Haha Jk - Tumblr Posts
✨ murder is ok ✨
Absolutely, 100%, can confirm he is v v v handsome and all of the above
Dont mind this post
I made this so i can draw him later but ok
Reasons why you should like idia
1.good at drawing
2.good at playing
3.flaming hot (literally)
4.he can trash talk.
And
5.He handsome
Edit: forgot some pics
Edit more:HE HAS FANGS TOO. WELL ALL HIS TEETHS ARE SHARP
I’m not saying I ship Bowuigi
I’m just saying that I expect a sequel to Bowser’s Fury where you play as Luigi and his stepson Bowser Jr is infinitely less hostile than he is with Mario, and also there is at least 1 (one) painting of a wedding between Bowser and Luigi. Or just an actual wedding at the end.
what if we kissed on the decker bench
what i wouldnt do to sit on the decker bench
literally poly ver of 'if the world was ending' by JP Saxe & Julia Michaels
[11:50 PM] + natural disaster apocalypse au + road trip au + "what are we supposed to do now?"
a/n: 3.2k words, gender neutral reader as always, san x wooyoung x y/n :), lots of implied hooking up and sexual relationships but no descriptions of it, fwb san, red flags galore, miscommunication, insecurities & anxiety, drinking, mention of the dating app tinder (derogatory) and the terrible nicknames that come out of that lmao, environmental disasters and existential crises go hand in hand lol, i have wips to finish but i wanted to write this rippp please lmk if anyone wants more though
taglist: @leeknowsalot, @hither-to-undreamt-of, @not-everything-is-so-primitive
-
you’d made it a point to never stay the night. san and your arrangement was almost clinical in it’s execution. if one of you wanted to blow off steam, you’d text - never call - and the other would show up at the asker’s doorstep if they were up to it. no kissing on the mouth. no excessive cuddling. nothing too intimate. outside of that arrangement, you both remained friendly - you had to when you both shared so many mutual friends.
still, despite the rules, san was polite, and he treated you with a kindness you did not expect.
“why are you being so nice?” you’d asked once, after that first time, when you’d both danced at hongjoong’s birthday party and ended the night in san’s bedroom. you were sprawled out on top the towel he'd laid out over his sheets, sweaty and trying to return to your senses.
san paused in the act of opening the water bottle he’d plucked from his mini fridge, his brows knitting together. he’d already handed you a washcloth and your clothes, and now he sat at the edge of the bed frowning at you. he said, “aftercare isn’t optional, y/n. “
you’d blinked, and his frown deepened when you said, “i guess not.”
it had been, for your previous partners, but you did not want to elaborate on it so you’d only sat up and taken the water bottle. san did not ask, but his brows remained furrowed. after that, you never asked. neither of you asked each other much about your personal lives. it was as if it was an unspoken rule, to remain as uninvolved as possible. friends with benefits, with as little possibility of attachment as possible. frankly, the two of you were barely friends, only ever spending time together outside of your arrangement in group settings.
they say, however, you learn a lot about someone just from sleeping with them.
you’d never touched on personal matters too much, but sometimes he texted you and his touch was angrier and rougher than usual.
sometimes, you had eyes. you saw the way his eyes followed mingi during seonghwa’s monthly bowling tournaments for months. the way his jaw clenched, and the way mingi avoided the group for a while, until one day mingi showed up to a board game night with a six pack of beer and san and mingi bumped fists, and everything was back to normal.
you saw the extra toothbrush he’d left in the bathroom - used and obviously not meant for you - and the familiar hoodie hanging from the drying rack while you tugged your jeans back on - “i don’t think you’ve met wooyoung yet, have you y/n?” hongjoong said once at a random thursday night happy hour, dark eyes fixed on you as he threw an arm over your shoulders, dragging you close. wooyoung wore a black hoodie that he fiddled with the strings of, rolling his eyes as hongjoong whispered in a conspiring tone, wooyoung's warm brown eyes lingering on your face, your stomach flipping at his lopsided grin and twinkling eyes, “woo is san’s college sweetheart.” - and the wrapped christmas presents sitting on the counter that you were never a recipient of - “can i grab a croissant on the way out?” you'd asked san, pausing at the door, and san only waved at you over his shoulder as he flipped open his laptop.
despite learning too much about him, despite wondering if some of the flags you'd noticed and blatantly ignored made you the bad person, for months and months and months, you never stayed the night.
one summer night, you’d sat with your knees tucked to your chest, squished between hongjoong and wooyoung, an empty soju bottle in front of you and a slice of pizza halfway to your mouth. your face was hot from the alcohol you hadn’t meant to down so much of.
summer nights were usually not so hot, but lately the weather had been absolutely dreadful. hongjoong blasted the a/c and seonghwa dragged a fan into the little living room and the blankets you’d usually use were tossed aside. the sweaty skin of your knee stuck to wooyoung’s but when you looked over at him to elbow him so he'd give you some space, you caught a glimpse of san’s hand resting on wooyoung’s bare thigh, above his tattoo. san's thumb circled over the skin there. your stomach flipped at the sight. you’d looked up then, and san's attention was fixed on the drama hongjoong put on. you tore your gaze from san's profile, glancing sideways, only to -
wooyoung smiled at you. it was a wide grin, all teeth and twinkling eyes and a knowingness that had your stomach churning. the churning in your stomach was not new. you'd always felt that way about him, since the day hongjoong introduced you two, but this time, you felt...caught.
you blinked at him. wooyoung dropped a hand to the curve of your knee, and pat it with the lightest of touches. your breath hitched.
you did not know the details of san and wooyoung's relationship. the rest of your friends did - a side effect of joining a friend group formed entirely during their college years, long before you ever met any of them - and hongjoong seemed to have taken a liking to eyeing you strangely whenever you interacted with san in a public setting.
hongjoong was always the nosy type. it was why you'd ended up a part of his friend group the way you had. you met hongjoong while the two of you were working at a coffee shop after graduating from university, bonding over the struggle of finding a real job (as your parents loved to put it). hongjoong was focused on producing music during his free time, while you applied to every entry level corporate job you could find. the two of you spent a lot of time going to bars to unwind or trying new food places, until hongjoong introduced you to his friends.
there was seonghwa and siyeon. the twins and the bane of hongjoong's existence, according to hongjoong's grumbling every morning over the espresso machine. you'd taken it seriously the first few times he said it, until siyeon and seonghwa showed up to the coffee shop with lunch for hongjoong and hongjoong's entire expression lit up before he even saw the food in siyeon's hands. later, you learned they were all roommates. then there was seulgi, siyeon's girlfriend, who had a penchant for ordering too many rounds of tequila shots and staying over at seonghwa, siyeon, and hongjoong's apartment more than she stayed at her own place - another complaint hongjoong liked to grumble about even though he tended to complain more if seulgi wasn't staying at the apartment. it was ironic, really, but you'd learned long ago not to question it. then there was mingi and san. they were roommates first year of university and refused to live with anyone else since then. mingi liked to study in the coffee shop you and hongjoong worked at, and you'd taken to having his regular order ready for him before he even walked in the door. a year later, wooyoung moved to the city and you liked the way he smiled, the way he got on with everyone as if no time had passed at all, and most of all there was an unexplainable ache in your chest whenever you saw wooyoung cuddled up with san. when you saw the tattoo on wooyoung's thigh one summer at the beach - nearly identical to san's - you'd felt that ache again, joining the butterflies in your stomach whenever wooyoung smiled at you, or san did something as simple as holding the door open for you in public.
you refused to unpack that ache, any of it really, but hongjoong was nosy and perceptive, and one night hongjoong pulled you into his kitchen, the sounds of siyeon and seonghwa bickering in the living room loud, grating almost, and hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest as his gaze bore into your skull. he asked, "are you fucking san?”
you’d sputtered, stepping away from hongjoong as if he'd smacked you. he might as well have, because you thought you and san had done an incredible job of hiding your arrangement. but hongjoong was nosy and perceptive, and you should have known he'd catch on. you should have known the moment he threw his arm over your shoulders and introduced you to wooyoung the way he did.
hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest and sighed at whatever he saw in your expression. he hadn’t given you the chance to answer, only dragged a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the kitchen counter and said, “i had a feeling you were, but...i thought you knew better. woo and san have been a thing for ages. they're...complicated, but they're them.”
you'd wondered, sometimes, when you saw wooyoung's clothes on the drying rack, or his christmas presents on the counter, or even when san handed you a shirt to wear if he'd ruined yours and you'd recognized it clearly as wooyoung's if you were blatantly in the middle of something. you'd wondered if wooyoung knew about you. that thought often kept you up at night, for more reasons then you'd like to admit.
you frowned, “why would i get hurt? we're not serious.”
hongjoong raised a brow in disbelief.
"we're not," your voice raised, echoing through the kitchen. siyeon and seonghwa were no longer bickering. you worked to lower your voice, "why do you care anyway?"
hongjoong blinked. once, twice. he dropped his arms to the side, and he frowned at you as if you were an idiot. maybe you were, for asking such a question. you'd only known hongjoong for a couple years, while hongjoong knew san and seonghwa and siyeon and mingi and seulgi and wooyoung for so much longer. you were always the new one. the one left out. the one listening as they recounted old college stories. the one on birthdays feeling as if your gift was too surface level. it was a stupid thing to feel bad about - the history - but sometimes, you felt so far behind and so far removed. it always felt like you versus them, and the way hongjoong said them about wooyoung and san - it made your chest ache something awful.
"because i care about you."
hongjoong said it kindly, softly, and it reminded you of how nice san was to you. it made your chest tight.
you said, "i know what i'm doing. it's...it's not serious. i'm fine."
hongjoong opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes swept over your face and he clamped his mouth shut. he only nodded, said, "okay."
then he turned and grabbed wine glasses from the cabinets.
hongjoong proceeded to shove the empty wine glasses into your limp hands and wave you back to the living room. siyeon pat the spot next to he on the couch, and seonghwa only smiled, and hongjoong never brought up san again.
that was nearly a year ago.
now here you are, one of too many sweltering summer nights, with wooyoung's warm hand resting on the curve of your bare knee, and his eyes twinkling, and you refusing to acknowledge the butterflies churning at the pit of your stomach, or the way you glanced slightly to san, his jaw and the curve of his nose and the way his gaze remained fixed on the television screen and his hand on wooyoung's upper thigh and the slight disappointment that joined the butterflies at the fact that he did not even care to glance your way.
you did not know how to react - that was a constant with you really - so you put down your half-eaten pizza and poured yourself a shot of soju.
wooyoung nudged your shoulder. you could not ignore that.
you nudged him back, raising a brow as you downed the shot.
wooyoung's eyes flickered over your face, watching as you swallowed the shot before he said, "not going to offer me any?"
your eyes flit to his thigh. san stopped drawing circles there, his grip tightening slightly. you made a face, "you seem preoccupied."
wooyoung laughed, and the sound was a loud boisterous thing. san looked over. he smiled politely at you - it was always so polite in public, so clinical - before his eyes landed on wooyoung. wooyoung tossed his head back on the couch behind him.
hongjoong shushed him, "shut up. it's getting good."
you giggled. san's gaze flickered to you then, before it returned to the television.
wooyoung's hand remains on your knee. it's distracting. you take another shot, returning to the television.
in that moment, your heart is a wild thing in your chest. you'd stayed awake one too many nights wondering why your heart raced the way it did whenever you were around wooyoung. he'd do something as simple as smile, and you'd find yourself thinking of it over and over.
wooyoung simply reached over, picked up your half-eaten pizza and took a bite. without asking.
before you could turn on him, the television blared. the siren was a terrifying thing, loud and grating and too loud, too loud, too loud.
you yelped. wooyoung dropped the pizza on his lap. san's hand dropped from wooyoung's upper thigh. hongjoong shouted, "what the fuck."
seonghwa dropped the pizza box in his hands. the pizza went everywhere.
~.~.~.~.~
six weeks.
forty two days.
the television flickered through the quiet apartment. it was muted, the news anchor's expression solemn as she spoke, as clips of floods and the sun and long lines outside grocery stores - all things you'd seen on social media from around the world for last few months - blared behind her. sweat stuck to the back of your shirt.
you stared at the empty soju bottles in front of you. seonghwa and hongjoong had left long ago, to the convenience store, after the announcement. they hadn't asked. seonghwa merely said, "i think we need more soju" into the impending silence.
hongjoong shot to his feet, his keys jiggling. seonghwa took the pizza box with him, and you watched his hands tremble.
you don't know how much time passed. your ears were ringing. wooyoung's thigh was no longer pressed to yours. he sat across from you.
san was pacing. back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
you met wooyoung's gaze over the green soju bottle, and he held you there in his gaze.
forty two days.
six weeks.
"maybe they're wrong," san murmured, and you thought he'd pace a hole into the carpet at the rate he was going. "the sun can't just explode. we can't just...there has to be some way to stop it. they have to be wrong."
"they wouldn't announce it like that if they weren't sure," wooyoung said.
a car alarm blared in the distance. screaming. shouting.
you closed your eyes.
a beat of silence, before you felt a hand on your shoulder. you opened your eyes, looked up, and san peered down at you. he smiled politely once more. even with the world ending, he was always so polite. so kind.
you tore your eyes from his, to wooyoung across from you. there was a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place. it was a mix between softness and an edge, that was only intensified by that perpetual twinkle in his eyes.
you said, "what are we supposed to do now?"
wooyoung shrugged, "anything we want?"
but the way he looked at you then, the way his gaze flickered up to san, before returning to you, it made the butterflies at the pit of your stomach morph into a flock of birds, into a problem. the tension grew so thick, you were afraid to even move. san's hand remained warm on your shoulder, grounding, while wooyoung's gaze made you float.
before you could formulate a response, though, a series of beeps echoed through the apartment, and the door swung open. mingi stumbled in, still in his work uniform, hair a mess, and his smile was a solemn thing as he spoke into the silence, "we're going to die."
san sighed, scowling at mingi. the tension disappeared so quickly, you wondered if you imagined it. "do you have to say it like that?"
"is there any other way to say it?" mingi asked, kicking the front door shut behind him.
"you're lucky siyeon isn't here right now. she'd kill you for kicking her door."
mingi turned to inspect the door, wiping at where he kicked, before he spun on his heels and gestured all around you both. "look, you don't understand. this is an opportunity you guys."
"to do what exactly?" wooyoung crossed his arms over his chest.
"quit work, take a road trip, go the fucking beach, anything." mingi gestured all around them, his eyes wide and his smile wider, and he said, "it's the end of the fucking world, and we can do whatever we want."
"aren't we supposed to, like, reflect on our decisions and shit? see our parents maybe?"
mingi pointed at you, grin widening, "technically yes, but doesn't a road trip sound more fun."
you raised a brow at mingi, suspicious, "where do you want to road trip to?"
mingi grinned, all teeth and charm, "well i was thinking busan."
wooyoung laughed, said, "does this, by chance, have anything to do with the guy you matched with on tinder? what did you save him as? busan babe?"
the door to the apartment opened once more, hongjoong and seonghwa stumbling in with clinking plastic bags.
"okay," mingi drew out the word, still grinning, "maybe busan babe invited me to an end of the world party. but i thought, hey why not propose a road trip with my best friends and get laid? two birds, one stone, right?"
"mingi's getting laid? who would want to do that?"
"you want to go on a road trip?"
hongjoong frowned at mingi, while seonghwa dropped his bags on the table between you and wooyoung.
"you do realize the earth is going to blow up in forty two days, mingi."
"and what better way to die then doing what you love?" mingi raised a brow, matching hongjoong's body language.
seonghwa frowned as he tossed the plastic bags in the kitchen drawer, "you want to die partying?"
"i want to die getting the life sucked out of my -"
wooyoung and san's laugh drowned out the rest of mingi's words. you couldn't help but join, the laughter contagious.
in that moment, as seonghwa placed more shot glasses on the table, you could only think of how in a way mingi was right. the world was going to end in forty two days. six weeks. the world was ending, and you could do whatever you wanted.
you had to. your gaze flickered over wooyoung, to san with his head resting on wooyoung's shoulder.
"maybe," you said, "a road trip isn't a bad idea."
a smile tugged at hongjoong's lips as he downed another shot and said, "yeah, maybe it isn't."
wooyoung's voice was quiet, a sobering thing, when he said, "what else do we have to do anyway?"
the muted television flickered behind him as he said it, and the apartment was still too-hot, and you all nodded as you took another shot.
truly, what do you have to lose? the sun would explode in six weeks whether you wanted to believe it would or not.
-
*through gritted teeth, looking like I've gotten into a fistfight with Demise and lost miserably, with as much grace as a feral raccoon* If Legend could put up with 15 adventures then you can do this. If Sky and Time could fight a god each and win then you can do this, if Wild could escape death and reforge his identity from scratch plus everything else in TOTK then you can do this-
But by the gods will it be a headache.
if i was to be thrown into the air at a high velocity would i be mistaken for a ufo or would i be a ufo if it’s done without the partnership or having anyone else know the situation?
No matter what… the answer will always be yes… 💗
DAY 15
GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 15
