#from someone whose main language isn't english

[missgraylock]

North and South: Beginnings - Prologue and Chapter 1: A Wolf in the Woods

Summary: A fragile peace has settled between North and South of the border. You and your cousin live a quiet life on a secluded farm, attempting to hide both your omega status and your origins. After a faithful meeting everything is about to change, and your past hunts you down. But in your time of need, someone aids you from the shadows.

"North and South: Beginnings" is an omegaverse tale in a medieval setting, where our ensemble will experience plenty of fluff, angst and very steamy moments. Ateez is the main focus here, with Seventeen as their allies. Stray Kids is the enemy, but this is a fictional work that doesn't reflect the real life persons in any way (love you SKZ).

This is my first long fic and English isn't my first language, so bear with me. This work is not proof read. I have a goal to post at least one chapter a week, and it's going to be a long story. Buckle in!

pairing: reader x non-idol! San, reader x most of Ateez for the smut tbh genre: romance, smut, angst, A/B/O, omegaverse, AU chapter: 1 of many, word count is 2361 for this chapter rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for this series: dom! san, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (both receiving) fingering, group sex, breeding kink, pet names (good girl, pretty, etc.), lots of gratuitous smut, violence and blood. divider by: @cafekitsune

Do you prefer to read on AO3? 📖

Masterlist / Next >>

Prologue - The Escape

South of the border, 15 years ago

A mature alpha sits at the end of a long table. His gray, thick hair elegantly swooped back. He has an intense and demanding gaze on the sunken shape further down the table. 

Mr. Min, with his shoulders sloped slightly, struggles to keep his eyes on the intimidating presence. 

“It’s a real shame to see the state of the once great Min clan, but there’s fortunately things that can be done to aid you on your path back to greatness”.

Mr. Min’s eyes widen slightly, though he’s prepared for what’s to come. 

“You have a young granddaughter? Whose mother was an omega?” The alpha states. It’s not really a question.

Mr. Min nods, a pang of sorrow in his chest. “I do, she’s only 6 years old”.

The alpha dons a small smirk. “In an exchange to cover your debts, I want her betrothed to my son, Christopher. They shall marry when they have presented and are at an appropriate age, but she must present as an omega. Naturally.” He says coolly. 

Mr. Min is not surprised by the Bahng clan leader’s demand. The Min clan, once prosperous and known to be a clan of exceptionally beautiful and capable individuals, fell into despair after the clan conflicts between the North and the South. 

As the clan leader, Mr. Min could not handle the loss of several of their pack members during the all out war, which happened through majorly bad luck. It hit him especially hard to lose his only child, Nara. 

He ended up drinking and gambling away most of their fortune, and he was currently finding himself in a very tough spot. He was one of the few remaining in the clan, including his grand niece Leliana and granddaughter [Y/N], who were both in his care.

At this point, all he wanted was security for the girls. No more goons knocking on their door late at night, demanding payments and making threats. If the girls got married into prosperous families, they would at least have stability and food on the table. 

He knew that the Bahng clan was infamous for their brutality, especially towards their omegas, but he tried to push the thought away to the back of his mind. Maybe Christopher would grow up to be kinder than his father and the other alphas in their clan. The chances were slim. 

Mr. Min folded his hands and nodded to Mr. Bahng. “They’re still so young, but if this is what it takes for us to finally have peace, then so it must be”. 

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“Are you out of your mind?” Leliana yelled at her grandfather. Mr. Min stood with his back against the wooden door of their humble abode. 

“Leliana, please I-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as a stale loaf of bread flew through the air, barely dodging his face.

“You know how they treat their omegas. They keep them confined and beaten. Forced to have litter after litter”. Tears of rage were streaming down Leliana’s face. She could not accept this life for her younger cousin. 

Mr. Min tried to explain how it would help them all in the long run. How the clan could slowly but surely rise back to greatness. She could tell that he tried to close his eyes to the sacrifice that he had made for what he called “the greater good”. She stormed up the stairs to the little bedroom where [Y/N] was half asleep.

“Leli, I’m having a bad dream”. [Y/N] stretched her arms up to Leliana as she crawled into their narrow bed. “I know pup, it was just me and grandpa disagreeing about something, it’s going to be ok”. [Y/N] sighed and fell shortly back to sleep, but Leliana’s mind was racing. 

She muttered to herself “a blanket, matchsticks, a knife, wool socks and a scarf, what else?”. 

She knew what she had to do at sunrise. 

---------

Chapter 1 - A Wolf in the Woods

Along the border, present day

You’re struck by something inconvenient

You pull the covers underneath your chin, watching your cold breath hit the sunlight creeping through the window. “Can you tell me about true mates again Leli”? 

Your cousin looks at you with a smirk. “Of course, lover girl” she says teasingly. You feel a slight blush in your cheeks. 

Leliana clears her throat. “Sometimes, when an alpha meets an omega, they can sense a bond through each other’s scents that goes even deeper than what regular mates have. It’s the bond of true mates. They will gravitate towards each other like the Moon to the Earth, creating an immensely supportive and loving bond, and a rock solid foundation for a thriving pack”. 

You feel a tingle in your chest. Just the thought of meeting an alpha scared the living daylights out of you, but you couldn’t suppress your curiosity. 

Both your “aunt” and “uncle”, the beta couple that took you and Leliana in during a blizzard 15 years ago, continuously warned you both about the dangers of alphas. Especially seeing as you both had presented as omegas. 

You tried to reassure them that you would never let an alpha near you, but you still felt a sting of longing after the unknown, with only Leliana’s stories to soothe you. In an attempt to stay hidden, you both rarely saw other humans. 

You spent most of your time as milkmaids in the remote mountains on the border, only occasionally running into traveling merchants or vagabonds. 

Your aunt and uncle never had the children they so dearly wished for, and felt blessed the night you two stumbled onto their deck. 

As you both reached your teens and presented, a new anxiety rose for the couple. How could they protect someone as rare and valuable as you were, from the clans that were willing to use violence to catch omegas. 

Omegas were not only exceedingly rare, but both you and your cousin grew up to be stunningly beautiful, a trait that apparently ran in your families. 

To ease their anxieties somewhat, you choose to wear collars that would cover up your mating patches. If, god forbid, any alphas caught your scent and chased  you down, they would have an extra obstacle if they tried to force a mating mark on your necks. 

If you saw someone approaching as you were out herding the goats, you would carefully wrap your shawls to cover more of your faces, making it harder for the strangers to catch the beauty underneath. 

Being an omega felt like so much of a burden. All the fear and the precautions that followed with it were tiresome, and you wondered if you’d ever make peace with it all.

“Enough daydreaming, we need to get to work little one”. Leliana rose from the bed, stretching her hand down to yours. You took it and lifted yourself up with a grunt. 

You covered up in a brown pinafore dress, donning extra thick woollen socks as it was still a lingering winter outside. Leliana boiled water in the kettle over the soothing fire, as you found two cups and tea leaves. 

Your breakfast this morning was a delicious sourdough loaf, goat cheese and jam - all made by your aunt. 

Even though you should be really hungry, you felt rather nauseous this morning. “You ok?” Leliana asked, furring her brows.

“Yeah, I probably just need to get moving and let my body wake up properly”. You used your sleeve to wipe the cold sweat off of your forehead.

After finishing your tea and meal, you wrapped huge scarves around each other's necks, laughing at the inelegance of layers upon layers of winter clothing, constricting you slightly. 

You stepped into the sunny but snow covered yard. It was a beautiful day with clear skies, and the cold mountain air hit your nostrils. You felt the nausea dissipate somewhat. “Good morning girls!”, your aunt waved from outside the barn. “Morning auntie! Where's uncle?” you asked. “He’s taking stock of the firewood inside the barn, this winter has been longer than we anticipated and he’s a bit worried we’ll run out” She grimaced. “I’m sure he’ll sort it out though. Are you heading to the goats?”. You both nodded, and explained that you needed to make sure that they had found running water, as the brooks were still covered in ice. You waved goodbye, and started walking the path to the forest line where the goats would gather. You could hear their bells getting closer, and you started to take stock of the herd. “There’s one missing” Leliana observed, “maybe she’s wandered further up the path?”. You offered to go look for the missing goat, and were relieved that the snow had melted to a point where you didn’t have to struggle in it anymore. A low ridge of stones followed the path, a sign that you were on the exact border between the North and the South. You gulped, your thoughts drifting into the endless stories about the horrors of the last war, where both sides took massive losses. A clan from the South decided to attack clans in the North, in a hunt for more omegas, as their own omega population had dwindled. 

Even though many Southern clans cursed this escalation, they still had to back their own, and a brutal war escalated. Since then, peace has been balanced on a knife's edge, only motivated by avoiding pain in each nation, and a wish to avoid more loss than they already had. The North was still distrusting of the south, and would occasionally send scouts along the border to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.

You heard a timid goat’s bleat ahead of you, and snapped out of your spiraling thoughts. She was just ahead of you on the path, trying to find an opening in the icy brook to drink from. You fell softly to your knees next to her, picking up a rock to smash the ice. 

---------

San’s perspective

San felt another icy drop hit his neck, and he ran a hand through his damp, black hair. He’d walked far from their outpost this morning, as it finally was a clear and crisp day and the sight was exceptional. He made sure to weave along the tree line, staying somewhat hidden between the trees as he peered across the mountainside. 

As a part of the Ateez’ clan’s allegiance with the other Northern clans, they were expected to patrol along the border, just in case the Southern clans were building outposts for military purposes. He’d never seen anything suspicious himself, but he didn’t mind the solitude, a respite away from the constant chaos of his beloved pack. 

As San wandered beneath the bare canopies, admiring how the sunlight filtered down between them, he caught a scent so intense he almost fell to his knees. It smelled like a warm July day, a rose folding itself out in its prime and as sweet as honey. 

His mind raced, it was still March in the mountains, where on earth were these divine scents originating from? That’s when he saw you. 

At first, it was just a bundled up little shape kneeling by the brook, clad in somewhat disheveled garments. As he crouched and slowly walked closer, he could see long, wavy hair peeking out of your woolly, hooded shawl. A wide belt enhancing your feminine figure.

The scent was intensifying as he was closing in on you, and he gripped a tree trunk with both his hands, to keep himself steady. 

Omega, the word echoed in San's mind. He shook his head in disbelief. Had he randomly stumbled over what his pack was so desperately longing for? What he imagined but didn’t let himself hope for every night as he crawled under the covers all alone?

He snapped out of his racing mind as your scent suddenly soured, and he saw you falling to your side, wrapping both of your arms around your stomach. He gasped in shock, but still held himself in place, white knuckling the tree. 

You were writhing on the ground, and he could tell that you were in pain. He felt an intense rush of wanting to run to you, to hold you and scent you, but he knew he had to be careful to not reveal himself along the border. 

Your pull on him was heavy, and he felt his mind fully occupied by both your irresistible scent and his own panic. Then he heard your voice. 

---------

“Leli! Help!” It was all you were able to yell, as the sharp pain kept stabbing you in your abdomen. 

When you had room for thoughts, you were only cursing yourself. It was obvious that you were in heat, and that you had failed to pay attention to the fact that it had been 4 whole months since your last one. 

Light cramps convulsed in your belly, but you found solace in the fact that you were still in pre-heat, and not completely incapacitated yet. “I’m coming!” You heard Leliana in the distance, trying to focus on keeping your breathing steady. 

You felt a sudden prickling on your neck. A voice in the back of your mind. You quickly looked around but it was hard to focus. You wrote it off to the intensity of your pre-heat kicking in. 

“Aw shit, it’s your heat already?” Leliana looked at you with a sympathetic gaze, and reached for your arm. You stood up, gathering the goatling in your arms, leaning on Leliana for support. 

“Let’s get this one back to the herd, and then get the hell back home before this gets any worse”. 

It was a relief to be back in the safety of the cabin and your bed, while your temperature fluctuated from hot to cold under the covers. You sipped on a special brew that Leliana cooked up from last summer’s dried herbs, easing your symptoms. 

As you felt your eyelids get heavy, you couldn’t help but recall the shivers that went down your spine by the brook. Something calling for you. 

---------

Any feedback is much appreciated for this newbie. <3 Comment if you want to be on a taglist!

Masterlist / Next >>

[natsgrave]

WHISPERS OF HEARTACHE | angstober

╰┈➤ synopsis: one day whether you are, 14, 28, or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. however, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.

╰┈➤ welcome and short message: main m.list hello, my sweet gravels! i am thrilled to welcome you to "whispers of heartache," a collection of angst-filled one shots centered around the compelling characters of natasha romanoff / scarlett johansson, wanda maximoff / elizabeth olsen, and a female reader. this book is a labor of love, crafted from my deep admiration for these characters and my passion for storytelling. in this book, you will find a series of emotionally charged stories that delve into the complexities of love, loss, and heartache. each one shot will be written in the third person point of view, offering a broad perspective on the intense and often tumultuous emotions experienced by the characters. i must share that english is not my first language. therefore, you may encounter some grammatical errors or awkward phrasing throughout the stories. i appreciate your understanding and patience as i strive to improve my writing skills. my goal is to convey the depth of emotions and the intricate dynamics between the characters, even if my language skills are still a work in progress. angst has a unique power to connect with readers on a deep, emotional level. it explores the raw, often painful aspects of human relationships and personal struggles. through these stories, i hope to capture the essence of what it means to love and to lose, to fight and to surrender. each tale is crafted to evoke empathy and reflection, inviting you to experience the characters' journeys as if they were your own. your reblogs and feedback is incredibly valuable to me. as i embark on this storytelling journey, i welcome your thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticism. please feel free to leave comments and reviews. your input will not only help me grow as a writer but also ensure that the stories resonate with you, the readers. thank you for joining me in this exploration of the whispers of heartache. i hope that these one shots will touch your heart and leave a lasting impression. happy reading! warm regards, G.J ps: i will be adding the first few angst that i already wrote in this masterlist even though it's technically not part of this masterlist. but, it's angst, so...

╰┈➤ tolerate it

while you were out building other worlds, where was i? you assume i'm fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins? ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x gf!reader

╰┈➤ new year's day

i want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day. please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere. ── .✦ pairing: sister's bsf!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ midnight rain

she was sunshine, i was midnight rain. she wanted a bride, i was making my own name, chasing that fame. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ you're losing me

how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? do i throw out everything we built or keep it? and you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ in the next lifetime

but in those photos, i saw us instead and, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other in another life. you still would've turned my head even if we'd met. you're always gonna be mine, we're gonna be timeless. ── .✦ pairing: general's son!steve x general's daughter!reader, maid!natasha x general's daughter!reader, scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the manuscript

the only thing that's left is the manuscript. one last souvenir from my trip to your shores. now and then i reread the manuscript but the story isn't mine anymore. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the smallest woman who ever lived

and i don't miss what we had, but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x ex hydra!reader

╰┈➤ favorite crime

i hope i was your favorite crime, 'cause baby, you were mine. ── .✦ pairing: bsf!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ mean it

on your lips just leave it, if you don't mean it. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x gf!reader

╰┈➤ love me nicely

i know you love me, but could you love me nicely? ── .✦ pairing: toxic!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ if the world was ending

i know, you know, we know, you weren't down for forever and it's fine. i know, you know, we know, we weren't meant for each other and it's fine. but if the world was ending you'd come over, right? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ soulmate

what a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away. taking down the pictures and the plans we made. big mistake, you broke the sweetest promise that you never should have made. ── .✦ pairing: fiance!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ greatest what if

someday when you leave me, i bet these memories follow you around. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ heart

i knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed. should've known i'd be the first to leave think about the place where you first met me. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x crush!reader

╰┈➤ too late

words— how little they mean when you're a little too late. ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!steve, husband!bucky x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i miss you

now, i fear i have fallen from grace and i feel like my castle's crumbling down. ── .✦ pairing: actress!scarlett x actress!reader

╰┈➤ wedding

sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes walking out is the one thing, that will find you the right thing. the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul, you know when it's time to go. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x event planner!reader

╰┈➤ last memory

if i didn't know better, i'd think you were talking to me now. if i didn't know better, i'd think you were still around. what died didn't stay dead, you're alive, so alive, in my head. ── .✦ pairing: agent!elizabeth x agent!reader

╰┈➤ thank you

why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ we both had our chance

i persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i hate you

remembering her comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it's time now gotta let go. but moving on from her is impossible, when i still see it all in my head, in burning red. ── .✦ pairing: shitty!scarlett x annoying!reader

╰┈➤ on bended knee

can we go back to the days our love was strong? can you tell me how a perfect love goes wrong? can somebody tell me how to get things back the way they use to be? oh god give me a reason, i'm down on bended knee. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x actress!reader

╰┈➤ the cut that always bleeds

oh, i could be anything you need, as long as you don't leave. the cut that always bleeds. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett x gf!reader

╰┈➤ backburner

i'll always be in your corner, 'cause i don't feel alive 'til i'm burnin' on your backburner. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x agent!reader

╰┈➤ the great war

we can plant a memory garden, say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair. there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair and we will never go back. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ enough for you

and maybe i'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before but god, you couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more. 'cause all i ever wanted was to be enough for you and all i ever wanted was to be enough for you. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x insecure!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ to be written:

╰┈➤ 1 step forward, 3 steps back

do you love me, want me, hate me? boy, i don't understand. no, i don't understand.

╰┈➤ better woman

i know the bravest thing i ever did was run.

╰┈➤ strange

isn't it strange how people can change. from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?

╰┈➤ lose you to love me

we'd always go into it blindly, i needed to lose you to find me. this dancing was killing me softly, i needed to hate you to love me.

╰┈➤ almost is never enough

almost is never enough, so close to being in love. if i would have known that you wanted me, the way i wanted you then maybe we wouldn't be two worlds apart, but right here in each other's arms.

╰┈➤ wish you were sober

kiss me in the seat of your rover, real sweet, but i wish you were sober.

╰┈➤ same ground

because i have learned that love is beyond what human can imagine, the more it clears, the more i have to let you go.

╰┈➤ the way i loved you

but i miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and it's 2 a.m. and i'm cursing your name. so in love that you act insane and that's the way i loved you.

╰┈➤ champagne problems

your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my champagne problems.

╰┈➤ last kiss

you told me you loved me, so why did you go away?

╰┈➤ maroon

the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was. the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon.

╰┈➤ loml

you said i'm the love of your life about a million times.

╰┈➤ consequences

loving you was sunshine, safe and sound, a steady place to let down my defenses but loving you had consequences.

╰┈➤ casual

i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.

╰┈➤ illicit affairs

they show their truth one single time but they lie, and they lie, and they lie a million little times.

╰┈➤ forever and always

oh back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything? back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything?

[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | 2

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🫧

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 13k+

warnings. (for this chapter) angst kinda. . . tbh, slight nsfw (nipple play, wet dreams), mythical creature reference, uhh kinda post nut clarity but also not so? , scene of drowning/possible near-drowning, parental neglect / toxic parenting, flashbacks, anxiety / panic attack 😬, our girl is learning to heal ❤️‍🩹, A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED 👀, some light-hearted fun and bickering, not proofread cause im tired byee it’s like really 3:15 am, “english isn't my first language,” the last part tho. . . . . . .

flash backs are highlighted in italics.

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There’s a very small line between fear and curiosity.

The silence of the ocean isn’t like any you’ve known before. It’s thick, hurled down with a stillness that presses against your ears until you’re sure that you’ll be crushed underneath it.

The water stretches endlessly in every direction, dark and silver, the colour of ink spilled beneath a dim moon. It laps against your skin as if testing you, as if inviting you deeper. You float weightlessly on the surface, arms outstretched, as though surrendering yourself to the vastness of the world. But this surrender—it isn’t frightening. No, it’s rather. . . soft. Gentle.

The water laps at your skin like a soft caress, welcoming you, inviting you deeper into her embrace.

You’re truly floating—and for a moment, it feels like surrender. Like peace. The kind that numbs your bones and soothes the chaos inside you.

And you can’t resist. You’ve never been able to resist the pull of the sea. And you don’t think it would be the first time you’d be able to do so, too.

The horizon looks like it’s shimmering — blurring where the water meets the sky. Stars scatter above, their reflections rippling across the surface like a thousand tiny lights dancing just out of reach, sprinkled on the vast sky like dust particles.

Why are they so far away from you ?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear a thump. A faint hum that lingers, a low, hypnotic sound that pulls you closer. It’s as if the ocean itself is singing — a song only you can hear, a melody that fills your chest with a longing you don’t understand. A yearning which feels similar to the feeling of being homesick. It feels like silk, easing the tension from your muscles; it feels like coming home — though you don’t know why.

You sigh.

You sink deeper, arms brushing against the cool, endless expanse. It feels refreshing — cool. The water cradles you, and yet, it feels like something more. Like someone more. There’s a presence here — intangible, unseen, but there nonetheless. It circles you, watching, waiting. You feel the eyes on the back of your head, but it’s not unpleasant or something closer to.

The touch comes without any warning.

It’s a gentle pressure against your arm, light and delicate, almost as if it’s barely there. At first, you think it’s the current, or you’re just hallucinating, but it’s too precise, too careful, too textured. You freeze, breath catching in your throat, but the touch doesn’t retreat. It lingers, tracing along your skin like a very delicate caress. A voice whispers through the water, soft as the tide, as clear as the waters. It’s familiar, achingly so, but you can’t place it, no matter how hard you try. It’s almost like you’re squinting your eyes to look at a distant image better, but you cannot.

The sound curls around you, weaving through your mind, like how tendrils of a plant wraps itself around its support. And for a moment, you think you’ve recognized it — think you know who it belongs to.

It traces along your arm, delicate as a breeze, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your eyes snap open, scanning the dark water around you, but there’s nothing. Only the vast, endless sea, and the sparkling waves. And yet, you can feel it— him —there with you, unseen but present, lingering just out of sight.

What was he?

The touch returns, sliding up to your shoulder, and this time, it’s more certain. More real. It trails down your spine, igniting something inside you that’s both comforting and terrifying and . . . arousing? Your breath catches in your throat, heart stuttering as you try to make sense of the sensation as goosebumps prickle all along the expanse of your flesh. It’s intimate, overwhelming — like the sea is alive, drawing you into something deeper, something you can’t escape.

But do you really want to, though?

The question flits through your mind, and without even thinking, you lean into the touch, letting it guide you further. The water swirls around you, cool but not cold — its surface now shimmering with an ethereal light that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The stars overhead blur, their reflections weaving through the waves like a dream. And then, you feel it — his breath, warm against your ear. The voice is clearer now, low and resonant, like a gentle plea. A delicious shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, as you feel your eyes close again.

You feel him — his nose rubbing against the expanse of your neck. A hum escapes your throat at the sensation when the slope of his nose rubs against the sensitive underside of your jaw, and then, you feel it.

Your stomach swirls with pleasure.

You hear him whisper something in your ear. Softly, almost like soft silk brushing against your skin— and though the words are foreign, you understand them. Not with your mind, but with your soul.

Don’t look.

The warning seeps into your bones, a quiet plea wrapped in something more dangerous. You’re afraid it’s all too much, too intense. You cannot understand the sensations in you — the bubbling heat in your stomach and the ringing bells in your head. But you can’t help it. You have to see. You have to know who he is.

Slowly, as if fighting against the pull of the ocean, you turn your head. You know he is behind you. The water parts around you, thick and heavy, slowing your movements as if the very sea itself is trying to stop you.

Don’t look.

The words echo in your mind, louder now, edged with desperation. But it’s too late. You’re already searching, eyes scanning the dark water, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. The one who’s been pulling you deeper, holding you close, whispering words of praise so sweetly that you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart.

You reach out, and you feel your hand trembling as it cuts through the water. And then you see him—just a shadow at first, a silhouette drifting through the water, a figure submerged in the hues of the darkness. He’s close, so close, but still just out of reach. You squint, straining to make out the details, but the sea keeps him shrouded in darkness.

You cannot see him.

The moment your fingers brush his form, a jolt of electricity shoots through you, a pulse of energy that sets your nerves alight, a type which makes the heat in your belly intensify.

He’s solid, real, but he doesn’t move. Just hovers there, watching you with an intensity that makes you want to squirm endlessly.

The figure moves closer, the water parting around him, and your pulse quickens. You can’t make out his face — yet again — but you can see the outline of him now, clearer than before. Broad shoulders, a lithe, sinewy body tapering to a narrow waist. His movements are smooth, fluid, as he floats, his arms very delicately holding your waist.

When did he get so close?

And then you see them—the scales.

They glimmer faintly beneath the water, catching the light in shades of deep violet and silver, fading into skin as he draws closer. The scales ripple down his torso, shifting into skin that is smooth and supple, as though he exists somewhere between the human world and something far more ancient. His long hair drifts around him, dark as midnight, curling into waves that fall across his bare chest — though the details remain elusive, just out of reach, like a blurry portrait.

You feel his hand— which feels slightly slimy and rough in texture, move up your waist, stroking your skin. His touch is cold, electrifying — and you feel your sanity leave your soul when his knuckles brush against the swell of your breasts.

Your pulse spikes, and you suck in a breath. You cannot go this far, even if your body is screaming to him to end what he’s started. His hands keep on stroking the exposed skin of your waist, delicately and tenderly, like he’s working you to the oblivion of endless pleasure, because why the hell is this arousing you so much?

You’re already breathless by the time you scramble to get a hold of his wrist which feels rather cold to touch before it gets too far away beyond your control.

He doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he leans into your touch, his skin warm and soft beneath your fingertips, though you can still feel the faint ridges of scales beneath the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He feels real. He feels alive. You are exposed and vulnerable in his hold.

The ocean swells around you, and the hum in your ears grows louder, more insistent. He shifts, his body turning towards you, and finally — finally — you see his face.

Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, plump, soft lips which are curved in the faintest of smiles. His eyes are unbelievably dark, pupils abnormally wide and endless as the sea — lock onto yours, and you feel like you’re drowning all over again, and yet they feel like they’re glowing like the scales on his skin, a blunt, gentle glow. They draw you in, pulling you deeper into a whirlpool of emotion you can’t name, can’t understand, don’t want to understand. There is something very familiar about him which you cannot exactly pinpoint. But before you can even think of something else, you feel his thumb brush against the peak of your nipple.

Gods.

You moan, a high pitched one which you didn’t know you were capable of making, hands flying to his arms, leaning in submission. Your eyes close themselves as you feel a spark of pleasure travel straight to your clit with each flick of his fingers, and you nearly tremble in his hold.

This can’t be happening.

But the pleasure, it’s so intense — you are torn between your own desire, your own curiosity. It’s just too much for you, and a needy whine escapes your lips when you feel him pinch your nipples gently, twisting the bud in his hold. You squirm, feeling your centre pulse and ache with need, and you hear a small chuckle from his side.

You’re just so close to succumbing to this pleasure. You’re almost ready to voice out your inner thoughts, your need for him, but your body freezes when you hear him.

“Will you run away?”

The question hangs between you, low and velvety, his tone both teasing and somewhat serious. Your eyes fly open as your brain finally acknowledges the voice, his words wrapping around your heart like a vice. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Your throat is tight, your lungs burning as though the air has been stolen from you.

He cocks his head, the faintest hint of confusion flickering in his gaze. His hand reaches for you, fingers grazing your arm as though testing your reaction, unsure of your response. But there is something else in his gaze, something that stirs a memory long buried beneath the surface.

Him.

It’s him.

You know him. You’ve always known him.

The realisation crashes into you like a wave, and your breath hitches. You gasp, twisting in his hold as bells ring in your head again. You cannot be doing this. You feel his hands move from your chest to your shoulders, a small tap on your blade as a sign of concern, interrogation. His touch is oddly warm, gentle, but there’s a hesitation in the way he holds you now, a question in his eyes.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why you’re pulling away. His brows furrow, and you can see it in his eyes—he thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re afraid of him.

“Will you run away again, like you did tonight?”

Huh?

The question sharpens, the confusion giving way to something more desperate, more exposed. His grip tightens, but not in a way that traps you, but makes you feel oddly seen. His hands caress your shoulder blades, as though he’s pleading with you, silently asking you to stay, to tell him that he isn’t the reason for your fear.

But the truth is — he isn’t. Not entirely.

Your heart races, your mind swirling as fragments of memories begin to unfold. You see flashes of a different ocean, a younger version of yourself pulling someone from the depths. Water in your lungs, panic in your chest, eyes burning — and a boy — struggling to breathe. Your hands shaking, his eyes wide with fear, and your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And then . . . . nothing.

Silence.

But now, here he is again.

You twist in his grip, again, afraid of the lack of your words, the silence which stretches forever alongside the soft waves of the ocean, and his hauntingly pitch obsidian eyes — your body reacting on instinct, and the moment you do, his expression crumbles.

His confusion turns to hurt.

He pulls back, just a fraction, his gaze clouding with uncertainty. He doesn’t understand. He thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re running from him . . . again. His lips stretch to a snarl, and you catch a glimpse of death lining the inside of his mouth.

The water grows heavier around you, your eyes widening as you beat the water around you as you feel like you’re drowning. Being pulled down all of a sudden. The stars overhead dim all of their light as the weight of the ocean presses you down as his voice echoes once more, softer now, filled with a quiet kind of sorrow.

“So you are going to run away.”

Your lungs burn, your vision blurs, and the ocean swells around you, pulling you deeper into its embrace as you feel yourself immersed, despite your attempts of resistance. The ocean feels like a thousand knives stabbing you all around, unlike the soft blanket of comfort you felt a few moments ago.

The siren’s eyes are the last thing you see, his endless gaze filled with a longing that tugs at something deep inside you — something you’ve kept hidden for far too long.

He doesn’t even attempt to save you as everything goes black.

And then you wake.

It’s all so dark once again. Except, there’s no ocean around you, and you’re sitting on your bed in the middle of the room.

It takes you sometime to adjust to the darkness in your room — the moon is barely visible through the slits of your closed windows, and yet it feels like some sort of hallucination — almost as if your heart is going to burst. Your throat is cracked up as you gulp down on your own saliva, feeling each second passing by killing your throat as the moisture travels down your throat.

Your skin is damp with sweat, hair sticking on your face like some sort of icky school glue. And for a moment, you can still feel the ocean around you, his touch lingering on your skin.

When you recover a bit, you notice that there’s an undeniable discomfort in between your legs — your underwear sticking to your core, soiled, and slick coating your inner thighs as you cringe.

You had a wet dream. Like a fucking teenager. Or, a mixture of something arousing and horror. Was there any specific label to it? Possibly not.

You feel the wrath of shame wash over you as you duck your head down. Why him and why exactly. . .

But it’s gone—just a dream, a memory that slips through your fingers like sand, confusing you all again the more you think of it with each passing second. There are a flurry of questions in your mind which feels way too overwhelming to answer, ponder about, and you feel a splitting headache slowly spreading in the back of your head.

Yet, a question stands out the most amongst all. His voice, low and haunting, still echoes in your mind.

Will you run away again, just like tonight ?

The sea has always been your solace.

It was a vast, open space that offered more comfort than the people crowding your life ever did, or ever could. You sit at the edge of the beach, far enough from the others that their voices are nothing but distant clatters, but close enough that you still feel the spray of the waves on your skin. It feels soothing — yet warm as you bask in the slightly hot weather. The sun is high in the sky, yet all you can focus on is the steady rhythm of the ocean, like a quiet lullaby which rocks your body to a peaceful slumber. You draw idle patterns in the sand, your fingers trailing through the grains as your mind drifts, far from where you are, far from everything.

You’ve never liked being here, atleast, not with them.

The smiles, the laughter, the way everyone seems to fit in so seamlessly—everyone except for you. No matter how hard you’ve tried, you just couldn’t. The latest magazine in your school library had that little “self care corner”, which was fascinating, but absurd to you at first, but it’s been a matter of a few weeks since you’ve been following it. It says that you should be grateful for your blessings and try to improve yourself first before you justify why you feel so wronged and hurt. “It’s a hard pill to swallow”, were the exact words, and you do realise that heck yes, they were.

You had tried so many ways you could improve yourself, with some help from the limited internet access you’re provided from your computer. It said that regular journalling, walking, or activities which overall help you in reflecting on yourself and your thoughts assist in healing. But all that it ever did was make you feel like a bitter fool who had nothing to do but to complain all the damn time, without even putting in the effort to do anything.

So you’d tried putting in the effort. You’d tried mingling in with your friends and classmates. You’d even tried to actually be in the same room as your parents and be involved in whatever they were.

In the end, all that you were met was a cold, dead end.

You felt like you were pretending to be someone who you could never be. You were quite literally pushing yourself off the edge of the ground trying to fit in while others — he — shines without effort. Jungkook has always been at the centre of things, his laughter louder, his smile brighter, his presence bigger than yours could ever be. You just felt like another blurred character in the background who acts like a prop to enhance the overall photo.

And you hated it, hated how you couldn’t stop noticing him, couldn’t stop being reminded of all the ways you fell short.

You kicked the spare pebble nearby you, frustrated at having him in the centre of your thoughts again. One of the many things that the small self care centre had taught you was that nothing other than your own thoughts can hurt you as much as others, and it’s solely your own thoughts which can bring you happiness. So you try and keep your chin up high, trying to think of things which aren’t the constant nagging and pleading of your own parents about how you are no longer a star student and nothing can help you improve now, reminding you why you’re content to stay in the background itself.

But the ocean never judged you. It never asked anything of you. It just was — vast, open, endless, inviting. You can feel the familiar tug in your chest, the pull toward the water, a place where you could lose yourself if only for a moment, and forget everything which pesters you so much.

It’s that pull that keeps you grounded as you sit alone. That, and the nagging feeling that something is off. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it.

Why would you?

You’re used to being ignored, used to being an afterthought. But there’s just something in the air which feels odd, something unsettling that has your senses prickling, your chest tightening. You tell yourself that it’s nothing. You’re just anxious, that’s all. You don’t need to be involved, don’t need to care. Let them handle it. You’re done trying to be a part of something that always leaves you feeling more isolated.

And then, you hear it.

A splash. Sharp and out of place. It’s followed by a frantic noise, like someone struggling, thrashing against the waves. You freeze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You tell yourself it’s not your problem, that it’s probably nothing.

But deep down, you know better. Something is wrong.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You rise to your feet before you can even think ; your eyes dart across the water, scanning the waves, searching for the source. And that’s when you see him.

Jungkook.

He’s far from the shore, too far. His arms are flailing, desperately trying to keep himself afloat. The water pulls him under, and for a terrifying second, he disappears beneath the surface. Your eyes pop out, your pulse spiking up violently as you feel your chest tightening. For another moment, you see his head poke out of the violent waves, his arms still struggling, and in another, you lose sight of him. It feels like your whole body has been frozen, your limbs refusing to move despite your mind screaming for otherwise.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. You’re on your feet, the sand slipping under your soles as you sprint toward the shore. You should hate him. You do hate him— or at least, you’ve convinced yourself of that.

But none of that matters right now. Not when his head breaks the surface again, his eyes wide with fear. He looks at you, a flicker of something — hope, maybe — crossing his face even in the middle of his panic and terror.

You hate that look, hate that it stirs something inside you, something that makes you pause for just a second. But you don’t let yourself think about it.

You don’t have time for that.

You dive into the water, the cold shock of it hitting you like a slap to the face, but you don’t stop. The current is strong, pulling you back with each stroke, but you push against it, swimming toward him with everything you have. You hadn’t realised that it’s been that long since you’ve been engaged in any other physical vigorous activity, or is it just the fact that the current is way too strong that the resistance it offers to you nearly stops you from gliding forward.

The water is blurry, your eyes stinging with the saline as you swin forward to locate him.

When you reach him, his body feels heavier than you expected, his limbs weak and movements uncoordinated. He’s coughing, choking on seawater, his breaths ragged and desperate. For a second, his weight drags you down, and you both sink slightly under the water. Panic rises in your chest, but you force it down.

You’re not going to let him drown. Not today.

With every fibre of strength left in your being, you push yourself forward. The moment your hands hold his arm, you pull him close. You feel a strong sense of electricity run through your whole arm, but you ignore it. You hook your arm under his, pulling him closer to you, and you start swimming back to shore. Every stroke feels like a battle against the ocean, but you don’t stop. His body presses against yours, his breathing uneven as he clings to you, and despite everything — despite how much you want to hate him — you don’t let go.

What’s more important is to save him, and that’s all what matters now. His weight feels heavy in your arms as you drag him toward the shore, your calves crying with the stretch and your arms cramping with exerted strength already lost, but that’s not your priority.

“I got you”, is all that you can offer as a silent statement in your head, your main motive being taking him to the shore safely.

By the time your feet touch the sand, your muscles are screaming, but you don’t care. You haul him out of the water, your breaths coming in sharp, painful gasps. The waves crash behind you, but all you can hear is the sound of Jungkook’s coughs, his chest heaving as he gulps down a mouthful of air.

You collapse onto the sand next to him, your arms trembling from the effort. For a moment, neither of you say anything.

He’s still recovering, his eyes closed as he lies on his back, his chest rising and falling unevenly. You feel the thrum of your own exhaustion settle in, but more than that, you feel that of the silence between you.

After quite some time, he’s just silent as you are, sitting up in a somewhat upward position as you. The sun fades away to shadows, and the waves feel stronger as cool winds blow from the shore, touching your feet in a gentle fuzzy wash. The clouds overhead dim further as you crane your neck up, indicating rain.

You’d nearly lost him.

What could’ve happened if you hadn’t heard him back then?

Your heart clenches at the thought and you feel even more exhausted mentally than physically thinking of the probable possibilities of your thoughts. You look at him — his profile silent and calm as he watches the waves dance in the distance. He looks deep in thoughts, still a bit ragged.

Your heart skips a beat out of nowhere.

And then, without thinking, you reach out and pull him into a hug.

It’s not something you planned, not something you would ever admit to doing if anyone asked.

But at that moment, it felt right.

His body is warm against yours, smelling like the soft saline ocean, still damp, still buzzing. And despite the lingering taste of salt on your lips and the sting of exhaustion in your muscles, you hold him tight. Your heart pounds in your chest as your brain threatens you to process something scary, as scary as a life without him. But with him in your arms, you feel better.

Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s something else. You don’t know, and you’re too tired to care.

Before you can feel anything more, though, the sound of running footsteps breaks through the quiet. Your parents. His parents. They come rushing over, calling his name, their voices frantic and full of worry.

“Jungkook!” It’s your mother. You watch her as she runs to the boy, panic settled in her features with dark, teary eyes as she grabs him by his shoulders, checking him for any signs of injuries. You watch silently as her tears stream down her eyes, shaking.

She doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Your dad saw you struggling in the sea. Oh, my dear child, we rushed to you right there and then! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s parents fuss over him, their hands gentle as they check him over, making sure he’s okay. Your own parents linger nearby, but as usual, it’s him who gets all the attention. You stand there, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath, but it’s like you don’t even exist.

“I think he needs to see a doctor! His skin is way too cold to touch!”

Oh.

You let go of him, pulling back just as they all hover around him, some sobbing, some worried, and once again, you find yourself shoved into the background.

It’s Mr. Jeon who finally acknowledges you, his eyes warm with gratitude as he hands you a towel. Oh. You’re caught quite off guard, you’re being honest — not when you feel his affectionate gaze at you and a warm hand pat your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “You saved him,” his voice is full of kindness. Like the kind which always feels like a far echo to you. His eyes were always gentle, the kind which made you feel oddly at ease. “We owe you a lot, child.”

“It’s nothing,” You nod, but there’s no satisfaction in it, even if you’d try to feign some. You did what you had to do, and yet, it feels like nothing has changed. There’s a churning feeling in your tummy, one that makes you feel fidgety and anxious again, like all the emotions you hate mixed into one. Selfishness, greed, envy. Afterall, he was in danger. He deserves to be treated and taken care of; you were just a rescue.

However, it just feels so. . . you cannot name it. You’re still the one left behind, still the one who doesn’t quite blend in.

As you watch them lead Jungkook away, his movements clumsy and sputtering, you can’t help but feel the familiar sting of resentment rising in your chest. He’s alive, he’s okay—and yet, you can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you do, you’ll always be the one on the outside looking in, trying to blend in, like how oil does with water — but is it ever possible?

The feeling in your stomach is so ugly that you physically have to fight the urge to kick the sand.

You turn to face the sea once again, lost in the ocean of your own thoughts as the sky growls with thunder.

But what you don’t notice, is the way his eyes follow you as he’s led away. There’s a flicker in them, a quiet gratitude, a longing that he wanted to show you. He wants to thank you, to reach out and pull you back into the hug you’d given him so freely, so sincerely that he’d felt like his world had stopped for a few minutes. But the words stick in his throat, each step feeling like a tug away from you.

You don’t see the way his gaze lingers over his shoulder as he looks at your retreating figure. How he watches you with something deeper.

Something silent, before the tide of people pulls him away from you once again.

The kitchen feels too quiet this morning.

The sound of coffee dripping into the carafe snaps you out of your thoughts, its steady rhythm grounding you in the early morning quiet. The aroma of brewed coffee does little to clear the fog of your tired brain, because once again, you’d failed to get even an ounce of sleep. All you could do was toss around endlessly in the bed. The sheets felt warm, the pillows felt warm, and everything inside your thoughts were so warm you felt like you were getting grilled in your own thoughts.

With no BBQ sauce, though.

But finally, finally when your eyelids had felt too heavy to be kept open, your body clock had decided that it was time to get up.

You sit at the counter, gaze drawn to the espresso stone — an indulgence you’d bought in a phase of believing that rituals like brewing coffee would help settle the storm of your mind. But right now, it does little to nothing.

You’d always preferred instant coffee anyways. Easy, quick, and effortless. Call you lazy or whatever, but let’s be real, who the fuck has the allat energy to do that stuff when it’s the first thing you need in the morning?

(Some real coffee lovers might be giving you the stink eye, but well.)

You absolutely respect others who have, though. But you’re okay with warm water and a sachet of instant coffee. It doesnt taste quite as authentic, but it does work.

Or maybe you were just habituated.

What surprises you is that your parents were awake, but they didn’t come to wake you up this time. Not like before, when the first sound of life in the house was your mom’s footsteps hurrying up to your room. Now when you woke up, it felt like you weren’t even present in the house — perhaps you just expected much more than you should have.

The rich, dark liquid pools into the pot as you stare down at the counter, a knot of emotions tying in your chest. It’s strange, the way time has moved here — everything looks the same, but it feels unfamiliar. The tension that used to live in these walls, seeping through the cracks of their arguments and filling the spaces between your breaths, has softened.

For once, they're not fighting.

You don’t know what to make of that.

You close your eyes against the wave of discomfort that rises in your chest, refusing to let yourself spiral again, but it lingers, just like the faint bitterness of over-brewed coffee.

The morning light is soft, creeping through the windows, and you let your fingers trace idle circles on the countertop, waiting for the espresso to finish. Something about the silence feels unnerving. Not the comfortable, soothing kind though, but the kind that crawls into your bones and makes you hyper-aware of everything — it suddenly dawns on you that you weren’t awakened by that alarm of your phone.

Your phone.

A flood of memories flash right in front of your eyes, remembering him, holding it in his hands while you trembled like a fool and fled from him, again.

You’re so stupid.

You close your eyes. Fuck. Those eyes, those eyes. You were never successful to run away from them, even if he was in a state where he didn’t recognise you. They made you feel exposed, like a deer caught in headlights.

And suddenly, that touch, which is still so prominent in your senses, washes over you. The dream — his touch—lingers like a shadow on your skin, and you’re ashamed of the warmth it stirred in you. Confused, even. Your fingertips twitch, an involuntary reaction to the memory of the way the siren’s — Jungkook’s — hands had roamed over your body in the dream. The way his voice had sunk into your bones, asking, Will you run away?

The question was more than a dream. It was a reminder. And it makes your stomach churn.

You feel a shiver run down your spine.

No. You shake your head, you definitely will go insane if you think about it anymore. You try to shake it off, breathing out a sigh. It’s just a dream, you tell yourself. Get over it. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, inhaling deeply as if the scent could calm the knot in your stomach. There's no running from your thoughts this morning — no distractions, no excuses, and certainly no phone to hide behind. It hits you that without it, you’re forced to confront the very things you’ve been avoiding.

The what-ifs, the what-nows.

You just hope that the bitter coffee would ground you, but it doesn’t.

You take a sip, but it’s scalding, and the sudden burn against your lips yanks you from whatever you were lost in. You wince and place the cup back on the counter, feeling oddly betrayed by something as simple as a morning routine. Without your phone, you’re left feeling vulnerable, like your connection to the outside world has been severed.

You are definitely not a chronically online person, but a few instagram reels certainly do not feel as shitty as the coffee you’ve just made yourself.

You sigh. You wish that you did not rely on your phone for nearly every detail and necessities needed, and you seriously wish you had written down all those log in passwords and passkeys in a diary or something like that. They contain email IDs which you genuinely do not remember, and those unfinished drafts of that novel which you were working in. . .

Argh. You already feel the slight throb develop in the back of your head. There’s a sting behind your eyes, which you blink away. What the fuck ? You cannot lose your shit over such a mundane thing. You’re an adult, and you have enough cash to buy yourself a new phone. (What stings you is the fact that you definitely didn’t need one, but you are petty enough to not get the. . . err, lost one back.)

Anyways, you’re lucky enough to have a laptop with you, and if you can remember correctly, you do have your important e-mails registered in it and hopefully, you can do enough to not lose all your precious details.

(You feel silly as hell.)

But a small part of you trusts that Jungkook wouldn't mess with your details, right? He wouldn’t snoop through your life. . . would he?

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. There’s no point in obsessing over it. Trust him, you tell yourself, even if it’s easier said than done.

— — — —

As you settle down in the living room, laptop perched on your knees, you try to throw yourself into work, your fingers moving swiftly across the keys.

So far, you’ve been successful in logging out of all the devices and recovering your passwords, and you thank the technology for that. Although, those small manuscripts are something which you feel like are in the point of no return. The soft hum of your parents moving about the house barely registers at first, until you glance up and see them together, not at each other’s throats like they usually are.

They’re seated together, your father’s profile hidden behind the newspaper he’s so absorbed in reading, and your mother silently sipping on her tea.

How long have they been like this?

A flicker of surprise ripples through you, followed by an unfamiliar feeling you can’t quite place. They’ve been civil for the past few hours. No shouting, no being on each other’s throats anymore. Just... quiet, almost peaceful.

The same kind of quiet that you once craved for as a child.

You shift in your seat, a strange discomfort setting in as you observe them. It’s unsettling — this lack of chaos between them, and you wonder if they’re simply pretending for your sake. Ha. As if they would actually care.

You push the thought aside, not wanting to linger on memories of their constant arguments, of how they never seemed to notice you slipping through the cracks while they tore each other apart. Now, it feels like they've forgotten those days, moved on without you. But you haven't — If they didn’t bother then, why now when you are now just a temporary guest here?

The past has always found a way of sneaking up on you.

Suddenly, your father calls out your name, breaking the silence. His eyes are casted directly on you, his reading glasses slipping down a bit from his nose as he folds the newspaper he’d been reading to keep it back on the table. “The Jeons have been asking about you,” he says, his voice casual but pointed. Your hands freeze over the keyboard, and your heart skips a beat. “They’re very enthusiastic on hearing that you’re back.”

You force yourself to breathe, but the air feels thick in your lungs. Of course, they are, you think, trying to keep your expression neutral. They have always had maintained the image of that perfect neighbour next door, and this is no exception. However, a plethora of words rises to your throat, unsolicited. Is Jungkook with them?

The question burns on the tip of your tongue, and for a moment, you nearly let it slip. But before you can, your mother re-enters the room, carrying a tray — the rich, earthy scent of doenjang-jjigae fills the room, cutting through the tension like a warm breeze. You hastily cough, swallowing the words back, silently grateful for the interruption.

Although you’re now looking down at your laptop, you feel your father’s eyes flicker towards you, and the weight of his narrowed gaze, knowing he hasn’t missed the hesitation in your response. You are well experienced in this sensing emotions from your parents, and you know your father is suspicious. Let him be. But he says nothing more, choosing instead to focus on taking off his glasses and stretching a bit, preparing himself for his first nourishment of the day.

The silence stretches between you again, but at least for now, he doesn’t press the issue.

You exhale softly, your heart calming from the near slip-up.

A miss is as good as a mile.

That old fear of speaking in front of your father —cof saying the wrong thing, of upsetting the him — surges briefly, but you realize it’s not fear anymore. Not really. You’re no longer scared of him like you were as a child. His glare doesn’t topple you over the edge, and it barely has the same effect it did some few years ago.

You’re just not interested in talking to him, in engaging in a conversation you know won’t lead anywhere.

You can only offer a tight smile to your father as a response.

However , his words swirl around in your head, stirring up old emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s like some sort of a bitter nostalgia ; you’d run from him once already, bolted out of the cafe without looking back. And now, with this reminder that he’s close, that meeting him is inevitable, you feel a wave of fear rise inside you.

Fear, and something else.

Excitement ?

The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Why would you feel excited? You don't understand it. You’re supposed to hate him, aren’t you? For being perfect, for being everything you weren’t. For caring, even when you didn’t want him to. For not recognising you. Why? Why?

But there’s that small, rebellious spark inside you, one that flares at the thought of seeing him again. Those memories of seeing him so close creeps up your neurons like an surge of electricity, and you feel your heart pick up it’s speed again. Despite the fear, despite the confusion, you can’t deny the tug of anticipation. That sort which confuses you so much, that you feel like you’re someone really crazy.

No. You push the feeling down, gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles turn white. You shouldn’t be excited. You should be running again, like that voice in your head keeps whispering, urging you to flee before it’s too late.

Run away. Before he gets too close, before he sees you like this.

But you won’t.

Not this time.

You’re done running.

Even if your heart is racing, even if you’re terrified of what will happen when you see him again. You’ve been running for so long, without ever getting to catch a break — and you do not want to keep running away anymore. You are no longer a teenager, and you have to learn to face your challenges, although, this one is something which rather than being a challenge, feels like something which your whole life has revolved around so far.

You have let yourself suffer for consequences which you never were a part of. You have blamed your misery on someone, who was just as misunderstood as you were. Perhaps, that’s where the list of your flaws begins.

You won’t let yourself fall apart again. You are strong enough to face the storms which threaten to sweep you away. You’ve spent too long building these walls around yourself, and you won’t let him tear them down.

Not yet.

Your bottom lip gets a break from the non-stop nibbling upon hearing the empty bowls clink on the table, your mother chatting idly as she serves the food, and you nod along, though your thoughts are still tangled elsewhere completely.

You should feel relieved, thankful for the quick distraction, but instead, you feel like a thin thread is holding everything together, and it’s just a matter of time before it all unravels.

But when the first morsel of the warm strew hits your tastebuds, it was then when you realised that everything else can wait, but the food cannnot.

You were literally starving.

— — — —

Some things are easier to forget, even if they don’t deserve to be.

The park is quiet, the sound of leaves rustling in the soft breeze filling the humble air. It somehow feels like a place from another world — quiet, peaceful, as if it’s untouched by the dilemma that you’re trying to avoid. It’s funny, how this same peace stretched in between the coats of your house, yet you felt suffocated there, almost as if you weren’t meant to share that with your parents.

You sit on a weathered bench, legs curled beneath, pulling the collar of your coat closer as the cool, crisp autumn air brushes against your skin. Auburn leaves fall in slow spirals, collecting at your feet, a reminder of how everything changes — even when you’re standing still, despite how it felt like nothing had changed.

Perhaps, it was just you, or your home.

It felt fuzzy. Like the fuzz which collects at the rim of a carbonated drink when you shake it too hard. It was raining and was hot enough to feel sweat trickle down your spine just yesterday, and now. . . you feel like it’s about time you treat yourself with some mooncakes.

Speaking of which, you think red bean paste ones are slightly overrated, but you enjoy the taste as much if someone offered them to you for free.

You absently flick through the pages of a book you found tucked in a small “self-care” corner of a bookstore. The name of the corner had absent mindedly brought a smile to your lips, amazed at how this word was used so openly now, compared to that small section neatly tucked at the corner of that magazine you used to be so fascinated with.

The book. . . well, it’s not a bestseller, and it’s not something you’d normally pick up, (neither did anyone seem to, given the layer of dust the shopkeeper had to sweep away before handing it to you,) and you’ll be slightly embarrassed to admit that the name of the corner solely made you buy that book.

Well. . . now, you’re just thumbing the corner of a slightly dog-eared page idly, zoned out.

You turn the pages, but the words don’t really . . . stick. How could they, when your mind keeps wandering back to how everything feels so . . . lost? Like you’re floating aimlessly, without a map, without a clue as to where you’re supposed to be. Life has been a series of steps you weren’t ready to take, choices you weren’t prepared to make ; yet, you kept on running till you either bonked your head on the dead end or just chose the wrong path where you had to bear with the terrible consequences.

It sucks how even your gut feeling sometimes betrays you.

And all of it, every bit, feels like a puzzle that’s been missing pieces for longer than you’d care to admit.

You know why you’re here — not just in this park, pretending to care about a book on self-care, but why you’re avoiding the bigger thing. You’re avoiding them. The Jeons. The meeting that’s looming over you is like a storm you can’t run from. You knew your father did want to press over the topic after breakfast, but it was you who dodged it. You’ve been running long enough to know that much. But today… today, you’re trying to take your time, trying to convince yourself that maybe this is the moment you stop.

Stop running, stop pretending that running away would fix you and your problems.

But it’s hard. Hard to stop, hard to breathe, when every step forward feels like it’s pushing you closer to the one thing you’ve been trying to escape.

Your eyes flick down to the open book in your arms. Right.

You wanted to take your time, to clear your mind, and so may it be so. You’re not even a page down, when your mind registers a small paragraph.

Your eyes scan over the words again.

“Healing isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about living with it, the scars not a sign of weakness, but survival. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting—it’s choosing peace over pain.”

Your fingers tighten on the edges of the page ; the self-care corner — the memories, the dream which you unlocked — everything you’ve been trying to run from, to “heal,” just feels . . . unfinished. And maybe that's because there’s no real way to let go of what still owns parts of you.

“Let it go,” it reads. As if it’s speaking directly to you. Let go of the things that have been holding you back. Your childhood , the nights you spent wondering if things would ever change. All the times you wondered what it would’ve been like, if you’d tried a bit harder. If you were a bit more perfect.

A deep breath.

You shake your head, trying to focus on the book again. It’s helping you realise something — you deserve to heal from your trauma, even if you weren’t the one causing it.

You close the book, your hand hovering as if touching the cover could give you answers you’re not ready to face.

You let out a shaky exhale as you close your eyes.

Someone sits down beside you.

The weight shifts slightly on the bench. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it, lost in the haze of your own thoughts. It’s just another stranger. Who’s passing through this quiet park, like the leaves that have been falling, spiralling down without asking for permission.

But then, there’s a subtle tug, a familiar feeling in the air that makes you want to turn your head. Maybe you’re just as curious to see, to subtly eyeball if they’re enjoying the calm of the fall too.

You hesitate, staring down at the words. For a moment, you think maybe you should keep staring. But your curiosity gets the better of you.

You glance over and pause. Dark eyes meet yours, and it takes a second before the recognition sets in.

“Oppa?”

Yoongi.

Your eyes lift from the page, and there he is, looking almost too casual, like he belongs in this quiet moment. You notice his glow-up immediately — the way his features have matured, how his hair — darker than how your memory recalls, falls effortlessly across his forehead, styled beautifully to part in the middle. There’s just this quiet intensity in his cat-like, sharp eyes.

Yoongi, as you know, is Jungkook’s elder cousin on his mother’s side. He’s always had this quiet, reserved aura about him. Back then, he was already on the brink of adulthood, 18, and intimidating in a way only someone as mysterious as him could be. Maybe it’s that confidence in the way he still holds himself, the way he seems so sure of everything around him.

He would seem to be very distant at the first glance to anyone, but you know he’s anything but that, given that you always felt like he was that older brother you’ve never had.

And it’s no exception when instantly, his wide, gummy smile breaks through. It’s the same one that used to make you feel at ease back then. A smile so cute, rare, and warm, it could melt the deepest of glaciers to exist. Without warning, he reaches over and ruffles your hair affectionately, the way he always used to. You blink, a little stunned.

He wasn’t exactly known to be the physically affectionate boy, back then, though. . .

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice low, careful. Somehow you feel like it’s grown even deeper with a very prominent rasp. You can tell he’s not asking the surface-level question. He’s asking how you’re really doing, but without pushing you to say more than you’re ready for. And for that, you feel grateful.

Yoongi always knows what to say, and what not to.

“I’m . . . okay,” you manage to reply, though the word feels heavier than it should. Your voice sounds peculiar to you, but you guess that’s alright. What’s even the point of lying, though? “Just trying to figure some things out.”

He hums thoughtfully, nodding. Leaning back on the bench, his eyes scan over the park as if giving you time to find your words. “That’s good. Figuring things out is important.”

You nod, feeling a little relieved that he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’ve been gone for so long. He’s always had a way of avoiding the obvious, instead focusing on what matters now. You think back to how, in the earlier stages of his career, he always seemed to have his head on straight. If you’re not wrong, you’ve heard some seniors even gosip about how he was known to be the “campus bad boy”, which often confused you. How can a person so warm be called so?

The mixtape he released back then was proof of that, though — a reflection of everything he’d held back until he was ready to speak. His emotions came out through his art, something he was so passionate about, something you admired him for.

Anger, resentment, and hope.

You remember how those emotions warped themselves in his music, his first mixtape he released. Core hip-hop music, all produced by himself solely.

“I saw your mixtape,” you blurted out, not knowing why you’re bringing it up now. “It was… amazing.” You just wanted to let him know, although it feels like you’re a bit too late. It’s been nearly about six. . . maybe seven years, but each time you plug in, you feel like the memories are just as fresh as they were.

He chuckles softly, the sound a little shy despite the confidence he wears so well. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure anyone really listened.”

“What do you mean?” you gawk at him, wide eyed. “Is Min PD, the very famous AgustD saying this by himself?”

He smiles again, a soft laugh escaping him as he rubs his hands together. His skin seems flawless, you notice.

“I mean, of course. I appreciate my fans always, but I feel like the mainstream nowadays is pop music rather than old school hip-hop.”

You nod, licking your lips. Shit. You should’ve brought your lip balm around. “I do understand people indulging in trends, but I do believe that there are people who enjoy hip-hop just as much. For me, it’s like a whiff of fresh air. And I assure you — that your music feels just the same. I, myself as a fan, agree.”

His eyes softened — but they were never pointed to begin with. But before he can say more, there’s a flicker of something playful in them — a hint that makes your heart skip a beat. He taps his phone absentmindedly, then glances over at you again, that quiet smirk tugging at his lips.

As if he’s thinking something else.

“I sure am happy to know that there are others who share the same sentiments as me.”

His phone buzzes in his hand.

“Oh, right…" His tone is too calm, and you already know something's up before he even finishes. “I may have invited someone.”

You blink. “Invited someone?” Your voice comes out slower than you intend, the curiosity now gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Who?

But Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ask more. He stands up in that lazy, casual way of his, stretching like this is just another day, looking more like a cat stretching after their afternoon nap than a human being. His hand comes down to ruffle your hair again, the affectionate gesture almost pulling a smile from you despite the growing curiosity in your chest. He doesn’t answer you.

Instead, he just smiles that wide, gummy smile one more time before shrugging. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

You watch his retreating figure appear smaller and smaller in the distance as he walks away, hands in his pockets, relaxed and slow.

You’ve always known that Yoongi’s energy was different.

It’s not something you actively think about, but it lingers at the edges of your memories now that you’ve seen him again after a long time. He’s always been on the softer side, quieter — the kind of presence that fades into the background unless you’re really paying attention. Where Jungkook burned bright, a whirlwind of energy and easy charm, Yoongi was like the stillness after a storm — steady, unfazed, but undeniably there.

It’s funny, because despite those differences, Jungkook and Yoongi were close.

You saw it back then, how Jungkook would practically cling to him, always teasing him, always pushing at his boundaries whenever they both used to be together. Yoongi, for his part, would act annoyed, shrugging off Jungkook’s arm or swatting at him with that deadpan expression of his. But you knew better. You’d watched enough to see that he never really minded. Jungkook could be relentless with his affection.

Yoongi pretended to dislike it, there was always that hint of a smile lurking beneath his protests, amongst Jungkook’s giggles.

Sometimes, watching them together made something tighten in your chest — not quite jealousy, but something close. It wasn’t that you wanted what they had, but you couldn’t help feeling envious of how easy it seemed for them. The way Jungkook would wear Yoongi down with his stubborn warmth, and how Yoongi would eventually crumble, letting Jungkook in even if he’d never admit it.

That kind of bond was something you’d always wondered about — if you’d ever have someone like that, someone who wouldn’t mind your presence no matter how much you tried to push them away.

It’s an odd feeling.

Later that evening, you sit in the quiet of your room, the familiar isolation wrapping around you like a protective cloak. You’ve been actively hiding up here after you got back from the park, avoiding too much interaction. Not because anyone cared to ask where you were or what you were doing. It was more because you felt like you needed some time alone, yet, you feel like you’re alone. Your parents barely noticed, too caught up in their own world. Your mother had the formality to ask why won’t you join them for lunch, and thankfully they did not pry any further.

At least you got to have some quality time with yourself while you had the fancy lunch, which you would admit was a bit heavy on your wallet.

It made your hiding feel almost useless, but somehow, staying in your room brought you a small, bitter comfort.

You rub your eyes, feeling the strain on them for continuously typing for an hour. Your neck hurts, and your fingers feel frozen. You’re trying your best to remake the lost manuscript you’d drafted, and you don’t think this new version is anything close to that.

Sighing, you open your laptop again. It’s truly so tiring — but you guess you were a bit productive today, and that’s okay. Your finger hovers over the doc file, contemplating if you should continue any further — but ah, you’re just so tired. Even just thinking of typing a few hundred words would give you a headache. So you just let it go and log into Instagram — the only way you can connect since your phone is still missing.

A notification catches your eye. 1 new notification.

? Eh. . .?

Your notifications are always empty. Just once or twice from instagram that a celebrity has posted and you gotta catch up, which you don’t. Or a reel suggestion. Or people to follow, so this new notification brings a frown to your brows. What could it be?

Your heart jumps slightly when you see the sender.

dboy93_ : 2 new messages

Is that . . . — no way. He’s still using that same old instagram ID which he was forced to make as a dare back when you were in highschool? No way. Couldn’t be. You click on it, curiosity pushing through the haze of everything else.

dboy93_: Yo. This is Min Yoongi (edited)

dboy93_ : Sorry for leaving so suddenly earlier. Something came up

You stare at the message for a second, a slow smile hanging on your lips, then slowly type back.

you: it’s fine

you: ur still using this old ID of yours? 💀

Your eyebrows touch your hairline when you see the typing bubble bounce up immediately at the corner. You did not expect him to reply this soon. . .

dboy93_ : Ya who’s gonna bother making a new one anyway

dboy93_ : I was hoping that you won’t be mad at me for leaving that soon.

you : it’s fine, i understand

dboy93_ : Let’s meet again. I’m thinking of a café this time?

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion. Is he suggesting a—

dboy93_ : More time to catch up, plus we have some friends here for holidays too

you : ah, so like a reunion party ?

you : sounds good yo. count me in

dboy93_ : Will send you the location soon then

you : but when?

dboy93_ : Today, evening at 7?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a while. Keeping yourself occupied sounds kind of very nice, especially when you’re being promised a good time with a few more faces. It’s not like you’re the busiest person, anyway.

you : super. i’ll be there !!

dboy93_ : Oh and btw, can I get your number? Instagram’s a pain to use for texting

You let out a soft laugh. That’s Yoongi for you. Direct and practical, no hesitation. But what exactly would you tell him? That my phone is with your little brother right now?

you: imma give it to you once i get it back

you : i don’t have it with me right now

dboy93_ : 👍

Well, you don’t know what kind of reaction you were expecting from him, but you don’t know what to make of a thumbs up either.

— — — —

The evening feels lighter.

You’re sitting in that same, slightly odd café you were sitting in roughly 24 hours ago —the warmth inside 134340 contrasts with the cool autumn breeze slipping through the café door, hurling you to an unexpected sense of peace.

Very contradicting to your emotions yesterday.

For once, your thoughts don’t feel as heavy. It’s funny how something as simple as an Instagram text from Yoongi earlier can spark a little joy in your chest. You feel light; especially after that power nap turned to a full nap of three hours. You woke up with a growling stomach and a refreshed mind — it somehow felt like you haven’t felt this free since so long, that you don’t remember when was the last time.

No worries, no stress, no voices inside your head.

You’d sat there in your bed, zoned out on nothing particular. It was only when the alarm clock rang, indicating it was already 6 PM.

You hadn’t put much thought into what you were wearing today, but somehow, it feels like you got it just right.

The oversized cream sweater falls gently over your frame, its soft fabric comforting against your skin. It’s the kind of comfort you didn’t know you needed, the loose sleeves almost covering your hands completely as you absentmindedly tug at them. Paired with a long plaid skirt, whose deep shades of burgundy and brown had caught your attention in your wardrobe, the fabric swaying around your ankles.

You hadn’t planned this. None of it, really.

The tan ankle boots are more practical than anything else, but something about the way they click against the pavement felt just right. You don’t mind the way they match the season’s colours, almost blending in with the fallen leaves scattered at the cafe’s entrance.

You’d even added a light touch of makeup — nothing extravagant, just enough to brighten your eyes and bring a bit of life to your face. A swipe of mascara, a hint of blush, and a subtle nude lip colour that complements the cosy, neutral tones of your outfit. A quick brush to your hair and some setting spray was enough to bring out its natural volume.

You felt good.

Maybe for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re not hiding from the world.

For once, the reflection in the cafe window looking back at you doesn’t seem so far away from who you are. You feel. . . light. Almost like the crisp air itself, fresh and unbothered.

It feels good.

It’s been a while since you felt like this. After your conversation with Yoongi, you weren’t sure if you were ready to step back into a world that once felt so close yet now feels like a lifetime away. But somehow, the lightness in your chest said yes before your mind could overthink it.

Maybe, deep down, you’re starting to believe that this reunion could be good for you.

A small start to something. . .better.

You glance around the café. A soft smile pulls at your lips. It’s not crowded—just a few people scattered around, huddled over books or laptops. Familiar, but not too familiar. It’s quiet enough that yo don’t feel overwhelmed, and for thr first time in days, you allow yourself to just . . . exist.

No pressure. No expectations. Just here.

Your teeth pull at your inner cheek at the small pulsing thought in your head, that your phone is still not with you. The lack of your phone made you realise so many things within less than 24 hours, and you’re trying to not let that small voice gnaw your brain. The idea of him having it — his hands on something that’s been so close to you — feels strange, unsettling even.

You wonder if he’s seen anything, read anything, though the rational part of you knows it’s unlikely.

Still, the absence of your phone leaves an odd emptiness.

Which, you think, is just as good as bad as it can be. Without your phone, you can observe things better. You’d been reading physical copies of books, observing the pattern of how dew forms on grass blades, or even the faintest of noises which tingle your ears right now. Your thoughts never let you actually be present in the moment, always worrying about the future or regretting whatever you’ve done in the past.

No wonder why nostalgia for you feels painful.

But here, with the faint smell of fresh coffee and the sound of pages turning softly in the background, there’s space to breathe. You can feel the thrum of blood in your veins, the soft warmth of your sweater, the smiles on the faces of the baristas as they talk within themselves.

The soft clink of a spoon from a nearby table draws your attention. A few people are scattered about, engrossed in their own worlds — reading books, working on laptops, or chatting quietly. It’s peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like you’ve stepped out of your own life, finding solace in this tiny bubble away from everything.

You absently glance toward the door, the light chatter of passing people blending with the soft music playing inside. You’re early, but that’s fine.

It gives you time to yourself.

— — — —

The café door chimes.

Your eyes immediately dart to the entrace, tilting your head to the side to get a better view. Perhaps they’re here. You glance at the small wall clock adjacent to your table, and it reads ten past seven.

Although it feels like it’s been some time since you’re here, but you don’t mind at all, especially with the small notepad and pen you’ve got on your table.

You’ll never ever be bored as long as you’ve got a paper and pen within your reach.

The first person you spot is Yoongi, his familiar, understated presence immediately calming. He’s dressed casually, in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, his usual laid-back style that somehow makes him blend into every setting, yet stand out at the same time. It’s like he carries his own layer of calm with him, an aura you’ve always admired.

Behind him, a small group of friends follows, out of which some you recognise nearly immediately — despite the course of time. Jieun, her short wavy hair neat and tidy, wearing a comfortable grey sweater, giving her a kind of homely warmth. You’ve known her as Yoongi’s senior, the sweet cinnamon roll. She waves as soon as her eyes land on you, her smile bright and genuine.

It’s been nearly decades since you’ve seen her, and it surprises you that she actually remembers you.

“____ , I didn’t know I’d be seeing you today!” Jieun exclaims, wrapping you in a quick, warm hug. Her perfume is light, floral — the kind that reminds you of spring even in the middle of autumn. “It’s been forever, hasn’t it? How have you been? Oh my, your hair is shorter than how I remember!”

“I’m good,” you manage to let out a small chuckle, returning the hug, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her energy. Of course, you were about sixteen when you last met her. “It needed some trimming. You look super cosy, by the way.”

“Please, I just rolled out of bed as soon as Yoongi told me,” Jieun says with a playful eye roll, though you can tell she appreciates the compliment. “But you, girl. If anyone is looking cosy, that’s you. very autumn-y.” she winks at you, tugging at the fabric on your arms.

You smile, feeling a bit lighter with her friendly banter. Jieun has always had this way of making you feel seen, but not in a bad way. Like she’s genuinely happy to be around you. It’s comforting, even when you don’t really know much about her.

Soobin and Amber join soon after, both nearly squabbling over something. Soobin has grown much taller than you recall, and has that same, cocky grin that you remember from old times. He isn’t that younger than you, though you’ll say that you do know him a bit better.

Amber, on the other hand, is quieter, more reserved, but her eyes light up when she sees you, and that’s enough to make you feel welcomed.

“Someone needs to explain to this guy that he still owes me from last time,” Amber says with a mock-serious tone as she puts her bag down, pointing at him. “You’re not getting away with it this time—”

“What did I even miss?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Ping-pong match,” Soobin grumbles, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “And I don’t lose that easily. Amber’s just cheating.”

“I did not cheat!” she pokes her tongue out at him. “you just suck at it.”

Soobin crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow at her. “Oh, really? That does not take away the fact that you’re short—”

“What does ping pong gotta do with height—”

“Alright kids, enough bickering.” Yoongi’s voice is deep as he pulls out the chairs for them to sit, his tone hinting at boredom, but that small smile which hangs on his lips tell a different story. Yoongi is the last to sit down, taking the seat next to you with his usual, relaxed ease.

You notice only now that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much non stop. He throws a knowing glance your way, as if to say, I told you so.

“I didn’t know you all still hung out,” you say, genuinely surprised as you glance at the familiar faces, memories of late-night study sessions and frequent game sessions surfacing. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Not as often as we used to,” Jieun admits, picking up the menu book excitedly. “Life kind of got in the way for a while. But we try to meet up when we can, honestly. But you, Miss Vanishing Act, you need to show up more often.”

You make an embarrassed noise at the back of your throat, but you can’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah, I’ve been... around. Just not here.” You have missed out on a lot in your years of running away, and perhaps this regret would settle down sometime later.

“Good to see you’re still alive, noona.” Soobin teases, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Hyung here told us you’d be joining today, which was like a bomb drop for all of us. I’d believed in winning a lottery more than you coming back. Trust me, I was nearly convinced into thinking that he’s pranking us.”

“That’s Yoongi’s fault,” you reply, rolling your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “He dragged me out of hibernation.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Well, I didn’t drag you anywhere. Just gave you a little nudge.”

By the time the barista returns with your orders, Yoongi looks a bit too amused at a conversation turned argument at which Amber is losing despite Jieun backing her up. They are nearly arguing about the best ramen places in town, and eventually, Soobin claims victory based solely on the fact that he knows the owner of one of the shops. Jieun listens with a bemused smile, her face acting as the subtitles to her thoughts inside her head, while Amber looks like a second away from throwing hands on the guy.

You are too busy to pass your own opinions enjoying their show.

“By the way,” Yoongi suddenly says, his voice cutting through the chatter after taking a quick glance at his phone. “One of our friends is running late.”

Frankly, right now, you’re not too concerned. You’re here, with people who’ve known you for years, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can let yourself relax. You cannot be bothered when you’re actually enjoying yourself after everything.

“Well, that’s their fault. Missing some nice beef between friends.” Amber adds, giggling soon after taking a sip at her own joke.

However, you don’t catch on that look the younger lad throws at the older.

Amber taps you lightly on the shoulder. “So, are you gonna tell us what you’ve been up to, Missy?”

“Hell yeah, spill the tea,” Jieun adds, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes, excited. “What’s been keeping you so busy?”

“You’re no longer sleepy now that you’ve got tea to listen to, huh?” Your eyes are narrowed at her, but you dont mean any real bite behind it.

You take a deep breath, ready to dive into whatever story you feel like sharing.

For once, the world outside this little café can wait.

.

You’ve been laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in what feels like ages.

(You hate how old it makes you sound, but that’s true. Well, partially true, because it felt like you’d almost forgotten what laughing was for a while.)

The café is lit with conversation, laughter weaving in and out of the cosy hum. Amber is now dramatically recounting a disastrous karaoke night, her hands flailing as she tries to reenact Soobin’s epic failure to hit the high notes, the man in the question trying his best to convince everyone at the table that something so horrible as enacted did not happen. You’re laughing so hard you almost forget the strange sense of unease that’s been creeping up on you.

But there’s something unsettling in the back of your mind. A feeling you can’t quite shake off, a prickling touch.

You glance at Yoongi, who is watching the others with quiet amusement. But every now and then, you notice his eyes flickering to the entrance, a fleeting glance that makes your stomach churn slightly. He’s done that way too many times by now for it to be a simple glance.

Why does it feel like he knows something you don���t?

You shift in your seat, brushing off the feeling. Maybe it’s just being back here, surrounded by familiar faces after so much time has passed. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying so hard to be present, to let yourself enjoy this moment, even when there’s a part of ypu still trying to tug you to where you once were.

But that feeling in your gut doesn’t go away.

The café door chimes again.

You don’t look at first. You’re too focused on keeping the conversation going, on pretending you’re not hyper-aware of every sound, every movement around you. Jieun is asking you something about your recent work, her voice bright and curious, but your attention is already drifting, already far away by now.

The air shifts, like a current pulling you toward something.

Or someone.

You glance up, and your heart stumbles.

Jungkook.

oh.

He’s standing by the door, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

Your heart drops to your ass.

The world seems to blur for a second, everything fading except for him, and the heat of his gaze.

He strides toward your table easily, almost as if it’s something he does everyday. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, his black leather jacket snug around his frame. He looks like he belongs anywhere he goes, and yet right now, it feels like he’s stepping into a space you’ve tried to keep sealed off.

The conversation around you falters. Jieun stops mid-sentence, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook with a slight frown.

Soobin is the first to break the silence.

“Look who decided to show up,” he quips, though his voice sounds distant in your ears. “You’re half an hour late, hyung.”

You can’t tear your gaze away from Jungkook, even if you feel like your nerves go haywire. It’s like he’s pulling you in, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to look away, to pretend this isn’t happening.

Is this really happening?

No. No. This cant’t be happening, can it be—

Jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly to Yoongi, and there’s something in them. Something you can’t quite understand. But when his gaze returns to you, it’s sharper, more focused, almost. . . . fierce. Almost like he’s found the last piece of his missing puzzle.

You nearly flinch.

He doesn’t sit. He stands just behind the empty chair across from you, his hands in his pockets, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel like your heart is refusing to beat anymore.

“I think I might have something that belongs to you.”

His tattooed hand slips into his jacket, pulling out your phone — the same one which you dropped down yesterday.

But it’s not the phone that sends a chill down your spine.

It’s the way he’s looking at you.

a/n : i’m so sorry, for 1) taking this long to release this part, and 2) the ending 😭 i promise you guys the next part would actually be a bit more interesting, but i wanted this series to have themes of self healing and recovery too. as always, your feedback is always appreciated and fuels me to write more and more. as always, here’s the anonymous feedback box for you !! 🌹💜

[cripplecharacters]

I am writing a story which includes a Deaf character. She is mostly included via text. As the main character is long distance, autistic and nonverbal. So most of their communication up until the point they meet, is text messages. When they meet, both characters use auslan to communicate.

But for the text, how could / would the Deaf character type? Like auslan translated to words directly, something like 'help I want'. Or more traditional English, like 'I want help'. Or a mixture of auslan syntax and English. Or something else.

Thanks. Oh and I am not Deaf myself. I know some auslan and am learning some more. But I am autistic and nonverbal. If any of that is important to your response.

Hi!

My answer is, it depends.

Someone who grew up with auslan as a first language and little exposure to spoken or written English is more likely to type with auslan grammar than someone who grew up speaking.

Some who grow up in Deaf households will specifically learn written English grammar as a second language from a young age. A character like this will likely type in spoken English grammar. (They may still find auslan grammar more natural!)

A character who grew up deaf but language deprived and non-speaking, who then learned sign language at an older age but still as their first or only language, would likely use auslan grammar.

A character whose first or only language is sign will likely feel most comfortable signing, even to chat. It's honestly very frustrating how long some words are when they take just a second to sign. There are plenty of ways to just send a video rather than text messaging!

I would say from my experience with Deaf people of different backgrounds, here are some common grammar markers in writing:

Spelling errors.

When fingerspelling, the first and last letters along with the general shape of the word are more important than every letter in the correct order. Same ends up happening with written words.

There's also sometimes a difficulty remembering names. Personally I remember name signs very easily (helps that they often relate to a person's appearance or personality!) but actually remembering the person's written name? Very hard!

Plurality and verb tense.

[Note: the following examples are true of ASL and I'm fairly certain auslan as well, but I don't know if they're true in every sign language.]

"I want" is signed similar to "he wants" (only difference is pronoun), and "car" is the same sign as "cars" (clarify plurality through context and descriptors).

In written English it can be a struggle to pick the correct form of a word when they're all the same in sign language!

A character who grew up in an oral environment would likely struggle less with this, though it depends on their exposure to written language.

Slang/Translation.

There aren't good translations for a lot of signs, especially slang. It may be difficult to put those into words.

Reactions especially--like how hearing people say "mhm", there are Deaf equivalents, but they can be hard to represent textually.

Another translation problem is when the sign and the written equivalent don't quite match up. For example the ASL sign "for" can be used in the question "for-for?" which is best translated as "for what?" or "what for?" but will often be written out as "for for?" because that is literally the sign.

To recap: it depends on your character's background what grammar they will use, but if they're a native signer, "perfect" English grammar isn't super likely. Of course there are exceptions to everything I've written, these are just some patterns I've observed :) [smile face]

Mod Rock

[victoriadallonfan]

Hi, since I haven't seen anyone mention this on reddit or tumblr, I'd just like to say, as someone whose first language isn't english, Worm's cape names are fucking weird. Are all of them words? Who knows, i read Worm and Ward without knowing Eidolon and Brandish are real words and not made up words. Or they are words i know but idk wich meaning is? Is March like the month or like the organized walking verb? So do all cape names mean something, and say something about the one who chose them? I refuse to google them at this point, but Anelace? Cinereal? Myrrdin? Couldn't they pick more known 2 word combinations? Do parahumans get a discount on thesaurus? Thats all I wanted to say, thanks. PS. Wildbow, the fuck you doing using Califa de Perro as a name, couldn't you ask any Spanish speaker?, i'll kill you.

BIG ANALYSIS INCOMING

Eidolon = spectre, phantom, and idolized object/person

Brandish = to flourish and wave about an item, usually a weapon. Also an epitaph for Athena

March = to move in a uniform manner and derivative of the roman god of war, Mars

Anelace = double-sided dagger used by civilians

Cinereal = grey matter of the brain and nervous system

Myrrdin = Too many to count but generally tied to Myrddin Wylt, prophetic folklore bard and a facet of Merlin (genuinely more work than I can ever give on the topic of how insanely intertwined those myths are)

The thing about Wildbow's cape names are two-fold:

In the 80+ years of superhero genre, a LOT of cape names have been chosen and used already. Taylor mentions this to Armsmaster as a meta-joke in the first arc (ironically, DC also has a Skitter, who debuted in 2011.... the same year as Worm), so he has to be creative and sometimes creativity is simplicity.

He loves giving character names multiple meanings.

To go down the list:

Eidolon's name is ironic, because he notably not idolized (and pushed out of the spotlight compared to Legend), and he ends up becoming one of GU's spectres.

Brandish creates weapons, yes, but there's connection to Pallas (brandishing) and Athena accidentally killing him while distracted to Victoria accidentally caving her head in while distracted. (There are several story iterations, including one where they had a parental relationship).

March is about how she organizes her megacluster like an army or marching band, but also reference to her civilian name (May), the Mad March Hare from Alice in Wonderland (which her entire fight with Vista is a huge reference to), and the Ides of March (notorious for the stabby stab stab of Julius Caesar)

Anelace is a master of weapons, but he's notably reluctant about that fact, and is noted to have a healthy civilian life by other characters

Cinereal is the grey matter of the brain. She is the Atlanta Protectorate leader that turns things into grey matter (ash)

Myrddin = See the King Arthur and various clusterfuck of mythos

Even his main characters have this: Taylor tailor makes her outfits and is a silk Weaver, Khepri is an Egyptian god that bring a sunny morning... and she debuted on Gold Morning. Victoria is a Roman Goddess of Victory (Contessa uses her to find "the Path to Victory"), Antares means "Anti-Ares/Rival of Ares/Anti-War" and is the constellation "heart of the scorpion" which is Victoria inside of the wretched forcefield. We can even stretch this to Khepri and Antares: Khepri is a beetle that carries the sun on to a new day. Antares is a binary sun system (with one sun being invisible to the naked eye). In the slaughterhouse 9 fight, Taylor and her beetle (khepri) carry Victoria and the fragile one (antares) to safety (to live another day).

WE CAN EVEN GO FURTHER: Atlas is the man holding up the sky in Greek Mythology, which Taylor names her beetle. Victoria's PHO name is Point_Me_@_The_Sky (which is also a Pink Floyd reference). In Worm, Atlas holds Victoria up in the sky.

Its really fun to analyze.

Califa seems to be a simple goof. Or maybe Taylor just butchered his name.

They can't all be winners.

[loser-jpg]

Are your writing requests still open? I wanted to ask for Azul, Floyd and Jamil with someone whose Unique Magic is to be able to fulfill any wish that comes from the heart, but can only fulfill one per person. Because of this, they doesn't tend to trust people easily because they thinks they will only be interested in the Unique Magic. A romantic request ❤️

(I apologize if my English is not good, English is not my main language)

Azul:

When the two of you first met, and Azul learned what your unique magic was, he probably at first think of what he could use it for, and probably tried to get close to you because of it. But your weariness of people getting close just to use your skill kept Azul at a distance, since it was pretty obvious he wanted your unique magic.

Over time Azul would start to actually care for you, and as he did he'd realize that his initial attempts to get close just for your skill made you suspicious of him, and that it hurt you. He'd start trying to do things for you, or give you things to try and make up for it without having to admit to what he did, and that it was wrong. You'd start to think his new generosity was another ploy to use your magic, and would push him away further. This would end up making him worried, as he didn't know how to show he really cared for you without making sure you knew it wasn't for your magic.

Eventually he'd work up the courage to tell you that he didn't care about your skill, and that he although it was just about the unique magic at first, now he really did care about you and not the magic. He'd end up stumbling over his words a lot, and worry that you'd still misunderstand, but he'd get the message across. That same conversation would probably be where he confessed to you, though that part would not be previously planned.

Floyd:

From the beginning Floyd wouldn't care about your magic. From time to time he'd joke about it, sure, but he really didn't care what you did with your magic, it's not like he even had a wish anyway. He mostly was just fascinated with how other people acted around you, knowing that you could grant them a wish if they wanted.

Sometimes though, if someone bothered you too much, or if Floyd thought they were being to much of a pest, and only talking to you for your magic, he'd get mad. Never at you, but the quick switch between moods would probably make everyone around jump a bit. Floyd would end up threatening the person to leave the two of you alone, which would also end up making anyone else around a little scared to talk to you.

Floyd would end up telling you as soon as he knew he had feelings for you, not thinking about if you would get worried that he was just saying that to use your skill. The thought would never even cross his mind, but his nonchalantness with his 'confession' if it can even be called that would seem almost suspicious. After the fact he wouldn't really act any different about your magic though, so any doubts would fade quickly. He might end up being possessive/protective for reasons other than those bugging you about your magic though.

Jamil:

Jamil would, like Azul, be interested in your magic but only at first. He'd never go as far as to pretend to get close to you for it, but he would be intrigued about it and might possibly of had an idea for some scheme to get you to use it. He drops the idea quick though, because he knows how wrong it would be to use someone just for their unique magic.

Jamil would make it very clear from the beginning that he had no intention of going after your skill as he got close to you. Not that he'd be opposed to using it if you wanted, but that isn't the reason he wants to be close to you. He'd probably realize though, that if he confessed having feelings that you might worry that it's about the magic, so he'd probably not say anything to you for a while (Jamil is so slowburn coded).

Eventually Jamil would confess, but only when he knew you wouldn't misunderstand his intentions. Once the two of you were dating, he'd get very protective over making sure no one would try to get close to you just for your unique magic. He would've been somewhat protective before, but even more now since before it wasn't really his business. It wouldn't take long before anyone who had plans to get close just for your unique magic were scared off by him.

[sflow-er]

Bara sex ('Just sex') on SVT Play

In the last two days, I watched this teen show that has apparently been very popular in Sweden. A summery little show sounded like a great way to stave off the boredom of being ill, and I also recognised it from tumblr (although it doesn't actually seem to have a fandom on here).

My own summary with minor spoilers:

S1 is about Miriam, 16, who has decided to have sex for the first time at a songwriting summer camp she and her gay friend Fabian are attending. She picks Cesar, 18, to do it with. Fabian thinks both Cesar and his friend Adam are douchebags, but Miriam thinks he seems nice, and it's just for sex anyway. (Maybe Fabian should try to find someone too?) S2 still features Miriam and Cesar, now 18 and 20, but we are equally treated to Fabian and Adam's POVs. Fabian has invited Miriam, Cesar, and some local friends including his neighbour Sebastian to celebrate Midsummer at his family's summer house. Things turn tense when Adam tags along uninvited, Cesar and Miriam are keeping secrets from each other, and Miriam's ex(es?) might be coming too.

Trailers for both seasons - but do not watch the S2 trailer unless you want to be spoiled for S1!

There are four eps in S1 and five in S2, 20 to 30 minutes each. There will be a third season due to high demand, but the first two were written as a mini-series. So, they are meant to be seen together and they tell a pretty complete story.

If you're only interested in queer romance, you may be tempted to just watch S2, as S1 is entirely from Miriam and Cesar's POVs. You can do that - indeed, important scenes involving Fabian that aren't shown in S1 are flashbacks in S2! But you will miss out on some nice glimpses of his story, as well as essential background to everyone's plot lines in S2.

If you are interested, SVT has made Bara sex available to stream from anywhere in the world, even without VPN! The downside is that there are only Swedish subs available, but you can try watching on your computer with a browser that offers Live Captions into English. Apparently, Microsoft Edge has that option, you just have to turn it on.

Those who speak other Nordic languages can also turn to their own public broadcasters' streaming services. Yle Areena has both seasons, NRK TV has S1 so far (sorry Danes, nothing on DR TV). Those links do require VPN if you aren't in Finland/Norway.

So is it good? Well, it's no SKAM, but I liked it!

The cinematography is beautiful with lovely Nordic summer vibes. The young actors feel quite natural in their roles - the occasional awkwardness is deliberate and feels appropriate to the characters and their interactions. The script is pretty solid for what it is: teenage relationship drama and struggles with self (don't expect very deep themes, although there is one darker plot point in S2). You do have to watch the whole thing to get a good grasp of the characters and their motivations, but once you do, they feel more consistent than some characters in Rykter, for example.

And yes, there is sex in this. Lots of straight sex in both seasons, and some gay sex in S2. It's very well done, realistic, about the same level of bold as in SKAM or Young Royals (the same intimacy coordinator also worked on YR S3). The creator of the show says she wrote Bara sex as a counterweight to an investigative journalism report on rough sex trends among teenagers: she wanted to highlight sex as a positive experience and taking charge of one's own pleasure.

Anyway, just wanted to share in case anyone else was interested!

ETA: I have just discovered that Malin B. Erikson isn't the only connection to YR! Two of the main actors also worked on the show as extras with a couple of lines.

Leo Harju (Cesar) was the Marieberg student whose phone Malin took on the camping trip in 3.02:

...while Alexander Klum (Adam) was the guy who told Wille about dinner all the way back in 1.01. He also appeared in the background in later seasons, e.g. at church behind Henry and Walter in 2.01:

Small world, eh?

[liljakonvalj]

I watched the Great Mouse Detective tonight and as someone who loves this movie, here's some of my thoughts:

First of all and this cannot be overstated: Best. Sherlock. Holmes. Adaptation.

I was today years old when i discovered that Olivia and her dad are Scottish (which explains her father talking about catching a train at the end of the movie)

(I grew up with the swedish vhs and watched it in english for the first time today. in swedish none of the character's have any particular dialect )

The aesthetic of Victorian human London but with mice having a miniature society mirroring it?? Love that!!

Despite Basil being the titular character and being the main character in so far that he's the one going on a personal journey and change through the movie- Dawson is the POV character for most of the movie which I find interesting

The transitions when Basil tells them about Ratigan and then showing the audience what he's up to and then back to Basil's apartment are stellar

All the songs are sung in universe - I think this is the only disney movie to do this??

And two of them sung by the villain?! Outstanding move

(It should be mentioned that the remaining song was sung by sexy, stripper mice in a bar)

The heroes drink alcohol, get drugged, enjoy a strip tease and accidentaly causes a bar fight all in the same scene

Yes, the toy store was both entrancing and scary to me as a child. The first doll they see when they enter? That doll whose face smashes and nearly kills Basil and Watson? The toys from which Fidget steals the mechanics? All super terrifying

Ratigan is the only character to have a human-like five-fingered hand, all the others have standard animated four-fingered hands

Ratigan mention a that he thought basil would be 15 minutes quicker to find his lair - which he uses to taunt his enemy but it also means he cannot be there to observe his machine killing his captives. That gives them the opportunity to escape unseen. If Basil and Dawson hadn't been late they probably wouldn't have survived, just saying

The clock tower sequence!! I actually clapped when it started

The cogwheels were computer animated while the mice were drawn by hand - which makes for a really dynamic moving camera

(The man who talked about this in the extras were so enthusiastic about this. Love that for him)

Speaking of moving camera - I greatly enjoyed the camera movement when Rattigan jumped over the citizens to reach the balcony with Olivia and the bat after his plan had been foiled at Buckingham palace. It was really fluent and full of angles

Back to the clocktower: when Ratigan snaps and you can see the angry pen strokes?? They simply don't make movies like this anymore

That was of course very scary too as a child

The final battle outside on the clock hands? Give this movie all awards !!

When Basil comes cycling on that little propeller thing? Link in Tears of the kingdom wishes he could do that

In the extras someone mentioned that they'd made extensive backstories of all the characters: why Rattigan became evil, how it was for Basil to grow up so smart etc. And i desperately want to read that

I know no one cares about the swedish voice actors but I found the different performances of both Basil and Rattigan interesting. I know Vincent Price is much beloved as Ratigan (justly so) but idk if it is nostalgia speaking but I think swedish Ratigan really held up. There were actually some lines that I knew by heart in swedish where the delivery was preferable to the English one for me. After looking it up i saw that the swedish VA is an opera singer (base) which really isn't a surprise given his performance. Basil's voices were really similar normally (so similar I didn't hear the change when I switched between languages - which i did one time to freshen up the swedish voices) but the VA in swedish goes up in falsetto quite often which gives a quite manic impression. Swedish!Basil's sanity is hung by a thread in his restless pursuit of his arch nemesis - which makes his devastation when Ratigan bests him more believable imo. English!Basil is much more a proper, brittish gentleman throughout. All performances were great, I just found the differences interesting.

I have some Core visuals from this movie living rent free in my mind since childhood which are: when Basil compares the two bullets, the closeups as Fidget jumps out at the audience, when Dawson pulls out the glass door with his finger, Ratigan squishing Olivia's doll, Basils machine when analyzing the paper, when Toby makes a stair out of his ear, that flag/balloon/matchbox contraption they used to chase Ratigan at the end, the end fight on the clock arms.

Did i miss your favourite part of the movie? Any core memories from this movie for you?

[milkkytxars]

Small glimpse of familial love

WARNING! This story contains a short mention of child neglect, read at your own risk or skip that part!

Also, this is a snippet not beta read of an OC done by someone whose main language isn't english! I apologize if there're any errors.

———

It was weird. Having someone care about your well being enough to place limits into what you can or can't do wasn't something she was used to.

In all her years of being, she had always kind of been…brushed off.

Back when she was with her mother, it was considered a good thing when she started being useful, and it didn't matter if it was a dangerous endeavor or not.

If she wanted to make, for example, a new breed of poisonous chocolate vines, she was just given some tools and a pat in the back for encouragement.

Nobody had ever truly stopped her from trying new combinations, even if they were likely to explode in her face or bite off one of her arms.

Which is why she was so confused when her dad had asked her to not do something of the sort without him being present, if at all.

And even though it was weird, and she wasn't used to it, a comfortable warmth settled in her chest knowing that it came from a place of genuine care.

“He cares about me. I'm loved here.” Was the reasonable conclusion. 

So, in a very out of character decision for her to make, she made sure to always run through him what she was going to do.

Which of course meant that after a few weeks, the garden's entrance was protected by giant cookievorous plants she had made with magic and a lot of free time. 

She was sure Pure Vanilla would have said no to it when she pitched in the idea, but apparently, they have a cookievorous plant (A rose? With giant gardening tools???) in charge of the gardens in the Hollyberry kingdom, one that he had personally spoken to a long time ago and seemed...nice.

Even so, the problem still persisted. The garden was too small.

It wasn't only about her having the smallest plot. The whole place was tiny. And oh how she hated it. 

If it was bigger, there could have been so much space for so many beautiful plants from different places!

(And then, maybe, she would have an excuse to go visit and learn about earthbread beyond Beast-Yeast and the Vanilla Kingdom) 

“Dad,” She began speaking, ignoring the way Pure Vanilla's face lit up at being referred to by that word “Why did you make the Vanilla Kingdom in the sky?”

They were laying on the ground with some of the palace's cream sheeps, one of the smallest ones on top of her lap as she petted it gently, careful to not awaken it from its slumber.

Her dad tilted his head to the side with one of his signature soft smiles, taking in her question like it was of the utmost importance.

This old man was so sappy. 

“I didn't take that decision on my own, but if I recall correctly, it was mostly for safety reasons” He hums. Then, with a knowing smirk, continues “And also, because the land below was too unsustainable to harvest long term”

She tries to hide the excitement they both know she's feeling, and simply gives a jerky nod in understanding to redirect the attention of the conversation to the main question “And I guess the kingdom was already advanced enough with researchers, and the power of your soul jam, that it was easier to build the floating grounds rather than mobilizing everyone again”

“Yes” Pure Vanilla looks very pleased at her conclusion, so she had to have gotten it right “At that point, we were too many to be called a village, but were still doing things like one.” The situation sounded frustrating, yet he spoke of it as if it were a fond memory “It was difficult to find a middle ground where we wouldn't have to abandon the place we've begun to call home for the sake of our growing population and needs. I suppose it was simply a matter of finding the right…perspective” 

Vanilla Orchid looked down at her lap as she listened to her dad speak so simply of such big problems.

To put such structures in the sky was no easy feat, yet he recalled it as if it was something that had to be done. Like an everyday chore.

She knew that some people would find the nonchalance a bit pretentious, but to her it sounded more like he was saying:

“Things don't have to be complicated, you can get through anything with companionship and sheer force of will”

Or maybe he didn't try to say that, but she knew that's probably something he was thinking about telling her, especially with her background. 

…or perhaps that's just what she wanted to hear.

“Could I-?”

“Yes”

“Huh?”

Pure Vanilla let out a soft chuckle, his hand taking hers and giving it a light squeeze. He opened his eyes and looked at her direction, and even though she knew that he probably couldn't distinguish her features clearly from this distance, she still felt seen.

“You can go to the grounds below and try to restore it however you see fit” Before she could say something, he cut her off “And whatever you need, you can come to me to ask for, and I will give to you”

“Hmm…you're making it too easy” she pretended to think about it for a second, tapping a finger to her chin “I can't accept it, I'm sorry”

To his credit, her dad took a few seconds of stunned silence before letting out a louder laugh. Covering his mouth so as to not awaken the sheep resting around them.

When he composed himself, he shook his head in what seemed to be disbelief “Oh, is that so? Is it too one-sided?”

“Yeah” she replied with ease, playing with the ends of her ponytail in an act of obvious fake disinterest “You gotta ask for something too. Tell me what you get out of the deal, and maybe I'll think of accepting”

A soft sigh leaves Pure Vanilla's mouth, and he squeezes her hand again, just the slightest bit tighter.

“I suppose I get more space to work with, therefore a more reliable supply of food every year. It would also give those interested in pursuing agriculture or plant based magic something more to work with, and the sheep would have another beautiful place to rest” His smile turns ever so caring as he looks at Vanilla Orchid Cookie “But there's something more important than all of that…”

“Dad…” He was going to say something corny, she knew it.

“It will make you happy, and I trust you'll do what's best”

Her smile wobbles at those words, and she finds herself at a loss. For all her cockiness just now, she honestly should have been better prepared for Pure Vanilla to say something like this, it was just his style.

In the end she ends up nudging closer to her dad, still careful not to awaken the lamb peacefully asleep and unaware in her lap, and she hugs the other cookie.

There's a second of hesitation before Pure Vanilla hugs her back, his warm hands on her back in a light touch, as if afraid she'll pull away at any moment like she often did at signs of physical affection she wasn't used to.

Her heart feels full and complete, and quietly, she whispers her acceptance into her dad's ear.

———

Heyy I hope anyone who's reading this liked it!! I would have published it on Ao3, but I haven't finished it and I don't think anyone would read an incomplete story about OCs in there lmao, but we'll see.

Anyway! Thank you sm for reading!

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: Dofus Heroes - Kerubim Tome 1 (part 1)

You can find this comic's physical version on Ankama's site, webtoon version on Allskreen, and Free Scans on various file-hosting websites that shall not be named.

Quick disclaimer: While I will be including french screenshots here, because it is a language that uses the latin alphabet, and everyone has that on their keyboards, all ready to type up in DeepL and Google translators — what I will actually be reading is a new fan translation in my native language, which does not use latin alphabet.

Time to quickly switch between two tabs because nobody has translated this comic into English. Yaay...

This comic has, as my fellow crepinjurgenology studies colleague @dullard put it, "thin god Ecaflip jumpscare"

Ecaflip looks a lot like Ush here, and I think it's way too malevolent. Part of the fun of him to me, is that he is an Evil Fucking Cat that looks like a cute cat. It makes his despicable actions more funny & interesting.

...Anyway, this comic came out during the run of the show, in 2013, and its sheer existence, — including its negative portrayal of ecaflip, its inclusion of blood and Kerubim's 20 mental illnesses, — is a direct confirmation of the show being an unreliable narrator story. (Though, we've been knew.)

This comic's most important function for this blog is that it will provide us with a well-needed glimpse at what Kerubim's adventures are like when he isn't retelling them to a 7-year-old child whose respect and approval he desperately craves.

The second Kerubim is fatally wounded, he gives up. Yet, Ecaflip saves him, without using one of his nine lives, just as he did in the Wheel of Destiny article.

I suppose it's one of his trump cards, isn't it?

But I am more interested in how at peace Kerubim is with death... It does make sense for Kerubim to hide some rather morbid feelings about his life behind his cheery facade, doesn't it?

It must be tiring. Losing your family, being a god's plaything, losing your brother, feeling like you have to constantly play the role of the cool womanizing warrior, and never unpacking your emotions about any of it. Death would feel like a relief from such weight.

Which makes Ecaflip's grip on his life feel more malicious.

I know, chances are, this comic, as well as most of the show, were made well before Kerubim's demigod status was thought of as a plot-point.

But even in terms of him being a demigod... I think that death would seem relaxing, despite its temporary nature, wouldn't it?

One of the main things of this whole comic is that Kerubim gets amnesia.

Harry Du Bois-ass character. Not only is he mentally ill, divorced, and has 20 layers of sad backstory, but also he got amnesia. God bless.

Yeah, this comic is more realistic and gritty than the show, but the cartoon shenanigans are still real. Thank god.

There's a reason why I think that a big part of Kerubim's character is his experiences with loneliness and isolation, and the way it makes him crave being loved and cared for, as well as how it makes him act out to get attention and popularity.

It's telling that while completely amnesiac, he identifies immediately with a small kitten, whom he immediately assumes is a "he" and "an orphan", and wants to take care of it.

It may seem like an innocuous moment at first, but "he is all alone" will become a reoccurring motif for Kerubim's mental state and subconscious in this comic, and it is the comic where we get the Orphan Kerubim reveal.

I already discussed the fact that I think Kerubim kept and adopted Joris due to Atcham-related guilt earlier on the blog, but I will take this moment to voice 2 other reasons:

Kerubim identifies with orphans and children easily. He would never leave Joris alone after looking at him and thinking "You're all alone. Like I was."

The idea of having a child would be very pleasant to someone as lonely as him. He struggles a lot with wanting to act in a way that will make people like him, and children are, by nature, inclined to like their parents even if they're complete losers.

Btw, if you follow my main, @joris-jurgen , you probably know that I headcanon Kerubim as having comorbid HPD and BPD. Because it fits. And because personality disorders are usually the result of insane levels of childhood trauma. And... my experience running this blog has so far not swayed me from this opinion in any way. This little paragraph was your Armchair Fictional Psychology Corner. This man can fit a lot of sadness and wanting to be loved in him.

Ecaflips confirmed to, just like real cats, have very good night vision.

...Aaand now I'm thinking about cute scenarios of Kerubim, Atcham, and Joris travelling at night, or navigating their home in the darkness.

(Because Joris doesn't have human eyes, as we've seen from the movie. And considering the way Grougaloragran's eyes reflect light in the Oropo ova, chances are, dragon eyes glow in the dark, the same way cats do. Which brings me to the point that, Joris's dragon-ish eyes would probably glow in the dark. Like a cat. Yeah, I am very sane, and should not be sedated in any way, readers.)

Crocosec has always wanted to have a butcher's shop and feed people with delicious food...

Ah, I don't know why, but my silly little detail-noticing from the first eps, where I pointed out that he has a meat shop, paying off? It makes me feel fuzzy. It's nice to know that the person who wrote this comic cared enough, and that it's something that was put in here with intent.

Anyway, I am about to be very normal about the next few pages.

*jumpscaring you by including a screenshot from the high-quality scanlation I am reading. Because this moment would be too blurry if I didn't.

He isn't even playing with any other kids... This is going to kill me, and not in a fun way.

The translation I am reading interprets the last line as "I would return to..." but it seems a bit wrong to me, especially considering my own research on language sentence-comparing sites.

What Kerubim pretty much says here, is that, he'd like to become a huppermage, and use magic to bring back his parents, sisters, and brothers.

While one could interpret that as Kerubim being lonely while being raised in an orphanage all his life without a family, I have a couple of counterpoints:

He calls the kitten "orphaned" specifically, which implies that there were parents, and that they aren't there anymore.

If it were just a family he wanted, he wouldn't be as specific as to say "sisters and brothers," besides just "parents," which leads me to assume that Kerubim means specific people he used to know (before they died).

3. Atcham is a Crepin too, as was revealed in the Dofus Movie. Logically speaking, if they were both given to the temple after being born, (and as we know, Atcham was at the temple, because Bashi knew him, according to Wheel of Destiny #8) they probably wouldn't have surnames, especially the same one.

4. Kerubim's unfunny joke about being the last in his family.

5. Wakfu: One More Gate's shopkeep being an ancestor of the Crepin family implies that Crepins are a real family that existed, and that, perhaps, Kerubim's affinity for selling stuff has to do with his early upbringing, before he was orphaned.

6. In the Dofus manga, Atcham says that a sword he owned, which was stolen from him, has been "passed in his family for generations", which yet again, points to them having a family to begin with.

All of this to say... What I think happened was far more devastating.

He had sisters and brothers, and two parents — it doesn't matter if the Crepin family was an adoptive one, or if it was made up of their biological mother, her husband, and half-siblings. Because they're all dead, and that's just... horrible.

A whole family, at the very least 6 people (if we assume that by "sisters and brothers", he means just two sisters and two brothers), wiped out.

...Oh, and one last thing.

7. I think that, as an adult, Kerubim did put some research into dark magic, with a hope of bringing his family back.

Just as he said he would.

....Though, as always, that might just be me reading too much into things. ╮(￣ ▽ ￣)╭

These aren't the tears of an orphan who wishes he had a family. These are tears of grief of a child who used to have one.

And Ecaflip, his biological father and God, is taunting him about it.

...I would speak on my deeplore conspiracy theory that perhaps Ecaflip himself is to blame for whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham's family, — to get Kerubim, or both of them, isolated, and under his thumb, — but perhaps it's just me being actually clinically insane.

[umbra-borealis]

Elements of Chaos Chapter 1 - The first 2K words!

This is the first 2000 or so words from a draft I'm chipping away at, the very beginning of Elements of Chaos. I apologize for the lengthy build up but hey, I did say this was a long haul project! By the way, this is my first time writing something. My first language is dutch, not english, and to top that off I also have ADHD so this isn't exactly a walk in the park. At the moment I'm not exactly looking for people picking apart my grammar, syntax etc. because I have folks I can ask for advice on that. Be nice, thank you! CW: Minor mention of blood

How would you define Chaos?

Would you say it's the unpredictable nature of life itself? How a single drop of water will never take the same route down twice? Does it stand for a time of stress and turmoil? Is it this nebulous state we all find ourselves living in or is there an opposite? An element that binds it, understands it, tames it? And if there is, what would that be called? Order? Control? The fabled ‘red string of fate’ that strings us along, having already decided who sinks and who swims?

Perhaps none of these things matter in the end. After all most of us will go through the motions without ever really having the time or the energy to ponder the way of the world, not to mention the universe around us. Perhaps as we experience our lives our opinion will change and so will our answers, forever having the truth feel just out of reach, so close yet so far away. Then perhaps it’s better to stay in the moment and act accordingly, forever left to wonder if you did so by yourself, or if that too was a pre-written event scripted to happen from the moment you were born. They say ignorance is bliss but is it really? Are we truly free? Are you comfortable floating down a pre-determined river or did any of this make make you long for the endless open ocean?

So then tell me...

--

“Whose side are you on!?”

A voice screamed into the darkness, birds and other small fauna jumping, flying and running off into all directions. The full moon cast her dim glow upon the land below. Her image reflected on the surface of the water as it warped and twisted with the waves. A once beautiful lake surrounded by plains, hills and even a forest off in the distance had become the main stage for a grizzly scene. The immaculate green of the grass had been tainted with the deep red hue of blood, entire patches and trails uprooted making the field appear scarred and bleeding. There’s a tension in the air so dense, so charged with dread and danger that not only those present here and now but those from miles away could sense it. A shift in the atmosphere so severe it couldn’t be compared to an approaching thunderstorm or the early signs of an earthquake. The voice that had posed the question rather aggressively now snarled and with a wave of its owner’s hand the water from the lake behind him rose up, curling forward and threatening to come crashing down on whoever happened to be a bit too close to shore yet at it’s highest peak it stopped.

The silhouette of a hedgehog now stood out against the glistening backdrop of water, the light of the moon seemingly amplified by the reflective surface. He held his hand up above is head, palm open as if about to strike something or someone but instead he just stood there, still as a statue. His eyes pierced straight into those of his attackers, nailing them to their places only a few feet away from him. Heavily armored in white, high-tech protective gear from head to toe and with weapons drawn they kept their aim at the outlaw’s head and chest with possibly a few skilled, or cocky, marksmen planning to switch to the legs should he decide to turn tail and run. Unfortunately for them he had no intention to run.

“I’ll ask you again, nicely, whose side are you on? Because that insignia on your armor says mine, but those guns sure don’t. So what’s it gonna be boys?”

The lone hedgehog’s voice was full of rage though masked by the smug tone he was infamous for. A crack here and there gave away the layer of fatigue building below the surface though and he wasn’t too keen on giving it any more room to breathe or the consequences could be dire. A minute passed though to everyone present it felt like an eternity and when he was given no answer his hand twitched.

“What about you?”

One of the armed ‘knights’ as they liked to call themselves spoke up. A ballsy move sure but perhaps humoring the hedgehog’s ego would be their best chance of survival right now.

“You know what you did! You know why we’re here! At least tell us why!”

Icy blue eyes narrowed at the poor bastard who dared raise his voice at the outlaw whose arm had frozen in place one more. The audacity one had to have to make bold claims like that were one thing and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get even angrier than he already was, but to ask a man for a reason for something he has no memory of doing? Now that hit him funny.

“Ooooh but of course. Dad croaked and suddenly that’s my fault. For all the funding he put into your dinky little excuse of an ‘elite force’ you guys suck at your jobs. You really think if I had anything to do with it I wouldn’t take all of the credit?”

It was true and the Knights knew it. Their adversary was a known critic of the king, of his father but if he had anything to do with the act of regicide that shocked their nation mere days ago it would be him who would celebrate with a beer and mourn the fact he can’t dance on his grave. No, instead the former prince had kept his head down. It was so unlike him to do so it didn’t make him any less suspicious to some, but to those who really knew the young man it just didn’t add up. Why would a prince who had fallen from grace, stripped of all his titles and possessions and forced to live on the streets of his home city suddenly appear humbled by the whole experience? After all he had spent all of those years on the streets devoted to dismantling the monarchy with all of the knowledge he held on his own family. Murder was not part of the plan though, it would’ve been too easy and too simple. It would mean giving his deadbeat father an easy get-out-of-jail-free card which he didn’t deserve. No, the former prince wouldn’t have gone so far as to use a prototype warp ring despite all of it’s potential consequences if it had been him who did the honors. He would’ve accepted jail, or even execution with that same smug grin and proudly proclaim he did his kingdom, his people, a massive favor.

It mattered little now, the deed was done and the culprit was out there. The former prince wasn’t necessarily a suspect, just damage control. If this really was a coup on the throne by some outside force it made complete sense to him that he too would be a target. As the last heir currently known to be alive, even if bound to the throne only by blood, he posed a threat to whatever or whoever is behind all of this. The hedgehog had heard enough and made his choice, he would drown them all in the depths of the abyss if it meant his freedom, it being a punishment for their insubordination would just be a nice bonus. One wave of his outstretched claws and this whole mess would be washed away--

Just as his hand twitched he heard it, they all did. A deep rumbling, rumbling that grew louder as the ground shook, throwing everyone off balance. Instead of a focused tidal wave the water crashed down on everyone, merely causing confusion and panic. Rather than his attackers being dragged down into the water they would merely get their armor soaked and their vision temporarily obscured. The captain yelled out an order to fire at will and fire they did, forcing the stumbling hedgehog to bolt out of the line of fire. With the ground still shaking it was as hard for him to run as it for them to aim but he still had to try for getting hit with a bolt from their plasma rays would mean getting a hole burnt right through him. He’d never been more grateful for a boulder than he was now as he skidded across the wet grass and came to a stop behind it, crouching and making himself as small as possible. With a moment to think of a next move something stood out to him about this mysterious earthquake. An earthquake normally affects a large area, the lake water should be rippling but it barely even stirred. The rumbling and the distant yelling of the knights was like an awful white noise ringing in his ears, vague orders were being barked to find their target despite the chaos and he was running out of time. The outlaw weighed his options which were to either bolt and run or to stay and wait as something told him this seemingly sudden and highly unnatural earthquake might be the answer to his predicament. Each excruciating second he remained frozen in place, unable to make a decision and with adrenaline surging his heightened senses picked up on the detail that told his intuition to stay. The rumbling of the ground moved. It’s intensity shifted as it seemingly came from beyond the lake, passing underneath the hedgehog and made it’s way to where the team of elite knights were still trying to gather their bearings. Whatever was heading their way could’ve very well heard the noise and commotion and felt drawn to investigate, or worse, it felt threatened. He didn’t dare to take a peek and instead hoped he would hear an opening instead.

And an opening sure did come.

The ground below the captain himself split apart and before he could aim his weapon down or take a step back a blur of gold came right for the visor of his protective helmet that obscured his identity. The frightened yelp finally made the hedgehog move to take a peek at what was going on, too curious for his own good. The mystery gold object would become lodged in the captain’s visor before it could damage anything vital but the person attached to the pair of golden claws that struck him wasn’t finished. They popped out of the ground almost as easily as a fish leaping out of the water and the gap they came out of closed in just a second, giving the unknown assailant solid ground to stand on. They were big, not just tall, BIG, a solid red silhouette illuminated by violet geometric markings on their head and face which emitted a soft glow. Their enraged growl almost sounding like the earthquake from before as they turned to spin the poor canine still stuck to the golden claws that adorned the figure’s balled up fists, dragging him along and off his feet before flinging him up into the air. The rest of the knights were too frightened to move, let alone snap out of it enough to start firing at their new target and they watched their ‘fearsome’ leader make contact with the dirt like a sack of potatoes.

All of their heads snapped back to fix their gaze on the red stranger who cracked their knuckles and roared something unintelligible before charging straight at them. The silence of the awe struck knights broken by gunfire and angry war cries. Curious how bringing hand to hand combat to a gunfight would fare for the stranger the hedgehog stared intently. They moved like a well oiled machine, disarming those that clung to their weapon for dear life, snapping their guns in half like they were twigs, straight up butting their head against the metallic helmets if their hands were occupied and while the knights crumpled they seemed completely unaffected. As the battle raged on the lone hedgehog figured now was his chance to turn tail and run but as he turned his back on the battlefield a hand slipped over his muzzle, covering his mouth and muffling the yelp of surprise that followed. Blue eyes met an emerald green pair as yet another stranger held up his index finger to his own muzzle, the universal signal to tell someone to be quiet. As the loner took another good look it appeared he was no longer the only hedgehog here as this new stranger was a deep, vibrant blue all over. He could practically disappear against the night sky if it wasn’t for the short peachy fur covering his muzzle, arms and chest. Before he could get a better look the blue stranger whispered.

“Can you run?”

Whether this person was friend or foe would have to wait. For now the outlaw would take his chance and nodded.

“Then run with me and don’t look back. He’ll be fine. Trust me.”

That voice. If he didn’t know better this blue stranger sounded so much like him though he lacked the signature gravelly sound. While his thoughts raced the blue hedgehog removed his hand from the outlaw’s muzzle and firmly grasped his hand instead to help him to his feet and start running into the darkness.

--

[leffee]

How often do you think the main 7 speak their native languages?

Rarely, I mean unless we count that for most of them their native language is English and they constantly speak it.

The only ones whose native language is not English are the best friends ever - Vinnie and Sunil whose native languages are of course respectively Italian and Hindi.

Now, while Sunil does know Hindi his family moved to America pretty much as soon as he was born so him picking up English was really quick so in a way he feels much more comfortable speaking it than Hindi. Plus, he doesn't really have many chances to talk Hindi, with his parents it's most possible but they mostly speak English too even in private.

For Vinnie he feels much more comfortable speaking his native language than Sunil speaking his but he also has very little occasions to do so, maybe occasionally if it just so happens that he meets someone, like a tourist, who happens to be Italian and doesn't know English at all or well enough, then he will switch. I also headcanon that he and Captain Cuddles sometimes talk to the other in their native language. Vinnie doesn't understand a lick of French, Captain Cuddles doesn't understand Italian too, but the languages sound similar enough that it's nice to hear sometimes. Perhaps if someone in his circle happened to be learning Italian he could help to a point and then he would speak it. I would say it could be the same with Sunil but I'm pretty sure it's much easier to find someone learning Italian than Hindi. Might be wrong.

Pretty sure those two are the only ones whose native language isn't English that I ever mentioned. I know I said Penny tries to learn Chineese but that's it, her family is from China but she was born in America, so Chineese is not her native language.

[everythingisablog]

Dark academia wrapped in the beauty of Shakespeare: A reader's review on "If we were villains" by M.L. Rio.

Spoiler alert

1. Introduction: M.L. Rio's debut book, If we were villains, is her work of fiction. The story is emotionally charged, but the primary genres are romance and thriller, in my opinion.

2. Plot: The story is narrated by Oliver ten years after it has occured. It begins by casually highlighting the bond between seven friends studying at an elite art school. The slow progression of events that lead to the need for a murder is beautifully captured in words. It is simply blissful to watch how the seven actors connect with the characters they play and read about, most of whom are from Shakespeare's plays. Their relationships with each other all grow (and deteriorate) at precisely the right times. At first the story might seem slow paced but given the upcoming events the slow pace is worth the patience.

The chemistry and confusion between Oliver and James are completely realistic, yet beautiful. Furthermore, the realization of their feelings for each other, the period of denial, and the painfully late acceptance make them the best ship in the novel.

3.Characters: When discussing the seven main protagonists

Oliver: I think most of us can relate to him. How he isn't perfect, he's insecure and yet never talks about it is how most of us have felt at some point of our lives.

James: He is the perfect example of a "hero." He is patient, wise, sensitive AND good looking. We can all wish to be more like him (and yet we don't want to be in his place)

Meredith: Her personality is not for everyone. She is attractive, but perhaps only on the outside. I would not call her a negative character; she strikes me as more gray.

Alexander: Is the group's jokester. He can be irritable, but not harmful.

Filippa: Currently, she remains the group's enigma. Their knowledge of her family and life away from campus is limited. But she is a true and dependable friend. (I adore her connection with Oliver).

Wren: She is the group's sensitive angel. Richard's cousin and yet she is nothing like him.

Richard: A man capable of inspiring a whole book written about him. The horror started when he lost himself in the role he was playing, forgetting to return to reality. I believe the majority of his problems stemmed from his excessive drinking.

4. Language: The book is beautifully written, but I recommend that new readers keep a dictionary nearby. As someone whose first language is not English, this book may contain some heavy words, but they make the writing so much more beautiful. The careful use of Shakespeare's quotations and phrases adds rhythm to the reading.

Oliver even mentions at one point that Shakespeare was almost like a member of the group.

5.Conclusion: Overall, I give the book five stars and recommend it to anyone who enjoys dark academia, romance, and a massive plot twist. The book takes the reader on an emotional and event-filled rollercoaster.

[mcalhenwrites]

Just some random details about The Dragons' Cosmos, which is part of my dragon universe. Noah and Roscoe grow up in the dragon Afensi's region, which is a wetland. They live around dragonflies and frogs and cattails. Noah and Roscoe bond as soon as Noah moves into his grandmother's house with the rest of his family. They don't date immediately, but they click immediately as friends that develops pretty quickly into something else. By the time they're seventeen, they still haven't kissed, and they fumble through holding hands, but they care a lot about one another. Roscoe lives with his abusive father, Wayne. As far as character the most like my own father... Wayne fits it. Maybe hits a little too close to home, but there are traumas I haven't written about, things that I have trouble explaining to people. (They don't believe me that someone can be that contradictory just to set you up for an argument and then have an excuse to hurt you.) There are neat little references to the previous main stories. (Dragon universe has four main stories so far, two spinoffs.) Roscoe eventually leaves the planet, because he is escaping his father when he sees the chance. I reference previous dragons. Some make a return, because their original planets are dead or they handed over their regions to a different one. Bircha is from The Hostile Credence, but I get to use him in TDC!

Afensi and Bircha, btw:

A lot of dragon names are references to their region. (Though it might not be obvious at first, especially with language barriers. One of my friends was like "Bircha reminds me of--" and sent me photos of birch trees, but she knows them by a different name due to English being a secondary language for her. :D This isn't always the case, since The Hostile Credence has Tessa, whose name is just... nice. It's also not her dragon name. That story mentions that humans often came up with names for the dragons, because human tongues just cannot produce some of the sounds dragons make. In TDC, they actually travel through the remains of a destroyed planet where a previous story took place... ;A; (I rewrite space rules. Geography rules. I love it. It's a lot of fun having dragons as the architects of the worlds~)

[rukawa-k]

𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓟𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓾

summary:

Y/N, a dedicated psychology student, crosses paths with Rukawa, a talented basketball player whose reserved nature often conceals his true thoughts and emotions

Yet, he finds solace in Y/N, revealing his most vulnerable self to her in ways he cannot with anyone else. Her shoulders bear the burden of his struggles, as he frequently seeks comfort in her presence, relying on her for emotional support.

wc 1,146

Main Language: English / Phrases: Japanese

•◉✿ 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2 ✿◉•

"Oh? Oh? Please! It's already late, let's just watch their practice for a minute," Airi said to Y/N continuing to blink.

sigh "why don't we just go home and rest? It's already a long day for us" 

Iie

You don't know why that short answer from that basketball player keeps repeating to your head. 

"I'll treat you coffee after. Please, please"

You gave her a long sigh before giving the answer.

"Fine. You always using that coffee treat to me." you glare.

"Which you cannot decline." Airi laughed that makes you laugh as well since it is true.

You fixed your things and walked towards the gym. You can already hear the big voices inside the court, the sounds of bouncing basketballs and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor filled the air and... cheer? It's already late to have other people in the gym aside from the players.

When you both entered the gym, the team is having a practice game.

"AHHHH RUKAWA, RUKAWA, L.O.V.E RUKAWA"  that is when Rukawa did a successful 3 points. 

"Sugoi! And that's, indeed, the ace of the team Y/N!" Airi 

As you both settled into your seats within the gym while your gaze remained fixed on the court, captivated by the ongoing game, but it was the boy at the center of it all—his expression as blank as a canvas—that held your attention. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, intrigued by the stark contrast between the excitement around him and his unyielding demeanor.

I can't. How can you do that? How can you hide all of it? You frowned.

They are now running back to the other side of the court when your eyes meet, again.

And as expected, you’re surprised, but... this time you tried to keep your eyes locked on him until he needs to look back at the court.

"RUKAWA-KUUUUN! FIGHTING!!!"

The shout from her fangirls brought you to life that surprised the hell of you. 

"Make sure to get me a large one this time" You said to Airi.

"I know. I know. Just... enjoy the game for now" 

You know what's more intriguing, Airi? That guy over there—number 11. His seemingly ordinary personality hides something deeper that's surprisingly interesting. Your thought while your gaze follow the movement of that particular player.

-

"So, what's your thought about the game?" Airi started the conversation

"Well I think they're doing their best to improve before the inter-high. It's very evident earlier during the game."

"Isn't interesting? Specially rukawa?" 

sigh "you're one of them, aren't you?" 

"You can't blame me, Y/N! He looks good." She laughed

You just rolled your eyes and sipped your coffee.

"Aside from what you said about him looking good, what else do you think of him?" you asked Airi, which surprised her.

"He have a good body type?"

"Nooo. You pervert! 

LAUGH "I mean what answer do you need? I don't know him personally so.."

"maybe... from a psychologically aspect."

"Well, it is quite obvious from his eyes that he is eager to win. I think he's well-motivated to act that way on the court. And I heard he's not doing well in academics, so he is basically occupied with basketball." Airi answered.

Isn't it suffocating to be occupied by one thing over and over again?

"Why'd you asked? You're interested, huh?" saw a smirked formed to her lips

"You're overreacting!"

"So why?"

"Nothing. It's just that... he is someone you can literally ask, 'What's going on in his mind?' I mean, you're one of his fans. I bet your eyes are always on him, so you know what I am talking about."

"He's always like that," she said with a sigh. "I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just indifferent because his expression never changes. Even when they win a game, he reacts the same way—completely dry. And you know what’s funny? No one can figure out if he even likes Sakuragi or not."  laugh 

"Sakuragi?"

"The one with the red head" 

"Ah, that loud guy from the cafeteria earlier. But aren't they teammates? They’re supposed to be on good terms for the teamwork, right?

"I don't think that applies to Sakuragi" laugh

You and Airi continued chatting inside the café and then decided to go home.

It’s nice to have moments like this. They help me forget the weight of my responsibilities—as a person, a student, and a daughter.

Because once you finish your coffee, reality comes rushing back, and you're left facing the same burdens again and again.

[odakuram]

しあわせレストラン/Nightmare Restaurant (English Translation)

Music/Lyrics/Story: issey Director/Editor: Yuki Narita Illustration: ichimaru Cinematographer: Masakazu Kado Special Thanks: Kai Garatei

additional translation post for the day because what do you mean no one's translated this one yet

お腹いっぱい　食べちゃった!!︎! (もしもしうらめしや) 赤子万歳　放り出した 逃げ出す事もままならないまま I've eaten so much, I'm so full!!! (Hello, curses on you) Hands held up[1], I gave it up While I couldn’t even think of running away

愛情は　凍りついて (もしもしうらめしや) 平凡な人生は それはそれで美しい

Love freezes over, (Hello, curses on you) A plain life is, in a way, beautiful

嗚呼　現実は間違いも正解も無い

Ah, in reality there is no such thing as right or wrong

あなた　最高ね最高ね 私の正面　誰 心なんてないさ あれもこれも嘘さ 間違いも正解も無い あなた　ああそうねああそうね 頭でちゃんと考えて 誰と何をしたの？ それはそれは素敵ね 皿に乗った顔は今日も 笑顔で美味しいメインディッシュ

You truly are the best of the best  Now who is this in front of me?  You have no heart,  This and that were all lies,  There is no such thing as right or wrong  And you say, ‘Ah, that’s right, that’s right’  Think with your head!  What did you do with someone else?  Oh, that sounds so wonderful!  Your face on the plate, today too,  with a smile, it will be the main dish

お会計は0円です (好き好き大好きよ) それは問題　大問題 誰の指図も受けない

The bill is 0 yen (I love, love, really love you) That’s a problem, a big problem I won’t take orders from anyone

誤魔化したラブコール (もしもしうらめしや) 平凡な人生は それはそれで愛おしい

A fake call of love (Hello, curses on you) A plain life is, in a way, dear to me

嗚呼　愛情に間違いも正解も無い

Ah, in love there is no such thing as right or wrong

あなた　最高ね最高ね 私の正面　誰 心なんてないさ あれもこれも嘘さ 間違いも正解も無い あなた　ああそうねああそうね 頭でちゃんと考えて 誰と何をしたの？ それはそれは素敵ね 皿に乗った顔は今日も 笑顔で美味しいメインディッシュ

You truly are the best of the best  Now who is this in front of me?  You have no heart,  This and that were all lies,  There is no such thing as right or wrong  And you say, ‘Ah, that’s right, that’s right’  Think with your head!  What did you do with someone else?  Oh, that sounds so wonderful!  Your face on the plate, today too, with a smile, it will be the main dish ----- Translation Notes:

[the title] - The song's Japanese title is しあわせレストラン, which at first glance seems to mean 'Happy (幸せ) Restaurant', but the more you listen to the song and watch the video, the more it seems like it's supposed to be read as ' ‘Synchronised Death (死合わせ) Restaurant’, which is a pretty common wordplay in Japanese. Interestingly, only people whose language is set to Japanese would get blindsided by this, since the English title just outright calls itself a 'nightmare' restaurant.

[1] - Searching this term up, apparently the way babies sleep with their hands up is referred to as a 'banzai (hooray)' position. I've taken this to mean that this lyric isn't referring to a literal baby and more to the idea of one holding their hands up.