#with varying levels of effort ofc

[larkspire]

i just realized almost every secret shanghai character has faked their own death at some point

[thelemonsnek]

hellll of a year this year!! got a new hyperfixation for the first time since 2020 :0 this really made me realize how many different styles i use >:))

[image id: one of those art summary templates, where it has a spot for art from every month. January's drawing is very sketchy and has thick, bold lineart. February's is very wild, with pixelated lines, harsh shading, and crazy patterns. March's is more grounded in realism, while still keeping some level of stylism. April's is cartoony but fairly detailed, and has thick lineart. May's is very simplistic and stylized. June is a return to the realistic but stylized art style, and is the first drawing to include an actual background. July's is very painterly and also has a background. August's has the realistic stylized art style again, and September's, October's and November's are all a mix between the realistic and painterly art style, though only September's has a background. Decembers is an extremely simplistic uncolored drawing. End id]

[twistedpink]

hey i had a thought. not a request just a thought

you ever think about whats sorts of obscure/unorthodox fetishes some of the twst boys have?

actually doesn't even need to be a fetish, do you think they have highly specific things they like in people? like, the shape of someone's ankles/cankles, the way someone sticks their pinky out when they hold something, but this only happens with one of their hands, or like...big earlobes or something. VERY WEIRDLY SPECIFIC INNOCUOUS TRAITS THATS MY POINT

i think jade would like big earlobes on someone actually...for biting and nibbling. stretched lobes and gauges are probably really attractive to him too, by that logic.

trey of course has his teeth thing.

ooh! i had the thought i think ace would like someone with some crooked teeth. especially like a little snaggle-tooth. like maybe it's not all their teeth that are crooked but this one specific one that's either shaped different or like sticks out or covers another. i think he'd think it was funny but oh so cute and would work really hard to make his crush/partner smile and laugh with their teeth showing so he can admire it more.

those are some of my thoughts

OOHHHH just some things the guys like!! I need more people to send things in like this lols

Cater really really REALLY likes getting handmade gifts. ESP for his birthday because with all the kids in his house, it’s not prioritized at home and he cries HARD when you put effort into celebrating him. Also likes imagining getting your skincare/lipgloss alll over him post kiss

Leona’s guilty pleasure is pet names. But only in the “into my friend - I’d rather die than admit it” stage,, Call him pookie/babe/boyfie in a joking tone and he’s folding despite being stonefaced. Giggles and kicks his feet for hours when he’s alone.. Unironically likes anklets a normal amount

UGGGHHHH FLOYD LOVESSSS YOUR STINK. In a fun and silly way Ofc,, He’s sooo weird actually. He wants to keep you in a jar. Totally the type of bf to sniff you hard enough that your looser skin gets suctioned up into his nose/mouth and he just. Won’t stop. (FREAK 🤯)

I do fear that Kalim’s obsessedddd if you have big ears/they aren’t flush against your skull. Gets the fattest kick out of blowing on them or kissing your temples a little too enthusiastically to watch you squirm at the noise,, + Buys all your jewellery and likes to plot your stacks for the day

Epel likes play fighting in public an irrational amount.. Asks you to slap his ass so he can yell at you. Organizes fights in ikea. Vil is PRAYING on your downfall and he’s never been happier. Thinks the whole winter ensemble of hat + scarf + five jackets is soooo cutesy and squishable

IDIA IS INTO THOSE LESBIAN JORTS. He thinks seeing your knees is like a gift from god and dreams of stealing them. But if he’s wearing them then you aren’t, and his knees are significantly less sexy so he’s holding back. For now. (This is a threat)

Silver starts shaking and sweating and throwing up (affectionately) when he sees u you have eczema/KP(?)/scars/freckles. It’s so so soooo human of you and he loves you for it- other than scales, fae skin texture doesn’t vary and is always baby smooth. He was FASCINATED when he got acne for the first time and loves getting to relate to you on some level

[namgyunation]

Hi, absolutely love your writing style and that you not oversimplify characters.

You wrote before, that Nam-gyu and y/n (I’m not sure if she is even y/n) are fighting fiery and a lot. Could you write about one of those scandals and the behavior of both after it.

It can be your headcanons or a full drabble, you choose. Though I’d love to see replicas of both during the argument and afterwards.

Once again, love your works 💋

addicted to the drama

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader — summary: a relationship with someone like nam-gyu isn't easy, or peaceful. far from it, but you're in this shit for the long haul. OR; three fights with nam-gyu and three ways it gets 'resolved.' — warnings: suggestive moments, a littleeeee gross, he's especially gross in the second fight i'm sorry :(, mentions of sex but no crazy explicit smut, 18+, the girls are fightinggg, there's a little fluff in here, nam-gyu is veryyy not nice in the third fight and uses rather mean language, drug use, not proof-read! — word count: 11.3k — a/n: hiiiiii thank you so so much for the request and the kind words omg (seriouslyyy thank you :*)) <333 this is my first time ever doing one, so i hope i didn't stray too far from what you wanted, haha. i think nam-gyu is definitely a petty little shit when it comes to arguments with his s/o and definitely more than a little emotionally constipated. i went ahead and included 3 different fights, all with varying levels of seriousness lolol. i'm sorry it took so long, i got a little carried away LMAO. there's a bunch of my headcanons sprinkled in here ofc, but maybe i'll make a separate headcanons only post in the future TToTT I hope you like it!!! <3

In a bad mood, baby, come work me out.

You don't ask for much. You don't think you do, at least.

A tidy space meant a tidy mind meant a tidy life. It doesn't seem that hard of a concept to grasp. To you.

Nam-gyu's shoes are strewn lazily across the floor in front of you, shoe prints outlined and punctuated by a wetness that traced their path from start to finish. Rain water pools beneath the soles, dripping like a damn crime scene. You let out a deep sigh, swallowing your anger as you hung your jacket on the rack.

Your eyes flick over the apartment, taking a mental note of every offense and sorting them in the framework of your mind as you built your case. A discarded glass of iced tea on the island, half sipped, then forgotten. A stray sock on the floor, far from its home in the laundry bin overflowing with Nam-gyu's unfolded clothes. A cup of ramen with the chopsticks still in it. You step forward, grabbing a box of snacks on the coffee table. It was too light, nothing but cardboard and air as you shook it. Empty. You slam it into the recycling bin with more effort than necessary.

Your anger simmers, about ready to spill over as you push past the door to your bedroom. He's exactly where you knew he'd be, splayed out lazily across the bed in shorts and a loose shirt, one hand pillowing his head while the other gripped his phone.

"Nam-gyu."

He hums in vague acknowledgment, eyes still trained on his phone. You swipe at it, knocking it out of his hand, watching his face bloom with a mix of confusion and anger as it tumbles onto his chest, narrowly missing his face.

He curls his lip. "The hell is your problem?"

"Your shoes."

"My shoes," he responds flatly.

You suck in a breath. "In the middle of the floor. Dripping."

He rolls his eyes at you and puncutates it with a scoff. "My god. You're so dramatic."

You throw your arms out. "Is it that hard to wipe them and put them on the rack?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says. Dismissal. "I'll do it later, relax."

"You will not do it later."

He exhales, a hand dragging down his face like you're the one exhausting him. "Shit, you're so uptight sometimes. It's just a little mess."

You scoff. "A little mess that you leave sitting there for days!"

He grunts, the only sign that he heard you, before turning over onto his side to unlock his phone again.

Your eye twitches.

Fine.

The next morning, you don't put your makeup away after getting ready for work. Your cups populate the apartment, gathering on every surface like a small village. Your jackets find homes on the couch, the floor, the backs of the few chairs you two had. A stray sock joins his on the ground. Then a shirt. A pair of underwear. Fuck it. You add another sock for good measure.

It only takes two days for Nam-gyu to break. He catches you on the way to the bathroom, his hand digging into your waist as he whips you around, interrupting your plans to continue building the ongoing crime scene of makeup in the sink.

"Cut it the fuck out."

You smile. "I don't know what you mean."

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenching. "Oh my god, you're insane. I get it, okay? Fuck." His hand goes up to rub at his temples for a moment before dragging slowly down his face in defeat.

He points past you at the bathroom sink surrounded in puffs of eyeshadow and smears of foundation. "Deal with... that. I'll get the rest of it."

You stand there, biting back a smile as he lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing up his sleeves and tucking his bangs behind his ears before leaning down to tackle the mess—half you and half him. You're about to tease him when his eyes zero in on something on the ground. He picks it up with a smirk, holding it up in the air in front of you. It's your underwear.

"Honestly?" He looks away from you for a moment, his eyes dragging over it for too long, as if inspecting every twist of the lace. "I don't really mind if you keep leaving these around." He raises his eyebrows at you as a grin stretches across his face. You roll your eyes with a disgusted scoff, but you don't care, not really.

He opens his mouth to say something more, but you're already shutting the bathroom door behind you with a click.

You lean against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble as you let out a sigh of relief. Victory.

---

The next time you fight, it's under the pretense of something fun. You'd complained about how little time the two of you had spent together in the past week. Every time you were home, he was at work. Every time he was home, you were at work— or too exhausted from said work to do anything.

So he proposed a compromise. A night out together at the nightclub, he'd said. A nice way to spend time with each other even when he was on the clock. Like 'take your kid to work' day, except the 'kid' was his annoyed girlfriend. And the 'work' was a shady nightclub filled with too many loud, intoxicated people. And the 'day' was actually a night choking on smoke and sweat and too much noise that stretched way too long, like a guest overstaying their welcome.

You lean against Nam-gyu, staring out into the crowd of people as he tangles in conversation with another one of the club's regular VIPs. You found your head spinning from the revolving door of people that he'd spoken to all night. You wonder how someone as naturally introverted and—rough as him could stand this job.

You listen in, attention flitting in and out as they spoke. He says something so out of character that it catches you off guard. You let out an amused puff of air. He's too animated, too bubbly, too eager to please people that barely know his name. For what it was worth, he was certainly one hell of an actor. Anything to get the guests—and the drugs—coming over and over again, you suppose.

It's not long before you feel his warmth inch away from your body. An alarm. You look up, and his hands are already on your shoulders, rubbing quickly up and down in a way that signals 'hey, I'm about to do something that you probably don't want me to do, but I'm gonna do it anyways'. Your mouth is already opening to complain, but he beats you to it.

"I'm gonna step out for a second, okay?" He's not looking at you. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "This guy is offering me some good shit. Gotta take it. He's real important."

He brushes the ghost of a kiss to the back of your head, no doubt an attempt to placate your already building annoyance, but it barely registers. His hands pick up speed on your shoulders, rubbing the last bit of warmth into you before he's pulling away, smiling with enthusiasm as he leaves to pump more chemicals into his body.

You let your head tip back as your eyes shut. Nam-gyu never ceases to amaze you with just how many bad decisions he can make in one night. The air around you hums with music, closing in on your little spot by the bar. You drum your fingers against the counter, trying and failing to convince yourself that you're having fun.

You're about to stand—go outside to get some air maybe—when someone slips into the seat behind you, filling Nam-gyu's spot.

"Hey."

You startle a bit, not expecting the sudden conversation.

It's a man dressed in all black, a silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He smells like smoke and beer. Based on his attire, it's not hard to deduce that this is one of Nam-gyu's coworkers, another promoter, you were sure.

You nod at him politely, not really sure what to expect but not wanting to be rude, either. It'd be best not to cause problems with anyone working alongside your boyfriend, you figure. "Hello."

He's nice enough, asking you about how your night was going, what other clubs you'd been to, what kind of drinks you like.

Your face softens into a smile as the conversation continues, your initial suspicion simmering down and settling into something resembling ease as you realize he's just another guy on the clock doing his job: promoting the club.

He leans over, taking his phone out to show you something, and that's when you notice just how close he'd gotten to you since he sat down. You inch away slightly but still listen politely as he pitches one of the club's themed parties.

You nod your head with a vague interest as he scrolls through his photo gallery. Although you were never much into clubbing, you could admit that some of the events looked kind of cool. As he continues going through the photos, one in particular—a Valentine's night—catches your eye. You lean in, and your shoulders brush at the movement.

"That one's cute," you say, pointing at it as you take in the background details. Pink strobe lights, heart balloons, and rose bouquets. A small smile tugs at your lips as you imagine Nam-gyu in his work outfit, his sleeves rolled up and hair tucked behind his ears, knee-deep in a pile of cutesy, pink decorations. The thought brought some color to your cheeks. You'd have to bring it up to him later. Maybe that would be a more fun night for you to attend with him.

Unbeknowst to you, the man beside you was in the middle of taking your statement the completely wrong way. He raises his eyebrows, studying the pink dusting your cheeks and the way your face focused in on his phone screen. He scoots even closer, testing. When you don't react, he reaches out an arm, slowly draping over you as his hand finds its way to your shoulder. His grip on you is light, not forceful, not trapping, but you still stiffen at the contact.

"You think so?" he says, a smirk on his face. He ducks down so he's eye level with you. Too close. "Hey, if you promise me you'll go to our next one, I'm sure I can get you a discount," he brings his phone up again, tapping quickly until he's at the 'contacts' screen, "here, let me get your number so you can—"

You shrink back sheepishly, realizing that you have to nip this interaction in the bud. He looks at you, confusion written across his face, but he lets his arm fall to his side.

"Uh, sorry—do you know Nam-gyu?" you ask, thinking it was as good a time as any to bring him up.

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden shift in topic. "Nam-gyu...? Yeah. I work with him." A flash of recognition. His eyes widen. "Oh. Shit—are you the girl he came in with?"

You nod, a polite smile returning to your face as the man immediately retracts from you, an apologetic look on his face.

You open your mouth to speak, "Yeah, he's my—" Boyfriend, you try to say, but you're cut off by a rush of hands looping at your waist, tugging you backwards into a tight hold.

The familiar rumble of Nam-gyu's voice fills your ears as he leans over you. You twist around, looking up to see his face, both startled and relieved at his sudden entrance. He's staring down at you lazily through half-lidded eyes, and you can see how blown out his pupils are, even in the dim light. You barely have time to react or make a snarky comment before he's pressing his lips to yours, earning a small noise of surprise.

The kiss is welcome until a hand drifts to your chin, tilting you upwards, deeper, drifting into something that felt a little too intimate to be doing in a public space.

Remembering your audience, you pull away, a gentle hand on his chest acting as a barrier between the two of you. His coworker is looking at the two of you, his expression both sheepish and embarrassed, like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be— and honestly, he kind of was, what with the way Nam-gyu was glowering at him.

He stands up, giving Nam-gyu an apologetic nod as he clears his throat, hands flying to his pockets as he prepares to leave.

Nam-gyu smiles, nodding curtly back at him, but you know him well enough to recognize the tension in his jaw, the ingenuity in his smile. "Hey, man."

"Hey." He looks off to the side and then back again. "My bad, man. I didn't know she—"

"I think I can handle this one from here," Nam-gyu says, cutting him off with a barely disguised edge in his voice. There's a squeeze at your waist, a hand on your shoulder. "You can go find some other chicks to bother, right?" He cocks his head to crowd of people gathered in the center of the club, a small, mocking laugh leaving his lips. "I'm sure one of them will fuck you."

You recoil at his tone—and his gross implication, hand going up to lightly smack at his chest. You wonder if the drugs were cutting off the circulation to his brain.

"Nam-gyu!" you hiss, but he doesn't look at you.

His coworker curls his lip, eyes narrowing. "Jesus, dude. I said my bad. I didn't realize she was with you, alright?" He shook his head, turning around and promptly removing himself from the situation. He shot one last look at the two of you over his shoulder, returning the glare that Nam-gyu was still giving him.

Once his back fully disappears into the crowd, you stand up, knocking Nam-gyu's hands off of you as you fix him with a stare.

"What the hell was that?" you deadpan, arms crossing. "He literally said he was sorry."

"'What the hell was that?'" he mocks, his voice climbing a few octaves to match yours. He snorts, ignoring the frustration coloring your face. "I could ask you the same damn thing." He leans down, a hand drifting to the nape of your neck as he crowds into your personal space. "So. What were you two talking about? You seemed real interested." His tone dips low into something icy, accusatory.

You scoff at him, explaining how the conversation was friendly, how he was unaware of your status as a couple, how he instantly backed off at the first sign that you were uncomfortable—

But Nam-gyu ignores you, his hands travelling over your body until they find a home at your shoulders. He spins you around, and you let him, exhaustion hitting you as you realize that your statements were going in one ear and out the other. He rubs at your arms yet again as he pushes you forward, making you walk with him as he leads you to one of the side rooms—a VIP room, you come to realize.

"C'mon," he says, voice thick with whatever drug he'd just taken, "got s'more guests to entertain in here, and you get to come with me."

You roll your eyes. "Yayyy." You continue to count down the minutes left in his shift, but something told you that he was in the mood to clock in some over time.

The lounge is nice, spacious. It's at least a bit quieter than it is out in the main area, a perk you're somewhat thankful for as you adjust yourself on the couch. The guy from earlier is there too. You'd nodded at him when the two of you entered, small and polite and slightly apologetic. He ignored you, presumably for his own sake. You don't blame him.

The night continues, and you're silent, not really wanting to get in the way or be dragged into the conversation. You lean closer to Nam-gyu, craving his contact despite how annoying he's been. It wasn't exactly easy for you to relax in a room full of supposedly 'very important people' that you didn't know, all smiles and raucous laughter as they smoked and drank and huffed whatever came their way.

You were never the biggest fan of the world your boyfriend operated in, surrounded by substances and fast people with fast money that seemed to move quicker than their minds could make decisions, but it's what you signed up for when you got into a relationship with him, after all.

He's chatting it up with a particularly loud, and—unique-looking guy to his left, two girls practically melted into him at both sides. Goes by 'Thanos', you come to find out. A famous rapper with a lot of status and—from how he was speaking—a whole lot of money. His purple hair draws your attention, making his presence impossible to ignore in the confined space, that and his peculiar way of speaking, puncutated by random bursts of english.

You carefully snake a hand around Nam-gyu's arm, wanting to be closer but not wanting to interrupt. He gives you a small glance before brushing you off, you shoot him a look but then his arm is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. He adjusts your legs so they're draped over his lap, and you redden, feeling like it was the slightest bit too much.

The others at the table didn't seem to mind, though, too caught up in their own conversations to care about your inner turmoil.

You slowly relax as he returns to his conversation. His hands are warm against you, one resting gently at the small of your back, the other rubbing light circles into the exposed skin of your leg. Nam-gyu was a touchy guy, something that you'd gotten used to in your time together. Always a hand at your shoulder, fingers ghosting against your hip, an arm slung lazily across your lap. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

It was fine at first, a comfort amidst the torturously long shift. His touches were soft, subtle, light, a welcome feeling.

Then, it escalates. He laughs at a particularly stupid joke from Thanos, too loud, too eager. It sounds fake. Whether it was due to the drugs or his desire to get into Thanos' good graces, you weren't sure. Either way, you don't have time to dwell on it before he's pulling you again, closer, until you're on his lap, his arms locking against your middle.

This, you conclude, was most definitely too much. You're quiet for a few moments as Nam-gyu's laughter winds down and Thanos turns to accept a joint from one of his lady-friends, a momentary calm falling over the room with the distraction.

You take the gap in conversation as an opportunity, fidgeting in your spot as you try to inch off of his lap. "Nam-gyu, can I get down?" you whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes blank as a playful smile creeps onto his face, but there's a tinge of something else there.

"What?" He lets out a breathy laugh, raising his eyebrows. His fingers ghost over your waist, your ribs, the slope of your neck. Then, he's tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ears, smiling at you like a lovesick fool. You balk at the attention. He wets his lips before biting down on them. Eyeing you with a sudden razor-sharp focus. His voice comes out even, "You bored of me all of a sudden?"

You stare at him, incredulous. "What is with you right now?" He's not normally like this—touchy, yes, but not this... animated.

Nam-gyu just chews on his cheek, thinking for a moment before ultimately choosing to ignore your question. He pulls you closer until you're flush against his chest, your face burning red with embarrassment as he continues to hold you, his touch skimming dangerously close to indecency. You turn to the side, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. At least he was warm, a silver lining.

Across the table, Nam-gyu locks eyes with his coworker, a silent battle still simmering in the weight of their stares.

This—his performance—was for everyone to see.

For him to see.

It wasn't even about you anymore. Just Nam-gyu's pride, his desire to win, even when no one else was playing the game.

A small misunderstanding, of which an apology had already been issued, it's fairly easy to let go, but Nam-gyu was never a fan of 'easy'.

The night pushes on, as does he. He whispers things you'd deem not very appropriate for company, much closer than necessary as he breathes against your neck, lips skimming the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You mumble back a response, his fingers toying with the strap of your dress.

His behavior finally comes to a head a few moments later. Everyone at the table is chilled out, seemingly in a haze, likely from the weed and whatever else was spread out on the table. You wonder if it was finally about time for you to shove Nam-gyu in the car and go home.

Then, his hand is on your chin, guiding you to look up at him and fixing you with a stare that lasts a few beats too long, and then he's leaning down, closer, too close, pressing a kiss to your lips that he tries to deepen. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and entirely unlike him. You quickly break the contact, not giving him the opportunity to up the intensity. Not in front of all these people.

Thanos whistles from his seat, long and drawn out. It makes you want to melt into the couch.

Your face is red as you stand, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say, voice coming out in a flurry as you turn away from him.

Behind you, he meets eyes with his coworker for the last time that night, a cocky, infuriating smirk on his face.

He picks up the jacket that you'd left on the couch, throwing it over his shoulder before tossing a lazy 'goodbye' over his shoulders as he follows you. The performance was over.

The silence on the car ride home is suffocating, the engine humming beneath the tension. The energy shift is palpable—one second he was all over you, whispering into your ear and raking his fingers over every expanse of exposed skin, and then, nothing.

Nam-gyu had sobered up enough to drive, thankfully, because you were in no mood to do so. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning out the window. His posture is lazy, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread out in a way that appears casual, but the way his jaw is set, the tension in his knuckles where he grips the steering wheel, the effort he expends to not meet the stare you're boring into the side of his head—it all betrays him, how he really feels.

His lips are set into a thin, irritated line as he drives. His eyes flick to the radio, and his hand leaves the steering wheel for a moment as he turns it on, upbeat pop music filling the car but doing little to mask the fact that he was simmering, barely keeping his temper in check.

You ran out of patience from waiting for him to speak first. "So. You done being weird now?"

Nothing.

"Nam-gyu."

Still nothing.

You let out a small huff that trails off into a laugh. "Wow. So you can run your mouth all night, but now all of a sudden you're quiet?"

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel at that, his pointer finger twitching as he taps against it, the subtle clinking of his ring against the wheel queueing you in to how close you were to getting a reaction.

You roll your eyes. "You're such a fucking child, sometimes. You know that?"

"Shut up."

Your eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"I said," he hisses, eyes narrowing as his grip on the wheel tightens, "shut up." There's something in his voice that makes you listen. It's low, firm, clipped in a way that tells you he's barely keeping himself from snapping.

You study him, taking note of the way he bites at his lip, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows hard, and the way his hand flexes against its resting spot by the window.

You huff, turning to face the window and mirroring his posture.

Fine.

Soon, he's shifting the car into park, but he doesn't move. Doesn't turn off the engine.

Just sits there.

You don't turn around to face him. He doesn't ask you to, either.

The low rumble is the only sound between the two of you.

You didn't want to be the first one out of the car, and clearly, he didn't want to be either. It was like you two were in a standoff—a childish, petty standoff.

The silence is pointed, buzzing under the weight of all the things you weren't saying to each other. He lets out a sharp exhale, and you feel his stare on the back of his head. You refuse to turn around, refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You feel it, the way he's sitting there waiting for you to break the silence, as if this was somehow your fault and it was your responsibility to rectify it—waiting for you to sigh and grab his hand or say something snarky to give him an excuse to argue with you. It doesn't come.

He's the first to break, clearly tired from his shift, not to mention hungry for something to put in his body other than drugs ands cheap beer. He lets out a scoff before finally shifting the key in the ignition, shutting off the comforting thrum of the engine. He throws his door open, slamming it behind him as he fishes the apartment keys out of his pocket, not sparing you a glance as he walks towards the building.

You roll your eyes as you follow him, not like you had much choice.

The apartment is dim when you step inside, the only light coming from the fridge where Nam-gyu is standing, his body haloed in white as he pulls out a few snacks.

You flick on the light, ruining the dramatic environment he was building. You hang up your jacket and kick off your shoes, shutting the door behind you with a click as you fix him with a stare.

He turns, popping a few bites of something in his mouth before he leans against the counter, not meeting your eyes and instead staring at the wall across from him as if it had somehow become the most interesting thing in the world.

You suck in a breath, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion swirling inside you. In all honesty, you just want to go the fuck to sleep.

"Nam-gyu."

Nothing.

Fuck, you hated this. Hated when he clammed up and backed himself into a corner, turning his nose up at you and forcing you to drag the issue out of him like you were pulling teeth, like he was a damn child. Because why would he ever just tell you what the problem was so you two could talk it out? That'd be way too easy for the both of you.

You drag a hand down your face, pushing past him and moving towards the bedroom, your patience running extremely, extremely thin.

"Jesus, you're exhausting."

His lip twitches at that. "What, running away again?" he says, voice indignant as he steps in front of you, cutting you off.

"Ohhh." You throw your hands up at him, a mocking smirk on your face. "Now you wanna talk."

He closes in on you, so close that you can smell the smoke and chemicals still clinging to his clothes. He looks like he's going to speak, but he doesn't, just presses his lips into a tight, thin line, his expression laced with irritation.

You roll your eyes at the silence. He has no room to talk, and you know it. He knows it too, clear in the way he won't open his mouth.

"If you're gonna throw a temper tantrum every time a guy speaks to me, go ahead. Just leave me out of it." You step back from him, finding your way to the couch. If he wants to act like a dick, fine. Let him.

"I threw a tantrum?" he says, voice laced with something icy as his jaw ticks.

"Yes, Nam-gyu," you say, voice going high as if you were speaking to a child, "a whole fucking scene, actually."

He watches you with silent anger as you fluff up the couch pillows.

You hear a snort behind you. "Oh, sleeping on the couch, huh? Cute."

"Better than sleeping next to you right now."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want."

He stomps into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stare down at your lap, brows furrowed in anger as you gave yourself a moment to calm down. Then, it dawned on you that you were still in the dress you'd worn to the club with makeup still on your face, the only change of clothes being in the room now occupied by your angry boyfriend.

Dammit. You lay against the couch. It's too lumpy. Too cold, without your thick blanket and Nam-gyu's shared body heat. The dress is tight against your skin.

Still, you lay there for a good ten minutes, refusing to fold.

When your efforts to wait him out prove to be fruitless, you let your eyes flutter shut with a sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but knowing that there was no way you were going to get a good night's sleep out here.

Reluctantly, you get to your feet and shuffle quietly to the bedroom door. You linger there for a moment, steeling yourself.

Behind the door, Nam-gyu is laying in bed, clad in only his boxers as he stares up at the ceiling in the dark, his arms crossed over his chest as he drums his fingers anxiously, angrily, against his skin. His work clothes sat in a crumpled heap by the laundry basket, taken off and dumped in a flurry as he waited for you, refusing to get ready for bed before you cut the act and gave in, like you always did. He knew you'd kill him if you found out he'd laid on the bed with outside clothes.

He reaches over to his phone on the night stand, quickly clicking it on before shutting it off again.

Ten minutes. Fuck. How long were you gonna keep this up for?

His body twitches in reluctant defeat, and he's about to get up, swallow his pride to scoop you up from the couch and drag you into bed so he could get some goddamn sleep—but the sound of the door creaking open saves him. He swallows, body going still against the bed as you step inside.

A wave of relief washes through him, and he exhales like he's been holding his breath since the two of you had stepped foot in the car. He quickly recovers, though, a smug expression replacing his initial relief, hiding the fact that he was waiting for you.

You slink across the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him as you push the closet open and search for your pajamas.

"Oh, look who it is," he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Miss me already, huh?"

You don't respond, eyes narrowing as you stack your clothes in a pile next to you. After gathering everything, you stand up and make your way towards the door without shooting him a glance.

You pause, curling your lip as the smell of the nightclub reaches your nose.

"You stink. At least have the decency to shower after the club before you roll around in our bed."

His expression sours behind you as you make your way out.

You shower quickly, half convinced if you took too long that Nam-gyu was going to bust in and try to argue with you again. You dry your hair, pull on your pajamas, and brush your teeth. When you open the door, he's there, sitting on the couch in his boxers. He doesn't look at you as he gets up, nudging you with his shoulder as he makes his way inside.

"Took you long enough," he scoffs.

You roll your eyes.

His shower is quick, rushed. When the door to the bathroom opens, all the steam escapes. He stands in the doorway with his towel clinging loosely to his hips, hair dripping as he shuts the door behind him, his skin pink from the scorching water.

You quickly still on the couch, shutting your eyes as you pretend to be asleep, trying to play it off like you weren't listening intently, waiting for his shower to be over. Waiting for him to crack so you didn't have to actually spend your night on the damn couch.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment, squinting as he zeros in the outline of your body. Then, you hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way over, the sliver of light pouring in from the bathroom being his only guide as he towers over you.

"I know your ass isn't asleep," he says, eyes narrowing as he crouches down next to your face.

You don't react. He wets his lips, mind reeling, searching for his next move.

Then, his hands are gently resting on your side. You swallow, holding your breath in anticipation. The heat of his skin prickles against you, still steamy from his shower, the damp scent of his shampoo filling the space between you.

And then—his fingers press into your sides, and he's tickling you.

You yelp, eyes flying open and body jerking violently as his fingers dig into your ribs, mapping over every ticklish spot on your body that he'd come to know in the time you two had been together.

"N-Nam-gyu!" you try to yell at him, but it trails off into shaky laughter, his touch relentless.

You can't hold it in, after all, who could? And then you're a red, laughing mess beneath him, your hands coming out from where they were pillowing your head a few moments prior, trying-- and failing, to get him off of you.

You try to twist away from him, but he follows, grinning now.

"Oh?" he says, his voice mockingly sweet, "I thought you were asleep?"

He clambers on top of you, water dripping from his hair and onto your dry, warm pajamas. You want to yell at him for not drying off completely before he came out, but you can't get it out between your laughter.

He's laughing now, too, his grin growing wider, and this time, there's no venom there, no smug satisfaction, no anger. It's just him and you. Giggling in the almost-darkness on your lumpy couch in your small apartment, tucked away in your own little pocket of the world.

"You—asshole!" But you can't stop laughing, grinning so hard it hurts, despite how badly you wanted to be mad at him. "I hate you!"

He shakes his head, eyes not leaving you for a second. "No, you don't." He smirks, pressing one last ticklish squeeze in your side, before relenting and taking a seat at your legs.

You're breathless, gasping and heart racing, still half-trapped beneath him.

He stares at you for a moment. His grin softens. Yours does, too.

He knows he'd been an asshole this whole night. Knew it before and after the drugs had worn off.

And though he still doesn't say it—I'm sorry—as if his body won't allow him to say it—he leans forward, hair still dripping onto your face, and he nudges his forehead against yours. Just once.

You let out a shaky, exasperated breath, finally able to compose yourself.

Your hand goes up to rest on his bare shoulder, a beat passes, and then you're tugging him gently down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You," you say, shutting your eye as a droplet narrowly misses it, "are the biggest fucking baby alive."

He grunts.

You laugh, amused. In that moment, you know you'd won.

"Jealous little freak."

That earns you a huff.

The two of you sit there for a while, coming down from the moment. Once you can no longer stand the water dripping onto you, you shove him off.

"Hurry up and get ready for bed. I'm tired."

There's a ghost of a smile on his face as you push past him and collapse onto the bed.

Soon, he flops down next to you, the bed shifting under his added weight.

Silence.

He turns his head. A beat.

"So. You wanna fuck? Or..."

You exhale sharply through your nose in lieu of a response, rolling over to curl into his chest.

You press a kiss to his jaw as he drapes a hand across your waist, your voice sweet and laced with sleep as you lean into him, breath brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, "Go the hell to sleep."

He snorts, and soon, you're both drifting off into your own worlds.

---

The third time, it's not petty, not over a bout of jealousy.

It starts over money.

Of course it does. It always does.

You stand over him, trying to rub away the tension in your temples as he scrolls through his phone, ignoring you like he has all the time in the world.

"Seriously? You spent how much?" Your face is hot. "Are the drugs that good? They have to be, with how much money you throw away over them!"

Nam-gyu doesn't even look up at you. He's slouched, legs spread against the couch as he scoffs. "Why the fuck do you care?"

Your eyes widen. "Why do I— Nam-gyu, are you actually serious right now?"

He exhales sharply, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, as if this wasn't an extremely important and serious conversation. The sight makes your blood boil. He shuts off his phone and tosses it onto the coffee table with a clack.

"Look. I made the money—so I spent the money." He looks up at you then, his expression screaming that he'd rather be anywhere ot her than here. "I don't think it's that hard to understand."

"Yeah? With what fucking rent money, genius?" you spit back, your pulse quickening at his condescending tone.

He narrows his eyes at you, jaw flexing. Dangerous. "I said." He stands, looking down at you now. "I'll handle it." He presses two fingers to your chest, shoving you back lightly, a warning. "Now can you get the fuck off my back?"

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Really? When? Before or after the landlord's knocking on our door?" Your voice rises, the anger bubbling in your chest, getting ready to spill over. "Fuck, Nam-gyu! You always do this! Blow through your money—our money—like it's nothing and then act like I'm the problem for calling you out on it!"

"Oh yeah?" he says, stepping closer. His neck is tense. "And you do what? SIt there and bitch at me like you're my fucking mother?"

The words sting, but you don't back down. You open your mouth to fire back, but he's already speaking, practically yelling now.

"I was working. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Working?" You bark out a laugh, mocking, incredulous. "That's what you call working? Getting fucked up and blowing your money on drugs for people that won't even remember your damn name?"

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he bites his lip. You're sure he's about to explode. It doesn't scare you.

"It's my job!" he yells, lips curling into a sneer. "What, you think you're an expert on my job now?"

"Your job is to promote the club, not snort half the fucking inventory!"

His face darkens, and something ugly twists in his features. You can't deny the way your hands shake at your sides.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too," you spit back.

The air shifts, the silence hanging between you two heavy and suffocating.

He shakes his head, looking off to the side like you were being ridiculous as he runs a hand through his hair. "You love doing this shit, don't you? Acting like you're so much better than me, like you've got everything figured out." He juts his chin out at you. "I bet you were just waiting for a reason to fucking lecture me again, huh?"

"Oh my god, Nam-gyu, this isn't about me. This is about your reckless spending habits—"

"And there it is! It's always my fault, isn't it? I'm always the villain, the big, bad piece of shit ruining your life. A screw-up that you have to fix." He smirks. "Go ahead. Call me a screw-up. I know you fucking want to."

You groan. "Do you hear yourself right now? I've never called you a screw-up! That's all in your head."

"Oh, yeah, but you sure as hell think it," he sneers, taking a step towards you. You don't move, determined to stand your ground. "You're always talking down to me like I'm an idiot. Like i'm just some loser that you have to babysit, because you're such a saint for putting up with someone like me." His eyes flash with anger. "You just wanna control me."

"Oh?" you huff, eyes narrowing. "So that's what this is about? Your ego?" Nam-gyu's jaw flexes at that, daring you to continue. "I don't wanna control you, Nam-gyu! I want to build a life with you! But you just keep sabatoging yourself—blowing through our savings on useless shit and poisoning your body while I try to save you!"

He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "I knew it!" He turns around and walks away from you, hands going up to tug at his hair as he paces across the floor. "You're just like every other bitch I've ever met. Always running your fucking mouth—acting like you know better. Acting like I need to be saved."

Your anger comes to a head, simmering and simmering until it was at the edge, just about ready to boil over. You step forward, cutting him off. "Maybe because you fucking do!"

He pauses, his face going blank as he stares at you. For a second—just a second—he looks wounded. Like you'd slapped him.

Then— "Oh, fuck off." He spits the words out like it's poison, hands falling from their place in his hair and leaving it a tousled mess. "You wanna 'save' me? What are you, my fucking mother?" His fingers twitch at his side. Then he scoffs, shaking his head at you, and a bitter smile stretches across his face. "No. You're not like my mom. You're worse. At least she knew when to shut the fuck up."

That did it.

Your anger boils over finally, coursing through every vein and artery until your body moves faster than you can think.

You slap him.

The sound cracks through the apartment like a gunshot.

He stumbles back, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock. He says nothing as he brings a hand up to his cheek, fingers pressing against the red mark blooming against his cheek. He's quiet for a moment.

Then: a laugh. Sharp and cold, slashing through the silence.

"Oh. Hah. There she is." He grins, but his eyes are wild. "The real you. The one who pretends to be so mature and understanding, but the second I hit a nerve, you turn into a hysterical, emotional bitch."

Your heart is slamming against your ribs now, and there's something hot pushing behind your eyes.

"I hate you." Your voice was shaking.

He doesn't flinch, just stands there, staring at you, but his fingers twitch, something cold taking form in his chest like a stone.

"Good." His voice is low, cold. Fake. "Then why the fuck are you still here?"

Something inside you snaps. Because underneath all the anger, you can hear what he's really saying.

Why haven't you left me yet?

But you're too furious to give him the reassurance you know he desperately wants—the reassurance he's waiting for with bated breath and clenched fists.

You won't give him the satisfaction.

You push past him, throwing the door open to the bedroom, one hand grabbing frantically at your clothes, the other clumsily fishing in your pocket for your phone. He follows you, suddenly silent.

You hear his breathing from the doorway. Heavy. Unsteady. Panicked. You pretend not to notice.

You dial your best friend, quickly bringing it up to your ear to hide the screen from Nam-gyu, hands trembling with anger.

"Hey," you say as soon as your friend picks up, voice shaking, "can you come get me?"

Nam-gyu's blood runs cold, something icy snaking through him and squeezing his chest like a vice.

Despite it all, he still finds a way to be an ass, another sharp laugh clawing its way out of his throat. "You're serious? That's all it takes?" He steps forward, his indifference betrayed by his breathing, fast and raggedy. "What, been waiting for an opportunity to finally be rid of me, you whore?"

You turn to face him, your hands going still as you lock eyes with him, eyes burning.

"You don't mean that." Your voice comes out so, so small.

Nam-gyu's breath stutters, disarmed by the way you're looking at him.

You see his face rewind before you, and for a second, he's the boy you met back in university. Vulnerable, unsure, timid, scared—and you saw it. A flicker of panic and regret across his face, knowing he'd pushed it the slightest bit too far. Knowing you were at the edge. It was up to him to pull you back.

And for a second, you really believe it. That he will.

But then—

Ego.

His pride.

His biggest fucking downfall.

"Nah," he scoffs, looking away as he feigns indifference. "I meant every word."

Your stomach twists. You grab your bag and pull yourself to your feet. You won't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

He turns around, leaning against the doorframe and forcing you to watch his back while his face goes slack, teeth grit behind his lips as he holds his breath. "So. Are you leaving, or not?"

You push past him, bag in hand as you make your way to the door. He follows you, watching as you pull on your coat. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't stop you. His expression doesn't change, but the way his throat bobs—the way his hands shake despite his best efforts to hide them in his pockets—it tells you everything.

And this time, you don't have it in you to read between the lines, to decipher the stupid act he's putting up. All because he can't be an adult and say what he really means.

You grab your bag from the floor, a ding popping up on your phone: a text from your friend saying that she was outside.

Your hand is resting on the door knob, twisting, when his voice comes out—low, cracking.

"You're really gonna do this?"

You don't look at him. Just push through and slam the door shut.

He doesn't follow.

And just like that, Nam-gyu was alone. He lets out a shaky breath that he forgot he was holding, gripping at his sides like it would keep him from falling apart.

Suddenly, despite your absence, everything is much too loud. Louder than before. The hum of the refrigerator. The buzz of the wiring in the walls. The padding of his footsteps against the hardwood as he threw himself onto the couch, his legs suddenly too shaky for him to stand.

"Whatever," he says to the oppressive silence. "She'll be back." His voice cracks, unsure. Like he doesn't even believe the words as he's saying them.

Tension crawls up his back, settling into his limbs like a concrete block. He sits there for longer than he should've, an invisible weight pushing down on his shoulders. He won't say it, but he's waiting for you.

You don't come back that night.

The next day passes by him in a blur, thick with alcohol and chemicals. He's in the bedroom, his phone on the floor next to him. He pushes his palms against his temples, quick gasps burning his lungs.

His fingers twitch, exhausted with the effort of keeping still, but he won't do it. He won't text you. Won't call you. He won't let himself. His heart pounds craters into his chest as he sucks in a deep, labored breath.

His own words from the day before echo in his head. He'd wanted to push you, break you down, make you feel as small as he did. And it worked.

And now?

Now you were gone.

It was fine. It was fine. He pulls himself to his feet, something icy creeping up his spine. Nothing some weed couldn't fix.

As he stumbles to his feet, he catches himself wishing that he'd been scheduled for work today. Something to distract him. The thought makes him laugh, hollow and flat.

His hands shake as he struggles with his lighter, trying and failing to get a flame. He curses, arms dropping to his sides as he leans against the couch. Fuck this.

He slides down the couch until he's spilling onto the floor in a heap. There's something hot and wet pushing behind his eyes now, betraying him as it finally falls. He swipes at his face, biting back the frail noises threatening to spill from his throat. He doesn't want to hear it. His hands make fists in the material of his shirt, and he hardens his jaw, forcing himself to breathe slowly as his mind short circuits.

It was fine.

You'd be back tonight. He was sure of it. He tries the lighter again, and this time, it catches.

You crash at your friend's place. She doesn't ask questions, and you don't offer answers. It wasn't like this was the first time you fled to her house after a fight with Nam-gyu had gone sour. Your friend's guest room was practically yours, at this point.

The bed is comfortable, warm, but it does nothing to calm the threads of anxiety twitching through your limbs. You grab your phone, checking for the fifth time to make sure that it wasn't on silent.

It wasn't, and as you thought, there was nothing new. No text, no call. You let out a puff of air and continue to pretend like you don't care.

A few moments later, you turn over, fumbling for another pillow in the darkness. You hold your breath, lip trembling as you squeeze it tight, biting back your tears. He didn't deserve it. To make you cry.

"Fucking asshole."

Unfortunately for you, he was right.

The next day, you do your best to stay away. Enjoy your friend's company. Calm the images of Nam-gyu's limp body flickering through your mind like a cruel recording on loop.

Then— "I'm sorry," you say, ducking your head at your friend. She pauses the movie the two of you are watching, and she doesn't startle, as if she already knows what you're going to say next. "Could you drive me home?" Your voice is sheepish, embarrassed, as you keep your eyes on the floor.

You can almost hear Nam-gyu's voice. 'How typical. Knew you'd come crawling back.'

Your friend just nods, keeping her thoughts on the matter to yourself. For that, you're thankful.

Soon, you're rounding the corner, fumbling with your keys before finally pushing past the door, betraying yourself yet again.

And he was there, right where you left him.

He’s half-slouched on the ground, his back against the couch as he stares up at the ceiling. He'd shoved the coffee table out of the way to make room for himself. His limbs are outstretched on the floor, loose and lazy. Like a cat, you think. It would've been cute, had it been under different circumstances.

A joint burns low between his pointer finger and thumb, dangling dangerously close to the rug at the foot of the couch. He brings it to his lips and takes a long drag. A stray piece of ash falls from the end and burns black into the plush fabric. A permanent stain. A reminder.

The room reeks of weed, a cloud of smoke floating lazily around the ceiling in a slow-motion circuit. The smell curls in your lungs like the argument still lingering between you. You don’t even care.

He didn't look at you when the door opened. Not when the door shut. Not when you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, quickly throwing the window open and ushering the hazy cloud outside as if it had the agency to listen.

He doesn’t blink when you come to a stop at his feet, your shadow falling over him like a blanket. He continues to stare up at the water stained ceiling, regarding it with a calm indifference, like a painting he couldn’t understand.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in every inch of his sorry state. He’s in the same clothes you last saw him in, shirt wrinkled and pants twisted low on his hips. His hair stuck out oddly like he’d just woken up from a nap. His eyes are red and swollen, but you know it’s not just from the weed. He barely acknowleges you, save for a lazy flick of his eyes.

You kneel next to him and and press a palm to the warmth of his chest. His face is blank, even, his mouth pressed into a thin line, but his heartbeat betrays him, hammering beneath your fingers like it was trying to get out. A bird making panicked circles on the floor of an open cage.

He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s weak and tired, bordering on something desperate.

"You stink," you mutter.

Nam-gyu lets out a humorless snort. "Then leave." But he doesn't mean it, not really. His heart quickens beneath your fingers, no doubt scared that you actually might.

But you don't. Instead, you pluck the joint from his fingers and stub it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

He blows smoke into your face. You don’t blink.

Your fist closes around the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, the soft cotton spilling out between the gaps of your fingers as you clamber on top of him.

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t meet your eyes. You lean down, tilting your head forward so that your foreheads touch. Your hair falls from behind your shoulders, draping over the two of you in a gentle curtain.

The smell of weed is thick as you press a kiss to his cheek. Your free hand comes up to cup his face, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly before straying to the nape of his neck. His lips part weakly, as if he's going to say something snarky, something mean, to remind you of the other day.

Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear as you speak, voice barely above a whisper, “Just... Shut up, okay?” You press another kiss to the top of his forehead, pleading. Soon, your face finds its home in the crook of his neck. You breathe him in, the smell of his skin grounding you, still managing to reach you through the haze of smoke and chemicals. "Please."

And for the first time in a while, he listens.

Nam-gyu says nothing. Not when your fingers comb through his mess of hair. Not when you're tugging his limp body up, up, pushing him—stumbling and dazed—into the shower. Not when you're peeling off his clothes and yours, switching on the faucet and rubbing circles of soap onto the gentle slope of his back as the shower fills with steam.

He won't tell you how much he appreciates it. He won't tell you a lot of things.

He's quiet as he pulls on his pajamas and sinks into the bed like a stone. Relief washes through him as the bed shifts beneath your added weight. His shoulders ease up for the first time since you'd left, though he won't tell you that, either.

The next morning passes like any other. There is no sorry. No kisses pressed to your neck or hands looped around your waist. You weren't expecting it, anyways. You don't dwell on it. Not like you had the time, to. Instead, you roll out of bed, shake the sleep from your body, pull your work clothes on, and start your day.

Later that day, when your key clicks in the lock and your legs cross the threshold, the apartment smells different.

Not weed, not chemicals, not the lingering smell of smoke.

Your eyes trail across the apartment, taking note of everything. The counters are wiped down, the floors swept. Even the clutter that usually lingered around—his clothes, empty bottles, dirty dishes—gone.

You raise your eyebrows as you hang the jacket by the door.

You lean against the counter, unable to keep the look of pure surprise off of your face as you watch his back. Nam-gyu is cooking, a novelty from when you two first got together. Before he'd sunk deeper into his drug habit.

"What's this?"

He doesn't look at you. "Food."

"Wow," you press, testing. He looks at you over his shoulder before turning back to the pot on the stove. "You? Cooking?" You lean in closer, trying to catch his eyes. "Am I dreaming right now?"

He shrugs, stirring the pot. "You always bitch about me eating. So I'm eating."

You purse your lips, deciding not to comment on his wording.

You can't remember the last time he'd cooked. It was always you. Or takeout. Or you reminding him to eat, that drugs and alcohol weren't enough to make up a healthy diet.

He flicks the stove off and grabs a plate from the cabinet, wordlessly spooning a scoop of freshly cooked rice onto the plate, still steaming. He shoves it into your hands before grabbing another plate for himself. He moves out of the way, gesturing at the pot like it'd inconvenienced him.

"It's still hot," he says blankly. His voice is tight, clipped, but you know it's just his way of masking his nerves. Tiptoeing around you like one wrong word might send you flying out the door again. "Now shut up and eat."

The food was delicous.

It tasted like nostalgia, bringing you back to the early days where he'd always cook for you, butterflies blooming in your stomach as your legs bumped against each other under the table, flirting under the warm kitchen light.

Back when his job was just a job. A 'for now'. Before it tangled and spiraled with his being, melting into him until you weren't sure where it ended and he began, the fuel for his fire, stoking his addictions and anger and insecurities until it grew big and ugly and distorted.

The thought made your chest tighten a bit, so you push it out of your mind, hands readjusting in your lap as you refocus on the movie playing in front of you.

The two of you sit on the couch, the glow of the TV flickering dimly across the walls.

Nam-gyu is beside you, sprawled as usual, his legs spread wide and taking up an offensive amount of space. His fingers drum absentmindedly against his knee, his other hand fidgeting with his ring. He hasn't reached for you all night, but every now and then, you feel his eyes flick toward you.

Like he was waiting.

And then, without a word, he pushes something into your lap.

You startle a bit at the sudden movement. You look down, and your mouth falls open.

A plushie. It's a chubby, white bunny. Soft and cute.

You wonder when he went to the store. You picture him walking up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves and chewing his lip nervously as he decides what to get you. You imagine him checking out, slamming the plushie down on the counter before roughly tapping his card.

Then, you notice the small, black box sitting on its tummy. You almost didn't notice it, blinking down at it in shock.

You pick it up, face incredulous as you turn to him.

"You bought me something?" you say, breathless, as you turn it over in your hands.

He doesn't answer, just keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His leg bounces restlessly, both hands fidgeting with their respective rings.

You sigh, and it's soft, so soft, as something wells up in your chest. "Nam-gyuuu..." you start, leaning towards him.

"Just shut up and take it," he grumbles, still refusing to look at you. "Or don't. I don't care."

You stare at him for a long moment. His ears are pink, just barely hidden behind his long, black hair.

You decide to give him a break and open the box. Inside is a silver chain, dainty, shiny, and exactly your style. It's also real. You lift it out with a gasp.

Nam-gyu doesn't turn his head, but his eyes flick to you for a moment, taking in your reaction. Something in him unclenches.

The pendant hanging off of it is small, but it's beautiful, sturdy. You let it fall against your palm, the silver catching the dim light from the television as you inspect it. It's a star.

You pout, eyes going wide and glossy as you turn to look at him. He exhales sharply. Then, you notice something else in the box, a baggie tucked away in the corner of the velvet lining. You hold it up to the light, trying to see what it is.

It's another star, just as dainty as yours, except somehow smaller.

"Is this an extra one in case I lose mine?" you ask, genuinely curious.

The moment he sees what you're holding, his whole body tenses. His knee stops bouncing, and his fingers freeze. Then, without hesitation, he snatches the bag from your grasp.

"Nothing," he mutters, shoving it deep in his pocket.

You blink. "Did you—" your voice trails off, realization dawning on you. Your heartbeat picks up. "You bought a matching charm?"

Nam-gyu glares at the TV like it'd personally offended him. "Oh my god. I said it's nothing."

You stare at him stunned. He was never the type to do this—sweet, thoughtful things. No, that was too corny for him. And yet he had. He'd gotten two of the same pendant. One for you, and one for himself.

Maybe to add to his own chain. Maybe to turn into a charm for his keyring.

Either way, it meant something. And you knew it.

"Nam-gyuuu," you press, all discretion gone as you cuddled up to his side. You watch his jaw clench as you rub his side, all smiley and starry-eyed. "You wanted us to match?"

"Okay. Shut up." He's tensing up, leaning away from you as he leans into the armrest, but you know for sure that it's all an act now. The plushie at your side and the necklace gleaming on the coffee table was enough proof of that.

But you can't. You can't stop staring at him, at the way his fingers dig into his knee like he's resisting the urge to snatch the whole damn box back from you. He's sulking like a kid caught red-handed.

Your grin widens, head going loopy with love. "Ohhh my goodness," you say, voice dripping with amusement, "you're so cute, Nam-gyu."

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he finally makes eye contact with you, but there's a color to his face that wasn't there earlier. "Don't start."

But you do start. You lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at him. "You wanted us to have matching charms? So that even when we're apart, we'll always have a little piece of each other?"

Nam-gyu gorans, tipping his head back against the couch. "Shut the fuck up." But there's no venom in it, not even a drop. Something tells you he might even be enjoying this, in his own way.

"It's like a promise, isn't it?" You sigh dreamily, pushing through the excitement in your chest, but also because you can't help but relish the way he squirms under the attention. "A silent vow that no matter where we go, we'll always be connected. Like two stars floating through space, spinning in a galactic embrace of eternal love—"

"I'm gonna kill myself," he mutters, rubbing his temples. The movie drones on in the background, completely ignored.

You laugh, finally letting up as you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're so romantic," you coo. "Who knew you had such a soft heart under that shitty attitude of yours?"

"I will throw you out that fucking window," he threatens, but it's weak. His ears are red, so red, and he won't meet your gaze.

You let the moment linger, then tilt your head, lowering your voice to something softer. "Thank you," you say, genuine this time. "I love it."

Nam-gyu scoffs, but his knee starts bouncing again. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

But later that night, when you finally slip the necklace on, the bunny plushie sitting gingerly in your lap, you catch him staring.

When you lay down next to Nam-gyu, there's something between you two. Something charged, electric. You don't say anything, but you know it's coming.

When his hand drifts over to you, lingers on your waist, you let it.

Then he's on top of you. His weight presses you into the bed, and you stare back up at him. His touch is soft, gentle, as he brushes the hair away from your face, from your neck. The necklace he bought you is cool against your skin. He stares at it again, touching it gingerly and turning it over in his fingers.

Your breath catches, and then he's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It's gentle, soft.

It's not like him at all.

That night, it's like a race. Except there’s only one pedestal, and it's a spot reserved just for you. So he's grunting, biting down on his lip as he presses his fingers into the dip of your waist, pushing you closer and closer to the finish line. There’s a ghost of his breath on your neck, a graze of teeth at your collar bone, something sickeningly sweet in your ears— something you likely wouldn't be hearing tomorrow.

Then, you reach the edge, and he’s staring in your eyes, gripping your chin so you can’t look away. He dips low and smashes his lips onto yours. The ribbon snaps, and you tip over, breath being ripped from your lungs as you gasp, sighing his name like it's a prayer.

It's been a couple minutes since he'd rolled over, your skin still slick with sweat as you continue to catch your breath, heart drumming steadily beneath your skin.

His hand is heavy on your waist, his breathing steady. He was practically half-asleep already once he'd finished.

"Fine," you breathe into the silence, eyelids growing heavy as you swallow. You push your hair out of your face and roll over to cuddle into his side. Defeat. "I forgive you."

Nam-gyu, even in his exhausted state, smirks weakly in the dark. He slowly turns to press his face into you, rubbing slow, possessive circles into your skin.

He feigns ignorance as he smiles against your hair, because accepting your forgiveness would be an admission of guilt, and he couldn't— wouldn't do that.

"For what?"

© to @namgyunation on tumblr; do not repost

ao3 link, if you'd prefer to read it over there

a/n: omggg i had so much fun writing this! obviously, a lot of this is my interpretation / speculation of how he'd act 'normally', so when he's not crazy hopped up on drugs and locked up in a life or death situation, but hopefully it's somewhat believable. i'm like rushing to get all my writing out before season 3 potentially crushes all my hopes and dreams and imagination and/or my motivation leaaves me haha. although school's still been kicking my ass, as always please feel free to send me any thoughts / suggestions in my inbox <3 i'm in this shit for the long haul, y'all.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Merfolk thoughts and technically headcanons? But it's just me going a little insane while I get out of artblock

Okay so, this is going to be a HUGE hear me out, but listen. Sera and Zef would be stronger then the average human, since yk, their merfolk form is huge. And yeah they have human forms—but there's bound to be some extra muscle or smt. SO.

Allow me to ramble:

(I've got no clue if this is even canon in Obi's world- just like having fun making headcanons.)

1. Merfolk Physiology and Musculature (in my view at least)

Merfolk are naturally adapted to aquatic environments where movement requires immense muscular effort to combat water resistance. Their bodies would have:

Enhanced muscle density: Higher density gives them greater strength per pound of muscle compared to humans.

Streamlined anatomy: Built for powerful propulsion in water, especially in their tails, which translates to well-developed core, back, and arm strength.

Adaptive biomechanics: Their muscle fibers are likely optimized for both endurance and explosive strength, critical for survival in deep sea environments.

2. Strength Amplification in Human Form

When merfolk take on human form, their aquatic musculature and strength would naturally transfer. While the lack of water's resistance might reduce their need for constant muscular exertion, their denser muscles still allow them to exceed human benchmarks:

Strength Scaling: The 1.5–2x strength multiplier accounts for their biology being fundamentally superior, especially in terms of pulling, pushing, and lifting mechanics.

Functional Adaptations: These traits would especially favor compound movements like deadlifts and squats that require core and lower body strength.

3. Land Limitations vs. Aquatic Peak

While their aquatic strength is unrivaled, on land their ability to fully express this power is influenced by:

Gravity: On land, they must contend with gravity more directly, which might limit the explosive power they’re used to in water.

Joint Adaptation: Their joints and tendons, though robust, may not have evolved for high-impact terrestrial lifting, slightly lowering efficiency.

.

..so I did a few calculations..

.

•Zef being 5'7, I'd take a guess and say he weighs around 165 maybe 170 lbs.

•Sera being 6'2. He's pretty bulky, so I'd say he weighs around 190–210 lbs.

Now their lifting capacity would vary based on training experience and muscle development ofc ofc, but here's the basics for each height and weight intermediate wise

Basically just a level higher than 'beginner'

•On average with 5'7 human males:

-Bench Press: ~135–185 lbs

-Squat: ~185–250 lbs

-Deadlift: ~225–315 lbs

•On average with 6'2 human males:

-Bench Press: ~185–225 lbs

-Squat: ~275–315 lbs

-Deadlift: ~315–405 lbs

With that in mind, here's a baseline adjustment for Merfolk—

Estimated Lifting Ability in human form:

• Zefestian

-Bench Press: ~330–430 lbs

-Squat: ~480–630 lbs

-Deadlift: ~580–730 lbs

•Serafin:

-Bench Press: ~480–580 lbs

-Squat: ~730–980 lbs

-Deadlift: ~930–1,180 lbs

So with that out here they could either be average or averagely really fucking strong

This is all like if they did actually train and have at least 1-2 years of experience, since the intermediate level while low is still pretty strong - so the amount could very highly be less. It all depends on muscle density, none strength, and the environment.

I could go on for more and more about the strength differences between human and merfolk and basic biology of each but I'll spare you my hyperfixion rambling—I'll leave it for another day when we maybe learn some more on merfolk physiology in the series. Maybe.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

what do you think killers hygiene habits would be? like, given that he lives with mare constantly in survival mode, not even being able to sleep sometimes, and considering that he tends to, well, ignore some basic needs like food etc. i remember when you said he wouldmake sure all his stuff is organized or something like that, but its more about order than hygiene right? idk if skeletons need to do that at all, it would be more relevant in human ver. so if he was a human/ or he would need to maintain his hygiene as a skeleton, how would he do that (if he actually would)? maybe it would vary depending on his stage? im really interested in your opinion on that, but ofc answer only if u want to :3

I do think a lot of this will depend on the exact conditions Nightmare keeps him in, what exactly is allowed and available to Killer, and what exactly is expected of him. This will vary depending on the Nightmare interpretation, and i have no clue about if this type of thing is touched on in Dreamtale canon.

It’s not really touched on in Killer’s canon either—on the exact environment and conditions Nightmare has him in, other then that it’s a castle, Killer reports to him after every mission, and Killer rarely ever actually is shown in the castle.

Does the castle have things like food, working water, a place to sleep, a shower? Is Killer allowed access to any of these things? Is it a limited thing—does he ever have to do or say something to earn access to basic needs? Is he only allowed to shower at certain times, or does he have to do something that pleased Nightmare to earn it?

Or alternatively, does Nightmare want his subordinates to present themselves a certain way? Does he expect a certain degree of good hygiene?

Primarily, Killer’s hygiene habits will center around what keeps Nightmare happy—which means less inconvenience for him. However, Killer’s past with Chara isn’t easily shaken: especially if you go with the royal etiquette idea.

He’d want to present some form of being put together around Nightmare, both because he has to and out of instinct left over from with Chara. And you’d definitely see him trying to put more effort in if something reminds him of Chara or triggers his conditioning.

It’d be minimal and inconsistent, mostly because Killer himself likely doesn’t feel much drive to do or care for these types of things when in Stage 2, due to his apathy.

If you go with the idea that his goop seeps from cracks or joints and causes stiffness when it dries, he’d habitually make sure to clean the bones of the body to remain functional and not useless and inconvenient.

He’d probably go long periods of time without changing his clothes or shoes (considering his shoes seem to even have holes in them in his canon and are often untied), but he does seem to take care to clean everything whenever he ends up covered in dirt and blood.

I doubt he’d really feel very motivated to earn access to things like a shower or food—but more than that, he’d feel extremely uncomfortable with the idea of admitting in any way that he needs or wants something.

So even if he wants to take a shower or brush his teeth, he won’t do or say anything that makes it obvious that he needs or wants that—he’d either sit in his discomfort until Nightmare allows it, or find a way to make it seem like Nightmare’s idea to allow him access to those things.

He doesn’t feel the urge to take care of this body he’s in, viewing it as not really his, and because he doesn’t feel the urge, he doesn’t do it. Not unless some external factor calls for it, or he notices that having a certain level of a maintained appearance would help him control others’ perceptions of him.

He’d probably do things like adjust his clothing frequently, brush off dirt, wash his hands and face when he takes care of and cleans his weapons—especially if he feels Chara’s disapproval bearing down on him, their eyes as if judging him—but it’d mostly be less a conscious choice and more a drilled in habit.

I doubt hygiene would truly be a priority for Killer unless it’s a priority for Nightmare. And even then he does it out of obligation, because he has to, because it’s expected of him. Not because he cares about himself or his body, and if anything, he probably views the body’s needs as largely inconvenient and a waste of his energy. Like a prison holding him back from his purpose.

As a human, you’d probably see an almost sickly complexion, heavy eye bags. He probably often seems on the edge of just falling asleep, although you’re unlikely to tell if he’s actually fallen asleep or not, due to the whole sleeping with one eye open thing. Which would likely lead to dry, itchy, red rimmed eyes.

His hair is probably often messy in that it gets tangled due to overwork, so he probably keeps it in a bun if it’s long enough until he can attend to it (or is told to), or if the long hair becomes a hindrance, he’d probably chop it shorter with whatever sharp object can do the job. It probably looks lifeless, limp, and thin if he’s not been able to keep a steady upkeep.

He’d probably look like he has a lifeless worn out appearance, his eyes likely look hazy and possibly his pupils dilated. He’s probably missing a few teeth actually, or has some cracked and chipped teeth; not only due to lack of access to care, but due to the constant everyday violence of his work. His nails are probably chipped, and if he hasn’t been able to clean up, there may be grime like dirt, blood, and dust underneath them.

Due to his goop, his clothing is likely to always have a degree of being stained, which is why probably why he’d be more inclined to wearing black shirts and turtlenecks and long sleeves; hides the goop and hides parts of his body, which he doesn’t think is worthy of care or upkeep. His hands and palms are likely to have some scarring as well.

And yeah, this does likely mean a sense of body odor—and torn, wrinkled, or ill fitting clothing, if he’s even able change his clothes at all.

A lot of this may be easily missed, simply because of the way Killer either subconsciously carries himself or because he overcompensates whenever he’s able (like, in the scrubbing skin red and bones raw type of way, either out of a desire for pain or control or just needing to be clean in Stage 2, or a sense of disgust and shame in Stage 1), though.

I do feel that in a more canon adjacent story—where it’s just nightmare and killer, no other bad sanses, no one else to have to maintain and control a certain image for—unless this is something Nightmare specifically harps on, Killer wouldn’t really care about his appearance or his hygiene or his odor beyond what’s expected, allows functionality or serves a purpose, and what Chara used to want from him. Is often too worn out and tired to do much besides sleep—often having to choose between sleep or hygiene before the next mission. Sleep is always more ideal.

In this type of story, i think he’d start caring a lot more about his appearance whenever he starts valuing Color. Because he wants validation, and he wants Color to notice him.

So things like Color expressing concern about his hygiene and health or being happy that Killer’s taking better care of himself, even if not excessively, would read more like Color likes when Killer presents himself a certain way to him, and that’s a way to gain his approval, attention, and validation and leads to a fragile sense of self worth temporarily. I don’t know I just like the idea that killer wants to feel pretty, or that he wants someone like color to see him as pretty.

[jichanxo]

and now i can ask about the difference between animation and writing for you :D aside the obvious things, and since it's a sequence of events/actions/a story and going back to senseific: are there any parts there that you feel you'd have an easier time drawing/animating vs expressing it with words? and is there anything particular you were/are tempted to visualise in an artform (but haven't)?

more long answers below!

animation is certainly a special medium because you not only have way more control over how your audience experiences it (audio, pacing, etc) but you have to pay the cost of it being way more time and effort. so the most distinctive part of making my last project was that i had to stretch my resources as hard as i could. in other words, you can do a lot more! (/pos) but oh god, you HAVE TO DO A LOT MORE (/neg).

you kind of have to compromise somewhere -- your time, the quality of your work, your vision, your motivation. i know i'm inexperienced and that my motivation would give out, so my plan had to be practical. 30 seconds is a long span of time to fill.

i used colour to set the mood -- quick and low effort i used only lines, didn't colour anything in -- saving me time the movement is minimal -- i knew i couldn't do a lot at once, so i had to focus my efforts --

the shot of the eyes moving and of the kiss have the most movement, but are also the most sparse shots, allowing me to focus on getting the movement of this one thing right, without distraction

i create interest in other sections through contrasting shots, rather than using movement -- kuwana and yagami in bed together, then him alone -- the meaning is conveyed through the sequence, rather than any movement, and the music helps make the progression feel natural. following the beat, yknow

i also had to accept that the quality of my work was going to vary, and some of the illustrations would look good and others would just have to be serviceable, or it would never get done

and of course, my own experience -- i know the basics of csp's animation tools, but i don't know enough to make my life easy, you know? i was fighting the program, doing things inefficiently.

i had to think about how i was organising my layers/folders, i had to grab the audio and trim it and make sure it sounded right and... blah blah blah. you see what i mean, right? the format itself has so much potential, being able to create meaning through movement and contrasting shots and audio is great, but it's so strenuous (and i am not used to it) (not to gloat about how wow i did this and it was soooooo hard, nah, but this is what it was like for me at the novice level so like. for more involved work, just imagine... just imagine...) (or better yet, imagine with an example. you'd probably get more interesting answers about animation from @/phantasy14 than me)

by contrast, one of the best things about writing is that, at its core, you can just... open a document and type. not to downplay the effort that writers take, and yeah part of it is that my fanfic writing is Not That Complicated, but in the end... words are free, you know? i don't have to worry about straining my wrist, or if this would look better with an extra frame here or over here, what function i should be using in my program... i can kind of just get to the heart of the matter. i guess i kind of said something similar in the last post as well -- that writing makes it easier to dig into details and context, and the same applies here. since Words Are Free, you can really dig into the meat as much as you'd like. in a process like animation, any decision could add hours or days to your workload, so you have to be absolutely certain that the decision is worth it. this conflict between the artist's idea and the effort is a very defining difference in the mediums, i think.

so, aside from Fighting The Art Process, i suppose i should talk about why this idea ended up being an animatic instead of say, writing. first of all, the song, ofc -- it was the whole inspo, and it's nice to work with it directly. secondly, i think, is because i was trying to convey an emotion more than anything. this is where that ambiguity/detail difference between mediums comes in. i'm portraying yagami missing kuwana, and just that alone. i'm not trying to explain what he's thinking specifically, or why, or even the exact nature of their relationship before all this. what i'm conveying is i miss you. and the most direct, most blunt way to express this is to contrast being together with being apart. to fixate on the features of the other person so to depict a yearning for them. the ending contrasts a remembered(/imagined? you decide) smiling kuwana against kuwana walking away, of him leaving.

you were here (smiling, with me) + you left = i miss you

it just makes sense. writing this would have necessitated detail, would have necessitated more context, and muddied the feeling which is conveyed so concisely through the video instead. look at how i've written yagami missing kuwana so many goddamn times. it takes so many more words, it forces you to hold onto something more concrete like thoughts and events in order to convey the emotion, instead of depicting it on its own. so yeah, the ambiguity of illustration combined with the contrast achieved via sequence, these were necessary to convey this feeling as directly as possible. i also just think it feels more elegant. there's room for the audience to breathe and really feel the difference between kuwana being there and kuwana being gone. the imagery is blunt but the feeling itself surprisingly isn't... at least imo. it just wouldn't feel the same written, would it? i hope that answers your question.

anyway onto the next part... senseific <3

it's good that you named that as a specific example because i never thought about it, but now that you mention it there are absolutely some parts i would probably have an easier time drawing than writing

your honour..... (with a massive sigh) THE FIRST KISS SCENE. HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME. FOR MONTHSSSSSS. it's. sigh. well where do i start with this one... the thing that makes this difficult for me is that it's very much a "wow this is a bad idea but we're doing it anyway" kind of kiss, right? and like. because they shouldn't be doing it, it's been troubling me all this time if their trains of thoughts even make sense. i don't want to force it, but it's difficult to direct things into that direction when i know that they know they probably shouldn't be doing it... i have revised it and i think it reads kind of alright now? but i'm still worried about it...

and this. would be great. for illustration. i wouldn't have to explain shit, i just have to make sure i convey an atmosphere that lends itself for them to make this dumb decision. that's not to say that i wouldn't care if it didn't make sense, of course not, but if it was a visual format, i could just let the atmosphere speak for itself, you know... they're alone together, they'd both been drinking a few hours ago, kitakata comes close, and though yagami sees it coming he doesn't seem to stop him... and it just. there it is. it's happened. no need to say anything, just let the atmosphere and the audience's imagination do the work. the lack of detail in the medium would work in my favour. no issue.

the other one that comes to mind is a scene where kitakata and yagami smoke on the roof together. it's a similar situation where ambiguity would play better for the scene. there comes a point where the conversation stops between them and it just kind of sits. it feels really clumsy having to explain in words that this is one of the first few peaceful moments between them, that yagami doesn't mind being around him for once. this would be better expressed with just visual space. letting the audience feel that peace, that quiet moment between them. i'd draw them apart, so you can see the visual distance between them, and yet they're together, and they're quiet and maybe just maybe they could become closer, could choose to spend time around each other without getting on each other's nerves... or at least that would be the implication. it's much cleaner than having to spell it out in writing.

oh! and i remember i was tempted to draw kitakata's messy desk at some point. that one's easier depicted with words but i just think it could be fun.

AND IF I MAY BE SELF INDULGENT AND BRING UP "are you seeing anyone?" AGAIN..... that gag. just that gag and nothing else around it. i mean. now that i think about it, it's kind of joke-comic-y.... but the joke itself relies on a bunch of stuff beforehand... perhaps not...

a group photo would be nice too... a club photo perhaps... get everyone in there. just some mundane snapshots of everyone in their daily lives... hell, i could even throw sawa in there! i definitely should do that!

and something sexy... i should draw something sexy with kitakata and yagami...

i ought to add some of these to my mental list of things to draw...

[saygracejude]

what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart? / are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel? / how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim? / favourite sweet treat? / are they quick to violence? / do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep? / how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

for dima pls

here ya go, kiddo 😘

what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

tell him he isn’t needed anymore. dima has spent so much of his life being needed that it’s part of what defines him. he likes to be needed, it’s fulfilling and makes him happy. and seeing as his partners are all blood related to him, being unneeded by any of them would devastate him, especially his youngest.

are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

dima absolutely would, yes. especially cos he knows his boy toby would love it 🥰

how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

he can be very loud if he wants to be and sometimes when he doesn’t want to be. but he’s aware that he’s a big dude with a slightly deeper voice and a russian accent & that can be alarming if he starts to yell outta nowhere, so he tries not to. tho occasionally he’ll lose his cool and shout, especially at his younger brother, toli & and occasionally at his twins if they’re getting on his last nerve. usually he speaks gently & has a very kind voice that makes his kids feel safe 🤗

are they quick to violence?

the speed at which dima resorts to violence varies depending on the situation and/or person. some people make him resort to violence quicker than others, like his youngest siblings toli and kadi are the ones that cause him to resort to violence the quickest because they are annoying af but also, violence is often the thing they’ll respond to so dima uses it or the threat of it to keep them in line/outta trouble. whereas his youngest boy, toby, he has a much higher level of tolerance/patience for him and it will take a lot more for him to resort to violence with him.

do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

growing up with four younger siblings, dima got used to falling asleep easily pretty early - it was either that or no sleep. he finds it easier to drift off if there’s low level noise in a room nearby his cos he’s used to that. if he can’t sleep, dima usually finds that orgasms help but he also loves to cuddle and will fall asleep easily if he’s laying down holding someone (which is usually toby ofc)

how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

dima likes to think his temper isn’t bad! he makes conscious efforts to keep calm and not explode in anger and he’s a lot better at that when he’s older than in his early 20s & teens. becoming a father helped him learn how to stay calm under pressure but even still, intense stress can cause his temper to flare and he’ll be a lot quicker to snap then.

[pikhachu]

probably gonna be posting a lottt of futaba for a while 😭 idk how long im gonna be doing this challenge but i assume that most of the time ill just be drawing her for the day and thats it w varying levels of effort and quality depending on how much time i have and how im feeling lmao

hopefullyyy i can go for at least. two months? thats my goal its kinda a lot but so far im doing well 🫡 hopefully yall like futaba ! you will be spammed ! not gonna post every single drawing here ofc but the ones i like yeah....

[lunartearrose]

Double egg headcannons if that's ok?

Sure! Not every day i get a sudden ask for some core of ika hcs! Here are some for ur efforts:

-Double is a natural at all the wahoo world games especially if you challenge him. Competitive af about it!

-used to harbor the kind of internalized homophobia thats like "we cant let men marry or else every guy will date other guys" until some very key points of his life of guys going "ummm thats a you thought"

-now he's a tough guy but he'll absolutely be soft to people who need it

-and thus he is glasses gang body guard

-(occasionally just specs' bodyguard if he feels everyone's being too rough with him)

-he's got some nudibranch dna so not only do his tentas have a few rare complications but he also has a pair of real horn-like antennae! Though i guess its more like being a catboy/dogboy or whatev

-on the tenta complications: back when the topknot was regulation his would be constantly unstable/drippy and it was horribly uncomfortable to have to pin his horns down so he was the one to bring his current style into the trend! It makes his look much more stable and it feels nice when ppl pet it

-put him under a blacklight and you will see some funky nudibranch patterns on this lad

-his mum is a nudibranch that should have a support (much like annie and flow do w the clownfish and craymond) buuut that was double's dad who is no longer in the picture (dead dead) leaving double to exhibit much fatherless behaviors (swearing and also providing for the mum he cares so much for who should also be left to do bingo at the elderlys table at arowana mall) (has also taken up shouting)

-tbh double himself probably needs a support creature for his stress but like hell he'll let you know that

-(fast forward to the future where he follows vintage to see where he goes, turns out its a final sweep of the underground metro and gets immediately attatched to either cq or one of the possibly less sentient sea slugs like him chillin in one of the levels. Support obtained!)

-(but tbh i think he'd do rlly well with CQ's calm atmosphere/wishes of good luck before matches and its not like cq has much to do with his boss all dead)

-so yeah double with a CQ attatched to his shoulder. Goggles tries to touch it and gets his hand smacked away before CQ tells him to calm down a lil

-please also picture CQ in big leggy mode providing a tray of vitamins and a morning omelet for a sick double. Must have host in good condition before they commit some neutral crimes

-in this vein of thought i cant seem to leave imagine double just working a metro attendee job in off turf hours. Free tickets for xbloods and glasses gang to the splatlands. The unexpected job throws off everyone

-his hobbies off turf war are winning the big plushes at wahoo and making his room full of jumbo plushes the most calm inducing place possible. When he moves into his own place the big plushes will infect everyone's space. The roomies are not safe unless CQ suggests double tone it down a tiny bit

-ofc theres times where he has dates ofc cq refuses to attend those times. Cq is not inerested in double crushes and in fact does not understand why double does not simply rope his love interest into a contract to be dating

-anyways. Double egg dualie supremacy competition. He challenges all other dualie users to a tournament style 1v1 to prove hes the best at dualies (results vary)

-his most relaxing ppl to be near: specs, vintage post character arc, aviators (light sensitivity/bad eyesight duo), rider, and orange team if only a little bit

-red sole would be on that list if she didnt enable chaos

-on his eyesight, double thx to the bit of nudibranch in his genes has very poor eyesight and can only see things clear when it's closer by, hence why his dualies aid him well in closing gaps. Unlike aviators though, strong sunlight is just in general not fun for double at all bc it hurts his eyes and causes migraines. If he gwts a bad headache he will be more agitatable than usual

-Specs seems to understand his struggles the most and double highly appreciates him for all the understanding and mutual defense

-double miiight also be afraid of death of his friends/his friends leaving him if he falls in love in love (convinced of family curses) and it takes either some prying or simply asking CQ abt their therapy sessions to know this deep fear

Anyways, that's what ive got on double hcs! I hope you enjoyed!

[rogueonestan]

when our paths cross : prologue

pairing: the mandalorian x f!reader/ofc

warning: none

when our paths cross masterlist | next part

“Stay here.”

“What?” You were gathering your things as the Razor Crest landed on another planet for your next bounty when your Mandalorian partner broke the silence in the hull.

“It’s a quick job- you don’t need to come along.” 

“I’m capable enough to do it, you know.” 

“I never said you weren’t-“

“Then why can’t I come along?”

“Just stay back and guard the ship?”

“‘Guard the ship’?” With that, Mando presses the button on the console that lowers the hatch. Harsh winds immediately make their way inside the ship and your arms instantly make their way around your frame in a vain attempt to keep yourself warm. 

“See, you’re already cold. Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” Before you’re able to interject again, your partner leaves you alone on the ship. 

The wind nips harshly on your skin as intense breezes fill the hull. 

All of the warmth from your body is immediately snatched from you. Your cheeks and the tip of your nose are already beginning to go numb. 

Frost is already to begin attaching itself to the metal armor that’s currently wrapped around your forearms. 

When you close the hatch door, the bitter winds no longer torment you as you make your way towards your sleeping quarters so you can warm yourself back up with one of the blankets that you own.

“‘Guard the ship.’” You jeer, “what a load of bantha fodder. We’ve been partners for months and he still doesn’t trust me?” 

As you wrap the blanket tightly around your shoulders, you begin to make your way to the cockpit, where hopefully it isn’t as freezing as it is in the lower level. 

After being a part of Mando’s crew for a few months now, times like these make you question whether or not he trusts you anymore the day you took him up on his offer to be partners. By his reputation, you assumed that he would be uptight at first, but you’ve never seen him relax in the months you’ve known him. His demeanor around you has never changed: always on edge and ready for a fight. You thought that he would be a little more comfortable around you by this point, but nothing has changed. By the way you see it, it’s as if he still isn’t sure if he can trust you even when you’ve proven your worth time and time again. 

You’ve tried to make him more comfortable around you by telling him stories of your past but you still don’t know anything more about him since that day you met him in the cantina on Nevarro. 

Had you done something that offended him? 

There’s nothing that you could think of pops out at you that could suggest this.

Maybe that’s just the way he is? That may be the case but you’ve seen how he loosens up a bit with Greef Karga on Nevarro whenever the pair of you return to get your next set of bounties. 

You can’t think of any reason why your partner wouldn’t trust you at this point. You’re not quick to trust others either, but you’ve at least tried to make an effort. You’ve tried time and time again to try to loosen him up, try to get a laugh or two out of him, but to no avail. 

You first joined Mando’s crew after working together on a few bounties that Greef Karga suggested that you two should work together on. By being the Guild’s two best hunters, it’s a wonder how your paths didn’t merge earlier. After seeing you in action, Mando offered you a spot on his crew, at first you declined. After working for so long on your own, you just got used to doing everything yourself and not having to depend on anyone, but you eventually gave in 

when he offered a second time because you realized the benefits outnumbered the consequences. Not long after becoming partners did the pair of you become known as an unstoppable force.

Your bounties were caught far quicker than if you did them on your own. 

When you would struggle with something, your partner would always have a suggestion and vice versa. Both of your skills and struggles complimented the other. There have been a few particularly hard bounties that would stump your partner and you would always have an idea as to how to catch them. Without each other, some of the bounties may have been near impossible if you two hadn’t worked together as a team.

Over the past few months, the bounties varied from very easy to near impossible. A few bounties, like your current one, were almost ridiculously simple where only one of you needs to go capture the bounty. Even though it’s not necessary to go hunting every single time, you’ve been beginning to enjoy the company of your partner and you just hope he feels the same.

Your thoughts of doubt continue to gnaw at you as you sit down in your usual spot in the cockpit. The blanket around your shoulders is still wrapped tightly around you. The more your thoughts continue to swarm your brain, the tighter you would grasp the piece of cloth. Tucking your legs underneath you, you close your eyes and begin to take a few calming deep breaths, attempting to clear out your worries.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of your journey with the Mandalorian that would change your lives forever.

tags (let me know if you want to be added): @unstoppableforcce

[eventidespirits]

☥ European Vampire Masterpost ☥

Origins...

While no one can know the origins of vampires for sure, it’s believed that the curse of vampirism started, originally, as a blessing from the Goddess of Night – enhanced strength, stamina, speed and an endless lifespan were given to her chosen but in return, they would have to forsake daylight. When this blessing became a curse, no one knows but eventually, it did and the Chosen of Night began to turn into monsters, dedicated more to themselves than to their human brethren...

☥ Basic European Vampire Information  ☥

While the European Vampire is split into (at least) seven distinct “bloodlines” or “sub-types” certain traits are common among all variants these include:

Enhanced strength, speed and stamina – though certain bloodlines (Revenant, Lamia, Feral, Stryzga) possess  far greater strength than others, it can be expected that every vampire will be a good deal stronger, faster and more resilient than they were as humans.

Increased Emotional Volatility – Thanks to the vampiric curse, the emotions of vampires are highly volatile. Everything a vampire feels will be magnified – but negative emotions will be felt especially strongly

An Addictive Personality – All vampires have a high likelihood of becoming addicted to something, whether that be gambling, drugs, dangerous behavior or simply blood (the most common of all) nearly all vampires will have something that they cannot say no to.

Highly Attuned Senses – All vampires have enhanced senses as compared to a human. In addition to this, they have excellent night vision thanks to a highly reflective layer at the back of their eyes (similar to a cat’s)

Sensitivity to Sunlight – While this will vary from bloodline to bloodline, there is no vampiric bloodline that is immune to the damaging effects of the sun’s rays.

Low Level Mental Manipulation – While some bloodlines take this innate, instinctual ability to new and terrifying heights (Nightingales, Stryzga) all vampires are able to influence the mental and emotional states of those around them.

Low Level  Telepathy – like the mental manipulation, all bloodlines are able to pick up on the general emotional/mental state of those around them and can often pick up on things such as fear, dishonesty or lust before the mortal feeling them is even aware.

Highly Addictive Blood – Vampire Blood has a number of properties, ranging from inducing a euphoric state to promoting healing to making a mortal more susceptible to a vampire’s mental/emotional powers and manipulations to causing a mortal to feel an emotional bond/connection to the vampire in question when no such emotional bond existed before.

A NOTE ON “THE VEIL”

“The Veil” is not unique to vampires but rather, something which effects the entirety of the Supernatural. As human belief in their existence waned, the Supernatural began to fade from the sight of Mundane humans, not because it ceased to exist but because humans simply stopped being able to see if for what it was.

A vampire, to the average mortal, will show a few signs of what they are (such as an incredibly languid pulse, lack of respiration, unnaturally cool skin, a sickly/pale complexion) but most signs of their true nature will be invisible to the human until they’ve “Crossed Over” (i.e., been inducted into the supernatural world, thus opening their eyes to its existence).

Most children are naturally able to see through The Veil (due to the imaginative nature of children) but often lose this ability by the time they reach puberty. Some humans maintain this ability (called The Sight) into adulthood and some will only develop this ability at puberty.

The Bloodlines: -The Nightingale -The Revenant -The Siren -The Stryzga -The First -The Lamia -The Feral Other Information: -The Curse -Sire/Fledgeling Relationships -The Change

A Quick And Dirty Vampire F.A.Q.

Can they consume non-blood food/drink: Some of them can and some of them can't -- whether or not a vampire can eat solid food is determined by two factors: whether or not they're willing to put in the effort to learn how to force it down and how connected they are to their humanity. The more a vampire hangs onto their humanity, the easier it is for them to consume human food. However, it doesn't provide any nourishment. Being a hedonistic species, some vampires absolutely eat human food just because they enjoy the taste. All vampires are capable of drinking non-blood liquids but it provides no nourishment (see below) The Monkey D. Luffy Conundrum (aka, do they poop/pee?): No. Vampires can’t process solid food. When eating solids it will, eventually, need to come back up the way it went in. The same goes for non-blood liquids. Do Vampires Fuck: abso-goddamn-lutely. Since vampires are inherently hedonistic, they actually tend to rather enjoy fucking, even if *mostly* as a prelude to feeding/part of feeding. (This ofc varies as ace vamps exist) Do Vampires Cry Blood?: yep. All bodily fluids in a vampire are converted to blood. Including those ones. Do Vampires have Heartbeats? yes, they’re just incredibly slow (35bpm or so). During stress or strenuous activity the heartrate increases to a more human bpm (60-80bpm). Their respiration usually matches this rate. The older a vampire gets/the more they distance themselves from their humanity, the slower their heartbeat becomes and vampires who are detached enough have no heartbeat at all (they're also colder to the touch) Do vampires have problems with silver: some of them. Its sort of a random genetic lottery. Can Vampires Have Kids?: Nope. That equipment doesn’t work that way anymore. They might be able to with some serious magical alteration but in general they can’t reproduce outside of the Ritual of Transformation. Are Vampires effected by holy objects: Yes – though the efficacy of it varies greatly depending both on the faith of the vampire and the faith of the person with the holy object. As long as the wielder has sufficient faith (both in the symbol AND that it will harm the vampire), the vampire will be harmed by the holy object… However, someone who doesn’t believe at all may still harm a vampire with a holy object if the vampire believed/believes strongly in that faith and believes it will harm them.  Will Cutting the Head off Kill the Vampire?: There are a lot of creatures that can survive having their head cut off – chickens are one of them, vampires are not. What about piercing the heart? Since the heart is the core of a vampire’s being, the place where the blood is processed and the place where the magic is centered, piercing the heart can do massive damage to a vampire and if the heart is destroyed, they cannot recover from this. Fire? Fire bad. Vampires don’t fucking like fire because they go up like kindling when exposed to it. While it takes damn near 2800 degrees to burn a normal human corpse to ashes (and even then, the bones have to be pulverized) a large enough bonfire will easily do the trick for a vampire. Can Vampirism be reversed? It takes some pretty serious magical ability to do this sort of thing, but it can be done – provided at least one of two conditions are met: 1) The vampire has never taken the life of a human by draining their blood 2) The vampire has never created another of their kind and spread The Curse. Are half-vampires (dhampir) a thing? Yes. I’m not entirely 100% on how they happen within my lore, but they’re 100% a thing that can happen because a) they occur pretty frequently in folklore and b) I think they’re cool. Can vampires turn into bats/wolves/etc.,?Yes -- though it's usually very old and powerful vampires. Younger vampires within the Stryzga line are capable of turning into various kinds of animals but it still takes at least a century to learn this. Noctem Felidae (an extinct vampire bloodline) were capable of turning into cats and the Lamia bloodline was once capable of changing into

snakes/naga-esque creatures but since the waning of magic after the late Middle Ages, they've lost their ability to do so. Do vampirekin/ “human” vampires exist? Yes! The phenomenon of human psychic vampires/vampirekin/human sanguinarian vampires occurs in my universe – usually, this is because the human in question is a vampire who, at some point, was killed and their soul was able to re-enter the cycle of life/death/rebirth… However, because The Curse has an immense effect on the soul, it carries some of the effects with it into the next life and all lives thereafter. 

(note: most vampiric souls, being lost to the natural order, do not reincarnate ever again… However, if they vampire  manages to avoid either killing a human via draining or making another vampire, their soul is still somewhat tethered and can re-enter the life/death/rebirth cycle, like it’s supposed to! this is where we get “human” vampires. As for what happens to vampires who have done both of those things… No one is sure what happens to the energy that made up their soul. There’s some talk of it becoming part of the entity responsible for the curse)

[thewritingdungeon]

Discordancy #0

SUMMARY: Hawkeye has a long and varied past. He’s been a carnie, a spy, a superhero, even a brainwashed soldier. He also was, no matter how much he hates to admit it, an ex-criminal. It’s a part of his past he moved on from long ago and hoped he could just forget ever happened. But when an old associate contacts him for help, Clint is reminded that not everything he had so desperately tried to leave behind was something bad.

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Clint Barton/OFC

WORD COUNT: 670

WARNINGS: vague, canon-typical violence

A/N: Hoo-boy. Oh, buddy. Aight giving credit where credit is due, this scene is a rewritten adaptation of a diamond choice scene from the Choices game The Heist: Monaco. I made up an OC for Hawkeye named Eris who liked bombs and then a few days later found out that this VN had an extremely similar character concept, so I played around with what that scene would be like if it was with Clint and _my _Eris instead. Clint’s backstory is a mixture of his comics and MCU versions that I decided to play around with when I wondered what the MCU would be like if it had a neutral-grounds establishment similar to Hotel Artemis and The Continental because I’m a sucker for those kinds of additions to criminal undergrounds. All of that combines into this being a semi-prologue to a fic idea I’ve been toying with for a Clint/OFC story. Idk if I’ll post more from it, but I’m hoping this will encourage me to do so. 

Okay... This looks bad.

The harsh buzz of static washes out the shriek of tires in his hearing aids as the van tips precariously onto two wheels. Clint spins the steering wheel hard to the left, taking another hairpin turn in an effort to not careen off a 50-foot drop while going 90 miles per hour. The acrid smell of burning rubber hits his nose at the same time the vehicle jolts and shakes, all four wheels back safe on the asphalt.

Well, mostly safe.

"Whooooo!" Clint hears from the back of the van as it careens dangerously around yet another turn, back doors fluttering open on their hinges. The raucous shouts of his partner remind him to flick the switch on his devices while she gets down to business and hopefully doesn't fly out the open hole in their getaway vehicle made by the distinct lack of closed doors. He's not even going to bother yelling at her to close them; from what he heard of that last round of gunshots, he's surprised they're still attached to the van as it is.

There's a strange buzz he feels in the air and then the violent vibrations of a bang! He flicks back on his hearing aids just as the woman behind him whoops again. "And... gottem!" she announces.

"Great, now can you please help me get these guys off my ass? They're a little too close for comfort."

"Aww, is wittle Ronin afraid of things going up his ass?" There's no malice to her mocking, but he knows it's a challenge anyway.

"Please," he scoffs, "bears just aren't my type."

Eris cackles, wild and delighted at his response, and if it weren't for the fact that he was currently more often driving on two wheels rather than four, Clint would look back to commit the image of her laughing like that to memory.

"Well, they want their safe back so badly... I should be a good Samaritan and give it back to them, shouldn't I?"

A wicked grin spreads across his face at her suggestion. "Y'know, sweetheart, I think they just might appreciate that."

He doesn't bother to wonder how a petite girl such as Eris plans on pushing out what must be a 200-pound safe. He's been on exactly one heist with her—this one—and he can already tell that she is someone who defies both physics and death with her levels of insanity.

Sure enough, a few scrapes and several grunts later, and the van doors crash open to let the newly emptied safe launch right into the path of their pursuers. A deafening crunch and the sound of screeching brakes is all he hears for several seconds before triumphant cheers fill the vehicle once more.

"I can't believe that worked, you beautiful bastard!" Eris cries out, draping herself in the passenger seat. "That was such a rush, I could kiss you right now!"

Clint gives an easy smile in response, leaning back now that he has the luxury of driving slower. "By all means, don't fight it if you—"

The rest of his words are lost as his face is abruptly turned and his mouth covered by soft lips pressing eagerly against his. His lips part in silent surprise, and Eris takes the opportunity to dart her tongue in to swipe against his, bringing with it a taste of smoke and cinnamon he somehow finds intoxicating. But before he can register her actions enough to kiss back, Eris is pulling away, a grin on her lips and fire in her eyes.

He should have known right then and there that she'd be trouble for him.

[fe-pride-edits]

Mail Time!

In an effort of saving time and space, we’ll just compile the couple of questions we got into one post. If you also would like to ask us a question, feel free to submit it here.

Do not submit edit requests as we will ignore and delete them. This form is for questions and blog suggestions only. Edit requests will be deleted.

Anyway, questions!

How long does 1 edit generally take you guys to do?

That kind of varies between editor. But on average, I’d say a regular Fates or Awakening sprite takes about less than a day, a “simple” Heroes sprite can take about 1-2 days, and a “complex” Heroes sprite can take up to 3. And this is assuming we are also in good moods and energy levels.

How do y'all make your edits? Curious because I’d like to make some edits for this blog, but don’t know where to start.

Mod Charlotte made a tutorial long ago about how she does it in Photoshop, which is fairly close to how the rest of us do it! And while the tutorial is in Photoshop and we know not everyone can access or wants to use PS (a couple of the mods here don’t use PS either!), the tutorial is applicable to other programs just through some messing around. You may want to check google as well, since there may be an edit-specific tutorial that goes based off your preferred program!

do you perhaps do skin color edits ? i know ofc this is a pride edits blog but (for example, this is not a request) if i wanted a gay henry or lesbian tharja with darker skin would that be possible?

Unfortunately we have to say no to this. Since skin editing has little partnership with our main flag pallets we view it as belonging with general sprite editing, which we don’t do. It’s still a color change, but doesn’t involve our set theme the way something like “no hair change/specific (flag) color hair” does. I hope this makes sense, and we’re sorry again! Edit: you can submit submissions though that have a character with edited darker skin! We've had some sent in before, and while we ourselves won't do it, but you all are of course free to add that in to your own edits and submit them!

[zackaran]

Thank you so much for pointing out such a good example of what this kind of thing can look like this is genuinely so helpful.

I do want to give folks some resources for alternatives-

Specialty and native plant nurseries absolutely exist and they are some of the neatest places ever, seek them out. Some do mail order and shipping but this varies.

Native plant societies, rock garden societies and other garden groups often have seed exchanges and plant sales. There are even really specific ones- the Pacific bulb society, International Carnivorous Plant Socciety (and many many at local levels), Penstemon society, etc. come to mind.

Botanical gardens often propagate and sell frequently poached plants in an effort to stop folks from turning to these people.

And finally, a lot of the time you can collect wild seed and grow things yourself! Check local regulations for sure but by and large this is not usually an issue at all unless it's a specific protected area/species and/or a state or national park. Even then sometimes you can get a permit or permission so it doesn't hurt to ask.

Nurseries (just off the top of my head ofc there are tons more)

Hidden Agave - started by a guy from the San Diego botanical garden. afaik they propagate everything themselves sustainably. A lot of rare and difficult to find species

California Carnivores The oldest and biggest carnivorous plant nursery in the US. Dedicated to conservation through cultivation. They are currently closed to the public but they still do mail order and ship throughout the US. I have Peter's book

Poot's Cactus Nursery Small family owned. A mix of plants they propagated themselves and wholesale purchased. They are transparent about which is which(labels have a 'P' or 'W') but it all looks good to me

Prairie Moon Nursery Advocates of prairie restoration. Supplies over 700 species of native north American plants. Sells seed as well. Ships plants. Emphasizes importance of restoring native plants to the landscape as an essential part of being a good steward

Here's a great example of a seller that is setting off red flags for poached plants. Here's why:

1. Species is uncommon in cultivation, and highly desirable for collectors. Cultivation is tricky due to its slow growth and absolute intolerance for excess water, and it is not appealing to large scale commercial growing for that reason. It's also a North American native that grows in California and adjacent states, where this seller is based.

2. Seller has multiple mature or near mature size plants, but does not have any seedlings or intermediate size juveniles.

3. Plants lack the uniformity of appearance that you see when a group of seedlings is grown under the same conditions. Cultivated agaves often have a more open rosette, rather than the tight habit we see here.

4. While cultivated plants certainly lose leaves, most growers will trim them off before posting them for sale. Additionally, the bottommost leaves are the first to go when an agave is stressed, and they all show dry bottom leaves.

5. They are bare root and have small, dry root balls. Growers that ship bareroot will generally not uproot plants until they are being shipped, both for appearances and to minimize stress. What soil is in the pots here is clearly very dry and has not settled, indicating it was very recently added.

6. The prices don't make sense:

In cultivation, a multi-headed specimen like this would take years to grow. You'd most likely be buying it off a collector or a grower downsizing stock plants, and the price would definitely reflect that. Yet this cluster is only priced slightly higher than the single specimens.

For comparison, seed-grown plants like one below from a reputable grower were priced at $20:

It will be years before this plant resembles the other plants posted here.

7. Seller's description provides no info about the origin of the plants, which is suspect in combination with the above.

Am I 100% certain these plants are poached? No, but it seems very likely. If they are, does the seller know they're selling poached plants? Not necessarily, assuming they purchased them from someone else. But I certainly would not be giving them any money based on all of the above.

[brickerbeetle]

If you're still doing the fanfic meme then how about: I, P and V?

;3; ~<3

 I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Anything involving The Guys (+Gou ofc) kickin’ butt. I liVE for AUs of the action variety. There’s this one fic called Bloom and Scatter,  a zombie AU with veryyy lowkey makorin and no other pairing, but I ate it up in a matter of hours for the plot alone. A fic about makorin bein badass buddies? Sign me the fuck up, no more explanation needed. Bonus points to any action fic that doesn’t make Makoto out to be someone in need of protecting. Double bonus points for having Gou kick butt with the rest of them.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

Definitely gardener. I try to be an architect sometimes, but my efforts never lead to success, and I end up just winging it. :’) Whenever I write, I am often absently singing, “what the fuck am i doing” with varying levels of enthusiasm.

V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?

Good afternoon do you have time to talk about our lord and savior Gou Matsuoka