#and i'm just using my right hand to move the cursor and my left hand to click

[cicadagaze]

this just in: i refuse to let my injured wrist stop me from doing shit so i'm making a white patch based on my pathetic beast of a cat

[adudelolwriting]

Lord was dying.

Lord was dying.

He knew his time would come eventually. But she didn't want to die fighting Chosen. Lord never wanted to hurt Chosen, and he wanted to die peacefully next to Chosen's side.

But Lord never got what she wanted, did she?

His vision was dark, now. Every inch of her skin was stinging and burnt. His breathing was labored — it took so much just to breathe in, and then breathe out. 

Lord was dying.

Lord was dead.

Maybe she's been dead since the start. Being created by Noogia3 all those years ago caused him to die. Fighting Chosen these past years caused her to die. 

Being laser blasted by a new hollowhead had caused him to die.

It was fun while it lasted, wasn't it? Spending time with Chosen the past year. Stargazing. Picnics. Baking cookies together. 

Yeah, it was nice, Lord thought to herself as she felt her own life force slowly draining, her color fading, I wouldn't change it for the world.

His eyes felt heavy as he blinked, and in his final breaths, of course he started to hallucinate. 

A coughing fit racked itself through Lord's body. Weakly, she softly said, "hey, Cho, come here often?" A small smile fell on his face, feeling the light trickle of blood fall from his lips. Chosen was crying, for some reason, and Chosen's mouth was moving with no words being said. Chosen looked back over Chosen's shoulder, but there wasn't anything there.

"The silent…. treatment?" Lord coughed again, lungs burning as the charred skin twisted and contorted. Lord wheezed for a couple moments, letting out a breathless laugh. A second hollowhead now was worryingly looking over Lord's body now — the orange one, the one that killed Lord. 

I want to remember the good times, Lord thought as she closed her eyes, I don't want to see the kid who killed me. I want to remember Chosen.

Lord was dead.

Lord was dead.

Lord was dead… 

Right?

He opened his eyes, only to reclose them and hiss in pain. She was not outside anymore. After a moment of shallow breathing, he noticed his breathing felt limited. She opened her eyes once more, and saw she was completely covered in bandages.

This was not what the Afterlife would have been like. Why do you have to heal from the injuries that killed you? That seems ineffective.

Lord looked to his left, and saw an IV drip placed in his arm, with a few different bags of liquid connecting to it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she carefully reached over and yanked the IV out of her arm.

"Hey!! Don't do that!" A voice said, and Lord's head instantly shot over towards a blue stick figure. "It's okay — It's me, Blue? We're trying to help you get better."

Lord's eyes froze on a large scar across the child's face. The scar that she gave them. Lord knew he was a shitty stick, but Cursor, did his personal hell really have to have the child he killed in a haze be his caretaker?

The kid — Blue — called for somestick named Yellow, who was fully dressed in some doctor's outfit. Cliche much?

"Oh good, you're actually awake. You need to keep that IV in, okay? It's giving you some potions and water for your system." Yellow smiled. "I'm just gonna put this IV back in, okay?"

Lord jumped as Yellow was now right next to her. His hand was gently resting on Lord's wrist before she yanked it back, gaining a small shout from the two stick figures in the room. Her lips pulled back, showing her razor sharp teeth as she hissed at these two kids. 

Blue seemed in shock for a moment, before shaking their head. "We're trying to help you, Lord. Can Yellow please put the IV in? We can explain what each liquid is."

Lord… didn't give them her name. "How do… How do you know my name?" She asked, her throat hoarse like she had spent the past four hours screaming.

"Uh—" The two stick figures looked at each other. "Chosen told us. Do… Do you know where you are?"

Lord looked around the room. Now that she took a moment to look at it, she noticed how pixelated and… blocky everything was. Nothing like she's seen before. "Am I dead?"

"What — no! No, you're alive, and we're trying to heal you." Yellow glances over to Blue. "That's… kinda why we need to put the IV back in?"

A thought popped into Lord's head. "Where's Chosen?"

"He's outside, we can get him—" 

Lord cringed instantly. "Chosen doesn't have pronouns." 

"Oh, sorry. Uh, do you want to see Chosen? We can go get h— Chosen for you?" Blue asked. "We just — we really need the IV back, or you're gonna start hurting again."

Lord thought about it for a few moments. "I… I don't know. Does… Chosen even want to see me?"

"Of course! Chosen's still here, waiting for you to wake up. Chosen doesn't know if you want to see Chosen, either." 

"I… I want to see Chosen. Could you explain what… you're putting in my body while you get Chosen?" Lord asked, eyeing the few IV bags. 

Blue perked up as Yellow left the room. Blue explained that there's a water IV, one for fire resistance(??) and one for regeneration(????), and that Lord was already looking better than when she first got here. "We'll have to wait for Yellow to come back so he can put the IV back in your arm." Blue sighs, smiling, though Lord can see the fear in their eyes. "Only me and Yellow are allowed in here, and uh… once Yellow goes through the normal doctor-y stuff, did you want us to leave so you and Chosen could… I don't know, talk, or something?"

"Yeah, I think that'll probably be the best course of action. Why isn't anyone else allowed in here?"

"Well, Yellow's our doctor cause he's super smart, and I know a lot about potions that can help people! Plus, um—" Lord could tell they were making up a lie on the spot "— Yellow doesn't want anyone else to scare you or overcrowd you."

It was clear that they were scared of Lord. It makes sense everyone would be terrified — she's honestly surprised Blue and Yellow were keeping a solid conversation happening with her. "Right." 

A few more minutes passed before Yellow and The Chosen One walked into the room. Even though Chosen's face remains frozen, Lord knows Chosen well enough to see the array of emotions fly through Chosen's eyes. 

"I explained what all the thingies are for," Blue told Yellow, "and you're okay with putting the IV back in, right?" 

Lord nods, not breaking eye contact with Chosen. Yellow went to her left side, and installed a new IV into the crook of her elbow. Gauze was wrapped around her wrist, where she didn't even notice she was bleeding. Once Yellow finished, she saw Blue silently nod, and the two walked out of the room.

Only The Chosen One and The Dark Lord.

The silence was dampening. The two continued to stare at each other, before Lord sighed and tapped the chair next to the bed. "C'mere," Lord mumbled. Chosen walked over, sitting down next to Lord.

"Why did you do it?"

Lord inhaled deeply at that question. "Depends on what you're asking about." His head hit the back of the bed. "The whole virus thing? To enact revenge on Noogia. The… the damn code then took over after you hit me, and I just — I needed to kill you, and… I hurt those kids because I couldn't control myself."

"You killed them."

Lord rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I hurt them, and they're still trying to help me. They should have left me to rot." 

Chosen's eyes soften. "Don't say that, Lord. You know that's not true." Chosen takes her hand in Chosen's own. It looks like Chosen wants to say something, before shaking Chosen's head and going against it.

It's been a few hours since Lord has woken up, and he and Chosen have been talking about mostly random things. Lord was already feeling much better — thank you awesome super healing factor — and Yellow had stopped back in to check on him.

"It looks like everything should be okay. We might give you a few potions of the turtle master to help with pain, but they make you kinda groggy. Other than that, you should be good to go!" Yellow said excitedly while he changed the bandages.

"Oh my cursor," Lord said suddenly as a thought clicked, "you guys are game smugglers."

Yellow's head tilted to the side. "What's that?"

"Taking stuff from a game into the Outernet, or game or whatever. You guys are young for that though, where did you learn it from?"

Yellow's face twisted into confusion. "Uh—"

"They don't know what that is," Chosen said. "They don't live in the Outernet. They live on Noogia's computer." Lord's head whipped around to face Chosen.

"We're on His PC?" She asked. "I swear to Cursors, I'm going—"

"—To do nothing. This is these kids' home. He's… changed. They have it better than I did."

The Dark Lord opened his mouth to retaliate, to say 'we need to fight back! For what He did to you!' but he can see the look in Chosen's eyes. The tiredness. She shut her mouth quickly.

Yellow silently finished changing Lord's bandages, doing an awkward clap. "Well! Looks like you're ready to go!"

"Thanks, kid. Sorry about the whole… y'know. Thing." Wow. Great job.

"It's okay—" It really wasn't. "— Something similar kinda happened before. Um — heads up, King and Purple are here so the desktop's a bit crowded right now." Lord gave the kids a thumbs up before standing up from the bed with the help of Chosen.

Yeah, this was fun while it lasted, Lord thought, opening the door while leaning on Chosen's shoulder, but it'll be even better after this is over.

[kaiowut99]

GX Finalized-Subs!111 and 121 (WIP): Drizzling Details - For Clicks

Reprising the edit I worked on here while finalizing my 106 subs, I wanted to go ahead and knock out adding this updated translation edit into 111 and 121 as I get ready to work on 110. This gets used in 111 as Manjoume tries to look Amon up, and in 121 as Amon looks to delete it while on that submarine, and while I did previously translate these in my last run through Season 3, as I'm going with "Garam Conglomerate" and not "Garam Finance," along with the other updates I made in the 106 version, I wanted to update this accordingly for consistency. And still having the Photoshop files handy from my 106 edit, this was a relatively smooth process all told. I also went ahead and made dub versions of these, since of course 4Kids not only removed the text (they amusingly just slapped a card back where his info is lol), but they also cut the one shot of the Garam Conglomerate article Manjoume clicks onto. (I may use it for reasons at some point hehe)

All in all, I think it just took me a day or two to do since I had a relatively calm weekend; final products in gif form below (to keep each gif at 35 frames, I split the second 111 clip into two gifs; sub-intended edit on the left, dub-intended on the right)--and a breakdown under the cut for the interested 🙂 I did choose to leave the HTTP 405 error screens Manjoume gets as-is like I did before, partly the English text already there works well enough (the Japanese message is more "This page cannot be loaded"), partly Manjoume's raging thunder later would make it a bit annoying, lol.

Effectively, for the 111 version, working off the full version of the bio I mocked up before, I first tweaked the bio text up top to color the originally-link-colored text accordingly, then saved that, cropped to what's shown in Manjoume's screen. Then, from there, I worked on the first clip it's used in, first cropping out the top portion of the text (from Amon's name to the "Goa Garam" line) and using the CC Power Pin effect in AfterEffects (also how I apply my card fixes) to pin that cropped image into place as the text expands outward for the first few frames; after that, I used Sony Vegas to keyframe the screen's scrolling for the rest of the shot, masking in the monitor's borders on top for blending.

For the second shot in 111, where we see a close-up of the text as Manjoume clicks into the Garam Conglomerate article, I first wiped the text in Photoshop, then copied over the needed text layers from the full bio, making sure to space the lines at roughly how they were spaced in the full bio. I then copied out the "C" in "CEO" on the second-to-last line to hold it in place, then duplicated the "Garam Conglomerate" line and recolored the copy to a clicked-link purple, recreating a purple outline around it--both the unclicked and clicked versions come into play once I throw them into Vegas, where I then masked in the cursor arrow and hand as Manjoume moves his mouse. For the Garam Conglomerate article, a simple text wipe and translation placement happened in Photoshop, then I took that and threw it into the footage in Vegas.

Finally, for the 121 version, since it uses the full no-link bio, I first recolored the blanking I did to the bio in Photoshop to match its color here, then used the CC Power Pin in AfterEffects to pin it as it expands for a few frames, masking in the edges of the bio box and the new Amon photo this screen uses. After I did that, I just did some positioning checks against the original, and then it was good to go without popping into Vegas.

For applying the dub edit to each instance, since I'd already done the video keyframing work for the sub-intended full bio image, once I adjusted the text layers with the dub references and saved that new dub-intended image, I just needed to copy/paste the keyframes and effects I applied to the sub-intended image in both AE and Vegas, so it was a pretty easy swap, lol.

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 17-11: The Third Bang (第三声巨响) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 17-09

♡———♡

You: I'm kind of afraid to go back...

I walked out of the bathroom, washing my hands while glancing nervously into the hall. But surprisingly, there was no one at my seat.

You: What's going on? Did they get into a fight?!

My heart tightened, and I wiped my hands haphazardly and rushed back. But before I could take a few steps, I was stopped by someone.

It was Osborn. He leaned against the wall, blocking my path.

You: What are you doing here? Where's Tangyuan?

Hearing the nickname I used for Tangyuan, Osborn frowned again, but didn't say anything or make any move to let me pass.

You: What's wrong with you?

Osborn: I heard that I often bully you and force you to do things against your will. Does this count?

You: ......

At first, I didn't understand, but after a few seconds, I realized that he must have heard what Tangyuan said. I couldn't help but laugh and cry. How could he twist my words like that?

You: Stop joking around and let me pass.

He just stood there unmoving, with an inexplicable stubbornness, as if the scene from downstairs in the company building was about to repeat itself.

You: ......

He put his hands in his pockets and smiled at me.

You: Even if you don't let me pass, I can still get by.

I pretended to be angry and put my hands on my hips. The smile in the corners of Osborn's eyes deepened, but he still raised his chin playfully.

Osborn: Alright, try it. If you can get past me, I'll let you bully me from now on.

He said the word "bully" very lightly, his voice trailing off slightly, as if an invisible feather brushed my cheek.

My face flushed, and I immediately reached out and tickled his neck. However, the expected scene of him begging for mercy and letting me pass didn't happen.

You: Aren't you afraid of being tickled? Why don't you react at all?

Osborn: Not there.

You: Then where?

Osborn: Guess.

Making me guess again! Probably satisfied with my expression, Osborn grabbed my hand and led me to my seat.

Osborn: Your childhood sweetheart must have had something come up at work and left early.

Sure enough, there was a text message from Tangyuan on my phone screen. I had just turned off the silent mode and hadn't noticed it. I immediately replied to him.

Osborn: Hurry up and eat your noodles, they're all mushy.

Not only were they mushy, they were also cold. But Osborn didn't seem to care at all, and he finished them off in no time.

You: Even though they're mushy, they still taste good, right?

Osborn: Not bad.

You: Now you can tell me, Mr. Xiao, what exactly did you want to talk to me about today?

Osborn: I want to borrow your talent.

You: Borrow?

I was a bit confused, and I tilted my head to watch him take out a few pieces of paper from his pocket and hand them to me.

They looked like files. I flipped through them, and none of the people I recognized had been shot and killed recently. Their professions were all over the place, and there seemed to be no connection between them.

You: What do you need me to sense?

Osborn: Take a look at these files and see what content has been modified.

Osborn: Don't worry, they're all my clients.

I nodded, took the top file, and began to focus on it. Half a minute later, a closed room appeared before my eyes.

There was only one person in the room. He was sitting in front of a computer with his back to me, so I could only see the back of his head. Soon, he opened a document, and it turned out to be the one I was holding in my hand. I suddenly had a bad feeling.

The next second, the cursor, which was stopped in the middle of a line, started to move quickly forward. Before I could see what was written, the words were deleted.

You: I was a step too slow. Let me try again.

Osborn squeezed my hand and signaled me not to rush with his eyes.

I closed my eyes again, and the same scene appeared. This time, I was prepared, and I focused all my attention on the cursor--

You: Worked as a logistics manager at Yuda Academy for twelve years, until the academy was closed down.

My hand trembled, and the scene immediately disintegrated before my eyes. The shock left me speechless, and I stammered out my words.

You: This person is related to Yuda Academy, but that experience was deleted.

Osborn: Logistics manager...

Osborn repeated these words in a murmur, as if he remembered something.

Osborn: Back then, in order to screen out suitable bodies from the students to be transformed into vessels, they would add things to their food.

Osborn: And the diet of those selected students were different from the others, their food contained preliminary transformation medicine.

You: The logistics manager is in charge of the daily diet. So he should be an insider at the academy?

Osborn nodded, just about to say something, when I suddenly thought of something more important than the manager.

You: Did you eat it?!

Osborn: Of course. I'd starve to death if I didn't.

You: Then is there anything wrong with your body? Have you gone to the hospital for a checkup? What did the doctor say?

I fired questions at him one after another, wishing I could take him to the hospital for a checkup right now. Osborn looked at me, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, looking in a good mood.

Osborn: What do you think is wrong with my body?

You: Don't joke around, I'm really worried.

Osborn: Nothing. Maybe I'm lucky, if I did, I would have rotted in the lab long ago and never seen you again.

You: Are you sure you're okay?

Osborn: If you want to see, it's not impossible, but we'll have to change places.

He suddenly lowered his voice and squinted at me, looking a bit mischievous, as if he was talking about something that others couldn't hear. My face flushed again with shame.

You: I didn't mean it that way. Stop being suggestive.

Osborn: I meant to show you my medical report. Who's the one with the dirty mind?

It was clearly you who led me astray... Although I was teased again, I felt relieved.

Maybe he really was lucky, as he said. But this kind of tragedy shouldn't have happened in the first place, and it's absurd that the survivors have to find "luck" in it to comfort themselves.

Then what about those who were chosen? Isn't that the worst kind of misfortune? And I actually felt relieved just now, just because I heard the victim wasn't Osborn...

I suddenly remembered Wen Wan telling me that Osborn's friend from the academy had died on the experimental table.

Although I sympathized with his friend, I could only be thankful for Osborn because I didn't want him to get hurt in the slightest.

You: But this part of your experience was deleted. Someone didn't want you to see it.

Osborn: Yeah. Luckily, I have you.

Intuition told me that the owners of the remaining files might also have something to do with the academy.

The same scene reappeared in my mind.

This time, I still saw the same frantically retreating cursor.

You: Tang Jie, director of the academy's admissions office, enrolled over three thousand students in ten years at the academy...

The next ones were a head teacher and a dormitory supervisor... Three consecutive deaths were all related to the academy. A terrifying thought suddenly surged into my mind - someone was seeking revenge. I looked up and saw the same suspicion in Osborn's eyes.

Osborn: Stop reading, rest.

You: It's okay, I'm not tired. I can continue.

I held Osborn's hand. These people were already dead, and their dates of death were very close. Someone was plotting something. Osborn was both a victim and a survivor of the academy incident, so he must want to uncover the mystery as soon as possible. I had to help him.

Without giving myself a moment to breathe, I started sensing again. However, the images in front of me became increasingly blurry. I had to concentrate even harder, the nerves in my temples throbbing intensely.

Something strange happened. This time, the cursor on the screen didn't retreat or delete, not until the screen went completely dark.

I thought I had seen it wrong, so I tried again, and it was still the same.

Even stranger, not only this one, but the next two were the same.

You: How could this be? Is there nothing in their lives that needs to be covered up?

I had to go through the files again.

The first deceased was a construction site foreman. The information showed that he had been exploiting and mistreating workers for a long time and died over a month ago.

The second was a retired principal from a middle school. It said he had been forced to retire due to molesting female students but still maintained close ties with the school. He died a few days ago.

The last one was a volunteer at a nursing home. He had been controlling and abusing the elderly for a long time, even sending living elderly people to the crematorium. He had been complained about by families but to no avail. This volunteer died half a month ago.

You: The first three deceased were all related to the academy, but these three have no connection. This isn't right.

You: Or could they be family members of the academy staff? Do you have information on their families? Let me see.

Osborn frowned, not budging. I could tell what he was worried about.

You: I'm feeling okay now. Let me see. I'll rest well after I finish reading.

Osborn's eyes were still hesitant, but he couldn't resist me in the end. He shook his head and pushed the entire file in front of me, repeatedly emphasizing that I shouldn't push myself too hard.

The noisy voices faded away. It was that room again, that back, that lit computer. I cleared my mind and started browsing through the information as quickly as possible, afraid that the flashing cursor would move again. My concentration was already waning; I might not be able to outrun it this time.

However, it didn't move at all. I finally finished reading all the family information before my energy reached its limit.

Opening my eyes, I saw Osborn's concerned gaze. He was holding my chin with one hand, as if afraid I would collapse onto the table. He casually withdrew his hand after confirming I was okay.

You: I've looked through everything. The family members have nothing to do with the academy either. If it's not revenge, why do these people all have similar deaths?

You: Could it be that there are multiple murderers?

Osborn: You mean copycats?

You: Yeah, don't movies always have plots like that? Copycat crimes, framing others.

Osborn: I had that thought at first too, but the most important thing for copycats is to imitate.

Osborn: And the earliest three cases were never reported.

His words reminded me. I quickly opened the internet, typed in keywords, and flipped through dozens of pages without finding any related news reports.

Osborn: The information has been thoroughly suppressed. Unless it was someone close to them who imitated the crimes.

Osborn: But their methods of death are almost identical, whether it's the guns, bullets, or the most crucial technique.

Osborn: Even the ritualistic aspect.

Osborn: At every crime scene, the blood is arranged in the shape of a cross. He can't be very old.

You: Cross... The gallows!

You: Ancient Egyptians believed that those executed on the cross were unforgivable and the lowest of the low. The condemned would endure immense pain and humiliation.

You: But the Son of God, out of love for the world, didn't want humanity to perish because of sin, so he voluntarily became the lamb on the cross, bearing their sins, including death.

I suddenly realized that I seemed to have overlooked some information and started going through the files again.

You: The deceased were all heinous criminals who didn't receive the punishment they deserved, and their current quality of life was quite good.

You: Even after retirement, they still maintained close ties with their previous jobs, which means they haven't repented and might even still be committing crimes.

You: So... the murderer is punishing them on behalf of the victims!

Although these were just speculations, Osborn and I exchanged glances, feeling a sense of horror.

The plot of fighting evil with evil from movies had actually happened, but we didn't feel any sense of justice.

I could even imagine that if these things were made public, especially in today's society, this person would most likely become a "hero," a savior in the eyes of the public.

I like to wear headphones when I take the bus, never imagining which passenger might be shot in the next second.

Walking down the street, I wouldn't think that someone's pocket would suddenly emit a bomb countdown, and three seconds later, the entire street would be engulfed in smoke and dust.

The probability of these things happening is almost zero, but once that "savior" appears, everyone would vent their anger under the guise of justice, and it would happen.

Those who clamor for violent judgment of violence don't realize that a sense of justice is the easiest to exploit. Everyone has a truth they believe in, and it's always the ordinary people who want to live a good life who suffer.

Osborn: There's another possibility. He's an executor, like me.

He said this calmly, as if putting himself and the other person in the same category. I didn't know why he thought that way and shook my head firmly.

You: You're not.

Osborn seemed surprised.

You: Although you always say that bounty hunters don't distinguish between black and white, you're different.

Osborn: How am I different? Do you have such a strong filter for me?

You: It's not a filter, you're just different.

You: Although you're very protective, you don't like to play the hero, and you don't easily judge others.

You: Also, maybe it's intuition, but I feel like you dare to face the malice in your heart and won't let it control you.

Osborn ruffled my hair vigorously, as if it wasn't enough, and then ruffled it again. A gentle light flickered in his narrow eyes.

We looked at each other silently for a while, and then the phone rang. It was a call from Wen Wan. I watched him answer, his brows furrowing more and more.

You: What's wrong?

Osborn: A seventh victim has appeared, with the same cause of death.

Osborn: The son of the chairman of Huiguang Real Estate, a ninth-grader. His father demanded that the union find the murderer and deal with them.

You: A ninth-grader? Could he also have -

Osborn: Yeah, he often bullied his classmates. One of the classmates he bullied even had a mental breakdown and jumped off a building, but luckily was saved in the end.

Osborn: He had a good father who helped him cover everything up, so he became even worse.

You: No one at school did anything about it?!

Osborn: His father donated a building to the school, so the teachers turned a blind eye.

I felt a sense of powerlessness and anger.

Osborn's expression remained complex as he spoke, with cynicism and indifference. I even saw a fleeting regret on his face, making him hard to read.

He stared at the glass in his hand. I didn't know if he was looking at the glass or at his reflection in it.

This was another moment he didn't want to talk about. I could feel it. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized that he was hiding so much in his heart. He might not be intentionally hiding it from me, but those things must be related to his long-held beliefs or pride.

I didn't want him to tell me everything, but I felt a little regretful because I wanted to get closer to the real Osborn.

He suddenly took a metal box out of his pocket, opened the lid, paused, and then closed it again.

You: What's that?

Osborn: Candy.

You: So, are you taking this case?

Osborn: He offered a large sum of money. Why not take it if there's money to be made?

But even though he said that, I didn't see any joy on his face.

The bullied student who jumped, the deceased perpetrator, the hunter taking on the case... It felt like a suffocating game.

As I was lost in thought, Osborn seemed to have lost interest in talking as well.

We shared a moment of silence until Wen Wan rushed over.

Wen Wan: Brother Xiao, the thing you wanted, I finally managed to steal it. The Huiguang Real Estate case was taken by Yuan Hao.

He handed Osborn a palm-sized card and grabbed a cup from the table, gulping down water.

The case was taken? Didn't Osborn just say he took it?

You: Yuan Hao... who is that again?

Noticing my presence, Wen Wan choked on the water in his throat.

Wen Wan: Y/N, you're finally back. You have no idea how worried Brother Xiao was -

Osborn: If you have nothing to say, don't say it.

Wen Wan immediately shut his mouth. I was really curious about what he didn't finish saying, so I winked at him while Osborn was looking at the card, urging him to secretly tell me with his mouth. Wen Wan hesitated at first, but after a fierce internal struggle, he righteously shook his head.

This made me even more curious. I pointed to the bathroom, signaling Wen Wan to follow me. But before I could put my hand down, Osborn looked over, and I quickly grabbed my cup, pretending to drink water.

Wen Wan: Brother Xiao, then I'll take my leave.

Osborn: No rush.

Osborn: I think I know his next target.

You: So soon?!

He nodded, tucked the card into his chest pocket, and stood up.

Osborn: Where is the person you were asked to investigate?

Wen Wan: In the Huiguang Building on Central Avenue, in the chairman's office.

You: Huiguang Building? Are you going to find the victim's father?

He shook his head, playing coy.

Osborn: Time is of the essence. We'll talk on the way.

You: You mean, I'm going too?

Osborn: Don't want to? Alright, then I'll take you back to the company.

You: I want to, I want to!

I quickly grabbed my bag and stood beside him, afraid he would change his mind.

You: Didn't someone always say that the further away from danger, the better? Aren't you worried about me today?

Osborn: That's because I wasn't around to ensure your safety. Have I ever stopped you when I was with you?

Osborn: Besides, who was it that said they wanted to protect me last time? Let's go.

Watching us leave together, Wen Wan's mouth hung open in shock, water dripping down his chin.

I sat in the back seat of Osborn's motorcycle, while Wen Wan set off alone in another car.

He still drove very fast, the scenery along the street blurring, but I was used to his speed now. The air flowed through his short black hair and brushed against my neck, making me itch.

It only took us over half an hour to reach the Huiguang Building. Although it was already autumn, the afternoon sun was still quite harsh. We stood in the shadow cast by the skyscraper, warily observing our surroundings. Although this was the city center, there were surprisingly few pedestrians.

Osborn: Show me the location.

Wen Wan handed over a square display screen with several crisscrossing fluorescent lines, a red dot blinking and moving.

Osborn looked at it upside down and swiped on the screen a few times.

Osborn: He's heading towards the back door. Let's go.

-

The back door led to an open-air parking lot, seemingly newly built, with a pungent smell of paint as soon as we approached. The vehicles were parked sparsely, which was rare in the city center, and the person at the toll booth was nowhere to be seen.

I obediently stood in a hidden corner at the entrance. Perhaps it was due to nervousness, but my hair stood on end, and I couldn't help but shiver. The warm sunlight from earlier seemed to have lost its effect on me.

Gradually, I noticed something strange. I couldn't feel the wind nor the warmth of the sun on my skin. There seemed to be a transparent net between me and the sky, isolating me from the outside world.

Curiously, I poked upwards, and transparent ripples appeared at my fingertips, growing larger and larger until they dissipated into the air. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't entirely transparent but had a faint blue shimmer under the light.

Was this Osborn's barrier?

The tall figure in front of me was already standing at the back door.

He braced himself against the door frame with both hands, leaped up, and in a flash, flipped onto the second-floor balcony. His movements were so swift that they were almost impossible to see clearly.

*earlier*

Osborn: When we get there, do me a favor.

You: Tell me.

Osborn: Help me sense the surroundings, just for a moment, don't overdo it.

*present*

Did he discover something? I placed my hand on the wall and moved between the vehicles. Gradually, the same parking lot appeared before my eyes, the same empty toll booth, the same quiet street.

Everything seemed normal. I even compared the cars in the vision with the ones present, and their positions were identical. Until a man in a hoodie appeared in the parking lot.

My heart pounded.

It's normal for someone to walk through a parking lot, very normal. But he, like me, was wandering between the vehicles, as if he didn't know where his car was parked. This wasn't right.

But I waited for a long time, and the man was still wandering aimlessly. I racked my brain trying to figure out why. Someone seemed to have opened the back door -

The noisy sound of traffic rushed in, tearing through the boundaries of my consciousness. I felt my strength waning, but I still couldn't see the man's face clearly, nor could I guess what he was doing. I could only hear a sound, ticking rhythmically.

Beep - beep -

Suddenly, the man opened the door of the black car in the front row, then came out a few seconds later. A vague thought flashed through my mind.

The last bit of the image dissipated before my eyes. Someone came out of the back door, and I felt the barrier around me suddenly start to flow like water, faster and faster -

Osborn: Watch out!

Bang - a loud gunshot rang out almost simultaneously.

I knew what that sound was. I knew, but this realization sent a shiver down my spine!

☾ Night: Shout to tell him there is a bomb

☼ Light: Rush over and tell him

☼ [Light Choice: Rush over and tell him]

We were some distance apart, he might not be able to hear me clearly; he might not be able to react in time. All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind, but in the end, there was only one reason: I didn't want him to face danger alone. I ran and shouted as I went.

You: Osborn, watch out for the bomb!

☼

☾ [Night Choice: Shout to tell him there is a bomb]

You: Osborn, watch out for the bomb!

I shouted with all my might, and Osborn abruptly turned his head, looking in my direction.

☾

BANG - An even louder sound, the blast wave of the explosion surged up. Fire, flying debris, and billowing smoke erupted before my eyes.

In an instant, my whole body felt like it was plunged into an ice cellar, without even the strength to get up. The continuous blast wave slammed against the ground, throwing me out.

Just as I was desperately clinging to the ground, the next second, I was embraced by a smoke-filled hug, warm body temperature, broad chest, and strands of hair brushing against my forehead.

Osborn...

He held me tightly, tighter and tighter, until I could hardly breathe.

Tears streamed down my face, and I hugged him back with all my might. I was really scared just now; I almost thought I was going to lose Osborn again.

Suddenly, the hand he had on my back stopped stroking, and his arms loosened.

I looked up and saw Osborn with his eyes tightly closed, his hair messy, his eyelashes covered in smoke and dust, his face pale. Had he lost consciousness?

You: Osborn?

He didn't respond, not even his eyelashes moved. I anxiously shook his shoulders gently.

You: Osborn? Can you hear me? Osborn?

You: Don't scare me. I won't fall for this trick again. You've fooled me once before.

That was when we had just met. It's been a year; how could I still fall for your tricks...

But he remained motionless, his face seemingly even paler. I panicked again, laying him flat and leaning down to press my ear against his chest. The steady, strong heartbeat reached my ears.

You: You're tricking me again!

I was both amused and angry, not knowing what to do with him. Just as I was about to stand up, he pulled me back into his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest, holding me tightly.

The world seemed to be left with only one sound, my heartbeat quickening along with it.

Osborn: I was startled awake by you.

His voice was a bit hoarse, as if he had inhaled a lot of smoke. I couldn't help but reach out and touch his neck.

You: Are you feeling unwell anywhere?

His Adam's apple slid under my palm, tickling. Osborn's body suddenly stiffened.

We stood up. He tapped my head and then checked my arms, as if checking for injuries.

Behind us, Wen Wan came over, supporting an unconscious person, and coughed.

Wen Wan: Brother Xiao, our people have recorded everything that happened just now.

Osborn: Take him back to the union and interrogate him when he wakes up.

I was stunned at first, then belatedly realized that everything that had just happened was part of Osborn's plan?

That's why the barrier suddenly changed. If he wanted to block a bullet, it would be easy, and the barrier wouldn't have been broken.

But even so, he still ensured the safety of others first. He would never easily sacrifice innocent people.

He said he was like that murderer. No, he was even kinder than I thought, even if his kindness was always wrapped in a layer of thorns, making it easy to get hurt when approaching him. But as long as you understood him, those prejudices would disappear.

You: But how did you know there might be other dangers here and asked me to sense the surroundings?

Osborn: This person never "leaves" anything at the scene, but there was an extra piece of white paper with the school's name on it.

Osborn: This was a provocation, meant to lure me here.

Osborn: It made me think of those teachers at their school who condoned bullying.

Osborn: That person didn't want to kill him. His target was me. And it turns out his bullet did miss.

You: But how could you be so sure it was this person?

Osborn: He was the homeroom teacher. I took a gamble. I said I was lucky, and it seems I won the bet.

But looking at his expression, I didn't think he was gambling. He was certain.

Osborn opened his palm, revealing a bullet half-melted by the flames.

I instinctively reached out and covered it, seeing the hooded man I had sensed earlier.

You: I saw a man. It must have been him who planted the bomb here.

But no matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn't see his face clearly. This made me a little frustrated.

Osborn: Open your eyes.

Osborn wiped the dust off my face, the calluses on his thumb scratching against my cheek.

Osborn: Don't overthink things.

Osborn: If it weren't for you, Wen Wan would have been carrying me away.

I burst into laughter through my tears, then put on a stern face.

You: Just compliment me directly. Why curse yourself?

Osborn: You smiled? That's more like it.

He raised his hand, wiggling his eyebrows.

You: What are you doing?

Osborn: High-five, come on.

I did as he said, dazed. After the crisp sound of the high-five, he smiled and bent down to meet my eyes.

Osborn: So obedient.

He made me sound like a puppy. I glared at him and was about to lower my hand when he grabbed it, interlocking our fingers.

Osborn: Congratulations to us, we successfully completed the mission today.

Osborn: As for that person, I'm almost certain who it is.

You: So fast?

Osborn: When have I ever lied to you?

You: You just pretended to faint!

Seeing his feigned amnesia, I couldn't help but laugh, then realized we were both covered in dust.

You: Your hair looks like a bird's nest.

Osborn: Yours isn't much better.

If we go back to the company like this, will they think we just came back from a battlefield... I was amused by my own thoughts. Seeing me giggling, Osborn shook his head helplessly.

Osborn: What are you spacing out for? Let's go. I'll take you home to clean up.

In the distance, the young man's gaze fell on their intertwined hands, lingering for a long time.

He sensed Osborn's thoughts and went along with it. Since Osborn thought he was targeting the homeroom teacher, he would use the teacher as bait to lure him there and teach him a lesson. But unexpectedly, he fell into the other's trap.

The sunlight reflected off the military knife, and anger drove him to repeatedly slash at his arm, deep enough to see bone.

Osborn and I were walking towards the motorcycle when he suddenly clutched his arm in pain.

You: Osborn, what's wrong?! Did you get hurt somewhere just now?

I quickly rolled up his sleeve, but besides the scars, I couldn't find any wounds.

But his expression was so pained. I hadn't seen him in such discomfort even during the explosion.

You: Osborn!

Osborn: It's nothing...

His voice seemed to be squeezed out through gritted teeth, making me even more worried.

Wen Wan didn't answer the phone, and I was about to call an ambulance when Osborn suddenly grabbed my hand and muttered that it wasn't necessary. He had that worried look on his face again.

I knew he was hiding something from me again, but there was nothing I could do. I could only squeeze his hand back, hoping to give him some of my strength.

Osborn: It's okay, really. Don't worry.

It took a while for his face to gradually improve.

I was still scared and kept wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Osborn: I can't go to your place, I need to go somewhere first. I'll have someone take you.

You: I'll go with you, I'm not comfortable with you being alone in this state.

-

To be safe, we called a taxi. Wen Wan finally answered the phone, and Osborn asked him to send the car to the old place.

We stopped in front of a store with a "sublease" sign on it. It seems this is the old place. But when we arrived, Osborn hesitated.

You: Why don't you go in?

Osborn: There are some of my old friends here, they may not be very reliable people.

Osborn: Don't take anything they say seriously.

I was a little confused, but I nodded anyway.

-

Walking into the store, Osborn fiddled with the wall, and the wall actually opened up, revealing a staircase that extended downwards. Following the stairs down, I saw a bar called "Weeds".

It must not have been open yet, as there were only three men sitting around the bar, their faces covered in notes, playing poker.

One of them, a red-haired teenager who looked only a dozen years old, must have been an expert at poker, as he had the fewest notes on his face.

Redheaded Teen: Brother Xiao came last night? That's rare, he hasn't been here in a long time.

The man in the bartender's uniform to his right threw out a card.

Bartender: He stayed for a while and then left, looking for that guy named Zhou or something.

Bartender: He's not going to hang out with us anymore.

Redheaded Teen: Somethings not adding up. Didn't he say he was leaving the bar to you guys and wouldn't be coming back? He couldn't have been dumped, could he?

Bartender: Hahaha, you might be right! Four of a kind!

Another uncle, who looked quite worldly, threw the rest of his cards on the table in anger.

Uncle: I'm not playing anymore, I'm not playing anymore, this hand is terrible. The stock market is all green this morning, I knew today wasn't going to be good.

Bartender: Why didn't you go to the repair shop today?

Uncle: There's no work at the shop, so why go?

Redheaded Teen: Uncle Ke, just stop messing around. You're just like Dad Ye, you don't have that business sense. It's only Brother Xiao who lends you money again and again.

Uncle: What does a kid know? This is called investing. No one succeeds in investing just once.

Redheaded Teen: But you can't fail every time. Let me give you a tip, why don't you invest the money you borrowed from him last time in me?

Redheaded Teen: When I go abroad and come back after a few years, I'll definitely give you a share of the profits.

Uncle: Xiao Gu, did you record that? Play it for Osborn next time. I haven't seen him get physical in a long time.

Osborn looked at me speechlessly, his expression seemed to say, "I warned you."

Osborn: What do you need money for?

The air froze for a second and then became even more chaotic. Osborn glared at them as they scrambled to pick up cards, wipe tables, and bump cups, trays, and bottles together, almost causing another disaster.

They did seem a bit unreliable... Everyone else was working, except for the teenager who was inching towards the door, seemingly trying to escape in the chaos. Osborn shot him a look.

Bartender: B-Brother Xiao, why are you here again?

But even though he was calling him Brother Xiao, his eyes were fixed on me. After a few seconds, he finally realized who I was and became excited as if he had seen a savior.

Redheaded Teen: You're the sister who was locked in the warehouse with Brother Xiao, right? Can I call you that?

I was about to nod when Osborn immediately waved his hand away, looking a little annoyed.

Osborn: I don't want to hear the word "sister" today.

Zhou Zhou: Sister, my name is Zhou Zhou. He's always acting older than he is.

You: Nice to meet you, Zhou Zhou.

Osborn: Go do your homework.

Zhou Zhou: Don't look down on me, I finished it a long time ago.

Osborn: Are you itching for a beating again?

Before he even finished speaking, the teenager had already dodged behind the counter at lightning speed.

Osborn: All you do is come here and play cards all day. I should have sent you abroad sooner. Can't you learn from your sister?

Zhou Zhou: You're wronging me. Brother, you have no idea how rebellious my sister is now. I don't even dare to mess with her.

He lowered his eyebrows, looking very wronged. Just as Osborn was about to ask, the bar door opened. A girl with dreadlocks and headphones around her neck walked in, catching everyone's attention.

The young man immediately put on a fawning grin.

Zhou Zhou: Back so soon? Tired? Let me get you some milk.

The girl ignored him completely, walking straight on.

Osborn: Where'd you pick up that smoke smell?

The girl, who had been acting all cocky just a moment ago, reluctantly stopped, looking annoyed but not daring to say anything.

Zhou Zhou: Quick, hide behind sis!

With that, he dove under the table to escape Osborn's murderous glare. Before I could react, the girl had grabbed my sleeve.

Girl: You're the sister, right? It's so good to finally meet you.

You: Hello...

Osborn: Li Le, get out here.

Li Le: You don't even come here anymore, what right do you have to tell me what to do?

Osborn: Because I'm your brother.

Li Le: You— Sis, tell him off for me.

She pushed me in front of Osborn. Although I didn't know exactly what was going on, I instinctively shielded her.

You: Alright, Osborn, don't be so harsh.

The room fell silent again. Osborn was probably surprised that I intervened, and he froze for a moment, his finger, which had been pointing accusingly at the girl, now hanging in mid-air. From the counter, there erupted a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Li Le: Thanks, sis.

Li Le: If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even bother explaining. I went to a concert, and someone else was smoking, it got on my clothes.

She gave me a grateful smile, quickly put on her headphones, and slammed the door shut.

Osborn: Keep the drumming down!

Let me get this straight, they're all Osborn's friends from the guild? Bounty hunters are so... so... I searched my mind for the right words. Bounty hunters are so... eccentric?

The card game finally ended, and the uncle with the toothpick in his mouth slapped his forehead, as if he had just remembered something important. He quickly ran into the back room and came out holding a thick book titled "Smart Trash Can Investment Guide."

Uncle: Osborn, I recently discovered a great project, no one's doing it yet, and I want to get in on it early, but I'm a little short on funds.

Zhou Zhou: No way, you're borrowing money again?

The uncle's face darkened, and the book landed on Zhou Zhou's head. He then leaned in close to Osborn, rubbing his hands together ingratiatingly.

Uncle: Give me some face in front of this sister.

Osborn seemed used to this and agreed without even looking.

Osborn: Alright, I'll bring the money over tomorrow.

Uncle: I'll pay you back as soon as I make a profit! I'm telling you, this time it's a sure thing.

-

The uncle hummed a cheerful tune, then suddenly noticed I was still standing there, dazed. The group of them gathered around me, introducing themselves all at once. I couldn't catch anything they said before Osborn pulled me into a room.

Osborn: I need to find someone and take care of some business. I'll be back soon.

Osborn: You can rest here. I've asked them to get you new clothes and towels.

Osborn: As for those guys outside, just take what they say with a grain of salt.

There was a folded white hoodie on the sofa. I held it up to myself and it seemed to fit surprisingly well. Looking closer, it was quite similar to the one he was wearing today.

After changing, I took a look around. Unlike the flamboyant style outside, the decor here was simple, with one wall covered in medals, all from the Bounty Hunter's Guild.

Just as I was about to take a closer look, there was a light knock on the door. When I opened it, I was startled. The group of them were crowded at the door, and with a wave of the uncle's hand, they said in unison:

Everyone: Welcome, Warehouse Sister!

Their energy was so grand, I felt like they were welcoming some kind of leader.

Uncle: Here are your clothes and towel, all new. I even washed my hands twice, they're clean.

To prove his point, he quickly held up his hands. I saw that they were like cracked old tree bark, covered in wounds, old and new scars overlapping, as if they would never fully heal. But his nails were trimmed short and clean.

For some reason, I was touched and quickly thanked him.

Uncle: My name is Ke Yang.

Bartender: Just call me Xiao Gu.

You: Hello. What did you guys just call me?

Ke Yang: Warehouse Sister. Wen Wan told us all about you two.

Ke Yang: You were locked in a warehouse together as kids because of an accident, and it created an unbreakable bond. Later, you became a designer, and he became a famous racer, but neither of you forgot each other.

Ke Yang: We didn't know your name at first, so we just called you Warehouse Sister.

You: You can call me Y/N.

Ke Yang: What a beautiful name! Cultured, elegant!

The topic suddenly shifted to my name, and the three men of different ages praised it loudly like middle schoolers, their faces eager to put me at ease.

Ke Yang: But why did he suddenly bring you here without saying anything? I could have made you something to eat.

Xiao Gu: Look at us, are we decent? Reliable? If I had a friend, I wouldn't bring them here either.

You: You're saying Osborn didn't want to bring me here?

Ke Yang: You didn't know?

Ke Yang: Don't blame him, sis. He's afraid you'll have a bad impression of him if you see us. It's normal.

He didn't seem embarrassed, but rather used to this situation, even able to joke about it. I didn't know what to say, so I just shook my head.

You: He wouldn't think that way, he's not that kind of person.

Zhou Zhou: Look at my sis, what a broad perspective.

Zhou Zhou: But sis, don't be surprised. My brother, whenever he cares about someone, he starts to see all his own flaws.

Zhou Zhou: On the surface, he won't show it, and he'll even act all arrogant, but in reality, he values relationships deeply, more than himself.

Xiao Gu: I thought you were really going to get beat up today, spouting such truths. You've ruined Osborn's image.

Zhou Zhou waved his hands anxiously.

Zhou Zhou: Other than that, my brother is all good points! Handsome, skilled, sings well, and has money.

Xiao Gu: Say something heartfelt.

Zhou Zhou: My brother is incredibly responsible and dependable, both intelligent and brave, loyal and righteous. As long as he's around, any crisis can be resolved.

Zhou Zhou: Even though he doesn't come here often, he always has Wen Wan check in on us, and he'll send us anything we need without a second thought.

Xiao Gu: Yes, exactly!

They were like a comedy duo, constantly praising Osborn, afraid I'd have a bad impression of him. I found it amusing, but I was also touched.

You: Mm, I know, he's great in every way.

You: The only bad thing is that he likes to keep things to himself, afraid of worrying others.

At first, they looked at me in surprise, as if they didn't know if I was just being polite or if I meant it. But after I finished speaking, they all relaxed and laughed. They were laughing even more happily and warmly than when they were chatting with me earlier.

Zhou Zhou: If only my brother had met you sooner.

Ke Yang: It's not too late now.

Xiao Gu: But what is he doing with that Zhou guy? Why leave this sister here alone? How rude.

Zhou Zhou: His name is Zhou Weichen, not Zhou whatever.

You: Did you say Zhou Weichen?!

Xiao Gu: You know him?

You: What's he doing here?

I was startled by this familiar name. I remembered that after Jesse and I figured out he was the murderer who killed Sun Taizhong, we were planning to find him.

Xiao Gu: I heard he was being hunted down, and Osborn has been hiding him here for a while now. He even came to see him last night.

Zhou Zhou: There's a secret. Sis, he's hiding something from you. Time for family discipline.

Zhou Zhou: But my brother usually doesn't bother hiding things from others. Is it something serious?

Indeed, why would Osborn hide a murderer? This made me uneasy. But what was even stranger was why he would go to see him when he wasn't feeling well. Did Zhou Weichen know some secret?

You: I want to ask you guys something. Do you know if Osborn sometimes experiences sudden pain?

Ke Yang: What do you mean? Injured? That's a common occurrence.

You: No wounds, just a sudden, intense pain in one spot that lasts for about five or six minutes.

Ke Yang: What kind of illness is that? Do you guys know?

They all frowned, looking at each other, thinking hard before shaking their heads.

Ke Yang: Definitely not. I've known him for six years and have never seen that.

I hadn't seen him like that in the year I'd known Osborn either. I felt an urgent need to find Zhou Weichen and get to the bottom of this.

You: Do you know where Zhou Weichen is?

Xiao Gu: In the manager's office at the very back. Go through the staff lounge, keep going, and then through the storage room.

You: Can you take me to see him?

Ke Yang: Of course, we have to fulfill our sister's request.

Ke Yang: But Osborn is still in there, and he's very easily suspicious. We'll distract him when he comes out.

You: Thank you.

After another ten minutes, Osborn still hadn't returned. The longer he was gone, the more serious I knew the situation was. I paced back and forth restlessly.

Ke Yang: Sis, come here, let me show you something Osborn likes to play with.

Before I could answer, Zhou Zhou had already pushed me to the bar counter and mysteriously pulled back a curtain. Behind the curtain was a bright pink claw machine.

Ke Yang: Isn't it cute?

Ke Yang: I'm telling you, Osborn looked down on it at first, but then I caught him secretly playing it one time. Why don't you give it a try?

The machine was filled with adorable plush toys. Osborn secretly playing this... I couldn't help but laugh. I understood that they were trying to distract me with good intentions, so I nodded.

Cheers grew louder and louder, but I wasn't a lucky person. Several times, the claw almost succeeded, but it would loosen its grip, and the toy would fall back.

Zhou Zhou: Why is it suddenly so difficult? Didn't you set the probability too high before and lose money?

Ke Yang: Osborn must have lowered it later, he found it boring.

While they were talking, the pink claw hooked a small black dog keychain and shakily slid it above the opening. My heart leaped to my throat. Thud, the dog fell a few centimeters away from the opening. Everyone sighed.

You: I'll try again, I'll get it this time for sure!

My competitive spirit was ignited, and I pressed the joystick again. The claw smoothly glided along. Oh no, it started shaking again. I closed my eyes in fear—but the next second, the little dog steadily fell into the opening.

Zhou Zhou: You got it! Sis, you're amazing!

You: I'm so awesome.

They showered me with praise, and I lived up to their expectations, grabbing one toy after another like I was on a roll. Soon, there were seven or eight toys piled up at the opening. I took them out and generously distributed them to everyone.

Osborn: Having fun?

The sudden voice behind me startled me, and Osborn snatched the little dog keychain from my hand.

Osborn: How come I didn't know you were so good at this?

You: Now you know.

I raised my eyebrows at him triumphantly, but Osborn just smiled and didn't say anything. Shouldn't he have teased me a little according to his usual behavior? I stared at him curiously and suddenly noticed a fading red hue in his eyes. Could it be that he had just used his talent to help me grab the toy?

You: Did you cheat?

Osborn: Maybe a few times.

Osborn: You changed, so let's go. I'll take you back to the company.

His face had completely returned to normal, but my task wasn't finished yet. I quickly made an excuse that I had a personal matter to attend to and needed to use the restroom.

Osborn didn't suspect anything, and Ke Yang took the opportunity to put his arm around Osborn's shoulder, saying he wanted to chat about the guild's recent situation. He pulled Osborn towards the door and winked at me.

Time was running out, I had to find Zhou Weichen quickly.

Following their directions, I arrived at the manager's office without a hitch.

-

The door opened quickly, and Zhou Weichen didn't seem surprised to see me. Or rather, he seemed to have expected that I would come looking for him.

You: Hello, Dr. Zhou, we've met before. I'm here to find you—

Zhou Weicheng: It's about Osborn, right? I heard you came with him earlier, so I guessed. Actually, even if you hadn't come, I was planning to find you.

You: Find me?

Zhou Weichen: Yes, I wanted to talk to you about Osborn's physical condition. You were curious about why he suddenly had arm pain, right?

You: You know the reason?

He glanced around warily and closed the door. The basement smelled faintly of mildew in the early autumn air.

The last time I had a face-to-face conversation with Zhou Weicheng was on a late spring night. Back then, he was full of vigilance, his eyes red as he loudly accused and recklessly exposed Osborn's scars. But half a year had passed, and he had become the person who understood Osborn's physical condition the best. Every word he said made my heart pound with fear.

You: So his body can't withstand the mutual attacks of the two souls?

Zhou Weicheng: It's even more serious than you think. There's not much time left.

Zhou Weicheng: Please convince him to bring that other half of his soul to me so I can destroy it.

You: By destroy, do you mean kill him?

Zhou Weicheng: Yes. Only when one completely disappears can the other survive.

You: Must it be destroyed? Osborn won't agree!

I blurted out my biggest concern. Zhou Weicheng looked at me with a helpless expression.

Zhou Weicheng: You know him well. But if he wants to live, some sacrifices must be made.

Zhou Weicheng: If you really don't want that, there's another way, which is to have him return to Osborn's body.

Zhou Weicheng: But there's a problem with that. If Osborn can't suppress him, that person will take control of the body.

Zhou Weicheng: I've been trying to find a solution these past few days, and I have a preliminary direction, but it still needs to be verified. So it's best not to choose this method.

Zhou Weicheng: Because if it really comes to that, there's nothing I can do. He'll have to rely on himself to pull through.

Zhou Weicheng: He's the type to endure everything, and others don't notice. But he's willing to listen to you, so please.

Zhou Weicheng's explanation made me realize that they shared a kind of empathy. The sudden pain Osborn felt earlier must have been because the other boy was also suffering at the same time.

Before I left, I asked him how long Osborn had been like this. Zhou Weicheng just gave a bitter smile and said that Osborn had never told him either.

It must have been going on for a while. And this matter, such a big thing, we'd been together for so long, and he had never mentioned it to me. My heart ached.

How long was he planning to hide it from me? Was he going to endure it until it was resolved and then pretend nothing happened? Did he think I couldn't share his pain?

-

When I opened the lounge door, Osborn happened to look up, giving me a complex look before quickly reverting to his usual lazy smile.

Osborn: What's with that expression? Did someone bully you?

At that moment, I suddenly understood. It wasn't that he thought I couldn't share his pain, he just didn't want me to be sad because of him. I put away my previous emotions and forced a relaxed smile.

You: I just heard some stories about you guys from Ke Yang, and I was a bit touched.

Osborn: Take his words with a grain of salt.

He seemed to relax and pulled me onto the sofa to sit beside him.

You: Who did you go to see just now, leaving me here alone?

Osborn: An old friend.

Osborn: He knows my physical condition better, so I consulted him.

You: Did he say anything?

Osborn: I've never had anything like this before, so one random occurrence doesn't mean anything.

Osborn: Don't worry about it.

I was a little frustrated. He was lying again.

I wished he would just ask me directly where he had been and who he had met. I didn't believe he didn't have any suspicions. Then we could naturally discuss this matter, just like that night of honesty.

But when I looked at him, his eyes didn't waver, and he didn't seem to want to ask. He still didn't want to talk about it.

My mind became even more confused. On one hand, I wanted to respect his choice and not interfere with his decisions. But on the other hand, I really, really wanted to persuade him to listen to Zhou Weicheng's advice.

You: I don't believe you, you always lie to me. Your credibility is very low now.

After hesitating for a long time, I still couldn't say it. He was such a strong-willed person, he definitely wouldn't like others interfering in his decisions, not even the closest people. I sighed and leaned on his shoulder.

Osborn: Are you holding a grudge now?

You: Yes. I was already angry before you told me about your past.

He unexpectedly pinched my cheek. I turned my head away in a huff, not letting him pinch it. We went back and forth like this until Osborn had to turn my shoulders back.

Osborn: Alright, I admit I was hiding some things. Now you can ask me anything you want.

You: You'll tell me everything?

Osborn: I'll tell you everything I know.

I immediately realized this was a good opportunity to open up his heart. Maybe if we kept chatting, he would eventually be willing to tell me.

You: Are you the owner here? How come I've never heard you mention it before?

Osborn: I was at first, but then I didn't come here often, so I handed it over to them.

You: So how did you come up with the idea of opening a bar?

Osborn: What do you think I should have opened?

You: Hmm... That racing experience center last time, or maybe a boxing gym, a shooting range, a swimming pool...

Osborn: Okay, that's enough. Is that how you see me?

You: I'm just kidding.

Osborn: You think this is an ordinary bar? This is one of the Bounty Hunter's Guild's bases. New clients usually come here to submit their commission requests.

You: So mysterious, no wonder it's underground.

You: Are those guys also from the Bounty Hunter's Guild?

Osborn: Only Ke Yang is, but he's not a hunter. As for the others, do they look like it?

You: The first time I met you, I didn't think you were a bounty hunter either.

Osborn: I know, you thought I was a thief. A jewel thief, right?

The playful glint in his eyes made me both embarrassed and amused. I hadn't realized before that Osborn had a bit of a dry sense of humor.

You: Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.

You: So what did you think I was back then?

Osborn: I didn't care about your identity, I just had a feeling we wouldn't just meet once.

You: Stop flattering me...

Osborn: Although this is a base, they don't get involved in guild affairs.

Osborn: I met Ke Yang in the guild. He was my first friend after I joined.

Osborn: Thanks to him, I avoided a lot of hardships back then.

Osborn: He used to be a repairman in the guild, and then he paid off his debts and left.

Osborn: Now he does occasional repair work and also does business with Ye Chuanxue.

Osborn: That claw machine, it actually did pretty well at first, but he set the probability higher than anyone else, so you could basically win in two tries.

Osborn: He even said something about not wanting to cheat kids out of their money, and ended up losing everything.

Osborn: But he never gives up.

You: So you keep lending him money?

Osborn: Yeah, it's not much anyway, and it's just sitting there.

Osborn: Xiao Gu, he was my classmate at the academy, but we weren't close. I met him again when he came here for drinks.

Osborn: People who come out of that place, their lives are basically ruined. No matter how hard they try to integrate into society, they won't be accepted.

Osborn: Everyone will think there must be something wrong with you for your parents to send you there.

Osborn: So I let him work here, as long as he can support himself.

Osborn: Li Leyi, that brat from earlier, her grandfather owed money to the guild. I met her when I was collecting debts a few years ago.

I rested my head on his arm and listened to him tell me many stories about his past. When he talked about embarrassing things, he would lower his head and smile shyly. When he talked about funny things, he would raise one corner of his mouth and occasionally glance down at me, the expression on his face showing genuine happiness.

I genuinely loved seeing him so happy.

And he was happy because he could protect others.

Osborn: As for Zhou Zhou, a lot has happened. I've wronged him.

He paused for a moment, shaking his head instead of continuing. I thought I could probably guess what had happened – it must have involved death.

Perhaps that blow to his shoulder had shaken his sense of security, even making him doubt whether he could truly protect others. So he started pushing himself, pushing himself not to make mistakes, pushing himself to be strong. That's how he became who he is today.

Osborn: It's fun being with them.

He turned his head to look out the door, and I followed his gaze. The group of them had secretly started playing poker again. Osborn sighed helplessly but didn't stop them, instead making a "shh" gesture at me.

There was a peaceful happiness on his face that made me want to capture this moment. Not the dazzling racer, not the legendary bounty hunter, just an ordinary person with his own little persistence and pride, living a simple and happy life.

Ke Yang's laughter came from outside. To be honest, I didn't have a good impression of him at first glance, but after getting to know him, I realized that he, like Osborn, was trying to overcome his own hardships.

I think I kind of understand why this bar is called Weeds now.

Weeds don't live for anyone else. As long as there's soil, they can tenaciously survive, even if they're burned by fire.

Osborn: What are you thinking about? You're not pitying them, are you?

Osborn: Don't tell them that, or they'll go on for hours about how lucky they are. It's like listening to a sermon.

You: No, they're all heroes of life, they don't need pity.

Osborn's lips moved slightly, as if he was touched.

Osborn: You're so eloquent today.

He pinched my cheek again, as if he couldn't get enough of it.

You: I'm just speaking from the heart.

I was about to continue asking, but Osborn suddenly frowned. I followed his gaze, and they were actually eavesdropping at the door! They quickly scattered when they were discovered, and I couldn't help but laugh.

You: I just think you guys are very admirable. If it were me, I might have given up after a few setbacks.

Osborn: You wouldn't.

You: How do you know?

Osborn: After knowing you for so long, how could I not know?

Osborn: You, at most, would cry a little, say you're giving up, but then you'd keep thinking about it, feeling unwilling. After a good night's sleep, you'd be full of fighting spirit again.

Osborn: Others might not see it, but I know you have your own strength within you.

Osborn: I can't really describe it, maybe it's an unconscious resilience?

He wasn't speaking in his usual lazy tone, but very seriously. I held back the urge to hug him, feeling a lump in my throat.

Sometimes even I wasn't sure what kind of person I was. I knew I had a temper and pride, I could be impulsive but didn't dare to go too far. I was ordinary, very ordinary. But in Osborn's eyes, I was so special.

You: Since you know me so well, why haven't you brought me here before?

He was momentarily speechless, and the expression on his face confirmed that what Ke Yang had said earlier was actually true.

You: You thought I wouldn't like this place, wouldn't like them?

After hesitating for a few seconds, he nodded.

Osborn: I wouldn't say dislike, maybe uncomfortable. You and they are from two different worlds.

You: Then you should have asked me first.

Osborn: What if you lied to me? There's no need to force yourself to be uncomfortable if you're not.

Osborn: And there's another reason. I'm getting busier and busier, and I can't take care of this place. Everyone has their own lives.

I opened my mouth to refute out of habit, but realized he wasn't wrong. It wasn't pleasant to hear, but it was true.

Because he was worried I wouldn't accept his friends, he didn't introduce us and reduced his interactions with them.

I looked at him silently. I never knew he had made so many sacrifices for me.

You: But you're happy with them.

Osborn: I'm happy with you too.

You: That's different. I don't want you to do things you don't want to do for me.

I paused, then continued.

You: At first, when I saw Ke Yang and the others, I did think they were a bit strange.

You: But I think as long as you get to know them, no one would dislike them.

You: If I disliked the friends you trust, how could I be considered your friend?

The arm around my shoulder tightened, and I saw Osborn's surprised but happy smile. He seemed to not have expected me to say that and laughed for a long time.

Osborn: Alright, I'll ask you beforehand next time.

You: Mm-hmm!

You: But if I were them, I would definitely be sulking with you. Clearly so close, but you drifted apart just like that.

Osborn: But I know what's more important.

He looked down at me.

You: What if you're not sure?

Osborn: What happened?

You: Well... I'm facing a difficult choice recently.

You: You know I'm working at Pristine, but the company suddenly offered me an opportunity to go abroad and work on a new brand.

When I mentioned going abroad, his expression changed slightly.

You: The new brand has a high starting point. If I go, my career will take a big step forward.

You: But in terms of style, Pristine is what I'm good at, and I love doing this kind of design.

You: Career prospects are important, but being good at something and enjoying it are also important. I really can't decide.

Osborn: Close your eyes.

You: What?

Osborn: Close them.

Confused, I obediently closed my eyes.

Osborn: First, imagine your life after going abroad, then think about what it would be like if you stayed in the country.

Osborn: Have you noticed that even if the two options are similar, there's always a preference in your heart?

Osborn: You can't choose because you're being distracted by "what ifs," "maybes," and "just in cases."

Osborn: Ask yourself what you truly want, and then trust your judgment.

Osborn: Choosing isn't hard, the hard part is believing you've made the right choice.

You: But how can I be sure that the path I choose is the best one for me?

Osborn: Do you have to be sure? Can't you just make a choice and then walk the path you've chosen well?

Osborn: And what is the best fit anyway?

You: It's... the path that's most beneficial to my life.

Osborn: You're still young. You can think about that kind of thing when you're eighty.

Osborn: And do you think this path will last you a lifetime?

Osborn: Are you sure there won't be new forks in the road, or maybe it's actually very short and you'll finish it in a year?

Osborn: And then you reach the end and find there's no road, it's turned into a sea. Then you'll have to learn how to cross the sea all over again.

I nodded along with his words from time to time.

Osborn: Anything can happen, you can't anticipate or control everything.

Osborn: But they haven't happened yet, so why worry about things that haven't happened?

But...

You: What if I take a few steps and find it's completely different from what I imagined, and I regret it?

Osborn: Then you go back and start over. Or you grit your teeth and keep going.

You: If you regret it and still keep going, wouldn't that be asking for trouble?

Osborn shook his head, his expression seemingly saying it wasn't that absolute.

You: Have you ever experienced something like this?

Osborn: I used to be afraid of water. Once I jumped into a river and cut my foot on an abandoned drainpipe, leaving a scar.

Osborn: So later, Ye Chuan advised me to change my major.

You: But you didn't?

Osborn: Mm-hmm.

You: Why not? It's not like you absolutely had to stick with that major, right?

Osborn: Because I wasn't convinced. I wanted to prove that my choice was right, and I wanted to prove that even if it was wrong, I could make it right.

Osborn: Who says there has to be a wrong path if there's a right one? Can't every choice be right?

Can every choice be right...?

Osborn: Don't regret your decisions once you've made them. Being alive is your best card, look ahead.

He always seemed so decisive and brave.

I looked into his eyes, the light in them gradually infecting me.

Indeed, I always had the answer in my heart, but I didn't dare to face it. I was afraid my judgment was wrong, even more afraid of regretting not making a better choice.

Ultimately, I just didn't have the courage to bear the consequences.

But life is about gains and losses. I can't avoid all losses and make every choice perfect.

The so-called "best choice" is actually a power of understanding and acceptance. It allows me to understand my true needs, firm up my steps, and not doubt or regret.

You: Osborn, I've decided. I'm staying in the country.

You: This is the answer in my heart, I don't want to go abroad.

You: Right now, I'm more suited to continue working on Pristine because I love it and I'm good at it. I said I wanted to make it better and better.

You: And I'm not actually good at the style of that other brand. If I force myself to do it, I might not do well.

You: Besides, there are so many people here that I can't bear to leave behind. You, my colleagues, my friends, there are too many.

You: The future is important, but the present is also important.

You: I've thought it through, thank you.

Actually, there was another reason. Osborn needed me right now, and I couldn't leave him to face it alone. If he needed me, I would definitely be by his side.

I poured out my heart, thinking Osborn would be happy and supportive of my decision, but he actually frowned.

You: What's wrong? Do you think I shouldn't give up the opportunity to go abroad?

He nodded very seriously.

You: Why?

His silence made me suddenly understand.

You: You think it's because of you? But you're just one of the reasons.

Osborn: I shouldn't be one of your reasons.

Did he mean that I shouldn't consider him at all when making any decisions?

Osborn: You also said this opportunity is rare, what if you regret it?

You: Didn't you just say not to be distracted by "what ifs"? Why are you being distracted when it comes to me?

Osborn opened his mouth, seemingly not expecting me to use his own words against him, not knowing what to say for a moment.

But he still had that expression, disagreeing with my decision.

I felt that he didn't want to influence my future at all. This realization made me feel cherished, but also incredibly sad.

You: Didn't you stay in the city for college because of Uncle Ye?

Osborn: We're not the same.

You: How are we different?

Osborn: If I were Ye Chuan, I wouldn't want you to stay for me at all.

Osborn: I just want you to be selfish, to only think about yourself in everything.

He said it so resolutely, with a fire burning in his eyes as he looked at me.

I grabbed his hand, still stubbornly asking:

You: Then why can't you be a little selfish? Weren't you happy when you heard my decision?

Osborn: Yes, I was happy.

Osborn: But if you miss out on this opportunity because of me, whether you regret it or not, I will.

Osborn: So my happiness doesn't matter at all.

He was trembling, his hand gripping mine tightly. He didn't want me to leave either. I could feel it, that clear feeling filling my chest.

But just for a second, then he let go.

Osborn: Think it through again.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 17-13

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here

[pizzaronipasta]

google docs i swear to god

you do not need to add a pop-up correcting me when i misspell something. the red underline is enough. if my text cursor is on the word, it means i'm already fixing it. by typing. i do not want to move my hand back and forth between the keyboard and the mouse any more than i have to. if i don't know how to spell it right, i will right click the word to see a list of possible corrections. left clicking to show just one takes just as many clicks and is less useful. kindly shut the hell up.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Step 1: Make a Thing, Get It Moving

Make a Node2D, make a child -> Icon, make a child of that -> Area2D, and finally -> CollisionShape2D Make the shape match the icon. In my case I'm making a card game so I set the CollisionShape to be a rectangle and scaled the size to match the card. Also, set the location of all this to 0. This Node is just gonna be an object in other scenes. Having it all set at 0 makes it easy to keep the CollisionShape centered on transform of the Node2D and so forth so if the object moves it all moves as one element.

Make an Input Event called something like "click" in project settings. Now you can call for a specific thing the user does, such as click the card with the mouse, by looking for "if Input.is_action_just_pressed("click"):" One nice side-effect of this is you can later set up other controls, such as touchpad inputs for iPads and the like, and key them to the same actions.

Now you attach a script to your node and set it, as a physics process, to lerp toward your mouse cursor if the object is selected. This can just be a boolean value like "val selected = false" and be toggled on click.

As much as I like "selected = !selected" as elegant code for toggling, and it's perfectly serviceable for if you're only moving an icon on a map and are allowed to put it down anywhere, I'd probably make two different processes for picking up and putting down cards. Notably, when you're letting them go the computer needs to decide where to actually put them. If you're currently over a valid dropzone you should put them on said zone, formatted according to the zone's internal rules (usually just centered, but in a hand of cards it'd be "centered but offset slightly based on how many cards are to my left and right within the hand"). If you're NOT over a valid dropzone you should put them back where you picked them up from. This means when you pick it up the draggable needs to also pick up a reference to the dropzone it came from, while when you drop it off it needs to recognize whether it's currently over a valid zone, return to sender if not, and if so both put itself on said zone and set the reference to match this new spot as "the latest dropzone to contain this object."

Oh, as a separate thing I stole someone's clever UI idea where on mouseover you increase the scale to 1.05 and on exiting mouseover you return it to 1.00. It's just such a slick look.

In a similar manner, I'ma set the alpha of the dropzones themselves to 1 when a valid draggable for them is selected, and set the alpha to 0.7 the rest of the time. This functionally will make the dropzones light up when they're ready for use. If you imagine an equipment menu, picking up the boots in your backpack would make the boot slot on your character sheet a little more visible than the other equipment slots. Again, slick.

[in-case-of-grace]

Bit dramatic, it's really not weird. The HSL sliders give you finer control of your colors, I prefer them too! Now, I did a lot of pixel art before I started working with color in my illustrations, so this is a thing I carried over from a medium that requires precise colors rather than letting you eyeball em more easily. Maybe you're really good at eyeballing, too, and that's fine! You're built different than me! I don't trust myself to be able to drag the cursor 2 pixels to the left for a fine adjustment.

Since this is how I've learned to use color, the color wheel seems awful to my brain! I don't like using it!

If I'm working with carefully crafted compositions that rely on distinct values, I want to make sure the colors in each zone share the same value. I can't just eyeball it! I can't just wheel over to a new hue and call it good, sometimes I need to adjust the saturation and you ain't gonna easily retain the same value if you're not able to move your hand exactly 1 centimeter to the left or right or whatever profane angle the triangle's oriented in.

Hell, sometimes I want to adjust value without changing the hue or saturation, so it looks like the same color. Again, dragging your cursor around ain't gonna make that easy.

Sometimes I want to make a mathematically spaced palette, and you're gonna need to be able to input manual values for that!

Then we get into greens, which you want to put like 10 saturation and value points lower than everything else because our eyes see a lot more greens, making them always appear brighter and more saturated than other colors at the same values. Yeah you can manually drag the cursor to do this if you're good at it, but I'm not!

Like idk OP seemed kinda rude and a lil ignorant here I'm not gonna lie. There's a reason we have different options for color selection, because other artists have other needs and preferences! I ain't gonna clown on others for enjoying the wheel, like I get it's fewer clicks and works for most people's brains.

Refusing advice from other artists just because their workspace looks different to yours is insane! That's just a stupid take! And even if their approach differs wildly from yours, bruh, you can learn and gain a lot from seeing different processes. It might not always directly apply to your work- but it might give you ideas for new ways to approach yours!

just saw an artist say that they hate the color wheel and i was kinda intrigued but then i saw that they picked their colors using the fucking hue saturation brightness bars like in the fucking terraria color select screen and i realized that none of their advice would ever apply to me

[audiorkive]

hi, this question is just about uploading mp3s since i’ve been having some trouble with that. what methods do you use to upload the audio files? whenever i try, even if the mp3 file is way under 10mb, tumblr won’t allow me to upload it :< have you encountered a problem like this before?

I usually download them using a Y0utube to MP3 website, and if necessary I'll use Aud4city to put a ten second blank at the front of the song so that Tumblr doesn't recognize the song as copyrighted and puts a Sp0tify link in its stead (common method used by blogs like @/lovestereo and @/digitalmp3).

I think your problem might just be that? So try using some free audio editing software to put 10 empty seconds in front of the audio, that's usually a foolproof method.

If you want a visual of my process:

Find a Y0utube to mp3 converter, and copy in the link of the song you want to downl0ad. (Here's the one you see pictured).

2. Open audio editing software. I use Aud4city (without the 4, I'm just censoring it), which is free and p easy to figure out. So the rest of this post is assuming you're using Aud4city.

3. Open your downl0aded audio file

This is what it looks like after you've opened it

4. Go to the little bar at the left of the track and click select

Which makes it look like this

See how the bar with the numbers is blue now?

5. Then you'll want to move the file to the right so there are 10 seconds in front of it. The bar with the numbers indicates the number of seconds.

You can zoom in so the numbers are more precise

Now you wanna move the track until the beginning of it lines up with the 10 second mark. I usually do this on my laptop so when I move it, it looks like this

I just click the top part of the track where the file name is written (the part that's a little darker than the box where the soundwaves are) and then I drag right. My cursor turns into that little hand when I hover it over that area.

Though in other versions, before you can start dragging the soundwaves box you have to click on this button

The little arrows, which is the time shift tool. You click on that and then you can drag the track around at your leisure.

Just make sure the audio is completely stopped and isn't just paused, or else you won't be able to use the time shift tool and/or move the track.

This is what a track looks like paused after you've been playing it.

You'll see the green marker sitting there over the track. And this is what it looks like stopped.

No green marker, and the stop button is greyed out.

6. Now after you've put the ten silent seconds, you're gonna want to export the file.

And you need to export it, not save it. Do not click Save Project, that will create and Aud4city file, not and audio file. After you click export mp3

Save the file somewhere you can reach it easily. If you're saving it in the same place the original audio file is (the one without the 10 second spaced in), either rename it or replace it. It doesn't really matter, so long as the final file you have is the edited audio file.

Then after you save, it'll show you this

Which is unimportant, you don't need to fill it in unless you want to. Click ok, and then you're done!

When you close out of Aud4city it'll ask you if you want to save the file into an Aud4city file. You can click yes or no, whatever you want, it won't affect the audio file you've just exported.

7. Go onto Tumblr, make an audio post, insert the new edited file in, and now it should work!

and then fill in the necessary fields (song name, artist name, album art, etc). Click yes on the "I am authorized to publish this" thing. Yes you're lying, no it doesn't matter.

And there you go! Hope this helps! Making this post unrebloggable so I don't risk getting this blog in trouble if it spreads.

[jacscorner]

Steam Powered: Little Hamster, Big Adventure

I've had my eyes on this game when I heard about it back in around June (it came out in March this year), but I couldn't buy it because I didn't have a computer that ran windows.

But that changed recently and I finally remembered to snag this little game.

PomPom - The Great Space Rescue is a cute little puzzle platformer. It looks kind of like a Mario Game with the Kirby Aesthetic.

The story is pretty simple. PomPom is just running on his little hamster wheel when his owner, Hoshi, comes home with jewels that just fell from the sky! How lucky!

Except not! He's not lucky at all! Because a crew of Space Pirate Cats want those jewels and kidnap Hoshi! PomPom, his lovable hamster, is the only one who can save the day!

Like Mario & Kirby, your objective is to guide PomPom from right to left and reach the end of the stage. But that is where the similarities abruptly end.

PomPom will automatically move from left to right and jump whenever he's at a ledge. Even if there's nothing under him.

Instead of playing as PomPom himself, you control a cursor. PomPom will collect random objects on his path; from gurders to walk under to springs to bounce off of, balloons to ride on, hammers to break platforms, and more! Your job is to stop time, place down platforms for PomPom to platform on, and help him reach the end of the stage without this little hamster getting himself killed.

This game, I don't think, requires cat-like reflexes. I don't know if it's my fat fingers or my greasy hands, but I find it a little difficult to pause the game (spacebar) and set down an object (left mouse click) at the same time. I don't know if I just need to deep clean my laptop or if this game is better with a proper mouse and not a trackpad. (NOTE: You don't NEED to stop time to set platforms down, it just makes it easier.)

My only tip, and it's not really a good one, is that you should save your platform and not use them until you know exactly where Pompom is going. Otherwise, you're either gonna waste something or trap yourself.

Thankfully the game is pretty forgiving. Instead of lives, it gives you second chances for when Pompom dies; you get a nice bubble that gives you a few seconds to place Pompom where you want on the screen. Sometimes, it can feel a little pointless, like you're in a bad position and you can't continue one way or the other. But other times, this can get you out of a really tight spot and give you that one pickup you REALLY needed to make it to the next checkpoint.

At the time of writing, I only beat the first world's levels. But I'm already hungry for more and I want other people to love this little game! If I beat this game, I'll give it a proper score. But from what I played, I think the game's a solid A+!

[yoonieboonie]

The Substitute Lover (1)

word count: 2k

genre: fluff, angst hehe

pairing: myg x reader

summary: Finally meeting the college boy you've been eyeing on for months, everything goes wrong when you realise what you're really getting yourself into.

a/n: this is my first ever fic!! i hope you guys take time and read it 🥺 suggestions are welcome! NEXT | PREVIOUS

Moving to Seoul was a dream come true. For someone who lived in the farmland of Daegu, you always imagined what the city would be like. A concrete jungle far from the roaring fields that's all you've ever known, a breath of fresh air— metaphorically speaking.

Fuelled by dreams, and frankly a few wons to your name— you took the risk and moved your life in order to pursue your studies in the metro. Your thoughts drift to the heaps of paperwork that needs to be accomplished after this and frankly, you are exhausted.

You sigh, as you finally step in your worn down but still livable apartment. You got it for a really good deal since your mother is a friend of the landlady. You tried your best to make it as homey as you can. Placing a few touches of home to every corner.

"What does this even mean?" you wondered aloud, reading the email for the third time as if it would magically unsend itself. It was from the professor of your Humanities class, announcing the change of schedule. Your afternoon classes are now moved to morning, taking away all of the few hours of rest you get after getting home. You groaned and moved the cursor to tick the 'agreed' box. It's not like you have a choice anyways.

You drag your feet to class the next morning, sitting to the far right corner and preventing any interaction from the fellow victims of the change in schedule. Confused if your eyes are playing tricks, your hands flew to your thick-rimmed glasses to push it further up your nose. Then you saw it, the mint green hair that stood out in every room. To say that he intrigued you is an understatement. You are drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. You keep on looking for him at every corner of the campus, just catching a glimpse of him makes your day. He as usual is squished between his two friends who are chattering in the early hours of the morning.

The professor arrived not long after, immediately discussing the basic concept of Humanities, you scramble to get a pen and your notebook. If there's one thing you take seriously, it's your studies. You did not risk everything and moved here just to slack off.

The mint hair boy suddenly forgotten, you blink in shock as an orange head snapped to view your direction.

"Hi, I'm Hoseok. May I borrow a pen?" He asks, a hand rubbing his nape. You nodded mutely handing a pen, trying to show nonchalance that he is talking to me. The interaction had the student council president, if you remember correctly, shake his head.

"What? It's not my fault that you refused to lend me one despite of bringing a whole school supply store with you all the time." Hoseok muttered to which the president tried to counter, earning a snarl from the mint haired boy in the middle to shut the banter up.

Lecture flew by and hungry for a few hours more of sleep, you dash to the exit only to hear a voice calling out a 'hey'. You turned to look and see Hoseok waving your pen in the air.

You smiled and grabbed the pen from his hand. You bowed out of respect, and turned to leave. Only for Hoseok to grab your arm, making you halt and gently pull away.

He sheepishly smiled and apologised for catching you off guard. "It's just, I didn't get your name!" he chirped.

Panic bubbled inside you as you see his two friends catch up to him. You were not prepared at all to meet the boy you've been eyeing on for months.

"Y/N." You replied shortly and bowed again as you turned to leave. It was too late as you hear a new voice address you.

"Hey, Y/N? I've been wanting to know your name for months! Aren't you the one who stole my spot as the top Scrabble player in the campus?" The student campus president joked to which you gave a hearty laugh back, remembering the match.

"That's me." You replied curtly. You really want to leave, the zoo in your stomach will be the death of you. The boy who is silent until now is busy adjusting the case of his guitar.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. This is Yoongi." he gestured to the mint haired boy who just looked up. He gave you a curt nod that shot electricity to your veins.

"Let's eat lunch together, Y/N!" Hoseok beamed, catching all of us off guard. You racked your brain for an excuse but found none. Here you are 30 minutes later, trying to answer every question Hoseok and Namjoon have for you.

You learned that all of them are voice majors, Yoongi and Hoseok minored in guitar while Namjoon in flute. They had to retake Humanities because they failed to take the final exam due to the conflict of schedule thus the need to enroll again this semester.

Quietly finishing your meal, you nod off to the trio and started to gather your things. You fixed your thick rimmed glasses and your skirt that reached your ankles. Namjoon eyed you from head to toe, not bothering to hide the judgment that came with it. You shrugged and bid goodbye.

"Thank you for the company. See you guys around." You bid and thinking that it's probably your last and only chance to talk to Yoongi, you call for him.

"See you around, Yoongi." You beamed. Hoseok roared with laughter as Yoongi blushed from the sudden attention. Namjoon watched in amusement as the whole scene plays out.

You finally, turned to leave the trio behind.

  -----------------------------------------

  After a week, it was time for your Humanities class again. This time, you arrived earlier, sitting at your usual spot.

Not long after, students started filing in the the classroom. That's when you spotted a familiar orange head. He excitedly waved at you and grabbed onto Yoongi and Namjoon's arms for them to come and sit next to you.

You laugh heartily and paid them no mind. Hoseok whispered next to you if you wanted to eat lunch again after class. You nodded, truly enjoying the trio's company. Sure, you wanted to come because Yoongi was there, but also because Namjoon and Hoseok are cool to be with.

After class, you all headed to the cafeteria. You started to line up eyeing the dishes carefully. Just watching then made your mouth water. Distracted, you bump into the person in front of you. You gasped, as you mutter an apology, profusely bowing your head. That's when you heard surprised reactions from the small crowd that noticed the interaction. Slowly you felt cold liquid drip on your head, down to your clothes.

That draws the line. You may not be from here, and you may not look like much but you surely can defend yourself. You opened your mouth to speak when you were gently shoved behind someone's shoulder. As if shielding you from the student who poured the liquid on you.

"Is there a problem here?" Namjoon's voice was cold as ice. The student, probably in fear of getting in trouble tried to pin the blame on you to which another voice countered.

"I saw you from where I was sitting. Tell the truth, it's getting embarrassing." Hoseok, who is suddenly next to you, yawns.

"It's fine. It's water, it'll dry." You said confidently, smiling at the student who looked scared for her dear life. She looks younger, so you cut her some slack.

You bought your food and sat back at our table. You could feel the three of them eyeing you as you chomp down on your first proper meal of the day. You glanced at Yoongi, who for the first time since you've met was looking at you. You beamed at him before wiping your mouth with a napkin, as you cleared your throat.

"Yoongi, would you like to have coffee tomorrow?" you asked, my hands under the table over your lap.

Hoseok and Namjoon looked shocked beyond words. Yoongi on the other hand, didn't even spare you a glance. You winced internally but kept your composure cool. Namjoon cleared his throat and pushed a bottle of water towards my direction.

"Maybe you need a drink, Y/N." You accepted and drank. Then after, you faced Yoongi again.

"Is that a yes?"

It's Hoseok's turn to intervene now, using a napkin to get your glasses from your nose and wipe it. He tried to dry your hair too but you leaned away from his touch.

"Y/N, I think it's best you let this go." Namjoon spoke again.

"Why? Are you dating anyone?" You questioned further.

That seemed to be the last straw for Yoongi for he stood up, gathered his music sheets and left the three of us, not even bothering to carry his lunch.

Hoseok looked around the table before laughing in amusement. Namjoon joining not long after. You looked at them, confused beyond words.

"You are something else, Y/N. Now I know why we were always told to not judge a book by its cover." Namjoon beamed.

Hoseok just patted your head. Both of them bidding goodbye, as Namjoon stopped to browse in his notes. He slipped a paper to you and when you glanced down, it looked like their schedule this semester.

You smiled and bid them goodbye.

  You'll try again tomorrow.

  ------------------------------------------

  The following day, you woke up earlier than usual to buy two iced Americanos. If you're lucky, Yoongi might like something to drink before their recital's daily rehearsal.

As if on cue, you hear Hoseok's loud laughter at the campus yard and as expected Yoongi and Namjoon are there with him. You raise your hand and wave towards them as you see Yoongi's eyes darken.

You paid no mind and dragged your feet towards the trio. You stopped in front of them, fixing your glasses and smoothing out your green cardigan. Namjoon like his usual habit, eyed you up and down and scrunched his nose at your taste in clothes. That made you chuckle out loud.

"Hi, Yoongi. I bought you an iced Americano." I offered, handing out the cold beverage. He eyed it carefully, before accepting it and shoving it to Hoseok's face.

Hoseok winced and looked at you apologetically. You shook your head and smiled.

"That's okay, I didn't peg you as an Americano guy anyway. How about an iced Latte for tomorrow?" you quipped, not giving up.

"Look, Y/N, isn't it?" Yoongi started. "I do appreciate the gesture but I am not interested. I am taken, and will never be available."

You felt your shoulder slump. That makes sense, with how he looks and the entirety of him, it was impossible for him to be single. You nodded and started to apologise when you heard Hoseok chirp beside you.

"No he's not!"

  "Hoseok!" Namjoon hissed. Hoseok shrugged his shoulders and dragged you away. With one last look at Yoongi, you followed Hoseok.

"Look, I'll help you. Just tell me what you need." Hoseok bounced with excitement. You laughed, you honestly didn't think you'd get this far.

"It's okay, I got this." You whispered to Hoseok.

"Hey, Min Yoongi!" you called out. He turned to look at you and you raised your hand to point at the bulletin board. He quipped his head to the side as if challenging you to continue. You sighed and moved closer to the board to point at the upcoming examination schedule.

"Our finals is coming up soon." You stated.

  "If I beat you and score higher than you, then we'll go on that date. Otherwise, you'll never hear from me again." You challenged.

Namjoon whistled at that, onlookers started to get interested and eventually started to taunt Yoongi. You smirk and wait for his response.

Hoseok and Namjoon are in the sidelines, watching and honestly enjoying their friend's struggle. Hoseok lazily drinking the iced Americano that you bought for Yoongi.

Yoongi stayed silent and you took that as your cue to leave, only a few steps in, you turned and moved closer to a glaring Yoongi.

"Oh, I forgot something!" you exclaimed.

You then stalked towards him, grabbing both of his collar towards you. Eliminating the height difference, you inched your face closer to his until your lips met. It was a quick peck but just enough to make the crowd roar and make Yoongi burn red in embarrassment.

You slowly took a step back. Bidding Namjoon and Hoseok goodbye.

What the fuck did you just do? -------------------------------------------------------------------------

NEXT | PREVIOUS

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

I lied - Om! Lucifer

Author Note: Okay, so I'm mildly obsessed with Obey me, Why does the game have such an enticing plot, and characters with actual depth. It's so fun to play and addictive, I found the gif on Google, but fun fact, I now have the Lucifer and Diavolo UR+ for the Colour Nightmare event thing and I'm just happy about it.

The same flashing cursor had begun blurting profanities at her as she deleted her newest sentence. Her device fell flat against her stomach as she tilted her head back, how many times had she taken note of every dip and dent in the ceiling above her. Or the way the vines that encased her walls stopped just beneath the border as though the surface constricting its growth was a lake of pure acid.

With a harsh exhale of air, she closed her eyes, she allowed her mind to slip into the fantasies that filled her dreams. She allowed the moment of solace as she struggled with her words to encase her with a false sense of peace. A flurry of carmine would swim over her eyelids, accompanied by the ghosting touch that skimmed her skin littering it with small bumps. If she allowed herself to drown further in the fantasy, she was certain she’d hear the soft chuckle reserved for their intimate conversations.

She wouldn’t know, that down the corridor locked away in the confines of his own room, that his actions perfectly mirrored hers. Albeit he held his head in his hands discarding his device almost immediately. In the thousands of years that he had been around he’d never faced a loss for words. Not even as he begged the future ruler to save his innocent sister. Not even when he pledged his undying allegiance to the man even when it cost him a portion of his pride to bow to another being.

The demon had resigned his work for the evening; he’d blame sleep for clawing at his shoulders but if he were honest it was the thoughts. A devilish fiend had hovered in the back of his mind slowly nibbling at his ideologies. He wasn’t sure when she had infected his daily routine, and for a while he wondered if one of Satan’s curses actually managed to affect him.

A harsh sigh fell from his lips as he pulled his fingers over his face, the tips digging hard into the flesh in an attempt to tear himself from the thoughts. He needed something to relax him.

Her hand remained transfixed on her forehead; eyes still firmly closed as she rubbed at her skin. Time was running out for her; she knew that every day she looked at her phone. Soon she’d be back home, bathing in the sullen glory of loneliness, where the only excitement would be the endless bills she’d need to catch up on. She didn’t believe the brothers would text her, she didn’t think the best friend she’d found in a mysterious Butler would visit and nor did she think that he would ever think about her after the exchange came to an end. She needed something to relax her.

As if they could read the mind of the other, they both opened their eyes. They lifted themselves from their furniture and proceeded to head to the one place that could settle the discord in their brain. It came as a surprise that they hadn’t bumped into each other until they had both entered the Kitchen. She barely noticed him as she reached the cabinet full of teacups, her fingers barely touching the ceramic handle of the nearest one.

He’d seen her almost immediately; his breath stilling in his chest as he fought back the urge to call out to her. He was certain it would scare her and though he found it endearing when she became startled and placed a panicked hand over her heart, he knew it would fan the flames. A soft smile danced across his features as he watched her stand on her tip toes, her fingers frantically flapping at the cupboard as though the mugs would notice and waddle to the edge for her. He’d be damned if he wasn’t willing the inanimate object to do so.

“Allow me’ He cleared his throat; the demon made short work crossing the floor. She jumped, her feet landing flat against the cold flooring as she turned wide eyed to see him. He didn’t look at her as he pulled the object from its home. He placed it beside her on the counter, before reaching for his own cup. “it appears we had the same idea” He added in jest.

“Did you also have a problem that only tea could solve?” She laughed; her words had roused a chuckle from his lips as he set about brewing the tea. He chose her favourite; even though he hadn’t been rather fond of the blend, he chose her favourite. He didn’t notice the way her eyes darted from him to the ground as though she was fighting her own mind.

“You could say that, it’s getting late, and we have an early start tomorrow, shouldn’t you be asleep? Or was Solomon’s overly spiced Bat stew gnawing at your insides.” Lucifer questioned; he was aiming for a light joke.

“Oh, don’t remind me of that, I think the bat actually winked at me. Although now I think about it, you were sat next to me. I think it was hitting on you instead” She answered, a laugh fell from both of them as they stood in the comfort of each other’s presence. It crossed their minds simultaneously, the doubt that had them questioning why they overthought their words. Why they hadn’t just sent the messages they had made for each other.

The kitchen fell into a silence as they looked away from the other, he kept his focus on the cup beneath him, whilst she remained fixated on a spot ahead of her. They listened to the door open gently as they assumed Beel snuck his way through the room; their suspicions were confirmed as the fridge opened.

“Beel, if you reach for anything that doesn’t have your name on it, they’ll be severe consequences” Lucifer sighed. He heard an unceremonious mumble as Beel rummaged around a little longer and left as quietly as he had come. “I have something I want to-“

“I lied” She interrupted him, her eyes closing as she shrunk in on herself. He frowned, the phrase itself had come as no surprise to him. He knew what she meant, even before she had made up her mind to inform him. He’d spent the whole week fixated on their previous conversation. Right now, she stood inches from tears as she stared at her demon. “I told you I was fine with our limited time but I’m not. I never was.”

A soft smile ensnared his lips as he let her worries sit stagnant in the air. Not much got by Lucifer unnoticed, he had known her feelings all too well. He had known the very second, she had smiled at him back then. It had been a foolish attempt to hide the agony burning in her, she had chosen to spare him the harm of watching her heartbreak.

“I keep thinking when I go back, you’ll move on. I’ll be a name on a long list of people who used to be special to you. I keep imagine that we’ll never see each other again, and I’ll never get to help you groom Cerberus or help you when you’re overworking and just need someone to tell you to stop” She cried, the tears had begun to fall now.

“I know” He uttered, his hand falling against her shoulder as he pulled her against him. It was his attempt at comfort, he watched as she buried her head in his chest and held him as tightly as ever. “I want to be selfish and beg you not to go home, I want to be selfish and ask you to be damned to an eternity down here because at least you’ll be with me. But I can’t, all I can do is promise you that nothing will change. My darling, you will never be unloved by me, you are too well tangled in my soul. Let’s go get some rest”

He’d take her to his room, he hold her for as long as she needed him, he hold her for as long as he needed her.

[sunshinesukuna]

friend activity

pairing: midorima shintarou x reader

wc: 1.2k 

genre: flangst

insp: 12:45 (Stripped) — Etham

summary: he’s always looking out for you in the most unexpected ways, even when he won’t admit it himself.

an: tb to that one time i was listening to some music on spotify and i... accidentally?? (🤡🤡🤡) saw my friend listening to a playlist her ex made??? lo and behold they walked into class the next day holding hands??? even tho my friends told her like a thousand times that he was toxic af? 🤡🤡🤡🤡 

Midorima opens the familiar green app on his phone and puts his earbuds in. His lucky item of the day. Debussy and Chopin have always done great jobs when he was anxious. The piano’s sweet melody fills his ears as he leans back in his chair. He takes a long breath. Another. Midorima scratches his head. 

The yellow light above is reflected on the frame of the photo that he took last Christmas. It was near the huge Christmas tree in the middle of town that you had begged him to see all December.

The same place where the two of you had just had your first big argument. In public, nonetheless.

He takes off his earbuds. The sheer force of his nails scratches his earlobes a little. Midorima runs his hands over his face, his glasses pushed up to rest atop his leaf green hair. No matter how many times he tries to console himself, the image of your tear-streaked face refuses to leave his mind. 

The thrumming of the rain outside does little to extinguish the dread in his gut. It only amplifies as he opens his phone, a picture of you in the rain as his wallpaper. 

"Cancers need to have a photo of their loved ones in the rain, nanodayo!" he had argued. Anyone that had tuned into Oha Asa that morning would have known that Cancers would have needed golden buttons instead. But you let Midorima have the benefit of the doubt.

Midorima has never been a man of apologies. All the problems around him would seem to just work themselves out without any interference. The last time he verbally, directly, apologized would be in second grade. Would this be another one? His foot shakes from where it hangs on his thigh. It is rhythmic, unlike his brain patterns as he tries to figure out how to jump this hurdle.

Music floods back into his ears again as he opens Spotify, this time on his laptop. The cursor lingers between “Claire de Lune” and “Air on the G String”. But his eyes have found something more interesting.

There is only one person under his “Friend Activity.” The same profile picture you use for Instagram and other social media platforms smiles up at him from the screen. The audio symbol next to your profile shows that you’re listening to music too. 

“dried teardrops 🌚” is the name of the playlist you’re playing right now. A playlist, he remembers you telling him, you only turn on when you feel the absolute worst. 

Midorima scrambles to his phone that is charging on his nightstand. He almost trips over the soft carpet as he curses himself in his mind. Carefully bandaged fingers skid along the phone's surface.

Are you ok? 

Midorima throws his phone on the bed. You’re online. Typing comes up briefly on the screen before it dissipates and is replaced by a smaller grey seen. The green bubble next to your profile disappears, signalling your inactivity.

He puts his hands on his hips and runs his fingers through his hair. It's only 9 o'clock. If he runs to your house now, you would probably just be getting ready for bed.

Had the two of you been getting along just fine, maybe you'd finish the day off with a facetime of him doing paperwork in silence, only broken when you switch apps to go back to TikTok. He would catch a brief glimpse of you laughing, and the world would turn as normal. Ok, maybe he does miss you. But only a little bit.

You haven't stopped listening to the music. The only thing that's changed is the song you're listening to. You stay on the same playlist. 

Midorima glances at the clock, then back at the profile on his laptop. With a sigh, he laces up his shoes and heads out the door. 

There's a small park near your house that's empty at this time of the night. The children at play are tucked happily in their beds. As you should be. The orange varsity jacket clad figure on the swing tells him otherwise. His varsity jacket, he notes.

The sand crunches under the footsteps behind you. The tinkle of the chains on the swing betrays your attempt to be as quiet as possible. No sudden movements, you tell yourself. Your keys are in your hand, the claw ready to deploy. You stand up a little from your seat on the swing, waiting for your moment to take off. Your other hand tugs the jacket closer to your form. 

“I’m not going to kill you, nanodayo,” a familiar voice chides. The hand holding the keys refuses to go back into your pocket. His green hair is invisible in the dark, but you would recognize his baritone from anywhere. You hastily wipe away the snot on your nose.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask. Midorima takes a step forward. He gulps, rather audibly.

"There's only one place you go to when you cry," he says. You sit back down in the swing. He moves to sit on the swing, miniscule against his hulking 6 feet and 5 inches, but he makes do. 

Your hand grips the chain holding the swing up. Midorima sighs before extending an arm. Soft bandaged fingers brush the tips of your knuckles on the chain. Before you know it, his warm chest is right in front of you, a knit grey sweater you gave him on his birthday a few months ago now becoming a makeshift handkerchief. 

He makes no movement to push you away. How could he? After pushing you on the ropes even though you were just looking out for him? The only thing left to do, Midorima concludes, is to hold you tighter. 

And so he does. Arms hardened by years of chucking basketballs in the air now gently caress your smaller ones. Eye bags under green pupils that check you up and down, making sure you're okay. Brittle fingers trained to perfection by four years of surgical residency now wipe the tears off your face as he somehow, someway, tries to make things right again. 

When you've run out of tears and stopped hyperventilating, you scoot a  little farther from Midorima. At arm's length, you can finally see him in all his late-night glory. 

"I never told you I was crying, Shintarou," you manage, each word punctuated with a soft sniffle. You burrow closer into his tall frame and hide your face away from the world's scrutinizing eyes.

"You were listening to your crying playlist, dummy," he says. It's good that you're not looking straight into his eyes, lest you see the pink hue on his cheeks. Maybe he even pulls you closer to him to hide it even more. You giggle at your boyfriend's unexpected attentiveness. 

Midorima pulls you away from him. You whimper a bit at the loss of warmth, but are instantly placated at him tugging your jacket tighter around you. A long arm finds its home around your waist. "Now come on. We have outpatients to see tomorrow. Can't have a drowsy doctor at work, nanodayo."

He never really says the words "I'm sorry" or something along the lines, but the basket labelled This week's lucky items for you in his doctor's handwriting on your desk the next morning does most of the talking for him, anyways. 

a/n: do y'all like the header 🌚🌚

sometimes you can choose not to be a dick

[najoah]

First Chance [Chapter 6]

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, I moved the cursor around the monitor. My eyes glanced at the time. 12 minutes before class and I still can't figure out how to print my assignment. The dormitory's printing shop was filled with student, and the owner was too busy to attend to me.

Looking out the window in defeat, a familiar figure walks into view. With his khaki backpack in one hand, and a kimbap in the other, Kyu became the answer to my prayers. I knocked on the window to catch his attention. "Help," I mouthed when he turned to face me.

He snickered as he slung his backpack on his left shoulder and walked into the store.

Casually placing the kimbab in the pocket of his cardigan, Kyu reached out to pat my head – a habit he has taken up on every time we meet. "How can I be of service, my lady?"

Grabbing his sleeve, I pulled him over to the screen. "I might be dumb, but I can't figure out how to print this out."

He leaned in for a closer look. "Well, the computer is in Korean so you're not exactly dumb." His hand reached out for the mouse, and I watched closely - memorizing the step he took for my future references. Not a second later, the printer made a sound - signaling that the job has been done.

"Thank you, you life saver!" I held the paper to my chest, relieved. "I was really about to cry there."

"Small thing. Also," he said, pointing to a little sheet taped on the wall behind the computer, "there's an instruction here in English."

I looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, there it was. Embarrassed, I hit my head with the palm of my hand. "Okay, I really am dumb. I totally did not see that."

"Of course, you didn't," he said with a hint of sarcasm. He took a quick glance at his phone, "Are you going to East Civ? We have to run if we want to make it."

I looked at my watch. "Shit, you're right."

Kyu strapped on his backpack on both shoulders before holding out his hand to me, "Shall we run, my lady?"

The thought of running across campus filled with me dread. The chance of tripping to my death while walking is already higher than the average human. Plus, the thought of sweat dripping on the side of my face... I shuddered. "I'm sorry, but I don't run."

His hand fell back to his side, his face bemused.

"Let's just take our time," I continued, "We're going to be late either way so let's make the most of it."

He smirked. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he said, "Okay, let's take our own sweet time."

Fifteen minutes later, Kyu and I stood in front of the auditorium's door. Eastern Civilization was a mandatory class for all freshman student and is the only class held here. While the auditorium had three different points of entrance, there was only one that is accessible to students. The main door, situated at the back of class. The one that creaks obnoxiously at the slightest touch.

Ah, taking our sweet time was the wrong move.

Kyu and I looked at the door, and then to each other, and back to the door. "In three..." His hand was on the handle, "two, one."

The door creaked open and all six hundred freshman students on campus turned their head around. Professor Choi's lecture halted as he looked to us. Shocked by the attention, I felt my whole body heating up.

"Sorry, sorry," Kyu apologized, bowing to the professor. I did the same before we both made our way to our assigned seat. I was lucky – my seat was on the second last row but Kyu had to make all the way down the hall to his seat with all eyes on him.

Professor Choi cleared his throat, and turned everyone's attention back to lecture. Nestled on my chair, I pressed my lips together in embarrassment.

Nia, seated next to me, placed a small note on my table. I allowed myself a few minutes to calm down before prying the note open.

What a fucking entrance!

I crumpled the note in my hand and shoot her the middle finger. She laughed inaudibly and shifted her attention back to the lecture.

I pulled out my notebook from my backpack, body still warm from our grand entrance. On the new page, I wrote down two words that has become the fabric of my existence: Baek Hyunkyu.

Forty-five minutes of Gandhi and dozens of stifled yawns later, Professor Choi called for the ten-minute break we were all waiting for. I leaned against the chair as my classmates all stood, stretched and made their way out of the class for a breath of fresh air. Any other day, Nia and I would made our way to the vending machine on the second floor but still reeling from humiliation, I wanted nothing more than to stay within the walls of this great big hall.

Despite my eyes closed, Nia's penetrating gaze was burning a hole on my skin. "What do you want?"

"You can't come in like that and not tell me what happened," she whined. "You can't leave me hanging. I've been dying since the moment you walked in with lights beaming behind the both of you. It's a fucking k-drama and I need some context!"

"Shhh!!" I placed my finger on his lip. "Well, you have to wait. I can't say anything with 600 people around."

"Say what?" The deep, and warm voice I knew so well interrupted our chats. "You wanted to know why we were so late?"

We both turned to Kyu, who had made himself comfortable on the seat behind us. With a cup of canned coffee on his hand, he looked back at me with a smirk – sending butterflies to my stomach.

"Hi, Kyu," I greeted, tone flat.

Pulling out the same canned coffee from his cardigan, he smiled back. "Hi, there." Kyu placed the canned drink on top of my head. "This is for you."

I reached for the drink, confused. "Thanks. But what's this for?"

"I'm not sure," he sighed. "Maybe to help you get through the last few strands of mortification that you seem to be tangled by?"

My cheeks grew warm. "We should have just ran over."

"We really should have, " he agreed, his voice teasing. "But someone insisted to take their own sweet time." Then he did something – something that played in my mind whenever I think of him. He winked.

Nia, who was enjoying the K-drama scene unfolding before her, cleared her throat. "Okay, what the hell happened between you guys?"

I pressed my lips together, letting the question hang in the air. Nia could have gotten the answer from me, but I wanted to see what the boy with the smile had to say. In other circumstances, what happened earlier was nothing worth noting. Nia had the right to be curious about Kyu and I coming in together – we hardly acknowledge each other's presence in public despite how close I think we were. Conversations we shared about our hopes and dreams were privately shared over texts. But face to face, we were acquaintances. I revealed so much of me that it leaves me overly conscious of his gaze every time we meet. All I knew was that I had fallen for this boy from the conversations we shared, but I could never tell what he thought of me.

Kyu leaned in, his face now inches from mine. "Ahna rejected me," he whispered, his eyes piercing into mine. For a brief moment, the world stopped. I was swimming in his dark eyes, looking for the answer to the question that keeps me up all night. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of hope, of a future. But the clock moved again when he stood to his feet, leaving me without an answer. "Class is starting." He took a step back smiling at me, before turning his back and walking away.

Nia gasped, "Oh my God."

[georgemackayhey]

More Than A Night Out

warning: Explicit content 18+ Only

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat behind the roped off a section of a smoke-filled bar in one of Vegas' most hectic hotels, sporting a fancy dress and feeling a bit anxious.

"I'm George. And you're who I'm supposed to be introducing myself to, right?" He stood leaning in close before you clad in a casual leather jacket with his hands shoved in his pockets. Reading body language had become a much more important part of this job than you'd once figured. But there was a difference between assessing and staring. And you had to catch yourself on the edge of openly gawking at the lean beauty who called himself George.

"Yes, yes, thanks for sparing some time for a chat." You smiled warmly, scooting to the corner of the curved red vinyl booth. George let his nervous grin flicker into a warmer expression as he slid in to meet the opposite corner of the table.

You were a writer for an independent magazine based out of New York. Your publisher had sent you all over America to interview all kinds of talented people of current pop culture. You were used to celebrities and their lingo, and you were used to the pseudo niceties these interviews came along with. After answering your questions with nothing but pride, your subjects would leave and go on being popular. It was your job to make them seem like normal human beings, with an overload of charm.  

In your lap, a hardback notebook held all your hastily scribbled questions that you thought up in preparation for this moment. You were meant to ask George MacKay how his latest film had changed his life and about his rise to fame. You were supposed to get him to gush about acting and tell you some beautiful antidote no other interview had managed to hear the likes of. Your job tonight was to focus on George's latest project, 1917. But George asked the first question.

"So you've been doing this a while, huh?" The man with sky blue eyes asked. A waiter had breezed by, sliding a list of drinks for you pair to choose from.

"I only ask because the bio in your email was like, really impressive. I don't know if I'm worthy." George laughed, gazing at the beer list as you shrugged. You had conducted conversations with the likes of many old, jaded stars. Tonight was different. A young, spirited man sat across from you and his eyes were shining right into yours. You were completely unworthy.

"Don't worry. I'll only write exactly what you say." You smiled, eyeing the mixed drinks, but only ordering water when the waiter came back by.

"What's been your craziest interview?" George wondered, propping his chin in his hand as he looked to you like a boy in school, and you were a fireman on career day. You laughed out loud, because yes. You laugh because you were supposed to be asking the questions.

"I made Axel Rose cry." You grinned, peeking behind a strand of your hair to ensure this wasn't something you went around telling everyone. "He was the guest during a benefit for our magazine. I asked about his family and he just sort of lost it."

George laughed out loud, beaming at you. So far, this felt more like riffing with an old friend of a friend. You nearly forgot about the list of questions in your lap. But even after you cracked open your notebook, George still had more to say.

"With the right questions, I bet you get a lot of dirt." He rose a pale brow as if there was something he was trying to get you to understand. A code he wished you would crack.

"You should let me ask you a few." You mused, leaning in a little closer to establish your longing to get this show on the road. Not that you wanted the night to end sooner. You could have basked in the glow of his blinding smile for all time. But you were on a clock...

George watched your mouth move as you asked him about 1917. He looked you in the eyes when he told you his favorite memories from set. You watched his hands move around as he explained the impact that acting out such a tumultuous time period had on his personal and professional life. In the lulls in between conversation, when he paused to sip his lager, your eyes met each others. It was by far one of the more enjoyable nights of your career. He was easy to listen to and very lovely to look at.

When the clock struck midnight, and your notebook was filled with more information than you'd even consider finalizing, the night ended. With smiles and genuine thanks, you parted from the grotty Vegas bar. But as you made your way through the casino, you turned back to see George lingering near the elevators, watching you disappear into the crowd.

___

Up in your luxurious room, too nice for someone to stay in all alone, you checked your phone. You had a flight to catch in the morning, travel that would put you home right in time for the weekend.

But a dark email loomed at the top of your notification bar. Your flight had been delayed due to weather, a wicked snow storm had taken residence in New York. Seriously, this late in February? The airline had given you a limited few options for later flights, and you slumped on the downy hotel bed, booking the soonest flight out of this trashy city.

Looked like you'd be spending another day hanging around the hotel that felt more like a small city of its own. Luckily, you had something, rather; someone to write that would keep you pleasantly distracted.

___

Last nights silky was totally worth sporting in front of your modern-day movie star crush, but you were glad to be more comfortable this morning. After a long scalding shower, you slipped into reasonable leggings and an old band shirt that was a few sizes too large. This could pass as sporty, right? With thoughts of fashion draining from your head, you grabbed your laptop and started a lazy shuffle toward the lobby of the hotel.

You usually wrote in coffee shops, back home, but the lobby swarmed with tourists was a little too hectic for your liking. Luckily, you wandered to the opposite wing of the lodge and found a relatively cozy nook outside of a casino. It was too early for the swarm of gamblers to distract you with drunken cheers, but the stead buzz of well-groomed patrons coming and going from the bar was white noise music to your ears.

You nestled into a chaise lounge chair by a window and ignored everything besides your laptop screen. There was nothing that could stop you from spending a little too long scrolling through George's fan tag on Instagram. When you finally started to outline the story based on his interview, you were one hundred words from your limit of one thousand, and you still hadn't said everything you wanted. You could have gushed over his polite and charming nature long enough to take up every page of the magazine you worked for.

But you reigned yourself in, reworded for a while, and started to finalize the article when a passer-by disrupted your work for the first time in a couple of hours.

"Is that about me?" It was him.

"Oh my God." You laughed, clutching onto your laptop like an instinct. You were shocked to see George again; dressed in a fine-looking sweater that made your heart buzz with a silly warmth. You cursed your leggings and wondered why you were stupid enough to wear your old thrift store Bowie tshirt in public.

"Can I read it?" George grew a wicked grin, moving to sit at the foot of the chaise you occupied. You scrambled to straighten your poster as your heart speed up in search of an excuse. You really shouldn't let him do that- but you couldn't say no to his sweet face, especially when he was smiling right at you.

"Uh..." You glanced between George and the laptop you'd been staring at for far too long. You realized that you were one spell check away from sending the damn thing in. You pressed the spellcheck button in a flash, so you wouldn't have to lie. But no errors were found, and you were left with zero choice.

"Just know I shouldn't be doing this." You warned, scooting your laptop away with a cringe. George, in all his charm, waggled his brow at you as he leaned in a little closer to read your story. You held your breath at his silly expression and ceased to breathe the entire time his eyes locked onto your laptop screen.

"This..." George spoke up after a very scary bout of silence. He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page on your laptop, and you felt your heart begin to stall.

"You actually, like... listened to what I had to say," George smirked in unmistakable disbelief. "It's so much more than a Q&A. You drew conclusions and made our conversation into a story. It's perfect." George glanced up to you for the first time in a while, and his eyes were searing into yours.

"Geez," You chuckled nervously, digging your nails into the stitching on the cushion below you. "Thank you, George. I never really get feedback like that from anyone I write for." You realized. Sure, you're articles we're promoted by the people featured in them, but they hardly ever had a direct comment on your work.

"When is it coming out?" George wondered, leaning on his elbow, looking up toward you. You leaned toward the laptop that was the barrier between you and the pretty man, but were closer to him than ever before.

"I just have to change the font..." You noted, pressing buttons as you spoke.  "open my email..." George's eyes eventually flickered from your face back to your screen. "and send it in."

"Would you like to do the honors?" You grinned, moving the cursor over the send button on the screen. George gazed back to you with a hearty chuckle but didn't waste much more time before clicking the send button for you.

"And now we wait." You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your waist as the handsome man smiled your way. Oh if you'd only put on a little lipstick...

"How should we pass the time, then?" George wondered in a curious lilt. "Oh, let's go drink one of those thirty-four-ounce margaritas to celebrate. It's the perfect occasion to day drink." Was he kidding? Because you weren't entirely sure if you were being punk'd or not, you tried to hide your wide-eyed reaction as you responded.

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." You grinned, shutting your laptop.

"If it's any consolation, that bar is empty right now, besides there's a lady asleep in the back in her clothes from last night." George pointed across the way. There we're people flooding the casino and taking their drinks to gamble. There was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting at a bar top, turned toward each other to share a ridiculously overpriced thirty-four-ounce strawberry margarita out of honest to God silly straws.

"This should actually be illegal."

"Do you remember the prohibition, George?" You laughed, watching the blended ice travel through the purple looped straw as you sipped.

"Of course not." George laughed incredulously. "Just because I lived through the war doesn't mean I'm that old."

"Ha ha." You mused, wondering why it was so easy to be around George. You'd just met him, but from the moment he opened his mouth, it was like you'd been chatting together for years. It was like he saw past the questions you were being paid to ask, and heard you asking them. Maybe just because you really did want to know his answers.

"I want to know what you've lived through," George demanded, taking a turn to drink out his straw from the margarita you'd been sharing. He'd been asking questions like that since you'd met him, and your chest blossomed with nerves as he peered up at you through his lashes. In your nervous scramble to give George an answer, your brain settled on a story about the first time you met Will Smith.

"Wait, wait, wait." George broke away from his green silly straw and held a dismissive hand out in front of you.

"We're off the record now, y/l/n. I want to know the real shit! Ya know, the last time you cried. Your Chipoltle order." George was waving his hands as if his questions were obvious. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back and relishing the moment you realized how lucky you were to be living in this moment.

So you reluctantly told him some things. You couldn't justify giving your best details away, but you liked the idea of a stranger knowing you the worst thing you did in second grade, and a silly trademark your family coined. George kept his brilliant gaze set on you, and you could almost see your own stories coming to life in his eyes. He was actually listening to you.

The focus on you was becoming a bit too overwhelming, so you shifted to ask George a few more questions, tipsy enough to pry for a few of the same antidotes George had asked you for. After laughing over a few fun facts about his hometown and the time he ran away from his mum in the supermarket, you both settled into silence. You were busy trying to compute how wild this afternoon had turned.

"How long are you staying?" He asked after a beat. When he caught your attention, you realized he'd never lost it and you'd been staring at him like you longed to do last night.

"Oh uh-"

"I was gifted tickets to one of those Cirque shows and my friend's flights got canceled.. So... I thought maybe... you'd wanna..."

"I... sure." You sit up straight, trying to bite back the cheesy grin on your face. You weren't sure how you ended up here in Vegas, sharing a drink with a stunning boy, but you thanked your lucky stars as George went one telling you the details he'd roped you into tonight.

___

The storm in New York had only gotten worse, as you scrolled through updates on your cities local website. Your flight was supposed to take off tomorrow morning, but the storm hadn't let up since the last flight got canceled. You decided now wasn't the time to worry, and went about tearing through your suitcase praying you'd find something nice enough to wear.

You exchanged room numbers, agreeing to meet up at George's tonight. You had more than enough time to get ready but still scrambled to present yourself as perfectly as possible. Agreeing to a night out with George was as lucky as you'd ever been.

After shimmying into a pretty outfit and fixing your makeup just right, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your editor had sent you the final edit of the story you'd written for George, praising you for a job well done. You couldn't help but giggled as you skipped down the hall on the way to George's room, three stories higher.

"Hello, love! You look wonderful." George smiled wide as he opened the door, gesturing for you to come in. His single room was much like yours, a living area and kitchen big enough to house a family, and a bedroom off down the hall. Vegas confounded you.

You rested your room key on a desk near the door and watched George slide into a sharp blue jacket, bringing out the shine of his matching eyes. God, how did he get better looking by the minute?

He escorted you from his suite with a coy grin as if your outing was scandalous.

"Your interview should be published next week. My editor loves it." You informed, walking in step with George to the elevators.

"Of course they do, you're an incredible writer." George pulled a face as if this were a fact everyone knew. You pushed the elevator button with a roll of your eyes, unsure how to handle his outlandish flattery.

"All because of the answers you gave me. You're an incredible subject." You fawned, feeling brave enough to in one fleeting moment.

"Then we make the perfect pair," George smirked at you, keeping his eyes on yours as you passed into the elevator doors. Your legs must have figured out how to move on their own because you felt a bit stunned still by the look in George's eye after his soft comment.

The Cirque show was just across the street in another hotel. But because Vegas was insane, it took you a solid fifteen minutes to cross between traffic and a packed hotel lobby to get to the venue inside. By the time you and George settled into your seats, you felt all too unworthy of what was happening.

"Thanks again for bringing me along. I don't know how I got so lucky." You huffed a nervous laugh, trying not to openly swoon over how close you were to the boy. His leg was just barely far enough away from brushing against yours, and you were meant to sit there like it was totally cool for the next hour.

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." George nodded, turning his head toward the stage as the lights went dim. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and during the first few minutes of the show, all you could truly focus on was how close George was to you. You felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, and reprimanded yourself for letting your feelings get this way.

But halfway through the show, something astounding happened. It was more thrilling than all the acrobatics and dance numbers happening on stage before you. George let his fingers bloom across your palm before they fit perfectly between yours. He sat holding your hand with his eyes fixed on the show, while you tried to keep from melting off the seat into a puddle.

The show ended and you walked out of the theater together, quietly flooding out into the street that was somehow busier than before.

"Thanks for that. I've only been to Vegas for work and have never had time to do the cheesy trashy fun bits."

"Me either." George looked to you and you could tell he was brewing some idea behind his sparkling eyes. Just then, his full name was called out from somewhere beyond your shared gaze. That's when you realized you were still holding his hand. You took a step back, untangling your fingers when you realized a group of drunk college students were excitedly asking for George's photo. You watched from a few steps away and swallowed the silly blooming crush you couldn't shake. What happens in Vegas stayed, right? Maybe you were both just blinded by the ancient ideal.

But when the fans disbanded, George didn't waste a beat slipping his hand back into your grasp.

"Let's go have some fun." He waggled his brow the same as he had hours ago, smirking all the while.

You proceeded to drink and laugh and gamble and dance into the early morning. Your evening became a blur of flashing neon lights and booming bass notes. Even in your alcohol-fueled daze, you fully felt George's fingers linger on your shoulder as he led you to and from the dance floor. His touch was warm and steady and the only thing that made sense in the night full of fast-paced fun you had no time to process.

On the walk back to the hotel, reality threatened to seep in as your feet burned in your heels. When you realized you left your room key in George's room, you felt no shame in taking your heels off and walking the hotel carpet with a little more ease. "I'm all for a movie night in but that was so much fun."

"Me too. Let's have a movie night next." George grinned, wasted as you were.

"Yes!" You fawned in exhausted excitment.

He led you into his room where your room key sat waiting where you'd left it. But the thought of walking one more step made you want to cry. So you asked if George minded if you sat for a moment; settling on the tiny loveseat giving your feet a break and talking yourself into the last bit of walking toward your room.

Yeah, big mistake. Before you knew it, you were totally passed out there and slept soundly on the sofa in a room that wasn't yours. When you woke up and noticed your shoe's near George's by the door you felt so embarrassed for having crashed like that, your weak hangover trumped by shame.

"Shit." You mutter, quietly moving to sneak toward the door. Your cellphone rested on the counter next to your room key. But as you reach for your things, you hear George shuffle into the room. He's dressed for a new day in a plain button-up and suit jacket.

"Oof, I'm really sorry for falling asleep." You cringed, grabbing your room key, a little afraid to look right in George's eye.

"It's alright really." He nodded. "It was so late, I don't know how you slept on that little thing. But  I didn't want to move you and make it weird." George kind of grimaced, hoping his comment wasn't as equally unwelcome as he seemed to think the action might have been. "I'm sorry you don't have to leave just yet."

"I have a flight, actually." You frowned suddenly, wishing you didn't have to leave this place you hated a day ago. But as you unlocked your phone to make sure you weren't too late, there we're a slew of emails from your flight agency, canceling your morning commute again.

"And now I don't have a flight."

George's phone seemed to buzz to life at the same moment, it was a new day after all. He glanced at his notifications frowning the same as you just had.

"Well I was going to invite you to breakfast but I've got another meeting added to my list of a ridiculous amount of things to do today." George sighed.

You knew the fun would have to come to an end sooner rather than later, he was a busy guy, an increasingly important, beautiful, busy guy. And you were stuck in Vegas all over again, without much to keep you occupied from how much you'd grown to love it here, just a little.

"Maybe we can have that movie night if I get back early enough." George smiled, leaning over to retrieve his shoes from the doormat. You couldn't believe George had remembered your off the cuff remark from early this morning, but somehow his comment felt more like a raincheck, than an invite. And whether you were hungover or paranoid, you couldn't tell.

So you took the cue to gather your things, opting to carry your shoes and stood in the doorway.

"You know where to find me, then." You offered, too afraid of agreeing right off and seeming too desperate to spend more time with him. You wished George good luck with all his movie star duties for the day and sulked on the long walk back to your shitty matching room.

___

Your day was spent ordering room service, exhausted by the idea of going back out and about in all the madness that made up Vegas. You scrolled through a measly list of flights to take, opting to stay another night and hoping the storm would pass soon. Soon, the sun was setting and after a long bubble bath, you slipped into your favorite pair of pj's, planning to listen to some podcasts to make the most of this evening. But just as you finished cleaning up, a knock came at your door. You hadn't ordered more room service, and there was a sign dangling from your door handle warning away the maids.

You were surprised to find George on the other side of your door, looking happy to see you. You honestly hadn't expected to see him again, you thought your luck had run its course. And you spent the whole day trying not to reminisce over the way you'd grown more comfortable near each other as the night went on.

You greeted him with a smile, comfortable enough in your pj's when you noticed he was wearing joggers now, too.

"You shed the suit?" You laughed.

"I figured if we're having a movie night I better dress for the occasion," George smirked. You hung your head to hide your blush and opened the door wider for him to come in all the way.

Okay, so maybe you had failed to plan this far ahead, but you hardly cared what happened next. You and George floated to the sofa in front of the television, and he reached for the remote.

“Have you memorized the tv guide yet?” George prodded as you sat next to him, leaving a sliver of space for good measure.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy running around the city this weekend.” You smiled, turning your gaze toward the television, too skittish to meet George’s baby blue eyes this close up.

He clicked his tongue as if to say “what a shame” all while flipping through channels. He landed on Hallmark, tossing the remote down ceremoniously. You couldn’t help but laugh as the movie seemed to just begin.

“Is that Betty White?” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” George boasted over getting lucky finding this film queued up perfectly for the two of you on this spontaneous night. You spent a little bit laughing over the cheesy musical flares and dramatics that made up every great Hallmark film, this one included. But as the film played on, you couldn’t help but notice the bits of genuinely good storytelling peeking through.

George kept you laughing throughout the film, but near the end, both of you got quiet and watched in silence until the credits rolled.

“Damn. That was actually just a little bit good.” George spoke up, a little quiet. That’s when you noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The sliver of space you’d left at the beginning of the movie was now barely noticeable.

“Yeah.” You laughed, amazed by more than just the film. “This whole weekend has been surprisingly wonderful.” You spoke softly, daring to glance right at George, who had already fixed his eyes on you.

You couldn't tell who made the first move but the next thing you know, you're kissing him. You and George took turns sharing feather-light pecks, each of you chasing each other kiss after one ended. George was definitely the first to place both strong hands around the back of your head and kiss you like he meant it. You were nearly too stunned to kiss him back, but once you started the floodgates broke off their hinges and there was no turning back. You climbed into his lap and latched on for all it was worth because surely this was a dream and you weren't ready to wake up at all.

You savored the steady build of his fingers trailing down your arms while your kisses grew deeper, mouths pushing against each others like you’d been doing this for ages. Your hands had a mind of their own, creeping softly under the hem of George’s soft tshirt to his hot skin below.

"Hey," George gently broke your kiss and cupped your face in both hands. You practically held your breath as his shimmering eyes searched yours. "You okay with this?" George seemed to genuinely wonder. His voice was dripping with lust and his body was warm underneath yours. It didn't take a detective to read George like a book, but he still had the self-control and gentle heart to make sure you were comfortable. It only made you want him more. But you were still far too shy to say so, no matter your actions. So you bit your lip and hummed in sweet agreeance, wrapping your hands around George’s neck.

You watched George’s face stretch into a smile before he ducked his head to the crook of your neck where he let out a contented sigh before grazing his teeth along your skin. You squealed with delight when he swiftly pinned you down on the sofa to playfully pepper your face with kisses like something less heated was taking place.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to carry me from the couch to your bed." You rose an encouraging brow, reminding George of just this morning when he was too afraid of disturbing your sleep on his sofa that matched this one. George let out a laugh as he peeled himself off the top of you and picked you up bridal style in his impressively buff arms.

"Right this way, madame." George teased, carrying you through his bedroom door.

You had thrown the covers into place the best you could the last time you woke up here. George rested you gently on the bed, much like you were sleeping and he was afraid of waking you up. But your heart was beating fast enough to win a race, somehow increasing when George rested beside you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You’re very pretty, you know?” George blinked, whispering to you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You spoke back even quieter, reaching out to touch his face. He was so handsome it nearly stopped your heart. George leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and steady. You hadn’t felt so content in ages, you could have laid there kissing George forever and been happy. But then his fingers trailed down your side to grab your hip, and you swore you saw stars. George pulled your leg over his and now you were pressed against one another, kisses growing deeper still.

“This alright?” He asked almost timidly, as his fingers crept below your nightshirt.

“Yeah,” You breathed as George moved his kisses down your neck, and his hand to your chest. Your fingers splayed through his hair as he reached around your back to find the clasp on your bralette

“It’s in the front.” You giggled, feeling George smile against your skin.

“Very cute.” He hummed in your ear before kissing your jaw and finding the button. He shoved your shirt most of the way off, and you had to move out from under him to remove it all the way. Before settling back against the pillows, you pulled off George’s shirt so you could revel in the warmth of his skin.

You settled in his lap, each knee on either side of his hips throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again, somehow still enjoying each brush of his tongue against yours like it was the first time. George signed into your mouth, each pleasant groan traveling straight down your spine. You rolled your hips against his, and George’s groans grew darker.

His fingers were lost in your hair and you found a steady pace to rock against him, drawing out longer whimpers from his lips with each new movement. Soon, his hand toyed with the drawstring of your shorts and he had to break away from your kiss to ask if he could take them off you could only muster an encourageable nod as your breath got caught in your throat. George laid you back, keeping those stunning blue eyes locked on yours all the while, only breaking away when he slid the last of your layers off. His fingers slid slowly between your legs as he laid next to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. How’d I get so lucky?” George spoke, you could feel his breath ghost across your lips while he went on building up the tension in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to fill with fire, a contradictory chill shooting through your system. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“George,” You sighed, opening your eyes to look at him again, “need you.”

You watched his eyes go dark as he slowly moved away from you, slipping his joggers off and slotting himself between your legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked one final time.

“Please.” You groaned, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. With one last kiss on your lips, the Disney prince type, he pushed into you. If you thought the noises George had made before were beautiful, the ones he was making now could’ve moved you to tears. He found your hand and held it with one of his while the other slipped below your belly button.

Your heavy sighs and desperate moans synced up and you rode your highs on the edge of one another. George didn’t move off the top of you right away, instead, he stayed there with his face buried in your hair soaking up the quiet moment.

“That was wonderful, love.” George whispered in your ear as he fell to your side. You turned to face him, biting back a yawn.

“You’re wonderful.” You sleepily smiled. George pulled you against him then, and you rested your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. The steady rhythm puts you to sleep in no time.

___

The next morning came late, and the Vegas sun shone brightly through the space between the curtains you forgot to close.

George was still by your side, but you’d drifted apart in the night. So upon noticing his eyes were open and glued on you, you felt no shame curling up next to his side.

"This has been the longest one night stand of my life." You sighed dramatically, comfily resting your head on his broad shoulder. George was quiet for a beat and you were a bit worried you’d upset him. But then he spoke up, with a gentle voice saturated in sleep.

"Wanna see how long we can last? I don’t think I wanna stop waking up to you."

How could you say no? You’d spent the whole weekend saying yes to George, and look where it had gotten you. So you agreed to stay one more night in Vegas, hoping what happened there would last a lifetime.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

[kikoqueenofrats]

@toastraccoon Righto, so this is the last pre made chapter! The others will be released as I make them, so hopefully ya'll will be looking forward to that!

"This one I found after I snuck into a creepy game whilst my parents weren't looking" Rose smiled "Though they found out and got me out before the monster in there could hurt me" she sighed, frowning slightly as the unwanted memory flashed through her mind, before passing a small grey stone to Cel.

Cel returned Roses frown as he took it, imagining how it must've felt for the small stick to be stuck in a game like that.

A small smile slowly made its way across her face however as a not so bad memory entered her mind.

"Though...it was really cool...as the monster was pulling me out from under a table, my dad threw a chair at it and then started wrestling it...." Her smile wavered a bit "it hurt him alot but he didn't care...as...as long as I was safe..." She looked away, still smiling softly "they're both really cool..."

Cel chuckled lightly, before handing the rock back "yeah" he looked up at them, the trio were all sitting on what looked like a minecraft bed to the side of this makeshift folder bedroom takling to each other, "They are"

As Rose continued to show Cel her rocks, each with their own unique story, Vill and Sean continued to ask Mari questions.

They were mostly about their adventures, though some of them were a bit more personal.

Mari wasn't paying them too much attention at the moment, too busy watching Cel. Their eyes met for a few moments before Cel blushed and looked away, Mari continued to stare, wondering why Cel had reacted like that.

"Mari?" Sean chuckled, waving his hand in front of Mari's face in hopes of snapping them out of their current funk.

"Hm?" Mari hummed, their head turning back to Sean's, a somewhat dazed look in their eyes.

Sean was about to repeat their question when Vill interrupted him, placing a reassuring hand onto Seans knee as he did so.

"So what's your relationship with Cel like?" Vill asked, a somewhat knowing look in their eyes.

Mari shrunk at that whilst Cels, who had happened to overhear part of the conversation, face went red. He recognises that tone in Vill's voice; Vill would always use that tone when he thought two people were pining for each other.

Mari began nervously rubbing the back of their neck, looking rather unsure.

"Well...he...he's a good friend" Mari muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Cel deflated slightly at that, though he composed himself quickly so Rose was the only one who really noticed.

She gave him a confused look, but quickly shrugged it off and went back to talking about her rocks.

“Mhm...sure” Vill smirked playfully and Sean rolled his eyes at Vill, though a small smile was slowly crossing over his face.

"Dad?"

Sean turned towards his daughter "yes sweetie?" He smiled.

"Can I show Cel my favourite game?"

"Yeah sure" Sean nodded.

Rose quickly grabbed Cel's hand and began dragging him out of the file, essentially leaving Mari alone with Sean and Vill.

Cel hoped Vill wouldn't end up making Mari too uncomfortable as the duo stepped out of the folder and into the desktop. But decided that if it did go that far then Sean would tell him off like he always did, so he followed Rose without another word.

Mari went to get up, not wanting Cel out of their sight in case something went wrong; However as their eyes met again the words from their previous fight entered Maris mind.

"...Mari don't you trust me?"

Guilt began making its way through Maris' chest as they realised the child had not asked for them to follow her as well.

Mari was being too protective of him, they had to let him go sometimes.

"Mari?"

Mari looked back at the duo sitting in front of him, quickly sitting back down, they tried to relax their racing mind.

"Yeah?" They muttered, still looking rather guilty.

"You okay?" Vill chuckled, slightly worried

"Oh, yeah I'm fine" Mari quickly answered, looking over at Sean "You had another question for me?"

Something caught Cel’s eye, as the duo entered the desktop, and he turned; only to come face to face with the user.

Yelping in surprise Cel grabbed Rose around the waist and pulled her kicking and screaming into the folder they had just come out of.

Rose continued to squirm and complain as Cel frantically looked around for a place to hide.

Hearing their child complaining Sean and Vill quickly made their way out of Rose's bedroom and into the folder home page; Mari followed close behind, also worried about the child's safety.

The user opened the folder, wondering how a random blue stick had made it onto her computer and why they were running off with Rose.

At this point Cel had let go of Rose's waist and had begun asking why she had been resisting so much. Before Rose could reply the user quickly grabbed her and pulled her away from Cel, pulling her across the screen, before placing her next to her parents.

She was about to grab Cel when Sean held his hand up and shook his head, going over to confront Cel himself.

Mari was about to follow Sean when Vill grabbed their arm; Mari looked down at Vill in shock and was about to try and break free when Vill spoke.

"It's going to be okay, I'm sure this is just one big misunderstanding" Vill muttered, still clinging onto Mari's arm.

Mari looked back at Sean and Cel, then at the user; if that cursor so much as moved in Cel's direction Mari was going to throw Vill to the ground, grab Cel and hightail out of there.

It was obvious the user liked these three sticks, Mari didn't know why but they weren't going to risk Cel's life to find out.

"Cel?" Sean looked Cel over carefully,having an idea on what had just happened but wanting to be sure “What happened?”

The remains of panic were slowly being replaced by guilt and confusion.

"I...uh..."Cel swallowed, eyes shifting between Sean and the user nervously.

Sean stopped right in front of Cel, looking down at him with a stern but understanding expression on his face.

Cel shrunk slightly as his eyes rested upon Sean, despite the warm undertones Sean still looked incredibly intimidating at that moment in time.

"I...I thought the user was going to attack us" Cel muttered now looking down at the floor. Sean nodded in understanding as Cel continued "But it looks like you're on good terms...I'm sorry I-" "Ah, ah, ah!" Sean held his finger out to Cel in a shushing motion "Don't apologize for trying to save my daughter's life, you didn't know okay" Sean stated firmly and Cel nodded slowly in response.

"Okay" Cel muttered now looking Sean in the eyes again; a soft smile spread across Sean's mouth and he quickly pulled Cel into a hug. Cel allowed this and sunk into Seans shoulder, relishing in the physical contact for a few moments before Sean pulled away.

"Alright, we should probably introduce you two to Saph then, She's probably wondering what's going on" Sean grabbed Cel's hand and led him out of the folder, the rest of the group following behind them.

Mari was unsurprisingly confused by what had just happened as they had never met a nice user before. It felt strange, knowing that they wouldn't be attacked at any moment on this desktop.

Mari continued to mull this over as they followed the group out of the folder.

Sean stopped, just as the group reached the center of the task bar, and waited for a few moments.

A large box appeared and what looked like a digital painting program began loading in; the sudden appearance of the box startled Cel slightly but he quickly composed himself.

Still pulling Cel by the arm Sean jumped into the box; letting go of Cel's hand, after pulling him into the tab, Sean quickly made his way towards the tool box and grabbed the pen tool.

During this Saph had turned on the text tool and had begun typing out her message.

The others watched as Saph did so, reading the words as they appeared on the screen.

[Hey Sean, who are your new friends?]

Sean quickly wrote out a response, making sure Saph could see the words clearly.

"Only the dark red one is new, the blue one is an old friend. Dark red's called Mari and Blue is Cel, they're gonna be staying here for a while"

"We are?" Mari thought giving Sean a perplexed look before looking over at Cel.

He looked…happy, really happy; Mari decided it would be best to keep that thought to themselves and accept the fact that they probably would be staying there for a while.

[I see, well I hope they enjoy their stay. I was actually gonna play There is no Game before, you know. Anyways I'm gonna get it set up]

Rose began bobbing up and down in excitement at that.

"Yes! That game's always more fun when Saph plays it with me!" Rose smiled, quickly jumping out of the tab and running over to the games icon, the others following close behind.

Rose was the first to jump into the games icon, Vill quickly followed behind; Mari was about to follow Vill when they looked behind them and noticed that Sean and Cel had stopped walking.

Mari decided to wait for the duo before jumping into the game themselves; Just in case Sean decided to try something.

"So uh, Sean?" Cel asked nervously, unsure on how well asking this question would go. "yeah?" Sean replied, looking down and smiling.

"I've been wondering, how did you get here?" Cel cringed inwardly after the words left his mouth; realising that he could've been more specific, but not wanting to ask again Cel decided to wait for Sean's answer.

Sean's face turned thoughtful for a few seconds; before a small frown appeared on his face.

Cel began to panic, believing he had somehow upset Sean, before Sean opened his mouth and answered.

"Well...as you know we were thrown into the dark forest, we thought we were going to get eaten by shadows but...instead we were brought to Bad Guys castel"

Cels' eyes widened slightly at that; the thought of Bad Guy doing anything good had never crossed his mind. Though now that he thought about it Bad Guy was supposed to be the opposite of Protag.

"He told us that he had been rescuing banished sticks and bringing them into a... sanctuary as he called it, so he brought us there and we stayed there with the some of the other banished sticks for a few months before two...powerful sticks attacked and destroyed most of it, me and Vill barely escaped with our lives"

Sean shuddered slightly at the memory, Cel put a hand on Sean's shoulder and smiled up at him in understanding; Sean smiled back before continuing.

"We ended up here via dropbox and after a quick scuffle with Saph we managed to convince her to let us stay"

Cel nodded slowly taking it all in, "You can stay here with us too if you want" Sean offered before jumping into the now open game tab.

Cel looked over at Mari, it was obvious that Mari had overheard the conversation as the stick had only been standing a few feet in front of them.

Mari looked worried, Cel knew that if he did stay here Mari would be left on their own; As far as Cel knew they weren't too comfortable with staying in one place.

There was also the fact that Cel still hadn't found out what had happened to his game.

However the prospect of not being in constant danger was incredibly tempting.

"I'll think about it" Cel replied, after a short pause, before following Sean in.

[ddurandal]

MEET: SOONCHAN

— YMMD Series: Part 1

— YMMD Series: | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

— fic masterlist

— type: narrative

— genre: contemporary, fluff

— words: 1,945

Chan wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or angry. Maybe he was feeling both. The guy across him just read a whole paragraph from his physics book in a not-so-loud-but-highly-audible-voice, and Chan didn't sit well with that. He was supposed to be studying dance theory, but with the way things were going, he might memorize physics formulas instead.

He was at the library, trying to cram half of the semester for the midterms exam next week. The place wasn't his ideal spot to spend his afternoon. However, with exams coming up in just a week, he figured he should just cram all of his lessons and maybe, at the very least, get a passing grade. He wasn't the only one working hard to get a passing grade as well. The library was full of students. But he wasn't really sure if he was lucky or not, since yes, he did find an empty seat—the only one left unoccupied— and soon found out why no one was sitting there. The guy across him who was wearing a shirt that was buttoned up to the very last button jittered and mumbled everytime he read from his thick physics book. Chan internally groaned and for a split second thought of throwing chips at the guy so he’d shut up and leave, but then decided against it. By the looks of it though, the passing grade was a blurry ambition as the guy across him tried to open a bottle of iced coffee, and then accidentally spilled it all on the table.

“Fuck,” Chan muttered as he grabbed his book and notebooks away from the liquid. The other guy beside him did the same thing.

“Oh no,” the guy said, eyes wide and now scared. “I’m so sorry!”

“Dude,” the other guy said, “you're making a mess.”

“I'm really sorry! I’ll clean it up fast. I’m so sorry.”

Chan sighed and placed his things on his seat, then he used a scratch paper to help Physics Guy clean the mess up.

“I think I have a pack of tissues in my bag,” the other guy offered. “Can I put my things on your chair while I get it?”

Chan mumbled a ‘yeah, sure’ not really looking at him. He could see the librarian was already on her way to them, anger evident on her face.

“Both of you,” she said as she reached their table. “Get out.”

“I didn't—” Chan tried to explain to her how any of this wasn't his fault at all, but the librarian’s face was already set and any he thought any more protests from him would result in him being banned from the building. So he decided to shut up and gather his things as quickly as he could.

When he was at the door, the physics guy caught up to him and apologized again. Chan had no choice but to smile it off even though, honestly, he was slightly pissed.

He decided to go to a coffee shop instead.

Chan had to call off teaching a few kids the new routine he’d thought of last night. Though, he did bring the black notebook with him to study. He brought it everywhere with him. Inspiration always striked at the oddest of hours and he needed the black notebook to write everything down, or else he was going to forget it all at once.

He went to the nearest coffee shop he could find, sat on a booth and arranged his stuff on the table. “Fine,” he murmured to himself. “Let's get this over with.” He checked his bag for the black notebook, but it wasn’t there.

What the hell, he whispered to himself, rummaging through his backpack.

He was sure he brought it with him to the library, and he was sure he placed it inside his bag before going out of the building. He was panicking now since he had just written a new choreography last night but he couldn’t remember the details.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed under his breath. Where could it be? Did he leave it in the library? Did Physics Guy accidentally mistake it as his own notebook? Did someone else take it? He had no damn clue but his heart was already racing. Where is his goddamn black notebook?

As if on cue, his phone chimed, announcing a new text message.

I have your notebook. It had your name and number written on the first page.

Chan, who was nervous as hell, thought it sounded like a message from a kidnapper asking for ransom. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. As fuck.

I need it back. Where should we meet? I’ll get it.

The person who had his notebook seemed like a slow replier. Chan was already biting the nail on his thumb for more or less two minutes. Still no reply.

“Maybe this is a scam,” Chan murmured to himself. However, if this was a scam, how would've this person known he lost his notebook in the first place? He also wrote his name and number on the first page in case it was lost.

His phone chimed again. This is the address.

Chan squinted at the words on the message. He sure was quick to give an address. Nevertheless, he still packed his things and went in search for his notebook.

The address the person gave him was of an old record store. Chan had to ask around because he hadn't been in this part of town before. At first, he thought the guy was shitting him and this was all some sick plan to, maybe, lure him into something illegal. Turns out, the record store was real.

It was a hole in the wall kind which sold old vinyls and CDs. Chan found a Michael Jackson Thriller vinyl, which, of course, was expensive as hell. It was kept inside a glass case, a sort of memorabilia of vintage records for sale.

He looked around, there was no one there that looked like someone his age. Where could this person be? He decided to fish his phone out of his pocket and send him a text.

I’m here. Where are you?

Minutes later, no reply.

Chan sighed and went to the cashier, who looked a few years older than him. He wore a simple blue t-shirt that said ‘worlds away’ and was playing some type of shooting game on his phone.

“Hi,” Chan greeted. The guy at the counter looked up from his game and immediately paused it.

“Is there something you need?” He said, smiling at Chan, showing a dimple on the corner of his mouth. His nametag said 'Seungcheol.’

“Uh,” Chan answered,”yeah. I was wondering if someone—a guy my age—came here? Like, a while ago? Holding a black notebook?”

Damn it. Chan realized he had come here so clueless. He went on a whim, following the guy’s instructions without even knowing what he looked like. He just really wanted his notebook back.

“Oh,” the guy’s eyes widened, “Are you Chan?"

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Yeah, but how did you—”

“The MJ record there is yours,” Seungcheol said, smiling.

“What?” He was even more confused now. “But it's expensive. I don't have money for it.”

“Don't worry. It's already paid.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean ‘paid’?”

“The guy you're looking for,” Seungncheol said, “he bought it. Said you liked MJ. He was holding a black notebook, like you said.”

Chan was now outside the record store, holding a paper bag with the MJ vintage record inside that, apparently, had been bought for him. Seungcheol didn't provide anymore didn't of who the guy was. He hurriedly gave Chan the record and went back to his game.

He grabbed his phone again and sent a text to the person.

What's this?

He snapped a photo of the paper bag and hit send.

Immediately, a reply came.

Hope you like it. :D

He wasn't sure if he was even allowed to like it. He was just immensely confused. Was this guy even serious or not?

Look, I don't know who tf you are, but if you just stole my notebook just to make fun of me I swear I will find you.

Again, the person replied immediately.

No, please don't think that. I knew you liked MJ and I just really wanted to make your day better.

“How did you know I liked MJ?” Chan murmured to his phone, looking at the iMessage cursor blinking at him. What was he supposed to say? Did this guy know him? Is he supposed to be creeped out? Chan didn't know what to feel at all, except that he just really wanted to get his notebook back.

He sighed and sent a reply saying just that.

I just really want my notebook back. Please give it back.

The person didn't reply immediately this time. Perhaps, Chan thought, he was contemplating giving it back now. He’ll finally meet him, and he planned to give the MJ record back to him too.

His phone chimed. Chan looked up from the paperbag in his hand that he hadn't realized he was staring at.

Okay. I guess I stressed you out. I hadn't intended to. I'd like to make it up to you. Let me buy you coffee.

Chan took a cab back to the coffee shop, clutching the paperbag next to him. Was he nervous? Very much so. He was finally going to meet this guy. He didn't know what this guy’s plan was but Chan just wanted to get this over with.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw him, smiling, looking down at his coffee. Beside the cup was his black notebook. He had texted him the address of the coffee shop and what he was wearing. Simple graphic white shirt and jeans, and his backpack beside him. Just like what he wore in the library when he asked Chan if it was okay to put his things on his seat. Just like when he offered Chan a pack of tissues.

Chan walked up slowly to him, realizing now who he was. Of course he still had to ask him why he stole the notebook and how the hell he knew he liked MJ, but his heart still skipped a beat.

“Hi,” the guy smiled up at him. “Please sit.”

“You're back,” was all Chan could say, not moving an inch.

The guy chuckled at him, “Yeah, I am. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But here I am.”

“Soonyoung…” Words seemed to have left Chan’s mind and mouth. He couldn't say a word. He didn't know what to say. Instead, memories invaded his brain, ones that happened a year ago, ones that had the man in front of him in them.

He remembered when Soonyoung kissed his forehead after his team won the dance competition. He remembered how they had matching smoothies in the same café they were in right now, except Chan only had black coffee now. He remembered how Soonyoung had to leave that day, uncertain when he would be back. He remembered he had to leave because his brother had been in a bad accident. He remembered how they had lost connection.

And now, here they were, meeting again, in the same place where they had first met.

“Maybe I should introduce myself again,” Soonyoung stood up, offering his hand for Chan to shake. “Hi, I'm Soonyoung. Nice to meet you.”

Chan, slowly, took his hand, and looked up at him. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he was smiling. “Nice to meet you too. I'm Chan.”

— • —