very…confidential conversation with your supervisor.

“Attorney, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Too late. You’ve already overheard their conversation. They were discussing a case much like your current one— one of Mark Lee’s executives got caught in the middle of an illegal firearms deal, and Doyoung was having trouble looking for a lawyer stupid enough to take the case. 

He shooed you out, but you stayed. You simply had no choice. You had to bite the bullet. This was a spring-loaded opportunity, and you didn’t intend on feeling from it.

“I’ll do it. I can handle it.”

You did get your big girl case, alright. You won. But you also had to book a full body spa session after your first time shaking hands with a criminal— just to feel somewhat cleaner. Obviously, you’ve become a lot more jaded now. Your boss has decided to dump all of Nalkkeuta’s major cases onto your desk since then, and Mark Lee has been trying to poach you ever since.

JSS. Jinsilseong. Integrity. What a load of bullshit. Where’s the integrity in working as criminal clean up dogs? There’s neither integrity nor justice here. Yet you’re able to afford a decent apartment because of that tarnished integrity. Dirty money. You make yourself sick, but drive home and back to work again for the next few days with the car that money bought you, because there’s no way in hell integrity can give you a comfortable life.

*‎

“How’s your Nalkkeuta case going?”

Kim Jungwoo comes over to greet you at the division breakroom while you’re in the middle of making yourself a cup of instant coffee after three fucking hours of being hunched over your cubicle the whole day. You jolt upon hearing his voice, flitting your head over to the direction of his voice, and you’re greeted by a face that clearly has gotten his eight hours in.

Unlike you. Jungwoo and you joined the firm at about the same time, yet somehow you look as though you’ve been trapped here for a good ten decades. He bats his eyes at you with a pretty boy smile while waiting for your response. You grunt. 

“Dreadful. Horrible. Do you want to take it from me and liberate me from this misery?”

The laugh he gives you in response probably means a no. You click your tongue, grunting as you set aside to give him space on the counter. “Is it that bad?” he asks, rustling through the cabinets for a coffee stick somewhere. Kim Doyoung should restock and feed his poor laborers better.

“Yoon’s party won’t settle. They’re dead set on pursuing a cIass action.” Jungwoo manages to fish one stick out. “Not to mention my own fucking client refused my visit. I miss the days where all I had to do was summarize court transcripts and deliver correspondences for Doyoung. You never really know what you’re missing until you lose it.”

That was a lie, but you’re miserable. You were able to meet all three of the witnesses last week, in the presence of their lawyer, obviously and unfortunately. Yoon Naksung seems to be their leader, because the moment you uttered the words ‘settlement’ and ‘compromise,’ he nearly jumped off his seat to full-on throttle you. You’d ask why the hell he’s so hostile, but you read their written testimony on the day of the incident. He recounted all the heinous crap Na Jaemin spewed out while he beat the shit out of them. Things you’d rather not repeat out loud. The other two witnesses didn’t seem as passionate as Naksung, like they just wanted it to be over with and forget how much Na Jaemin humiliated their asses by wiping their faces on the ground and proceeding to call them a bunch of bitch babies.

Anyhow, you have your last attempt of negotiation this afternoon with their lawyer. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter at this point. You just want to let the court know that you’ve done your due diligence of attempting to reach an amicable settlement. You’ve got other cards up your sleeve— you’ve always had.

Which is why Kim Doyoung doesn’t buy your whining and complaining when overhears it in the breakroom.

“Get a grip.”

You flinch. Doyoung makes an appearance by shoveling in between you and Jungwoo to the coffee storage. You two step aside. He releases a silent swear upon realizing there’s no more instant coffee left. So, he decides to release his pissy attitude onto the innocent cupboard door by slamming it shut with a loud bam!

You and Jungwoo look at each other. Bad executive meeting. Very bad, you two mentally agree, sharing a look and a nod. JSS has been dealing with negative press lately. Director must have dumped the burden of fixing it onto him. Poor guy. He deserves it.

Doyoung manages to compose himself in a matter of seconds. He inhales, chest rising, then adjusts his crooked glasses with a huff from lips, finishing it up by giving you a lowered stare. “I’m not really worried about your performance,” he carefully pronounces. “Nalkkeut always asks for you for a reason. Mark Lee gets along well with you, too. So, quit being dramatic.”

He gets along with you because you both like Haruki Murakami, never dug your nose into his business, and always cleaned up his messes. You doubt you’d get the same grace if you fucked this one up, especially considering it concerns one of his executives. Sure, you’ve managed to weasel your way out of your previous cases without much trouble besides your inherent workload. The problem this time is your client.

Ugh. Na Jaemin. That bastard. How dare he decline your visitation request when his freedom is on the line here? You need to brief him for the trial, make sure he doesn’t do anything fucking stupid that would jeopardize your case and fuck not only himself, but you over as well. His freedom isn’t the only thing on the line. Your record is. Your freaking license is. As much as you really don’t want to see his face again, you have to. And the only comfort you can find at the prospect of meeting him again is the very clear evidence that he does not remember you— whereas your bones are already shaking at the mere thought of having to face him again.

It sucks. This sucks. But even if it does, you force yourself out of the office later in the afternoon to meet the witnesses’ lawyer at a cafe downtown. 

His name is Jung Sungchan from the District Prosecutor’s Office. He’s baby-faced. He still has the light in his eyes. You’ve never even heard of him before this case. Meaning, he’s far too irrelevant to have the gall to strut into the cafe, say his piece, then leave without even buying a freaking coffee.

“See you in court, attorney.”

Of course this meeting ends the same way as your other meetings have had: no settlement, no compromise, no nothing. You release a scoff once he sees himself out with a cocky ass grin and a pep in his step. Hah. Fucker thinks he’s winning. This bitch is a toddler in the field compared to you. You’re gonna show him just how ruthless the law could be in the hands of someone that could bend it. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

You pull out your phone. You text Mark a go signal. [Give me an update tonight]. You stare at your string of texts you’d just sent, squint, contemplate for a second, then bring up your phone to your face. [Also, please send a message to your locked up exec that I really have to meet him soon. Tell him to stop rejecting my visitation requests. Please. For the love of god]. You hit send again. You exhale. That does it. You fix up your things and prepare to start leaving.

While you make your way to the cafe’s exit, you unfortunately overhear a conversation. Not that you’d even tried to overhear. There are two girls sitting next to the counter— one with straight black hair and blunt bangs, the other one with a very bad bleach job— and they’re both just talking really, really loudly. 

“That’s what you get for fucking my man, you tramp,” sneers the fake blonde.

“I’m telling you, I really didn’t know he was taken!” straight hair screeches back.

Oh, fuck. You didn’t want to hear this drama. You try your best to maneuver past them quickly, quietly, but you end up hearing more information as you walk by. “I already broke it off and apologized! Please just take down the post already—”

“There’s no way you didn’t know, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking your disgusting texts down. All your friends and family deserve to know how much of a dirty, manipulative skank you are. So that they’d know to keep their boyfriends away from you!”

“Look, I’d get down on my knees to apologize, but you posted not only my private texts, but my fucking nudes were in them, you bitch! I’m not fucking proud of hooking up with a man I didn’t know was taken, but you’re going too far! I—I could sue you for this!”

“Hah! As if! If anyone, I’m the victim in this situation! Not you! You’re the affair partner who seduced my man!”

Goddammit. You jerk back after a sudden stop six feet away from the exit. You shit your eyes, mutter a silent breath as you continue to listen to the high-strung argument behind you. Normally, you’re not one to butt into these things. It’s none of your business, and quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck. But maybe it’s because you’ve yet again been subject to do something that desecrates the very principles of your occupation— the very notions of what is just and lawful and good— that you find yourself spinning your heels and stomping back into the opposite direction before you could even reconsider.

“Excuse me. I apologize for interrupting without consent, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

You just want to balance out the scales of your negative karma— even by just a little bit. You’re doing this for no one’s good but your own. The two girls snap their heads at you, one visibly more annoyed than the other. You gloss over it.

“The right to privacy of communication is heavily protected by our laws and Constitution,” you begin. Blondie furrows her brows at you, a loading symbol practically spinning above her head. Straight hair looks at you, confused. You keep a straight face, digging into your bag. “Prying into the privacy of another’s conversation is a civil offense and a cause of action for damages. That’s one thing. Posting someone else’s sensitive and explicit conversations is another story.”

You pull out a card. “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you butting in?” she snaps, the sound of her chair scratching the ground as she stands up in a huff to level you. You set your business card down onto the table, the words ATTORNEY AT LAW, all caps, facing right side up. 

Blondie’s eyes look down. Her face pales. Then she looks up to meet yours. You almost snort.

“It is a criminal offense punishable by three to seven years imprisonment, or a fine not exceeding twelve million won. Or both.” You could very well be jumping the wrong ship here, but you got a fair sense that Blunt Bangs was telling the truth from how desperate she looks, and that Fake Blonde is simply high on a vengeful power trip over the wrong person. “And, considering the fact that you publicized it online through a post, if I heard correctly, it would also be considered a cybercrime. Meaning, you could be charged for both.”

You didn’t think she could get any paler. You’re proven wrong.

“Wow. That’s an impressive feat considering you had no idea you were committing those crimes. Amazing.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to sputter out something incoherent and stomp out in a panicked frenzy while mashing something onto her phone, most likely trying to delete the post. Sometimes witnessing firsthand the dredges of humanity gives you a little bit of comfort that you’re not the shittiest person in the world. You release a breath, readying yourself to leave once more, only to be stopped by a quiet excuse me from the same table.

You look down. You’re met by the way too happy smile of Blunt Bangs. She looks cheerful. Oh, god. You’re not used to this kind of positivity. You feel a shudder down your spine and force down a lump in your throat.

“Hi,” she starts. “Thanks for helping me. Jeez. What a psycho.”

The girl asks if she can buy you a drink as a thank you. You have not known kindness ever since you started working at JSS, and, by proxy, Nalkkeutta, so you were possessed with the inclination to say yes even though you’ve just had an americano with three shots. You settle with a warm jasmine tea to spare your stomach lining. The girl introduces herself as Natty, and starts giving you an unsolicited rundown of how Fake Blonde just suddenly started sending her swears and death threats the other day alongside the revelation that she was apparently her fling’s girlfriend.

She came here all the way from Mapo just to apologize again and beg her to take down the post. And then you witnessed how that went down. “I really had no idea,” she huffs in complaint for the nth time. You take a sip from your half-empty cup, glancing at the time. It’s 4 p.m. Sweet. Doyoung still thinks you’re having the meeting right now. One more hour before you have to clock out. You decide to pay a bit more attention to Natty as a thank you for allowing you to slack off on the job. “Oh, by the way. Can I ask something?”

You set down the cup on the saucer. “Sure.”

“Did you maybe go to Ganghak High School? Around eight to nine years ago?” 

And then you nearly choke on your own fucking spit. What the hell? You stare at her, wide-eyed in both surprise and innate fear. “Why...why do you ask?” Natty takes that a yes and immediately lets out a squeal, followed by the squeal of your name, followed by a very slow process of recollection on your part of a girl with similar blunt bangs in your repressed high school memories— then it clicks.

“I recognized your name on your business card, but wasn’t sure if you were the same person! Whoa! You’re a lawyer now! That’s amazing!”

Blunt bangs. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Pretty smile. You remember being classmates with a girl with that same description. You think they both have the same name. You don’t get the chance to second guess yourself because she starts talking about more people you vaguely remember in Ganghak— the class president who’s apparently on his third try at taking the Civil Service Exam, that one couple who apparently recently got married just two months ago in Jeju, that one kid who had once gotten his head dunked into the trash can on the first day of senior year because he came in without knowing the rules of the school.

He didn’t know who ran it. You did. Natty did. And that confirms the fact that you two had indeed been in the same hell once. 

“Hey, do you have any idea what happened to Na Jaemin? I haven’t heard a single thing about him since we graduated and I moved towns.” 

You look at her, a stiff smile on your face. She was your classmate. She was his classmate. If she can remember all those other people and what their roles were back in Ganghak, she’d very clearly remember yours as well. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him either.”

Natty gets the realization and immediately flinches out an apology. “O—oh, haha. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“No, it’s alright,” you hum, smile softening. “I haven’t heard of him, either.” 

Christ. This man really haunts you everywhere you go. Natty is great at conversation, and manages to smooth over that one bump as quickly as she can and proceeds to ask about any new hot places at Yeongdeungpo, ask about your job, you asking about what she’s up to in turn under it hits five in the afternoon and you have to return to the firm to clock out.

The both of you exchange numbers. You look at Natty’s saved contact on your phone with conflicted feelings.

Now that you’ve managed to slot the memories into place, you do in fact remember her. She was your classmate throughout the two short years you spent at Ganghak. On your first day, she was the first person who’d come up to talk to you— the only time she’d ever talked to you and vice versa. It took nine years for the both of you to have a conversation again. And there’s really only one person to blame.

*‎

(“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—!”

It’s Monday. You race down the now emptied hallways, eyes quickly scanning each door label that you zoom past in the off chance that you got carried away running and missed your room. To think this is how your year starts. You were looking forward to using the opportunity before homeroom to introduce yourself and make some new friends, but no— you just had to doze off because you spent the entire yesterday unpacking. 

It’s a new neighborhood, new school. You’ve heard that most of Ganghak High School’s students came from Ganghak Middle, meaning almost everyone already knows each other here. They’ve already formed their respective cliques and cohorts and groups. You’re currently an outsider, and you need to put in the effort to change that. You need to make a good impression to get some god damned friends and not spend the rest of your two years here as a loner.

Which is why you feel a splashing wave of relief drenching your bones the moment you make it to your assigned class for the rest of the year— slamming a palm against the door, just in time for the bell to ring.

“Whoo! Safe!” 

At least fifteen sets of eyes immediately zero in on you. You stand there by the door. You smile and nod.

“Hi, good morning.”

No one responds. They all look at you— some stares lingering longer than the others— but they all eventually divert their eyes before five seconds, releasing what you could only assume were sighs of relief, and then proceed to drown the classroom in a silence that’s so, so unnatural for a large group of fifteen to sixteen year olds. 

That should have been your first sign that this school was far from normal.

What a great start, you mentally huff, scanning the classroom the seat you’ll be stuck with for the next two years, and you eventually clock a pair of empty desks in the middle of the back row. You walk over to the available seat, waiting to see if anyone calls out saying it’s theirs, and after a few moments of no objections, you sit yourself down on the wooden chair.

The moment you hook your bag on the left side of your new desk, you swore that the heavy silence pervading the classroom just got heavier. 

You look up. You see someone from the center row, peeking over her shoulder at who you assume is you with a somewhat nervous jitter— as if she’s having an argument with herself in her own head and for some reason, you’re involved. That should’ve been your second sign, but despite your confusion and frustration, you sit still. You sit still until one side eventually wins the girl’s mental argument and she rises up from her seat, tentatively stalks up to you as the class’s eyes follow her short walk with anticipation, including yours.

“Hi, uhm,” she practically squeaks out, hesitant, eyes quickly flickering over to the classroom door before looking back at you. She inhales and smiles. Her bangs are covering her eyebrows. “I’m Natty.”

You greet back and introduce yourself. This is a really fucking weird first interaction, but you take what you can get. “Hi.”

The expectation would be that she’d ask you if you’re new here, if you’re a transferee, if you’d like to join her and her friends for lunch, but no.

Natty completely diverts your expectations by saying, point blank, “This may sound weird, but…you should maybe pick another seat.”

You blink. What the hell? “Why?”

The answer comes in the form of the sound of the classroom door violently swinging open, followed by a series of hushed exclamations, and Natty’s suddenly paled face snapping away from you within the same moment, scampering to return back to her seat at the center, without even giving you the grace of a response. 

You didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but it does, even with the sound of graveled footsteps marching their way over to you— the only thing you can see of the late student’s arrival because for some damn reason, everyone has their head down, and you felt compelled to follow and shut up and catch up to your confused and bated breaths as you listen to the chair next to you screech against the tiled floor, and feel the presence of someone plop themselves down with a rattle and grunt, and at that moment, you feel like you were given the subconscious permission to look up again.

So, you do. 

And when you do, you immediately lock eyes with Natty. Sorry, she mouths with a hand up her cheek, then just as quickly turns back to the front, leaving you to think— what the hell just happened?

Hesitantly, you crane your head to the right, sneaking a glance at the person who just yanked the atmosphere down into hell with just his arrival, the person who you’d be stuck with for the rest of the year by virtue of your seating arrangement. 

Much to your surprise, you’re not met by a face. You’re met with someone hunched over, a mop of messy hair with his face buried into crossed arms over the desk with an aura that immediately repels you from prodding even an inch closer. You nudge your seat away to the left, making sure not to cross the invisible mark marked by the gap between your two desks. The only sign of life you glean is the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders— invisible to anyone but you solely because of proximity— which leads you to the conclusion that he’s sleeping.

Sleeping. Something tells you that it’s better that he stays this way. That something is the sigh of relief from the person sitting right in front of you as your homeroom teacher finally walks in.

At this point, you still haven’t seen your seatmate’s face. The only time you know of his name is during attendance, when your teacher calls out a hesitant, “Na— Na Jaemin…?” after double-taking at her class list, answered by nothing but a heavy silence despite having all seats in the classroom filled. She quickly nods in acknowledgement and moves forward after that. Just who the hell is sitting right next to you?)

*‎

Beyond your control, memories from that time of your life continuously flash behind your eyes as you drive back to the firm. A buzz from your phone momentarily interrupts you. It’s from Mark Lee.

[Thanks, attorney. We’ll take care of Ma Gildong first tonight. You can see Jaemin on Monday, next week 🧑‍🎓].

Na Jaemin on a Monday. You grimace. What a load of crappy poetic irony. You reply with a thanks and a middle finger. Mark Lee beeps back with a bright grin in emoji form.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[gerbits]

GERBITS TOWNIE OVERHAUL: A SAVE FILE

*waves*

This thing was due for a major update- and I've finally mustered up the inspiration to get it done 💪

What is this? This is a save file where all (yes, ALL) of the EA townies have been given makeovers- hair, faces, clothing...no eyeball rings here, folks. And the best part? They are all CC-FREE!

You won't find any updated builds or anything, because I'm not a builder. What you will find on top of makeovers, however, is that this save file is also mostly lore-friendly.

Neat! So, what changes have been made? Sims have been removed and/or added (goodbye Katrina Caliente, hello Kaylynn Langerak!), relationships have been fixed (depending on your definition of 'fixed', heh), and concept sims are now a part of the game! (ever wonder what happened to those awesome sages of magic? wonder no more!)

For an overview of the big changes, check out this doc!

Okay, but what if I only want a couple of these households? Fret not, because they are available on the gallery! And before you ask, no, I won't be uploading tray files. You can find them by searching for my username in the gallery (unsurprisingly, it is gerbits), and you will need to have "includes CC" ticked! While they are, indeed, CC-free, I made them with my defaults installed and apparently that isn't good enough for EA.

I changed my mind, I want the whole save! How do I install it? Place the file in your Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves folder. Easy peasy!

If you have read through all of that rambling, I commend you, and I present one (1) download link (OKAY it's two but it's the same thing so, really, you could consider it one):

DOWNLOAD (SFS) alternate (dropbox)

[zephyrchama]

This is a piece for @obeymevents's Obey me! Prompt Roulette event! We submitted random prompts, and received a random prompt in return. The prompt for this piece is...

Too Many Beds

It's longer than most of my pieces so it's hidden below the read more (but it's fully SFW!). I tried to include every character, and there is a handy chart of where everyone is sleeping. Hope you enjoy!

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to test out our new overnight package.”

Diavolo was in high spirits. He walked with a pep in his step down the quiet carpeted hallways of the latest Corvo hotel. Everything smelled faintly of fresh paint and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen.

The group following him was only half listening. Some were so far back, engrossed in their own idle chit-chat, that even Diavolo’s vigorous voice didn’t reach them. The modern, dim hallway lighting was exactly opposite of the large ballroom they had just been in, wherein massive glitzy chandeliers reflected off of polished champagne glass towers. There had been no shortage of indulgences. Fine food prepared by professional chefs, a wide open dance floor with a live band, and the best of company that you had the pleasure of personally inviting.

Diavolo left the guest list for this exclusive party up to you, as there are few beings he trusts so unconditionally. Not wanting to disappoint him, you thought it best to keep invites limited to your closest friends at RAD. Sixteen people, including yourself, was a good, round number and you were confident the company would never be dull. It made for a memorable night of partying.

Now that the ballroom had been thoroughly christened and you were extremely tuckered out from dancing, your group moved as one to their accommodations for the night. Diavolo, leading the pack, guaranteed it would be an experience like no other. The hallway had few doors, each spread noticeably far apart. The rooms inside must be large. You wondered if they were suites fit for royalty. Past the vending room, past the ice dispenser, your group finally came upon a simple set of double wooden doors.

“Here we are!” Diavolo exclaimed. “Again, this is something new we’re offering only at this hotel. I’d appreciate your feedback in the morning.”

There was no lock. Barbatos demonstrated that it could recognize a guest’s handprint, requiring no key to open. He waved you in with a smile.

The room was massive. You were greeted with a sophisticated wood paneled wall with lights installed around the floor and ceiling. Next to the entrance was a locker room of sorts for luggage. Your possessions had already been carried up and neatly stored away.

Next up, a communal bathroom with multiple rooms for baths, showers, and toilet facilities, all attached to a powder room with floor to ceiling mirrors.

The bedroom itself rivaled the ballroom in size and it was filled, from corner to corner, with beds. Queen sized bunk beds. Each expertly made up in fine silk sheets. Chocolate mints wrapped in gold foil sat atop the fluffy pillows and folded robes sat squarely at the foot of each bed.

You paused in confusion to take in such a unique sight, but people were filing in one after another behind you. Solomon put a hand on your back to safeguard you from the parade of tipsy non-humans. You moved forward. Beelzebub followed with a half-asleep Belphegor latched to his side.

“This setup is for large groups. We took inspiration from days of old, when travelers would all reside in one common room. There are more than enough accommodations for everyone,” Barbatos explained. “Perfect for the budget-friendly school trip, work retreat, or group celebration. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You squinted. There was a reason people didn’t sleep together in giant rooms anymore. A good reason.

“We’re all sleeping here?” you confirmed. Barbatos’ coy smile affirmed it. This was going to be a headache.

“There are no assigned arrangements,” he confirmed, “so feel free to pick whichever bed suits your fancy.”

Multiple hands grabbed your arms. Mammon, Asmodeus, and Luke exclaimed, “I wanna sleep with you!”

Leviathan followed their enthusiasm with his own, “I-I-I also want to s-s-s-sleep w-with you!”

At the same time, Mephistopheles could be heard, “Lord Diavolo! I’d like nothing more than to sleep beside you! Just like when we were kids.”

Diavolo was already half-shouting, “I want to sleep with Lucifer!”

You faintly caught Satan snickering, “yeah, I bet you do.”

“You guys reek of alcohol,” Luke complained as he pinched his nose. He waved his hand towards Mammon and Asmodeus. “Nobody wants to sleep near you!”

“Does this hotel even allow pets?” Mammon snarked. “Who let this chihuahua inside?”

Luke kicked Mammon in the foot. While the two squabbled, Beelzebub offered, “it will be quiet with me.”

You were pulled back and forth in a nauseating three way tug-of-war. Even those who weren’t making physical contact had their eyes on you, their intentions clear.

“Nobody is sleeping with anyone.” Lucifer raised his voice above the din. It was getting late and he would not tolerate a stupid fight. “There are more than enough beds to spread out. One person per bunk bed. Nobody is allowed to sleep in a bed directly next to anyone else. I don’t want any funny business happening tonight. That’s final.”

Multiple sighs could be heard, ranging from relieved to annoyed to straight-up disappointed. Mammon could be heard saying, rhetorically, "Who said you get to make the rules?"

“That’s the most fair option,” Simeon stated. “On the bright side, we also get matching pajamas. That makes it feel less lonely”

“Come now, Lucifer. We can’t even sleep in adjacent beds?” Diavolo asked sadly. That defeated half the purpose of sleeping in a big room together.

“What about diagonal?” Raphael asked. He had his hand on his chin. Despite the room being massive, it was unlikely there were enough beds for all sixteen beings present to sleep with multiple beds in between one another.

Lucifer put an end to the discontentment once and for all by announcing, “Diagonal is fine. I want you all in a bed in ten minutes. If anyone doesn’t like it, you’re free to sleep in the street.”

Barbatos showed his full agreement with a smile that gave you chills. He had such a way of expressing himself without really changing his expression at all. It was enough to get everyone moving.

Beelzebub carried his twin over to a bed at random and placed the dozing Belphegor in a lower bunk, then took his pillow mint as compensation. It was a hefty treat coated in chocolate, larger than your typical pillow mints, one that befit the luxury status of the Corvo hotel.

People began milling around the room. Barbatos mentioned something about a lilac scent on the pillows to make falling asleep easier. They inspected the beds but didn’t actually claim one. Many side glances were thrown in your direction.

Thirteen had been quiet, refusing to get tangled up in everyone’s petty bickering until now. The reaper boldly pushed past everybody loitering in her way. Upon reaching the farthest, most isolated corner of the room, she turned and announced, “I’m sleeping here. If any of you come near me, I’m going straight home and blowing out your candle.”

The room went silent as everyone stared. She continued, “Well… except one. If there’s an emergency, you know who to send as your representative.”

With a cute wink in your direction, she turned her back and disappeared up a ladder to a top bunk.

“Ooh, scary,” Solomon laughed.

Thirteen’s manicured middle finger poked out from the edge of her bunk in response.

Solomon responded with another laugh. Though, this wasn’t the time to poke fun at Thirteen. He had more interesting things to focus on.

He asked you, “Have you decided where to sleep?”

It was obviously the question everyone was dying to know. You didn’t care. All of the beds literally looked the same. They were so sparkling new, even the metal screws holding the mattress frames together had the same shiny luster, without a speck of rust. It looked like someone copy and pasted the same bed in a repeating pattern until the room was full. You wouldn't doubt if this were a low budget VR game.

Any show of preference would start a war. You decided it was best to choose at random. “I’m going to take… this one.”

“Then, this one’s mine!” Mammon declared, diving into a bottom bunk as close to yours as Lucifer would allow.

“No fair! I wanted that one!” Luke anxiously balled his hands. While paralyzed thinking about what to do, Solomon happily claimed the bed opposite of Mammon's. Options near you were quickly running out.

“This diagonal space looks open,” Simeon remarked. He and Lucifer chose beds directly diagonal to you, giving Luke the idea to jump headfirst into the other open diagonal space before Asmodeus could take it.

Diavolo began climbing a bed close to Lucifer. As unofficial chaperones, the two of them in top bunks would be able to keep an eye out for any late night funny business. Leviathan followed suit, scrambling into a top bunk in the hopes of being able to spot your sleeping figure several rows away.

Finally, everyone had a bed to call their own.

There was a minor scuffle to the bathroom while the tired group performed their nighttime routines. Teeth were brushed, pajamas were donned. Shirtless glimpses were stolen from a select few who couldn't be bothered to change in private. Simeon helped you figure out how to get warm water when the sink spout wouldn’t budge. Asmodeus came out wearing a nourishing face mask that garnered some stares.

“I’ll be turning the lights out now,” Barbatos announced after some time had passed.

Leviathan and Diavolo were leaning on top bunk edges, engrossed in a mighty battle on their handheld games. “Hold on a moment.” Diavolo was rapidly mashing buttons as he explained, “we’ve almost got him down to half HP.”

“How’s your ult? Is the meter filled?” Leviathan asked. His eyes did not stray from the screen. He was a master at work.

“This thing on the side? No, it keeps going up every time I land a hit. Is that good?”

“As soon as that’s filled, get close to him and hit R2! With the gear I gave you it will take out at least another 20% of-”

“I’ll be turning out the lights now,” Barbatos repeated. He turned the lights out.

The night had officially begun.

“Satan, would you mind turning that off?” Raphael’s whisper carried through the dark. “It’s hard to sleep.”

Satan was making full use of the bed’s built-in reading light. It was tiny yet powerful. Unlike Leviathan’s handheld game console, Satan couldn’t hide it under the covers.

“Is this any better?” He tilted it down further, so the light shone directly on the page. So much so that the letters were hard to see, the light reflected right off of the ink. It remained a burning beacon in that otherwise dark half of the room, made worse by the fact that Satan was on a top bunk.

“It’s not much better,” Raphael said.

Satan huffed and adjusted his light again. “How about now?”

“No.”

One low growl later, Satan adjusted his light for a third time. “Better?”

“Now it’s in my eyes,” Asmodeus whined. “I can see it through my eye mask. Can’t you just read in the dark?”

“Can’t you get a higher quality mask?”

There was the shrill whistle of a projectile flying through the air, followed by the shattering of glass. Then there was no more light. “Hey! Watch it!” Satan roared. He was met with a colorful chorus of “shh!”, “shut up!” and “quiet!”

Asmodeus chucked a pillow towards his angry brother.

Raphael whispered, “That’s better.”

Just as his head found its way back to the pillow, Barbatos could be heard. “You will need to pay for that in the morning.”

Satan was left to seethe quietly. Instead of counting sheep, he counted the different ways he could curse Lucifer to vent his frustrations. He didn’t get very far. There was another loud disturbance, this time from the back. An ear-splitting buzzing sound preceded a deep shout.

Thick smoke filled the air around Thirteen’s corner.

“What is going on now?” Mephistopheles demanded. He was cranky, with a massive frown plastered across his face as he lifted his silk sleep mask. This was the most testing night he had ever experienced.

“I told you not to get near me!” Thirteen huffed. She waved her arms, clearing the air to see who was stupid enough not to heed her warning.

“Sorry.” Beelzebub was stuck coughing under a massive electric net. Miss Soaring Buzz Buzz Junior wasn’t a very painful trap, but the static shocks and heavy smoke were an unpleasant sensation even for the strongest of demons. There were a trail of foil wrappers that once contained mints pilfered from the empty beds, and they lead up to the paralyzed Beelzebub. This supported his case when he claimed between coughs, “I got hungry.”

“Haha, I should have known.” Diavolo was finding this whole ordeal to be very exciting. One unexpected event after the next. He had no intention of sleeping to begin with, lest he miss out on all the fun of spending time with his friends. It was a good thing Leviathan was also a night owl. The otaku helped the prince stay busy in between bouts of chaos with highly recommend handheld role playing games, to be enjoyed under the thick covers.

“Can you let me out? This net is really uncomfortable.” Beelzebub wiggled like a worm. The net didn’t budge against his strength and his arms were pinned against his stomach. “Also, are you going to eat your mint?”

“I’m saving it!" Thirteen exclaimed, "and I’ll let you out in the morning.”

“I’ll get you out,” somebody yawned. Belphegor plodded over to his twin, half asleep with eyes half closed. “Consider it thanks for carrying me into bed.”

“Belphie, thank you.”

Undoing Thirteen’s trap was not easy. It was clearly going to take a while, especially with Belphegor fighting sleep every step of the way.

“Can we all be quiet now?” Mephisto was exasperated. “Please? Thank you.”

“Now you see what I put up with every day,” Lucifer muttered. He was staring up at the ceiling, reconsidering his life choices. Was it a mistake to have adopted all of these buffoons as his brothers? No. Lucifer was never wrong about their potential and greatly enjoyed seeing them grow. They were just idiots.

This was further proved around half an hour later. Half an hour of blissful silence, during which a few members of your entourage were able to doze off. Things were finally calm. Asmodeus sat up. He slid out of bed, tugging at the belt around his robe to ensure it was properly tied and would accentuate his beautiful waist.

Asmodeus tip toed towards your direction, dancing lightly on his feet as he imagined how happy you’d be at his little midnight rendezvous. Lucifer might’ve said you couldn’t sleep near each other, but he never said you had to stay apart all night long.

“Whaddya think you’re doing?”

Out of the dark, Mammon thrust an arm in front of his younger brother, allowing him no further.

“Just a trip to the bathroom,” Asmodeus sang with a quiet lilt.

“Bathroom my foot. Get outta here,” Mammon spat. “I’m on to you. No one gets past me. Go on, shoo.” His command was accompanied by the classic hand motion, shooing Asmodeus back from where he came from.

“Hmmph! You could be a little nicer about it.”

Mammon stood guard at the foot of your bed until Asmodeus was good and settled, albeit sulking, back under his sheets. Mammon then turned and promptly began to crawl right into your bed. He was slow, careful not to make much noise. His full attention was on safely completing this mission. You would make for a top tier prize once that hurdle was cleared.

“Hey, were you up waitin’ for me?” he asked in a low whisper, careful not to be too loud.

“Actually, yes,” Lucifer whispered in response, lowering the covers away from his face. Mammon shrieked, leaped up, and crashed onto the ground in a scramble to get away from his older brother.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Mephistopheles complained. “When will it end?”

Mammon stammered, pointing a shaky finger at Lucifer, “You were supposed to be over there! Where’d-”

Lucifer cut him off. “They are in bed. Just like you should be.”

“Yeah, but which bed?”

The question went unanswered. Lucifer sat up, swung his legs over the side of the mattress, and slipped a pair of complimentary fuzzy slippers onto his feet. “Let’s go. I’ll tuck you in.”

“No thanks!”

“I’ll be sure to do it very snugly.”

Mammon was unable to protest as Lucifer grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to the proper bed. Mammon’s belt would make for a suitable chain to tie his hands to the metal bedpost, ensuring a repeat of this incident would not occur. A teary and frustrated Mammon caught your eye for the briefest of seconds as you peered over the top bunk of what was originally Lucifer’s bed. You gave him a little wave. With bound hands, Mammon opened his mouth to say something, but the space was quickly filled with a small accent pillow from Lucifer. 

From your new top bunk perch, you looked around to see how everyone else was fairing. Squinting in the dark, you could make out a few people. Beelzebub had successfully escaped Thirteen’s trap. You noticed his feet going right up to the edge of his bed. Diavolo was grinning like a kid in a candy shop. Beyond him was the still figure of Barbatos, laying face up with eyes closed and his hands crossed over his chest. On the opposite side, you craned to see Simeon. It was hard to see what he was up to. Same with Belphegor behind him.

You wouldn’t find out until morning that Lucifer’s no bed-sharing rule was broken. Belphegor, in a sleepy haze, couldn’t properly find his way back after helping Beelzebub. He wound up in Simeon’s bed, clinging to the angel’s side, pinning him down with an arm and a leg. Simeon would have found it pretty adorable if only Belphegor wasn’t so heavy. No amount of wiggling, prodding, or whisper-shouts would get the Avatar of Sloth off of him. Simeon did not want to risk texting you and waking you up if you were already asleep, so he resigned himself to his fate underneath Belphegor.

It wasn’t long before another large sound woke just about everybody in the room up. You jumped. It sounded like someone threw their suitcase from the ceiling. There was a small commotion on the other side of the room.

“Thirteen?” Solomon accused.

“Hey! Watch your tone, that wasn’t me.”

“I see… Then maybe Satan mistook reality for a dream and threw somebody across the room?” he mused.

Satan sighed, “Don’t make me come over there.”

As it turns out, Solomon wasn’t too far off the mark. Soon it was clear to all: Leviathan had fallen asleep and, soon after, fell out of his top bunk. It was impressive. He basically sleep-climbed over the low walls of the bunk bed by gradually throwing his limbs over it one by one. When the amount of Leviathan on one side was higher than the amount of him on the other side, the demon’s body slipped and came crashing down in one of the top five most unpleasant wake-ups Solomon had ever experienced.

“Aaaaaahhhhh.” Leviathan’s voice was surprisingly weak for the strong blow he’d just received. He curled up on the floor and rubbed his aching head while Diavolo and Solomon watched.

“Leviathan, are you alright?” Raphael asked.

“Aaaaaaaaahh,” he repeated. He was more in shock than anything.

“He sounds fine,” Satan turned on his side and pulled his blanket up.

Leviathan shakily stood to his feet. This was not his beautiful room, and this was not his beautiful bathtub. It was a room of judgement. An introvert’s worst nightmare. “Wow, thanks for the concern.”

He crawled back into bed, into the bottom bunk this time. He grabbed the covers, swirling them around himself in a protective cocoon. “I’ll be just fine, don’t you worry about me,” he complained.

“Good to hear!” Diavolo responded with sincerity. “Good night, Leviathan!”

“Oh. Uhh, good night?” Leviathan mumbled back. He was caught off guard by actual good will and snuggled his embarrassed face into the blanket.

“Good night, Lord Diavolo!” Mephistopheles called out, not one to be outdone.

“Why, good night Mephistopheles. And good night, Lucifer.”

“Enough.”